I missed the bus every single day.

The bus stop was not even on my route. I just happened to be there one fine day, lsot after another of my drunk sojourns in the old town. Another night that was meant to be a blurred image of things I did but never could remember.
But i guess the fates though enough’s enough, and took things in their hands and sent her there.

So here i was at this little street corner in some part of the town I had never been to before. I was too drunk to even stand so I went and sat down on the first bench that hit my eye.

A calmness, one known only to those purveyors of fine wine, hit me hard. My vision was about to zero out in a couple of minutes; i could tell from experience that id end up spending the night on the bench or in a little jail cell in the local police station.

But before I could fade away my eyes glanced upon her. A woman coming up the road in my direction. She carried many parcels in her hands. As is usual with me, my eyes went to purvey her body but somehow I couldn’t do it. The mind kept flitting right back to her rich brown hair. It seemed as if it would smell of coffee and chocolates. But what really had me were her eyes. Glimmering black pearls they shone so bright and with such love that for a minute I could think of nothing but ways of thanking god for creating such perfection.

Her gaze met my stare for a second and she passed a smile. Not the seductive pleasures I was used to, but rather a warm and gentle hug sort of smile. I’ve only read this in books but at that moment it felt like there was sunshine and wind chimes everywhere. She stopped just a few feet away from my bench at what seemed to be a bus stop and put down her bags.

I couldn’t do anything other than stare at her. She was such a pleasure to look at. I don’t remember blinking even once. I just stared.

My heart seemed to skip a beat and my mouth went dry. I tried getting off the bench and introducing myself to this strange encounter who seemed to fill the whole place with sunshine and lilies but as soon as I tried I fell down from the bench and hit myself hard on the head.

She moved ahead to help me but a man in a long overcoat got to me before her and helped me sit down. He dropped a coin in my lap.

What! Did he think I was a homeless drunkard…!!!!

Then her bus arrived and she left.

The very next day I came again to that very same bench. I don’t even remember how I found the place again. This time I was sober. A fear gripped me that all this was a dream and I had imagined the girl up in my state of intoxication. But the pain my neck seemed to disagree.

And just to clear things up, she came again. Again carrying a half a dozen parcels in her hands. The same vibrant smile and lovely hair. Again the lust that I assumed would grab hold of me seemed to be a silent spectator and something else seemed to be happening inside my head. I kept staring at her and I couldn’t stop. I just couldn’t.

Things went on the same as yesterday to an extent. I sat on the bench and stared while she seemed to be lost in hr own world, singing old lyrics and humming children’s tunes.

Why was this woman so important for me??!!

I watched her board the bus again. The number 12. But I never boarded it. I had no idea why.

Fo a whole week the same thing continued. I cant even remember the dresses she wore or if she had jewelry or not. I cant even remember if she was a tenner or a niner.

All I remember to this day are those eyes and the smile.

So I was sober for the whole coming week and stood there at the sme place at the same time everyday. She came, always wit those parcels in her hands. Always I stared at her and she chose not to make an issue out of it.

Then one day she stopped coming

I don’t know why, maybe because she was afraid of me, maybe she left town. Maybe she used to come there for some work and then it was over so she no longer came.

I never found out. I was scared of following her on the bus or maybe I just wanted to preserve those moments of joy as they were, afraid that nay confrontation would just destroy it.

All I know is that I staring at her for those two minutes was the best part of my life. Ever.

The lesson of the leaf

A new leaf was sprouting out of the stalk. It was a bright green in colour. Something that would make you happy if you just glimpsed at it. A drop of dew fell on it from the bigger leaf just above it as a nice warm breeze blew around it.
Very soon it will develop into a full bright leaf and will help the plant, its mother, in its metabolic life. Someday someone might smile just because they looked at it and felt satisfied and happy inside themselves.
The leaf is happy because it serves a purpose. It has a life of its own. It is a being in itself. and while being itself it is also part of something big. a whole plant whose survival depends on others just like him. they live together and die together. When one leaf dies its important that others take over the dead leafs job and honour its passion and work. Then a new leaf would rise in the shadow of the old and carry on the work that leaves need to do.

If it takes fancy it could break away from the plant and fly along in the wind. A beautiful flight alone, unhindered. it floats in the air in a lofty airy way. It is happy and content. It talks to the wind and the wind smiles back, busy with its own work but always free enough to smile back an encouragement.
The leaf is happy. It is seeing the world. It is doing something it always wanted to. See the other worlds, meet insects and flowers. feel their touch and smell. take in the air around it every new place it goes.

Soon the leaf, without the help of the old plant that is now a tree, start yellowing and it learns that it is now growing old and weak. Death is not coming.
The leaf smiles and never stops. The bug asks it why it is smiling even if its going to die very soon. The leaf says - I lived a content life, I shall die happy and alive.
The bug thinks the leaf is crazy and goes away muttering. The old leaf rustles in the warm autumn wind, now shining slightly with a gold pallor, reminiscing in the glory of its younger years.
As it gets closer to the ground for its last stop it talks to hundreds of other just like him, travelers, nomads of the world of silent truth.
The leaf tells of what it has learnt in its life. Some get frustrated by it and call it an old mumbling fool who did not know that life is not as beautiful as he makes it seem.
The leaf talks of its old heartaches and sadness, a life full of colour and vibrant with experiences it had told many times over. The young sapling learns from it and the tree shuns it away. He floats to his end still telling his tale to any who cares to hear. the young are the most eager. he continues till he can and ends it all with a smile.
It dies leaving behind a legacy that many have felt and become a part of though no one really knows it.

It lived on forever.

Greed,Remorse,War and Death!

He was standing outside his enemies Embassy. The buildings white walls and glass facade glittered in the autumn sun and almost blinded him for a second. It's glaze staring down at him as if wanting to sear through his soul. The thought made him feel a chill in the warmth that was that sunny day. No wind blew, not a leaf rustled in that stillness. Every second seemed to pass by slower than the last. An impeding doom seemed to stare over his head.

His grip around the briefcase tightened more than before. It was more important than his whole life's worth. he could not let anything happen to it at any cost. The black baggage represented a symbol of vengeance. a sign of angst and retaliation. No stone had been left unturned for this one time. The device inside was going to deliver justice tonight. All his enemies owuld be shaken with just one blow to their heart. The building seemed to look through him again. He felt uncertain.

But then the words of his commander flashed through his mind again.
These people had betrayed the holy cause of all men on earth and death was their final punishment 'on earth'. The kind lord would give them their final verdicts to hell once they were served to him. And that was his duty. To bring them to justice and do the work of his god on earth so that the beauty of his lord may shine upon the faces and hearts of millions who never knew his true nature.

This one task was his to complete and justice would be delivered. He should not fail.

He could not fail.

He would not fail.


A sudden darkness erupted in the sky as some clouds rushed to cover up the sun. It's features hidden by the clouds but not blocked as they filtered around the edges of the cloud.

The pistol was heavy. It had just one bullet. He would not get time to use a second anyway. The single bullet would spread his message. no, not his message. it would work as the messenger of god, riding on its golden wings of fire to all the people in all the worlds. he was the tool and bullet was the key to unlock and spread the message.

A car zoomed very close by as he crossed the road. He had to be more careful. If only they had given him some training. All he knew was to pull the trigger. He did not need to learn to take aim at such a situation. All that he had done for the last one week was to sit and pray in his cabin and listen to the words of his commander.

"The work of God is above all else, God resolves himself in all that is right and needs to be done. Do what you can to save his world."

He came closer to the steel and glass doors. Those revolving gates that would be the last he crossed before his arrival upon heaven. Death, he had heard was just another adventure. It made him smile. That line always did, specially in the last week.

Now the doors were just a step or two away. Before he entered he stopped and took everything into account. His time for duty and vengeance was here. Today he would do something that would spread the message of his war everywhere. An act so unique that everyone would have to listen or they would die of frustration and curiosity. It was a foolproof plan. Success would be in his hands, in it's own way.

A cool breeze welcomed him as he opened the door. It took him into another world. A world he had once belonged to. A snowy hill covered in frost and alpines. The chilling wind blew int his face. He and the other woodcutters were all working hard to earn their pay that night. The festival was very close by and everyone wanted to buy more things for and with their family.

Taking a break he sat down on one of the felled logs and looked down the hill at the smal lvalley that was his hometow. A quiet paradise untouched by the crimes against humanity. A small paradise where life was simple and happy. A town with its small quiet river that bubbled from inside the hill and divided the town right into two. The small open field where the little children came to play everyday after school. the town market where even now the hawkers were busy setting up their makeshift shops and stalls. The ladies parlour where all the women would go bustling in as chattering little monkeys and come out looking all the same but oh so much better.
The bakery with its wooden chimney that filled the whole square with a taste of sweet-bread and water in the mouth.
How the wind used to caress its lovely little trees and blow the soft smoke over every other house.

It was a happy town.

Until that hideous evening where the setting sun was casting feelings of great sorrow and loneliness at his heart. He did not know why. His wife and son waited for him to bring the buying money home and they would buy new clothes for the Festival and then show them off the other day. The whole town was just waiting to burst with joy and excitement. All the lumberjacks were working extra hard. Everyone wanted to get an extra log of wood more so that they could buy a new cap for themselves or a new dress for the wife or maybe even a second toy for their child. Everyone had heir dreams that evening.

The bombs came one after the other. The sudden blast took everyone by such surprise that they did not notice they had just gone deaf because of the blast.
Then came more. One after the other more blasts came and the whole town was rippe into pieces. The men on the hill watched as their lives were torn apart by those lights and sounds in front of their eyes. Their dreams lost.

He rushed down the slope, falling a million times on that rocky slope, never noticing all the cuts and bruises he amassed. Never in a state of mind to recognise the path that would safely lead him down the slope from the otherside.

As he reached the bottom the charred remains of his little town stared at his face. The Smell of burning and blasted powder filled the air and an eerie silence filled the town as the men fell on the ground. Broken men. They did not know if they were too numb to cry or that they couldn't hear their own sobs because of the deafness of the blast.

He wounded his way through the smoking debris and came to the field that used to join his home. Out in the garden he could see something. As he entered he looked down near the garden fence and saw splatters of red allover. his son's charred body lay next to his wifes. Both in a tight hug. Holding each other. their bodies black from the blasts. They had stood exactly where they had been every night, awaiting his return, smiling and warm. Now they lay cold and dead.

The memory of that night was still fresh in his mind. The newspaper had later said that the Righteous enemy had thought that his town had been a muilitary base and the surprise attack had been launched on the Dictatorial-Undemocratic-Terrorist-Rogue-Evil state to protect the world from The Nemesis that was his nation. So many tags. So many labels. So many excuses to gain more power and wealth.

He entered through the door. All his feelings of hatred had somehow dissapeared. what filled him now was remorse. remorse and sadness that he had died before her and him. He had to do their funeral rights. No man deserved to bid goodbye to his young son and wife as they made their way to the last warm embrace of the mother earth.

He checked his pocket. The note was still there. It had a small message.

"You destroyed my life, my town, my family. I have nothing to live for. My Blood is on your hands. That one self-righteous nation has destroyed everything i stood for. Goodbye."

The security check was in front of him. It could easily detect a gun. It wouldn't. Feet's away from it he stopped.

Opened his suitcase.
Took out the pistol.
Took aim.
And shot himself.

_____________________________________________________________________

Zaya

The ID tag around her neck read

Name - Unknown
Description - Suicide Victim

she walked further on the road to the sound of crashing waves. her long black hair swayed in the warm summer night. The din of crashing waves in the distance told her that she had to walk that way.
She did not remember how she had gotten to the hospital, she still wore the white gown she had woken up in.
as she walked on she tore away the bandage at her wrist and the wounded wrist started bleeding again. Looking at it with contempt she cursed out slowly, it hadn't served its purpose, she was still alive, whats the use of slitting your wrist if you have to live through the pain and not die.
a bat swung over her head, good, a sign of darkness.

her life had always been black, from an abused childhood to a darker adulthood. hate had been the only other constant. she hated her parents, her brother, her friends, the betrayers, her boyfriend.........everyone. they all deserved her hate, some weren't even worth her wrath.
scars from all those days still covered her body and the last one was the only one she had given herself. all trophies of the curse hurled upon her on her birth.

She remembered one night, she had been hiding under the stairway, her mother came looking for her with a broom and beat her black and blue for breaking a plate. cursing "why were you even born, we were so better off without you, you little wretch, piece of the devil"

she wished shed never been born at all, ah the ecstasy of that thought. it made her laugh, laugh out loud.

anything that made her pain seem to shrink, anything that could make her happier, was but a joke. life was cruel to all, but specially to he. she was life favourite pet. playing around with her, making her cry, for endless nights and then getting beaten for crying. that was all life had ever been. and an endless circle of wrath, pain and death. death of emotions, death of feeling, death of happiness, death of smiling.

sorrow was too expensive for her to feel and pain to sticky to get rid of.

she laughed out again.

the road had almost come to an end. the large blue sea was right there in front of her.

climbing over the fence she slipped and tumbled down the edge. she never tried to save herself, pain was something she was so used to that a little more wouldn't affect her at all. making her way to the very edge of the rocks she started singing a song she had once heard

______________________

death will come one day
free us from these bonds
a dawn of glory
a release from pain

death will come one day
and free me of my bonds
____________________________

She stood atop the tallest rock, closest to the shore. so close that she could feel the spray of the waves on her bare feet. those feet were bleeding from the journey. cracked and ugly, their blood mingled with the sea, feeding it its share of hatered's food. the black waters leered at her as she pictured everyone who had made her life living hell.

Every face in order of when they had come, ending with her lover. she hated them all, all except one. him she dispised so strongly that words werent enough to explain that. he had made her a slave, her life hell. he had used her and thrown her. she was nothing, but a slave. she wasnt herself but n object of pleasure and utility.

oh she hated him too dearly to call it hate.

with one last look at the sky she said a prayer for the first time in her life. and then she jumped into the ice cold water. She awaited death with open arms.

___________________________________________________________________

as she drowned in the water her eyes became blurryfrom choking. her neck was collapsing. blood filled her insides, overflowing, pain engulfing her spirit. the end was near, and it was horrible. she felt as though a thousand hands were choking her and a million needles,ice-cold were pricking her everywhere. every part of her hurt, oh the pain. if this was death it couldnt be worth the pain.

her vision went out but at the last moment she thought she saw a light up in the heavens, shining at her, for her. she prayed again, not knowing what she did.

_____________________________________________________________________

To be ended...

just another adventure

To die is like a sweet dream
as it lulls you away from the dreary world
a world of make believe
where happiness is only found in books
and dreams are what set you free

When the night is young and the day is gone,
when the angels of hell await your cries
as you dance your way to death
a last ballad in the name of desperation

A bright white seemed to fill the world as he let go. the world was at an end, for him. death had finally heard his prayers and had come to take him.

the white that surrounded him was pure. an infinite shine showing the powers of the one great sou that seemed to know everything, but did nothing.
he could feel shoulders raising him from his place and help him float in the sea of white. in the distance he could make out some sort of shapes. but then they disappeared.
an absolute engulfed him, fear of something that he could not make out. he remembered peters words 'to die would be an awfully big adventure'. he he..he tried to laugh. nervousness had taken over him as a cold chill after another went down his spine and all he could do was to stay still land wait.

and then in the distance he could make something out. he was coming close to something.
"is there anybody out there" he shouted.

a small speck became visible in the distance. a dark dot int his sea of white where there seemed no up or down, o start or end. just the absolute.

it scared him.

he was getting frantic and panicky. not knowing what to do always scared him and this was beyond anything he had imagined. death was not supposed to scare him. she was supposed to lull him away. put him to peace.

the speck came closer and closer without becoming bigger. it was glaring at him, if a spot could do that.

then it became a little larger

and more

and more

till it was a small island in the middle of the ocean.

he landed there. it was a flat stretch of black with no end that he could see, but still it reminded him very much of an island, so it must have an ned.
abstract thoughts came to his mind but he tried to push them away.
setting what felt like his foot onto the black he walked.
in the distance he thought he heard a screa,....NO...DONT GO....

but maybe that was just him imagining stuff again.

he walked on, what else could he do. there was nothing else to do.

one step after the other he made his way across the plain black. he walked on

and on

and on for what seemed like an eternity.
his feet felt like they would tear apart from the walking but what scared him was that he felt no pain, just a numbing chill.

after many days of walking, filled with far distant memories of screams, of imaginary heads that came to his vision and shouted at him, making horrible faces. murderous expressions.

he ignored them and walked on. death was becoming an awfully big adventure.

after a few more days he came upon something, a small door in the ground. he would have missed it if he hadn't just glanced at it by mistake.
but then he looked around and saw something that almost made him collapse.
the whole black surface was made up of such innumerable gates. millions and millions of gates. all alike, lined up one after the other, next to each other.

Millions.
millions of gates.
millions of possibilities
millions of unknowns, unspoken fears.

he stared back. he had been walking over al these gates for a lifetime. they had been there, right under him but he hadn't seen them nd y chance he had seen one.

he opened that one.

his hands seemed to be full of sweat. no air blew as he took his breath in the vacuum. a hollow exercises.

the door was in his grasp, he pulled to open it.
and..................................

A love story

The rain stopped and he got out of the shed. The road was clearly very muddy but he would go and finish the task anyway. What had to be done had to be done. Putting on his raincoat he cleared a few specks off his bike handle and checked his hair in the reflection off the polished fuel tank.

The moisture laden air had the perect smell of the wet earth. That most heavenly of smells that makes your head spin in a feeling of utopian glory. As he closed the door he looked at the farm house in the distance one last time. Maybe he’d get to see it once again, some-other day. But not for a while anyway. He had a job to do today.

Kick starting the engine he got onto the bike. The engine was making a slight noise besides the constant purring. He should have taken it to the mechanic earlier, but it didn’t matter now anyway.

The sun was setting in a perfect arc over the hill in the far off distance. In his childhood he used to go over and play at the hilltop with his friends for many hours at once. They would play with the shepherds as they brought their sheep and once they got tired they would play with the sheep instead. The sheep were always better to play with. They seemed more energetic and grumbled less. On other days they would just roll around in the grass and feel the wind as it caressed their nimble young bodies. It was motherly, enveloping itself around its children, promising a blanket of protection. A vision of light, it had taught him many things. And on a familiar windy day he had gone up th hill and looked as the sun as it set in the distance far away. And it had been at that moment that he had taken his decision to do what he had finally set out for that evening. A job which pained him much to do. But as he had taught himself too well by now, it had to be done and done by no other but him.

He had reached the twist in the road where the big puddle was and because he was lost in his reminiscence he forgot about and was woken up from his dream as he almost fell off the bike because of the puddle. Maneuvering his way past it he tried to concentrate and fill his mind with the void that he had read would help him tonight. The house was just a little bit further.

The last hundred meters were very slow as the road was broken and riddled with too many potholes. The wet mud was making his bike skid every few meters. The green and yellow fields to his right gave the whole area the feeling of a scenery. The kind you see in the calendars. He smiled at this thought. He had once played with his dog in these fields and almost died under a tractor. How ironical. He had a new dog now, a big Labrador who loved him like he loved him.

The gates of the house were open. the family had gone out for church that morning. The animals were roaming about in the pastures to the south. He looked at the window on the first floor. He had waited many a nights below it. Waited for just one glimpse of her face and then she would throw down a rose for him to catch. He would always faint a drop and finally catch it just before it hit the ground. And every such time she would look at him with a mischievous smile and wink at his smile. Oh what he would give for one more of those sleepless nights.

She had been the fire in his heart that had kept him alive. Those nights she ran away from her home just to hold his hand when he lay in bed sick from the fever. Death had almost claimed him as its prize but she had fought the enemy at the gates and saved his life with the miracle that he believed god had sent her to perform. Top save his life and soul. Their love was true and pure. It was the sort of love you read about in stories and then go and kiss your loved one after your done with it. Hold them in your arms till you can feel every muscle in their and your body relax as the warmth spreads into your souls.

Moving away from the window he went to the small shed in the back. A horse was tied to the post. He was usually very feisty and everyone ws scared of him. But today as he entered the shed the stallion looked down with an apprehensive look. the horse shouldn’t be here tonight, he thought and he opened its rope and watched it as it ran away from the shed at a manic gallop.

There in the corner of the stable was a small clearing. Her father had buried her here after he had killed her. She had paid the ultimate price for betraying her fathers trust. For having loved the son of the man he hated with all his passion. She had died for him and they said that in the last moments when her father had asked her to renounce her love for him and that then he wouild spare her she had actually stood up and boldly said she loved none other but him. This made the boys heart tear apart. He had been the casue for her death. He could very easily kill her father but that would pain her even more. She had suffered enough.

It was time for him to join her.

He picked up the knife and thrust it into his throat.