Tuesday, 29 May 2007

TAGGED!

Tagged by pRicky...dunno why...but here are eight weird facts about me...damn didn't think there would be so many!

Rules are:

* Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

* People who are tagged need to write posts in their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.

* At the end of your post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

1). I think the Scary Dragon in Star wars III was the cutest creature I’ve ever seen.

2). I know one Para of a French song and I sing it almost everyday without fail in the shower.

3). I have been bitten and/or nipped by a dog, a horse, a duck, a squirrel and a girl.

4). I used to collect stamps when I was a kid and I’m still irrationally possessive of the meager collection.

5). I have each and every letter, note, or scrap of paper a friend has written to me since when I could start reading which was pretty early!

6). I’m emotionally defunct and every friend of mine who is in a relationship turns to me for advice. I am perennially terrified that at least the next 10 break-ups if any would be because of terrible advice from me!

7). I have awful short term memory and forget most things such as ‘where my watch is’ or ‘why I called who I called right now’ or ‘How come I am sitting in class and nobody else is here? (on a Sunday)’.

8). My nose has a tiny dent and is slightly crooked (u will know only when u look closely) which gives me mild sinusitis (a classic excuse to get out of swimming when lazy!).

I Tag the following eight to list queer facts about themselves:

In alphabetical order

Angel of Dusk
Arcane Crapper
Dumbalec
Lilithian Lady
Mad Angel
Musafir
Phoenix
Tanzy


Posted by Pavitra :: 11:16 :: 4 comments

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Saturday, 26 May 2007

A city and A dam(n)

In the ancient world there was a city by the sea. It was on land lower than most lands and year by year the sea grew larger and taller than the city. It had been enconsed by great walls of massive stone and hardened silt and clay. The wall extended around the whole city and the sea was just its thickness away. Over the years, the walls painstakingly were built thousands of feet high. Over the years, the sea steadily kept growing taller in hope of leaping over those walls and claiming its citizens as its own.

Decades later, the sea stopped growing tall and reached almost the top but not quite. With constant observation, the citizens came to be convinced that the sea would not devour them unless…

The fear persisted…what if there came to be a hole in the wall? And so the citizens would scout the entire city day in and day out and bolster and foster its strength. You see, even when a tiny hole is made on the walls of a humungous tank, water collects itself around that hole and pushes through it with tremendous force. And so the citizens tirelessly worked on their wall.

The city is no more. I do not know the exact reason of its extinction…maybe the citizens tired…maybe the sea had fooled them and lied low for a while before leaping on them like a mythical monster…maybe they psychologically over the years had begun to think that the sea was after all their true home.

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Such a hole in such a tank creates a powerful waterfall. It is heavy and loud and the water gushes down in a fatal torrent. Dams are made on this principle and megawatts of energy is generated in this day and age. Some of it productive, some of it volatile and fatal. But sometimes there is no tank. It’s as if the walls of the water tank have suddenly disappeared and there is no tiny hole either. Just a wide open space and nothing to hold the water in. It gushes out smooth and whole and massive, directionless and unbound in energy, in a freefall.

Thus, you can be damned in and you can be damned out.

For now, very carefully the hole has been crudely cemented. Will it create stagnation? Will it generate more patient static energy in the form of this stagnant water? Or will it just remain…the effort fruitless and pointless?

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Its funny isn’t it? Most of us associate water with free. Any water body; simply the waves, the ebbing, the free flow it looks like the embodiment of free. But it’s the most bound natural element. From the smallest to the largest…why even the sea is covered by land mass on all four of its vast extremes. Since time immemorial there have been tides…high tides and low tides. Maybe it’s the sea forever pushing against the land to be let out. Relentlessly and willfully.

So maybe free isn’t quite free. Maybe free is equivalent to effort of will.

To follow the will…not because it has been willed but because you will it.

Posted by Pavitra :: 12:18 :: 6 comments

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Friday, 25 May 2007

Never before, Ever-after or the road in-between...

She was in love with him for four years. It was pure passion. She’d talk to me about him all the time. She would say so many things and yet there’d be a thousand other secrets gleaming beneath the shadows in her eyes that she wouldn’t share. There was this excitement lurking somewhere inside her all the time. She’d say it a thousand times. She’d call me up and say it. She’d tell me at sleepovers. She’d tell me every time that we’d meet up for coffee and gossip. Lilith’s eyes would glow and she would say ‘I love him’ to me a zillion times. She loved him because she couldn’t keep her hands off him. She loved him because he couldn’t keep his hands off her. She loved him because they played table tennis with the same passion and every time either of them would lose the other would bear the brunt of it for days. They were like raw wood and match sticks together…the flames would ignite almost instantaneously anytime, anywhere. She’s the adventurous sorts and she loved him because he promised her a tomorrow. Four years is a long time to test the endurance of any relationship and theirs could not survive it. His tomorrow was not long enough. Her sense of adventure needed fresh passion. It ended. She came to me and she wept. Many weeks later she met this guy who she tells me about all the time. The passion isn’t there in her voice or in her narratives but she says he makes me feel like I’ve never felt before. He makes me feel like am the only woman alive on the planet. He is so devoted he makes me feel completely unafraid that he’ll ever let go. She says it’ll never be like the first love again where you give everything you’ve got away but I do love him. And so I smile for her hope things go her way as long as she is happy.

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He was in love with her since 9th grade. He’d tell his friends he’s crazy about her and they’d take it as seriously as any 9th graders possibly can. The next year they started seeing each other. Those were the years of innocence. He was always one of the duffers in class. She did marvelously well and almost always topped. It didn’t seem to bother either one of them. He might have lacked academic brilliance but he always had a way with girls. Easy arrogant charm seemed to win him brownie points with almost any girl. She went away to college and he continued in the same city flirting ‘harmlessly’ according to him with every girl that favoured his eye. ‘Men always appreciate beauty’, he’d say to me with a wink. They broke up often and I was beginning to get unaffected with their constant hits and misses. Gradually because of understanding how important it is to do well in this world and how compared to her parents standards he was literally incompetent, she broke up with him with finality. I never thought it would hurt him bad. I mean I am his confidante and he did flirt around. How serious could his intentions be? But it did hurt. And I had to reconsider another stereotype you learn as you grow up. Maybe it was his ego, maybe it was because he truly loved her and maybe it was a combination of both. Jackass pursued her with staunch determination and used every rule in the book to convince her make her jump back into his closet. And she did…she’s still in there and they are happy. There are ups and downs, but then Jack and Jill dealt with them didn’t they? I don’t know how far it’ll go but I have faith and am biased towards this couple…I think am looking forward to their marriage.

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I believe in love. Maybe that’s the wrong line to start this quarter with because I don’t really know. But I’d like to believe that I believe in love. I love the thought of romance, the smell of dew drops and the glimpses of misty nights that I see on television and read in books. Even then, I have never been against arranged marriages. In fact it could turn out to be love if you give it a chance. They love each other, but there’s no romance to be seen. They’re partners for life but their every little step in life is not taken in partnership, they do not share those special warm moments often. There must have been many things they would have liked to tell each other years ago but even those underlying whispers have now completely vanished. They do not share their every woe or sadness and joy or happiness. But they have pledged to stand together until the end. In the face of what…I do not know. Maybe they are happy and I being young and idealistic am looking for a single tiny flash of love or passion or affection…I wish them all the love and happiness in every moment of their lives.

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My aunt and uncle have always been my picture of happily ever-after. They’ve been married quite a few years and have kids who’ve lived over a decade each now. There is tenderness in their every glance. There is familiarity and understanding in every nod of the head, every smile, and every spoken word from even across a room. Like she knows him and he knows her. Like they blend together in a symphony. Like they are two different instruments and the song is one. I know it sounds like a cliché but then all clichés have been proved true a million times. I always wondered what happened to the Prince and Cinderella after they got happily married. Chitti and Chittappa proved my sequel. Theirs was an arranged marriage and blossomed into everlasting love. Everlasting…I know the word seems like its been added to the dictionary simply so we know that something stands for its meaning. The word seems like the literary equivalent of the numerical infinity…undefined…unseen…yet desperately desired. Yet somewhere I believe their love is. Touchwood.

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I have always wondered what love is. When Lilith would talk to me with exuberance of it I’d think am I even capable of feeling such a feeling? I have always had this notion in my head that love is meant to be enduring and everlasting for it to be true. It shouldn’t be frivolous or taken for granted or be tried and tested at every nook and corner. Yet even though heart broken once, Lilith did find love again soon. When younger, I’d always wonder about the morals of people who’d have a change in boy friend or girl friend with every season. But since she was my friend, I accepted it without the blink of an eye. Gray shades.

And then in spite of frivolous meanderings, Jackass pursued his ‘love’ and pledged himself to her. This he said was true and that I never doubted. Yet, there had been harmless flirtations. But he does love her. Gray shades.

I had always believed the boy on the burning deck to be right in spite of the fruitlessness of his duty to his pledge. I have always believed such blind commitment to promise a major part of love if not love itself. I respected this feeling of loyalty and honour. I still do…its ingrained deep inside of me. But, somewhere there lurks a doubt that if it isn’t completely right, if it isn’t paradise on earth if forget paradise, it simply doesn’t make you just happy…does such a binding to the commitment count as everlasting. The everlasting where everything is perfect just because you are here with him or her. Does it? Gray shades

I believe in ever-after. I believe in forever. I believe in together. But, I am not completely idealistic. I also believe in compromise, in communication, in support, in ups and downs, in endurance. I wonder why we love fairytales. Is it because there is the fantasy of being whisked off your feet out of the blue? Is it because it makes it all easier to just keep dreaming? I have always believed that life is about meeting tons of nice people but that doesn’t mean you wade through them until you find your hero. But maybe I have been sticking to the road too much. Maybe you do meet tons of nice people but there are only some that ‘click’. Maybe in my staunch fantasy of being true to whoever he will be I have never given any of the ‘HIMs’ a chance! Maybe love and life is about straying off the road a little bit to meander in the fields. Maybe you’ve got to give things a chance. I always thought it was easy to trust and believe. And so I got so used to training myself not to do either that it’s hardest to now trust and believe. Maybe am right to be the way I am. Cautious. But maybe I do need a walk in the fields to give life a chance. It is scary. To have even thought this thought and gone against most of my strong convictions is scary. I wonder why it is so scary. But I’ll leave that for another day.

It isn’t like I’ve ever believed in the perfect man. I mean in the logical recesses of my mind I don’t have such a concept…there are many who make you laugh, there are many who are sophisticated, there are many who leave you precious breathtaking moments. Yet, every time my pulse would beat a little faster I’d brush it aside and say this isn’t it…why waste my time on it? My aunt said to me laughingly yesterday, ‘Never let romance pass you by’. I do not regret any of my past decisions; I’d probably still make them. You always know when something is right or wrong. But I’ll try and shed the cautiousness, the suspicious alert mind which is ready to pick up on any fraud at all times…constant vigilance!

I wonder if love is about ever-after and forever. Maybe it is just about moments…precious moments. I still hold the forever fantasy close to my heart but I guess there must be some magic in the fields as well…

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I watched Hitch again today. I love Will Smith. I love the lines. I always laugh through the movie…

This time I confess to having shed a few unnoticed tears.

Posted by Pavitra :: 12:09 :: 8 comments

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Monday, 14 May 2007

Too far away

I don’t think she even remembers
But I can never forget
Music warbles overhead,
Drifting down like dim snowflakes in midnight.
The violins are razors scratching aluminum underwater.
The day goes down outside.
It’s been a while since I’ve felt so here, so mercilessly now
Time becomes vacuum
Memories glow, then fade, draw forward and then recede like waves.

It would be pointless to explain.
You could never understand, I could never understand.
You’ve never held the husk of her body
Even as the soul lingers between us passages of colour
She in black and white.
You’ve never pried your fingers from her hands.
You’ve never learned the way an ECG screams in that most final silence,
How the gravity of the Earth itself seems to grow and yawn then.

I could never comprehend the satisfaction one could feel destroying themselves
But then I could never understand, I never tried hard enough
And now I’ve run miles
Too far away, selfish in my own unchained melody
Too far away to touch her
Too far away to promise love
Too far away to inspire hope

Too far away.

Fear. I then delve in its deep mists.
And yet again I wonder about my own soul
Not hers, but my own.
I wonder what would happen if she won.
I wonder if it is a matter of winnig or losing.
I wonder what such a moment would mean
If I let the last breaths slip away.
I wonder if at all am even a player.
But I beg her to let me play the game just so I can watch her
Just so I know it isn’t over yet.
But now am too far away.

Too far away.

I have heard cheesy lines.
I have heard of being forgiving and benevolent.
But I never had to be those
For I love her and I chose.
I tell her everyday that I love her
I love her more today than yesterday
But less than tomorrow.

It is eternal.
But then nothing lasts forever.

She can fly.
Such is her spirit.
She has life in her every breath,
In her every story, in her every act.
This too shall be defeated.

I say a fervent prayer
I hope for herculean strength
I wish I could hold her hand
I know she doesn’t need it
But then again callous as I am,
Tis’ my soul that I care about
I think I need it,
But am too far away.

He watches over her every night.
He’s a lamp, he’s a glow of strength
He’ll stand forever strong
He’ll never ask for my support nor my song
He’s torn I know
For he wants me there yet he doesn’t
But he’ll stand by her forever

Silent nights,
As words come undone
I say a little prayer for you
And hope I’ll do right.
But for now,
Am too far away.

Too far away.

Posted by Pavitra :: 18:37 :: 8 comments

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Thursday, 10 May 2007

A beautiful mind

I had a really bad thought today...a completely insensitive, horrendous thought. I thought maybe its not so bad being a schrizophrenic. I thought for a small guilty moment that maybe I am schirophrenic...then everything would be a figment of my imagination. Nothing would be real. Then its not so scary because it 'is not'.

But then the movie ended and I was simply, callously sitting in a real room, unaffected and unmoved. Literally.

Posted by Pavitra :: 18:12 :: 8 comments

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Monday, 7 May 2007

Life is like that

I needed to clear my head. I wasn't thinking a single thought. My mind was blank but it was feeling dense and dull and heavy. I did instinctively what I'd usually do in such a situation. I without thinking put on my shoes, my sweatshirt and walked out into the cold night air. It was 11 pm. I walked past the old blocks and the undergrads were drinking and throwing yells out of their windows. They were noisy and the clanging of glass and loud music at regular intervals jarred my ear drums as I walked past block after block. Yet it was like back ground music. I didnt quite register them. I didnt quite acknowledge their presence. Like I said my mind was dense and dull.

I walked into the Northwick Park opening and here the wind was colder and suddenly everything was louder. The thick green bushes on the side of the narrow dimly lit path were creepy. It built slowly, like a small gnawing in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the bushes and kept imagining a sudden hand or some other gross super natural entity coming flying at me. I had this nigging feeling at the back of my neck that someone was following me but I was too scared to look behind so I just started walking briskly. A sudden cyclist whizzed past me and I jumped out of my skin. Even before I could get my breath under control a branch of the tree on my left started creaking. It sounded like the creaking of an old wooden door. I swear it did. The branch was loose and the slight breeze was making it creak. Even with that logical reasoning I couldn't quell the goose bumps...the escalating fear.

And then I got irritated. I mean this is my walk. I am supposed to be relaxing in the cool breeze and be gaining some moony perspective. I stopped abruptly at the clearing ahead and forced myself to stare fixatedly at the bushes with wierdly spaced out gaps in them. The first few moments were terrifying but then nothing happened. I forced my breathing to calm and slowly turned my back to the bushes to look out at the dark park...at the stars in the sky...at the faint dim outline of the moon...at the sudden whizzing of a fast train with sparkling lights...at the vast expanse above me...pitch dark in places and still navy blue in others...I took a deep breath and let the night air fill my lungs. I stopped there and looked all around for about five minutes. My fear had dissipated and I don't think I had ever seen such a beautiful night. I turned around and slowly walked back home. I smiled at the creaking tree and willed myself to walk past it even more slowly than slow. It felt good to dare myself. I suddenly didn't feel like crying anymore. I was choked but not that bad.

It was significant this walk. I think life is like that.

Posted by Pavitra :: 15:57 :: 6 comments

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Saturday, 5 May 2007

Sometimes in spite of knowing what the right decision is it becomes very difficult to adhere to what the mind knows. You wander aimlessly, wanderously, listfully hoping your logic and gut instinct would be wrong knowing all the while that they are right but yet resisting because untill your heart is ready to believe what your mind already knows the two power centres of your body do not allow the proper prosecution and implementation of that right decision.

It takes just a small stroke of a sword, a tiny knock of a hammer or simply the right mix of words to make that sudden gear shift a block into place in your heart for it to listen to the mind. A little disrespect, a little disregard is all it takes for that gear to shift. It is extremely unnerving because instead of mountains and thunderstorms the indication is from perhaps the smallest and most insignificant of insults or injuries. But it is like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle that suddely fell into place and set the gear rolling.

The implementation of that right decision then does not necessarily become easy. Infact it becomes much harder but then the only catalyst that ensures success is the will. The will once conviced does not take defeat. It does not understand defeat. It becomes almost robotic immune to both logic and emotion. It is like a programmed defence mechanism instilled in the body to take over when most required. And nothing can change or move it from its path. The heart hurts, the mind throbs and hammers but the will ensures ultimate triumph.

It is time to beat the odds once more. Bring on the pain.

Posted by Pavitra :: 17:40 :: 5 comments

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Friday, 4 May 2007

It's true

The place where the green grass merges with the blue sky
The nights when the moon shimmers full behind clouds white
Warm dinners with sparkling bright lights
Whispering winds urging you to fly
In bounds and leaps for fantasies unseen
And pleasures umpteen
Hands touch, eyes meet
My heart soars for this vision in greed
So true it seems this tantalizing dream

Maybe I'm brainless
Maybe I'm wise
But it’s got me seeing
Through different eyes
Somehow I've fallen Under its spell
And somehow I'm feeling
It's up that I fell

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart

And though I know I may know
I don't care
Just for this moment
As long as it’s mine
‘Come be how you want to’, I whisper
‘And see how bright we shine’

Don't dream too far
Don't lose sight of who you are.

Posted by Pavitra :: 15:29 :: 3 comments

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Thursday, 3 May 2007

For the love of the game

Swoosh. She stood straight and looked at the small spec of white moving steadily through the sky. Her eyes followed it with utmost concentration and she watched its descent from the sky till it landed on a faraway green and came to sudden stop. She knew exactly where it had fallen. She never missed it in flight where even most professionals would have missed it once or twice. ‘Brilliant!’ said Sam, shaking his head at her as if to say there was absolutely no doubt about that shot. She immediately picked up her golf bag and swiftly began to walk towards hole 5. Sam followed close behind with Ross walking silently by.

“C’mon guys a bit faster”, yelled Dee.
“Yeah she’d obviously be enthusiastic…she’s gonna make it 5 under par if she gets it in with two putts!”
“Your just jealous Ross, she’s way better than you at your own game,” said Sam with a laugh.
“She’s way better than most at every game!” Ross tossed back at him with a grin.

People usually stand in every position possible and take about fifteen minutes to get ready for each putt or swing in golf. They’d bend left and tilt right and bend over and sit on the ground and act as if they are literally memorising the dimensions of the earth before every shot. With great flourish and with an air of utmost expertise they’d look at the ball and then the flag hole, then back at the ball and then at the imaginary line between the ball and the flag hole and lightly tap the ball with just the right amount of force required to send the ball home or so they would claim later on over chilled beer or Scotch on the rocks. And yet most would miss the target by many frustrating and infuriating inches. Dee was one of the quickest golfers you would have seen around. She briskly walked up to the ball, lightly laid the putter next to it focussed on the flag hole for about 30 seconds and gave it a tap. It rolled easily across the smooth cut grass and neatly fell into the flag hole with a smack.

“Pure fluke!” smirked Ross while giving her a friendly shove.
“You jealous pig!” yelled Dee turning around to shove her back.
“You can’t get me!” said Ross with a grin, dodged her and began running.
“Always have, always will” and Dee dashed after her like a kid.
Sam laughed at the way Dee got her so quickly and rolled over with her on the grass. He laughed at the way she always got her. He laughed at the way she always got caught in spite of claiming great agility. He laughed at the gay exuberance and gusto for living that they had managed to hold on to even after the worst blows life had meted out to them.
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Sam loved his sister and he had hated her at the same time. She is and always had been one of the most competitive people one could meet. Everything was a challenge to her. She could not handle defeat. She would try and try harder and sweat and slog to make sure she was the best. Always. She had been better than him at everything. Everything. He had always had to live under her shadow. As a kid he had resented his little sister imagining her competitiveness to be directed at him for greater parental attention. But as he had grown up he had realised her compulsiveness came from within directed at simply winning everything in life and he had grown to admire her spirit. Had Sam himself not been an extremely intelligent fellow excelling in academics and the one sport he loved he would have grown up as a man with severe insecurities and a major inferiority complex.
He had had ample opportunity to have acquired one as well. Dee and Sam had started training for swimming at an early age. He had been 9 and she 6. Their mother in a way had been a slave driver and the schedule had been rigorous. By the time he had hit his teens they were both part of the Detroit state swim team. Training was twice a day four hours in the morning and two every evening. Their lives had begun to revolve around swimming and Sam had begun to tire of the tough schedule. He had begun to buckle under the pressure and he had never truly enjoyed the sport too much.

Kids at school could be heard yelling and shouting sometimes in glee, sometimes in frustration, sometimes in anger and sometimes in ecstasy. He would watch them run, dodge, knock each other down, jump and then he would watch them score. The mass hugs; yells and pats on the back would follow. All of his state swimming victories put together did not seem as glorious as these basketball wins in the school basketball court seemed. He would sit and watch them because he would be too tired from all the swimming to join them. He would watch them and envy the camaraderie and pure joy in the game and wish he had the guts to join them. Then one fateful day he walked up to his fellow classmates on court and asked if he could join. That day shaped his entire life, his personality, and his relationships for years to come.
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He had never sucked at anything that bad. He was so awful at the game he had made everyone laugh till they cried at his pathetic attempts to shoot. He had not missed the basket by inches or feet but by miles. He just couldn’t understand it. I mean he was strong and had strength in his arms from all that swimming then why the hell couldn’t he shoot? And he had sweated. Like really sweated not just little sweat from jogging etc. He had sweated profusely and his shirt was damp and his exhaustion was not sweet like after swimming but his throat was a little constricted and he wanted to drink tons of cold water. And he did not have to walk back to class alone but with a bunch of boys who just were not quitting making fun of him. He felt embarrassed. He felt inadequate. He felt unsure in that crowd. He didn’t like the feeling one bit.

He was back on the court that day, and the next and the day after that. He was addicted to the dribbling, the chase, the dodging, fooling the opponent and shooting and shooting again till he had enough to boast about for that day. He was getting good. He was getting fast. His moves were getting unpredictable. He was getting addicted. He had begun to get slower and slower in the swimming training sessions. Almost everyday the coach had to push him to the back of the sequence line because he had begun to hold up the entire line due to exhaustion. He began slacking. He began creating excuses. For the first time in years he took about a minute in a 100-metre race at a regional swim meet. A minute is almost eons in swimming. His career as a swimmer was over if he didn’t buck up now.

His mom nagged him day in and day out. He had never lost in such a horrible a manner ever before.
“Look at Dee. Look how dedicated she is. Don’t you want to win?” She would holler at him every opportunity she got. He tried reasoning with her.
“She likes swimming mama. I never really enjoyed it as much. And I don’t have time nor the energy to live life after beyond it.”
It went on for a few months and his performance never got better. In fact it got worse. He seemed to be lacking energy throughout no matter how much of energy boosting malt his mom put in his milk.
“After all the time and effort I’ve expended taking you both to the pool everyday and sitting with you and cheering you on. Is this how you repay me?”
“Mom you’ve done a lot and I do appreciate it. But I don’t like swimming much.”
“You just don’t want to try. You don’t want to give things your best shot like your sister.”
That hurt. He loved Dee but he was tired of trying to measure up. I mean he was the elder one for godssakes.
“Mom I’ve won a lot. You almost have a trunk full of medals that I’ve won for you. This isn’t about me this is about you winning. Its like we’re machines and you get to prove that you were super mom,” he yelled.

He left swimming that year. Basketball became his life. Mom never asked him to win anything after that. She was never over excited when he won or topped anything after that, nor was she overly disappointed when he lost or did badly. Dee became the focus of her life. She drove Dee like as though she were a machine and Dee went with it. Swimming became Dee’s life. She had always wanted to tell Sam that she was proud of him, that she was glad he had found a sport he liked but since she had always been in awe of him she never did. They interacted at the dinner table like kids in most families do but never got close. Her rigorous schedule continued. He continued with his newly found passion.

That summer he played in the first ever inter-house match and his team won. It was a small match but it was a greater victory for him than any of the swimming ones had been. He was part of the Bulls team and they were against the Eagles who had won for the last two consecutive years. He had never played with as much spirit; it was reflected in his every move, his every dodge, and his every shoot. He was scoring more than any of the other opponents. He was up against Marco who had been the best player in school for the last two years. There were two minutes to full time. Roby from Bulls had passed the ball to him and he was immediately surrounded by three of the opponent players. At the edge of the court he continued dribbling the ball shielding it with his body at a diagonal to the players, looking for an opening. Marco made a move towards him and finding the opening; in a single instant Sam had passed the ball to Bob. They were still at centre court and Bob almost immediate passed it back to him. Marco again covered Sam almost immediately then. The guy was excellent and knew which way he was going to move every time. Sam was forced to have his back to Marco and was once again being cornered at the edge of the court. He in that moment made a quick, instinctual decision, flipped around and shot from right where he was from outside the D. It was almost a thundering silence in the court for those few stretching moments as the ball flew through the air. And then there was pandemonium. All hell broke lose. Sam had scored and they had won 53-51. It was tremendous. The entire school was in an uproar. And through all the yells and slaps on the back Sam thought he could hear a faint chanting sam,,sam..Sam..SAM..Sam..SAM…sam. He knew he would always hear that chanting when he was old and deaf and alone. He would hear it and feel the thrill again of that first match. After that there was no stopping him. The game became his life.
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By the age of sixteen Dee became a national swimmer and was representing the State of Michigan. She was one of the fastest one could see around. She was beating records left, right and centre. With each race she, it seemed she was getting quicker. Dee loved the water and she was getting used to winning. She had drive and even though her mother took her to the pool everyday and sat there till the training was done this kind of dedication was hard to achieve unless one had innate inner drive. For her mom it was pride beyond reason at her daughter’s successes. She was most conceited about the fact that the other swimmers took drugs and steroids during training to be faster but Dee was this quick simply on her nutritious diet and energy malt mixes. She would beam with pride at each of Dee’s victories as if they were her own. Sam’s accomplishments at basketball would not go unnoticed by her but they would always lack the lustre that Dee’s had.

Dee would make it a point to congratulate her brother at his every win and pat his back and say a sympathising word at his every failure. They had a light rapport and they never still had time to interact. But during the few weekends that both would be at home they would play carom or foosball or table tennis and enjoy a few harmless games in good spirit. Both had the flair for sportsmanship and found it easier to just play than talk. That made thing uncomfortable for both. Any bitterness that Sam had over his mothers fanaticism over Dee was more or less nullified by his fathers balanced outlook and equal encouragement of both children. Sam was a little casual and carefree and never really held against his mother but a few remnants of a bitter taste always remain.

The summer that Dee graduated from High School was the summer that their lives changed for better or for worse. Sam was graduating college and had bagged a great job with a chemical enterprise. He had passed out with honours and had received a great farewell as the best captain the basketball team that Wharton had ever had. Dee had gotten admission into Berkeley purely on her record as a national swimmer. They had decided to go on a family vacation for two weeks to California. Rosaline or Ross for short was coming along. If there was one common thing that both Sam and Dee loved was Ross. She was their best friend. It was amazing how she fit into both their lives. She was the only one Sam would talk to and confide in. She was the only one Dee would talk to confide in. Ross was never best in anything. She was clumsy at almost anything she touched. But she had a cheerful disposition and had this uncanny capability of being able to mould herself to anyone’s state of mind so as to be just rightly compassionate and understanding. Whilst the siblings played and competed she read books and fantasised about the surreal and was the easiest person to get along with.

They bonded in a way that summer because of her. She was the go between. Both wanted to spend time with her and before they knew it they were all three sitting together almost all the time playing cards and talking. Talking about friends, school and college. Talking about their respective sports. Dee talked to Sam how she sometimes craved a normal life. She had had none unlike him who had enjoyed the double advantage of being popular and having tons of friends and also playing and excelling at his favourite sport. He understood and he sympathised. And was not over empathetic like some other people who would gasp and sigh at her so called life.
“My God you don’t go to movies?”
“Gosh you’ve never had a sleep over in your life?”
“What??? You did not go for that party?”
“My God! Poor thing your mom really pushes you!”
“No. I love it myself. She helps me remain pushed,” Dee would answer with a thin smile.
Sam understood Dee’s craving for a missed life. But he also understood her love of the game and her need to be best at it.”
Ross understood both of them and added a little recreation and silly lightness to the summer break Brother sister bonded.

And then it happened. The mighty blow.

Neither of them quite remembered how it happened. One minute they were driving and laughing over how silly Ross was about something and their Dad was looking in the rear view mirror and laughing along…the road was empty and wide…laughter was filling the air…suddenly the sound of screeching tyres filled the air…the flash of a carrier was seen…none of them registered and then blackness.

Luckily both parents had come away with minor scratches. Apparently the carrier had come from the side and had banged against the side of the car’s back. Ross had a head injury with internal bleeding. Dee had broken a few ribs and hurt her stomach muscles had been torn from the inside. Sam had hurt his left kneecap.

It had all hurt where it hurts the most.
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The wounds had healed. Their effects could have lasted a lifetime if the siblings had not turned to each other at the opportune moment. Dee obviously could not swim anymore as her stomach muscles could not take the stress and Sam could not play anymore. In fact he had it much worse he had a distinctive limp. He was no longer the strong, independent tall basketball player. He had a limp and the passion of his life had been stolen from him in the midst of laughter.

The anguish, the bitterness built slowly spreading like venom in their hearts, their minds and their lives. Mom obviously only lamented the loss of her daughters career. Sam’s leg was a great loss to her as a mom as well. But nothing was balanced. Dee was bitter because the constant nagging of her mother and her lamenting about swimming made her own loss loom larger than ever in her minds eye. She resented the fact that her mom only thought of her as a swimmer and not a person. Sam resented the fact that his mother could never appreciate his passion the void that it was now. Both grew bitter. Both snapped at their mother, years of resentment pouring out like a waterfall stopped for too long. The father tried to intervene but the emotional hurt had been buried for too long and the mother too old to now change her views nor her person was too hurt, indignant and enraged at her children’s ingratitude to make amends herself.

Ross made the tides soothe over. She had lost partial vision and vision was her life. She who only read and dreamed could do nothing without clear sight. Yet she was the same, always cheerful, always listening to them rave and rant. Slowly their raving and ranting dimmed and both siblings spent their time with Ross. Again it was the three of them laughing and talking. None ventured into what they would do further in life. For a while they only talked about nothing. Ross filled them with hope. She kept saying its not over yet. You have a whole world of sports and activities to explore. She with calm and her usual blind optimism instilled in them a slow confidence in their abilities, in their own will and in the fact that they were born fighters.

Dee’s passivity helped them get over the pain of their snatched passions. They resumed life. Dee could not go to Berkeley anymore but she did go to UCE California and had a chance to make friends and finally do things that she had never done in her life before. Sam worked and earned money and both still played TT or foosball over the weekends. Mom was slowly forgiven. Love was regained. Life was beautiful.

Only passion was missing.
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On the weekend of Sam’s thirtieth birthday, Dee and Sam went to visit dad and mom. Both had excelled in life, at their jobs and were successful. Both parents were extremely proud of their children. But there was this underlying restlessness about both children that dad wanted to ease but could do nothing about except grieve.

Sunday afternoon they decided to accompany dad on his weekly round of golf.

There on the green the magic happened again…

They had taken a putter each and were trying to putt for fun. It started as friendly competition, became a matter of minor pride and then slowly became a slow obsession. That week both siblings spent everyday at the golf course competing with each other for real. Both were slow. Both were obsessive and focussed. Both wanted to beat the other. Both were natural at it. They had no time to spend with each other all weekend. The only time they met was at dinnertime. Both parents were disgruntled at being neglected like this. Dad embraced his children like they had come to him after years when they were leaving. He knew he had lost them to yet another game…

Sam and Dee were back.

Labels: fiction, siblings, sport, will

Posted by Pavitra :: 19:38 :: 8 comments

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