Disclaimer: These are my personal thoughts. Opinions may vary from person to person, as it must. Also, please forgive for any syntactic/semantic errors as the amount of time between typing the last line and posting this on my blog has been, as of now 45 seconds.

The way that life is portrayed to us on a daily basis is so immensely fabricated in many ways. The only aspects that we see are the successes and the failures that oh so immensely affect our thoughts, inspirations and actions. We forget that what we see are mainly the highlight reels and that there may be some poignant or emotionally assertive master reels behind what made it.

The movies that we watch show the rag clothed hero from a poor family quickly fighting his way through consequences and obstacles and finally making it to the top of the world, followed by a blank screen and the end credits.

The books that we so dearly divulge into take us through each and every pain observed by the protagonist as he or she conquers the world.

Then there are the stories about those who failed to achieve and fell into an eternal abyss and darkness to never resurface again in thoughts or words.

Okay let me come to my question now.

Who is going to tell me about the normalcy of life?

Not everyone instantly makes lemonades out of the lemons given to them by life. As a matter of fact, the majority of us fall under this demographic of human beings.

Those who continually live within the limits of normalcy.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ranting about how most will achieve to nothing in the end. My aim is not to talk about the destination.

It’s about the journey of life.

Let me repeat, I am talking about most of us human beings who continually live within the limits of normalcy.

It doesn’t matter, trust me. Sitting through years of Chemistry and even though not understanding most of it, I’ve learnt one thing.  Unstable high energy particles lose a greater deal of energy when they come back to prior state/attain lower state. (Or something of that sort. You see, there’s a reason why I bid adieu to Chemistry when I had the chance). This is perfectly symbolic of an unstable life that might make us temporarily jubilant at some point. But there will come a time, when these feelings fade away and darkness spreads over the mind.

Everyone is in such a rush to attain the greatest of heights that they forget to go through the most important part of life.


As we slowly and steadily live our lives, we tend to stabilize ourselves in a position concretely. This enables us to consider moving a notch further up and this stabilization process continues.

NORMALCY of life needn’t mean doing the same mundane monotonous things that we are ‘meant to be’ doing with our lives.

It just means that given a point in time and space of our lives, we should consider living through it, observing everything around and absorbing all that’s best and learning from our mistakes with a smile.

This is the part of my writing when I summarize all the load of crap written above and cook up my own definition for it. The whole idea involves living our lives completely in the moment, definitely with an eye in the future, but our souls in the present, and our past fading away with each and every step that we take. That’s how greater normalcy and in turn, better living can be attained.

I’ve realized over the past 3 years of my college life that I’ve been contemplating so hard on things that seemed uncertain, that I forgot to communicate with the things of certainty around me.

It’s time to hold those closer to you, smile at your enemies while keeping them at an arm’s length, put on your best shoes and walk the walk.

This is how life works for the most of us. The obstacles and hardships do come. We have to live through them as well, what choice do we have?

That’s what makes life worth living the most.

For every Yin, there’s a Yang.

For every sunrise, there’s a sunset.

For every article about achieving instant success on the Internet, there’s this one.

Be You, man.


P.S These are just my personal thoughts randomly distributed over sentences and paragraphs. If you find it crap, please feel free to take about 20-30 copies and refill your toilet paper roll.


Black Roses

Ah well, finally wrote another short story. To be honest, this might actually feel like something that you have heard, read or even seen because there were a lot of sources of inspiration for this piece. And I guess that this is by far the biggest I have so far written. So, if you do have the time, please do read it and comment.


Black Roses

The lights were slowly dimming in the room. The only light that flickered was that from the candlesticks near the bed. All three candles were dying. The fire was devouring the candles at a fast pace. The windows were shut and the curtains were drawn. The smallest ray of right from the setting sun had managed to find its path through a hole in the curtain.

It illuminated her face, he thought.

Raj was sitting on the table beside the bed. He had been there for more than three hours, at her side. She was fast asleep. He couldn’t help but notice the peacefulness she radiated while she was sleeping. She would wake up any minute now, and he was prepared. The old tattered book at the end of the table averted his eyes away from her.

A Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

She was an avid reader. By far, this was her favorite book. She used to indulge herself in the utopian world that Marquez had so wonderfully and poetically created.

Raj got up from his seat and walked towards the table. Being careful so as to not wake her up, he made sure that his feet did not make any noise as he walked. He picked up the book from the table and walked towards the balcony. It had just begun to drizzle outside. He held the book higher and opened to its first page.  In it were lots of handwritten words and pencil sketches. He tore the page out of the book and looked at it closely in the diminishing candlelight.  In the middle of the page, clearly inscribed was :

To you, from me.

For whose soul you have so mightily conquered,

There never was another that prospered.

Be mine, tonight and another night

And nights together till the dusk of light



He was merely 21 years old at that time and was just like anyone else of age. He was rebellious, a romantic and dismissed all virtues of a higher power.

He had seen her for the first time in his life in his college canteen. She was standing in front of him at the Pav Bhaji counter. She was fighting with Chottu, the Pav Bhaji vendor for not putting enough paav on her plate. Finally after a lot of power struggle, just as would happen anywhere else in the world, the man succumbed to the woman. He gave her more and she just briskly paced past the line. While she walked, Raj had noticed that a small locket had fallen out of her purse. Hurriedly collecting his share from Chottu, Raj picked up the locket and ran towards her.

-Excuse me, Miss?


-Yes, what do you want?


-I believe this is yours. It fell out of your purse.


-Oh, I’m sorry. Thank you.

She scanned the whole place once and said, Man, it is very crowded here, isn’t it?


-Yeah, I guess it is. Rainy Sunday evenings like these are when everyone comes around for a cup of tea and paav bhaji. It’s impossible to even stand in a place.


-Right, she said, obviously not happy with the overcrowded place. Listen, I am new to this place. Just got my credits transferred here from another college. I really don’t know anyone here. Do you mind If I join you, wherever you plan on having that?, she said pointing at the plate on his hands.

-Oh, sure. Why not, Raj replied quickly.

Raj opened up his umbrella and she held hers high as they walked into the heavy rain. They found a spot under a tree and devoured their snacks, umbrellas still held high, and talked for what seemed to be ages.

After a while, she looked at her watch and suddenly got up.

– Oh shoot, I have an assignment due tomorrow and haven’t even started it. Thanks for giving me company, Raj. I guess I’ll meet you soon again?, She smiled.

Raj nodded courteously and watched her go hurriedly and did not look away until she had finally disappeared from sight.


His eyes were transfixed on the heavy downpour as suddenly he heard a cough from the other room. He slipped the torn page into his jacket and quickly went inside to check on her.

She wasn’t awake yet. She had turned her head to the windows now, still sleeping soundly.

She still seemed tired now even though the crying had stopped. But now she seemed to be more peaceful and understanding now that she was asleep. She was never the strongest person mentally, but she was always sensible, sensitive and understanding.

His mind raced back to the time a year after their first meeting.  They were what people called, ‘in a relationship’ now. They knew they loved each other but it wasn’t like any other. It wasn’t about lust. It was based on respect and understanding.

It was her birthday that day. He was waiting for her in front of her class with a gift wrapped in his hands. He had been waiting for some time now.  Just as he started doubting whether she would be attending class that day, he saw a girl in a yellow salwar lined with red flowers running down the corridor. She had seen him from the distance and seemed surprised that he was there.

-Happy Birthday, he said as she approached him and gave her the gift.

All she did was smile at him and murmur, ‘Four of clock, usual place’ and rushed inside.

5 hours later, they were sitting under the same tree where they had sat a year ago.

She un-wrapped his gift and took into her hands a hardbound version of A Hundred Years of Solitude.

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez?



-Do you like him?


-Of course I do. The elements of magical realism inside this book are in ways, enthralling and profound at the same time. Anyway, open to the first page.


She did as she was told.

“To you, from me.

For whose soul you have so mightily conquered,

There never was another that prospered.

Be mine, tonight and another night

And nights together till the dusk of light.”


Her eyes were moist after reading it.

-Did you.. Did you actually write that for me?

Who else? , he said and smiled.


-Do you actually mean what you’ve written?


-With all of my heart.


He noticed that her head was sweating. He took a towel and went towards her. He made sure that he was as quiet as possible while she soaked the towel with her sweat.

She used to have very long and beautiful hair that she used to tie in knots.

The chemotherapy had required all of her hair to be gone. To him, she still looked as beautiful as ever.

Like she could be any less, he thought.

It had been almost 2 years since she was diagnosed. They had no kids of their own. In a way, it helped because she had required almost all of his free time ever since the day they found out.

Initially, she had responded well to the treatment. The doctors seemed confident that she would be perfectly fine in no time.

But then, as if it were the devil himself in the white coat, one of the doctors explained that she had developed a complexity, the type of which that would make it impossible to treat her.  The doctors said that she had not more than 5-6 months.

So they moved in to his father’s old house in the hills. He would be able to work from home and take care of her as well.

For the past couple of months, her pain had increased. She used to wake up in the middle of the night and cry for hours.  Those nights, he held her close to him as she exhausted herself to sleep. He noticed the peace in her while she was asleep, contrary to her state most the time while she was awake.

It was almost time now, he thought. He had been readying himself for days now. This exact day, 9 years ago they had met each other for the first time in their college canteen.

Images and highlights played like a movie trailer in his head as he walked back outside into the heavy rains with a cup of coffee. As he sipped away, he realized that all these years that he had lived with her and then finally for her, were his destiny. He couldn’t have thought of his life any other way.

Just when he was done with his coffee, he kept the mug on the balcony platform and headed back inside. He made sure to lock the door from inside this time. He went to the other side of the bed, picked up one side of the mattress and took out a small box from underneath the mattress.

He carried the the box away from the bed  and rested it on top of an old teak table. He heard noises downstairs. He realized that their maid had arrived to cook dinner.

As expected, he thought.

He opened the box and took a moment to scan the contents. After pulling out the long black hollow cylinder from the box, he then picked up the gun. The silencer would help to not draw any attention from the maid. He didn’t want her coming up the stairs. Not yet.

He then slowly walked towards the woman on the bed.

As he reached her, he lifted her head slowly and made space for him on the bed. He let her head rest on his lap. The effects of her medication had made her very drowsy.

Slowly, he pointed the gun towards her temple of her head and his other hand slowly covered her mouth as he did so. Memories flashed past him.

The first day at the canteen.

The tree under which they used to always sit.

Their breakups and make ups.

The dreams they had promised to build with each other.

A small tear rolled down his eye and he pulled the trigger.

All that could be heard was the heavy rains outside. The trees whimpered to the mighty rain. The wind was blowing as heavy and hard as it could. The candles in the room were close to being extinguished.

He let her head on the bed and got up. As he walked, he slowly fumbled, fell down and cried. He cried like he had never cried before. He knew she was in a better place now, but his emotions had gotten the better of him. He could not control anymore for he had been holding them for a long time now. He had to let go.

He wiped his tears and got up. He had a promised to keep. The candles in the room were dead now.

Be mine, tonight and another night

And nights together till the dusk of light.”

He had to make sure that he kept it. He removed the silencer from the gun and dropped it on the floor.

He went towards the bed and lied down beside his wife. He removed the torn piece of paper from his jacket and crumpled it. He took her arm and placed her palm on top of the crumpled piece of paper that was lying in his hand. He made sure that his fingers were entwined with hers.

Slowly, and arms shaking, he held the gun directly towards his head. There was nothing that would silence his next shot. He didn’t intend to.


Rani, the maid was making dinner in the kitchen and watching the small television when she heard a gunshot. At first, she thought it had come from the television. But she realized that she had heard the shot from upstairs and ran upstairs to check on the couple that lived in the house.

The television was still left on. It was playing an old 80’s movie. The gentleman and lady in it looked a happy couple. The man had just confessed his love to the woman and she had happily accepted his proposal. Their story had been already written and would probably end happy or sad. But at that very moment, in reality, nature was mourning for the roses that were once red, had turned black.




Who is writing this? I know for a fact that it’s not me.

Why am I writing this? I don’t know why. I plunge into the depth of my mind looking for answers just like a diver does to look for precious pearls underneath the surface of the ocean. Unlike him, I have no sea bed to limit myself. I plunge deeper and deeper and still, I find nothing. But more importantly, I find no boundary of limit. I know that I need to find what I’m looking for. I look at myself. Donned with diving suits and padded feet, I look at what has become of me. I accept it. I am a sea diver. My aim is to find the pearls that I’ve ever so longed for through this journey of mine. The journey has crossed limitless oceans and seas by now. I have seen the darkness in the depth of the waters. The fishes and the vegetation in the water pass by me as I move along in my pursuit.

Suddenly it struck me. What if I was not the diver who was meant to be looking for pearls? Accepting the fact that I’m a diver doesn’t necessarily mean that I need to accept that sea pearls are what I have to look for. Society and tradition defines that I look for pearls.

What if I didn’t want to?

What if I was travelling along the lines of a race track that was a rainbow and I was merely travelling through the wrong colour?

What if I was meant to be one to look for broken and sunken ships??

What if I was meant to be one to look out for new breeds of life?

What if……?

There are answers out there. The only thing you need to ask yourself is, ‘ARE YOU ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTION?’

Once you get that right, suddenly, the oceans and seas that you’ve travelled all along won’t be as dark anymore. You were only looking for something other than what you were meant to look for.


Ask your own questions and find their answers. That will shape you out to lead a better life within as well as out of socially constructed confines. Don’t let anyone else live your life or ask you to live by any imaginary limits.



The Secret Motto

So I’ve been trying to write for quite some time now. It’s been quite some time since I had posted any kind of fiction or anything, for that matter. It was not that I did not have the time for it. Believe me; I had all the time in the world to write another Mahabaratha if I wanted to.

It was the sole reason that, I always tried controlling aspects of my writing. If I was writing a short story, I would try to exercise complete dictatorship over the whole creative process. That would be in terms of anything, such as length, content, quality and so on.  As I tried doing that, I realized that the more I tried to take away, the more I stalled. So finally, I reached at an amicable truce with the whole process.




That became my motto. 

It became clear that when I approached the whole idea with the humility of a viewer/learner, creativity knew no bounds. But when there was any sense of arrogance of a creator/controller, there was standstill.


Then I realized maybe that’s how the whole ‘humanified’ world works. We look at things the way we wish to see them, expecting results we had foreseen, believing things that we WANT to believe.


Maybe, JUST MAYBE if we GIVE IN to the natural flow of things, we might be able to appreciate the best of everything.


Don’t get me wrong, those words are not in anyway means to ratify being lethargic to every situation that we encounter. But sometimes when we have nowhere to go or no idea which direction to head towards, we need to indulge ourselves in the consequences. This in turn, leads to the emergence of a whole new experienced outlook and only then do we come to terms with the beauty of knowing success through failure.


When we do this, there is obviously a deliberate and inevitable involvment in going back and forth through bad times and situations.


When an oarsman rows the boat, the paddle moves back and forth, but on a broader outlook, it’s that very ‘back and forth’ action that keeps the boat moving forward.


 Life is the boat, not the paddle. Life should move on, no matter what. How we move the paddle around, use those instances to push and propagate ourselves forwards, depends on us and in turn, defines us.



Sex, Cigarettes and Jack Daniels

P.S : The title is such as Sex, Cigarettes and Jack Daniels are involved in the story. They don’t play an important part in the story, but as I’ve noticed, they go a long way in helping underline the emotional aspect . 

/*Please take your time to read it. Forgive for any flaws. Did not have time  for any editing.  */


He felt the world reeling behind him as his bike geared up down the empty road. His mind was travelling just as fast as the trees to the side and the road beneath him seemed to travel by. An exhuberant force of wind and emotions alike hit him as he thought about what had become of his life over the past few weeks.

Sex was never good, for one. He knew she felt no pleasure. He tried his best to satisfy the woman he so dearly loved. After he was releived of his pleasure, he would look at her beautiful face and look for some signs of satisfaction in her. Usually, this would involve her cupping her hands over his cheeks and kissing him nose first and finally tying her tongue around his. He sometimes thought that was all that he ever that he lived for. But now, as he looked into her face all he could see was a blank stare. She gave him a slight nod and turned her self over to sleep.This continued for nights together. It left him moping. He did not know what had to be done.The doctor had said there was no problem with him and he was still at his sexual prime. At 39, you don’t expect to go dry anyway. His night would end at him staring at the dirty pink ceiling and forcing himself to sleep, which he had always been afraid of over the last few days. Dreams would be filled with wolves howling and grey dogs barking at his feet, their eyes bloodshot he could see that they did not want him there. He tried to run but his paws were tied to the ground.He was one of them, and before he knew, he would be awake again, gasping for air.

Work was never good too. He was in for a very big breakthrough at his work place. The head of the branch was to leave soon and the word around the office was that he would replace him. Always a passionate worker, he had never allowed his personal life to mix with his proffession and vice versa. They loved him there. But over the last few days there was a sudden decrease in his productivity. The same soul that used to be a bubble of joy and lifted everyones spirits and radiated brightness was now just cuccooned over his office, staring into the piles on unfinished work. The occassional click of his pen was the only signal of life from that cubicle. If anyone went to him to enquire, he would decline them and go back to doing nothing again. He could not get his mind to work. Even the bosses were worried. His mind, that was once a river of flowing ideas, ready to help at anytime had now become as still as the mid ocean. His eyes radiated pain.His emotions radiated hopelessness and his actions symbolised his despair.

There was only one man he could share his thoughts with. The one man who was his superhero. His childhood flashed across his mind as he steered his bike along a curve. He had come running home crying as a few kids had stolen his lunch that day. A 6 foot dark haired man lifted him up in the air and said , ‘Son, do not cry.The bullies were scared of you. Your happiness made them jealous and they did the only thing that they could to take it away from you. Do not hold it against them. You are a special boy.Whatever happens, do not let happiness go away from your life. Life is as good as death if you are so weak as to not be able to smile.‘ His father had died in a car accident over a valley 7 years ago.

The bike rolled to a still once he reached the valley. He closed his eyes and imagined the face of his father. He could see that his father had become weaker and had lost his usual entusiasm. A bit pale and old, too. ‘Father, I don’t know what has crept into me.My life seems to be going downhill. My wife and I are having troubles. I lost my enthusiasm at work and I can’t seem to find satisfaction and joy in anything that I do’.

Son, you are what you want you to be. Take a moment and try to figure out what had gone wrong. Maybe, you can change it once and for all and be yourself again’.

His father had never replied in such a way before. He always seemed to have the right answers. There was something wrong. He seemed helpless.‘Are you allright, father?” He asked.“I am as I always was, my son”.His fathers reply angered him. He wanted to leave. But he was curious. “Father, why do you look so pale and uncomfortable today?“. His father took a moment and replied,” The mirror always reflects what is aimed at it, my son“. He opened his eyes to the beautiful green valley. He could not sense its beauty of course, as this was there his father had met his end. He thought about what his father had said. He wasn’t quite sure that he had understood.

While on the ride back, it rained.He stopped at a nearby hut and lit a cigarette. A cigarette in the weather lightened up his mood a little bit. He just stared at the smoke as it travelled and disappeared into the rain.He thought about his conversation with his father. Maybe he was right. Maybe he really did have to contemplate his own actions and thoughts instead of trying to blame it on his wife or his workplace.A new feeling dawned upon him. It was filled with positivity and a hope for happiness. 

“Never stub a cigarette when only half done, my friend’.

His old friends words came into his mind. Giving a mental apology to that friend of his, he stubbed his cigarette and in the heavy downpour, rode to his office.

*  *  *

The office was never usually open this late. But he was welcomed with the sight of lights switched on in the Managers cabin.’He can’t be here this late, the old crazy fag’, he thought. Just like anyone else, it gave him a good feeling to curse at a superior authority albeit in his thoughts. He went to his office desk, mentally prepared to finish off as much as pending work possible. He thought he heard arguments from the managers cabin. He decided to check what was happening. As he neared the door, he heard footsteps nearing and next thing he knew, he was face-to-face with the General Manager of the company.

The only previous times he had seen the General Manager was during the Annual Meetings or Office Parties where the fat man in his early 60’s would be found scavenging at the food and drinks bar.Like an initial reflex, he scanned the proximity for any signs of food when he could not find any, he realized that the GM being here meant serious business and not that the missus was not cooking food at home so he decided to drop by in search for some.

The GM seemed surprised but acknoweldged his prescence, gave a slight pushing nod at the manager and walked off with his umbrella held close to his body.The manager looked at him and said, “Did not really expect to see you here at this point of time. Anyway, take a seat we got some matters to discuss”. He slowly walked the length of the cabin to the seat the manager pointed towards.He knew what was coming, or atleast he thought he did. He was ready with his reply too. He would assure the manager that there would be no more tardiness from his side and would be serious henceforth.

The manager got up from his 100 year old teak desk and walked towards his bar.He took a glass and poured a bottle of Jack Daniel’s into it. There were office jokes about the love affair between the manager and his JD. The manager offered him some,  but afraid to encroach into whatever private space the boss and his whiskey were sharing, he declined.

The manager sipped from his glass and said, ” Jimmy, look. I know that you have had problems over the last few days or so. Your actions said everything. But whatever it is, I don’t want anything interfering with work at my office.”

“Yes, Sir. I do realize my mistake as a matter of fact, I came in here late today to finish all the work that I have left pending. You can count on me, Sir”.

I know I can, Jimmy. Thats what I said, but Rick wouldn’t listen”.

It took time for Jimmy to get what the manager was saying. Rick, The General Manager of the company, was a very important figure.That he would come to the company during non working hours to talk about him, didn’t make him comfortable.

“What do you mean, Sir?”.

“Jimmy, I am sorry, I tried to do everything I could but they have decided to promote Kieran to the post of Manager once my time is over. I know that even though there was no official word, you, like everyone else knew that it was your turn to sit on this table next. But god knows what, if Kieran gave him a blowjob or shagged his wife into forcing her husband to doing it, the old cheap bastard would not nudge from his decision and you know that there is nothing I can do about it.”

But , Sir..”

“The only thing left to do is prove yourself, Jimmy. Work harder and prove that you are not what they think you are. I shall take your leave now. Need to take the missus out for the preview of her brothers musical. As horrible as that bastard sounds, he thinks he is Mozart. If I don’t go with her to support him, I am done for at home. Sorry, Jimmy. May you farewell. Hope that I see you at your cubicle tomorrow, young man”.

The manager took his coat and left the cabin. Jimmy was left staring at the desk for a long time. He did not know what to. All the work he had done, aiming for the very seat he was looking at right now, had gone in vain.Kieran, that obnoxious little man slut had gotten the job while he was left with nothing but the tag of a guy who really screwed up.Jimmy rose from his seat, dashed to the bar, opened the JD bottle, and gulped down as much as he could of the whiskey.When he put down, he made sure to do so with so much force as to break the bottle.He felt a searing burning sensation grip his throat. Taking a last look at the office he would never come back to, he left.

When he was outside his phone rang. Jacqueline would always call if he did not come home on time. She worries herself a lot, he thought as he picked up the call.

“Baby, I am sorry. I had a very bad day at office I can’t wait to come back and see you”.

 Jimmy“, she said, ” Please come home soon, we have to talk “.

Her voice sounded more tired than worried.She probably might have scared herself being alone at the house, he thought.

*  *  *

When he reaced the house, it was already dark outside. He saw a Bentley parked outside his verandah. He thought he had seen this before but just could not place where and when.The door was locked. He knocked a couple of times, before being greeted at the door by his lawyer. “Come in”. Jimmy could not understand what was going on. He followed the lawyer into the main hall where his wife was sitting. He went towards her to embrace her but she held him back.

“Jimmy please sit down”.

 He sat down on the chair beside her.

She gave him a file of papers and said, “Jimmy. I have loved you more than ever over the last 9 years of our marriage.I always respected you for what you were to me“.

She coughed a little, the laywer asked the maid to get a glass of water.She signalled a no to the maid and asked her to leave.

“But, We haven’t been the same for the past many months.You were too engrossed in your work, leaving no time for me or Sarah. I tried to talk to you at night but all you wanted to do was to fuck me and go off to sleep.Sex, too got uninteresting due to our lack of mental attachment. I can’t see this going anywhere now, Jimmy. I think our time together has come to an end.”

Jimmy was too shocked to reply.“Elina, but I love you more than anyone else in the world. All the hours I spent working was so that you and Sarah could have a better life. I wanted you both to be happy more than anything else”.

“I don’t think so Jimmy. Ever since you heard about that promotion, I saw that change in you. You treated your colleagues like they meant nothing to you. Power had gotten into you”.

” I am sorry, Elina.But please, dont do this to me. Not now, not today. My workplace doesnt need me anymore. I came to give everything that I had left to you.”

“I am sorry Jimmy but we can’t stretch this anymore. And to be honest with you, while you had no time for us, my ex boyfriend Daniel was there for me and Sarah. I am going to try and work things out with him. “

“But what about Sarah? Why didn’t you think about her before whoring yourself out?!”Anger was taking a toll on Jimmy.

“I wish not to be spoken to like that, especially in front of my lawyer and Sarah needs a dad to take responsibility of her, not a workaholic and irresponsible man who can’t take of himself. Look at you, now Jimmy,How many days as it been since you have shaved?”

“Fuck you, whore”.

The lawyer intervened, ” Mr James Conan, I would request you to mind your language”.

“Fuck you too, you heartless creature. How much money did she give you too arrange this? Or did she whore herself out to you as well?”

*Slap*. Jimmy felt Elinas palm across his face. He could see that she was in pain. He felt sorry for what he had said. But he could not take that she was cheating on him. He kicked the chair he was sitting on and tore the divorce files and stormed out of the room.

*  *  *

He had travelled the same path before in the morning. He did not care to switch on the headlights. He felt the water in his eyes, but was not sure if that was the rain or his tears. He was losing in the game of life, losing bad.All that he ever wanted was gone.

He thought about his dads words in the morning. His dad was only a mirror, a figment of his own imagination. Whatever thoughts he had in his own mind, were brought upon him by his dad who only acted as a medium. Jimmy knew this was true as everything that his dad said had always made sense to him. So, it was only fitting that he imagined his dad telling him what he wanted to do, rather than what he had to do.

This time, Jimmy did not care to shift down to take the curve . He went with the same speed and all this while, his life as a whole passed by him. His wife, his kids, his work and everything that would come across his mind.As he headed towards the valley, he was a child again, running home from school crying to his father. His father lifted him in the air, and as Jimmy and his bike took off from the edge of the valley into the air, he felt the same feeling.His fathers words echoed through his mind, “Life is as good as death if you are so weak as to not be able to smile”.

“Sorry Dear Father, I couldn’t smile anymore. I am coming to you. Lets smile together and forever” .