Jack’s Sparrows

Jack's Sparrows

Episode 4

Forgiving is hard, forgetting harder.

I’m on the verge of forgiving one person in my life. That night made it kinda easier. We decided to have a drink. My first and her 11th(I mean she drinks rarely! I don’t know the number of times she drank).

STATUTORY WARNING: Drinking is injurious to health, so is talking, speaking, answering, discussing and everything.

6’o clock on that fine evening. We both decided to sleep over at our friend’s places after it. Yes! We are grown-ups and we can’t explain it to our homes. We are cheating on ourselves by cheating our parents. We know!

Judge us through all the ways you want for just the one reason that she asked me to drink. But if it reaches her ears, that is when your trouble starts.

It’s Mr.Jack Daniel’s turn to speak up. One gulp, quarter cup. Felt like someone set my oesophagus on fire. Drinkers all over the world! Why do you guys want to burn your food pipe!

“Don’t make me call an ambulance now!” she looked at me.

“It’s! It’s nothing” I tried to be casual.

“Why do you look like you’re going to kill yourselves then?” she laughed.

I heard that. But a headache started. I was trying to balance it out. Man! I was indeed doing it like a pro! One tip and I’m skipping on to what happened after the 5th round. If you are getting high when you don’t want to, just try to think something really different from anything running on your mind. It helped!

“I love you, Barath” she said.

“Eh!” that came out of nowhere.

“It won’t be romantic when I tell that again” she dragged.

“You know what! I am steadier than you!” I told a little loud.

“OK! Your first lesson of Alcoholics! Don’t think women can’t stand high like boys. In reality, women don’t get high like those heroines on-screen. That is bullshit! I meant what I said. In fact, I have told you that a number of times” she said.

The high wore down a little after those words. I could remember most parts of what happened that evening.

“Where do I start? Is it just an approval through words you want? Words are bitches sometimes! I write and I am still telling this” I started.

“There is never this, no strings attached feeling with words. We are accountable. I just have this tiny feeling of fear.  I don’t wanna lie to you about it. In fact, you are the one person I totally do not wanna lie about” took another sip.

“Clearly I don’t want to go the past. But I don’t have a present. I don’t know if.. if I can give this my all. I’m in this phase where every goal I walk turns out to be a mirage. I need you. I need you now. I’ll need you always. I am just this far from the Suicidal Thoughts.You know what gets me going YOU

“I don’t know if I am high. I don’t know how you define it. But alcohol gave me some serious confidence today” I think I said it all.

“This gives me some responsibilities. So I’m not going to let you drink a lot from today. You did speak so much and that matters to me. It’s just this freedom I have when I am with you that makes this so special for me. I don’t have that freedom even when I am alone. Wait! I don’t know if you are going to remember this evening properly!” she smiled while she said that.

“If I won’t rem..remember don’t tell any more important things. Already my memory power is damn poor” I stammered through.

“Barath! You are really in a good kinda high. You never accepted about this memory thing. Never before” she laughed at me.

“I think you got these words out. Not even Mr.Jack here. I’m down and normal. But this left side is less functional” I demonstrated.

She laughed again. You did not note that I told her I love her. She understood that. There is this one thing about humans. They keep you happy or teach you lessons! She was doing both and as i told in the very beginning, I am forgiving someone and Fuck! I am not drinking again! For sometime atleast!!

It’s time for the HOME RUN!

– just barath (c)

 

The film begins

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Episode 1

I’m still just a beginner when it comes to using the hand dryer at mall restrooms. It doesn’t dry my hands completely. Or is that how things work there. Why am I even thinking about this now?

Especially, when I have a girl waiting for me outside. And Good heavens this mall had the parking stairs. I could sneak in inspite of being late.
What am I gonna tell her for being late?

‘The hand dryer is messed up!’

Its time to silence my doppelganger talking, with the Ads and Anthem that’s going to be played inside the theatre. Its time to walk out. Because, if I don’t, she might complain about my missing to the Mall Security.

I started walking out and there I saw her. Wait! That’s some other girl. I wore my specs! Now I saw her, smiling at me.

‘Hi, Hand dryer.’
Shut the Fuck Up! CONFUSED BARATH.

I got to her, “Hi, Sorry for keeping you waiting…”

“No, Not a problem. I walked in only now.” and another smile.

‘You can walk in 3 hours later too.. But don’t forget to smile. Because if you forget, I can’t write poetry about you for your Birthday’ I thought.

“The hand dryer is messed up!” 

Shut Up Barath!!! Wait! I did not say that. To confirm I asked, “What?” She told, “The hand dryer inside was not working properly.” 

That screwed-up hand dryer. Yayy!! Its my turn to talk about the Men’s hand dryers’ mechanics. But I was satisfied with, “This problem happens everywhere. They care a lot about what’s on the outside and forget that the inside things keep everything going.” “Wow! Metaphorical and philosophical Barath is!” she told, she really did.

“Did you interpret it that way? You are so cool” I told her. Someone play that happy tears Music here, please. 

“I don’t hear that cool part often” she dragged. “I think I should tell this frequently.. if you want” we started walking.

“That won’t change my inside” she told.

“Nothing should. Except for you talking to yourself, nothing can change your inside” I cleverly replied. 

Then she looked at me. That’s the kinda look they talk about in my kinda movies. Barath! don’t try explicating this. I caught her looking at me and still she did not turn away. I was living the second and then she turned aside. What ran in her mind then? I’m just clueless.

Then I asked, “Why were you looking at me that way?” “I.. I can’t tell! You find out” she told taking a pause.

‘I shouldn’t have asked that!’ I did not know how to react after those words. That’s when some lines from PULP FICTION came running to my left cerebral hemisphere.
“That’s when you know you have found somebody really special. When you can just Shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share a silence.”

She followed me to the theatre door and then our movie began.

-just barath ©
P.s. Barath will be the name only till I find a name for that role. Yeah! It’s just a name.

Its your #life !

“It’s your life. You have to take care of it. At least you have to be able to take care of yourself. If you stay like this you have to rely on someone throughout your life. How will the society see you? Will anyone give their daughter’s hand to you for marriage? If you stay this way.”

This is the stock conversation that every youth of the Indian middle-class have to hear day in and out. Why is it that every conversation end with a point about marriage? What does my grades or my loathing around got to do with marriage? It’s difficult to just suck it up and go ahead.

My dear reader with this simple expression let’s talk a very important issue. To understand what I am trying to say kindly read it fully.

We were the bright students of the class. A and B grades were never an issue. We finished our 10th Grade. Then your dad asked some of his friends and the friends suggest you take the Sciences group so you can get into some professional Engineering or Medical thing or take the Commerce stream because you were pretty good in multiplications and divisions when your aunt asked you. Then comes those words, “We can only show the way. It’s your life you have to take care of it”. Do we really have a choice here? Forget it! It is out of the question. Then you enjoy your hearts out in 11th grade and 12th is a mountain of a Speed-Bump. Subject books become your world. Your courseware will teach you so perfectly on How to live life happily as a Slave. Pretty ironic isn’t it. Oh! Any educationalists, I’m really NOT SORRY if I have offended you. Because your Courseware oppressed me for an entire year or in some cases more than that and killed the real me in the name of Quality Education. Why isn’t my psych or my wishlists a talking point in my counselling. Why is it always Numbers deciding my future in the names of marks, salary or astrology? Where am “I” in My Life? Pretending to be someone who I am really not. Pretending to be the hero of a play that bores my Inner self to death. Sorry for the meaningless expressions I use. It’s the effect of being a confused Indian.

Then comes College!
Three, Four, Five or even Seven years inside high raised walls, being those three monkeys to the cry, anguish, catastrophes of the world or even our neighborhoods. The walls so cleverly built that you don’t hear any cries outside and grow angry or any laughter and get tempted to explore the fun in it. It’s really great to get friends like us itself in such an atmosphere. He/She knows your pain because he/she is feeling it too and that one of a kind friendship is seriously everlasting. You study your syllabus and learn to be a slave to your employer from the day you step out. Don’t you try to question because you have signed some wicked applications on your admission dates. You’ll be screwed. The system is so well built that you spend so much on your college education that once you finish it you have to take up any job, no matter you’re ready for it or even you have got ideas that could change the world into  better place and all like our Super Heroes.  #Just_Indian_Middle_Class_Things

If a foreign company gives you a Good Pay Package. Don’t waste time thinking. Your family has already packed your Luggage.
Say bye to the middle class, the chai glass, the movie actor posters on the walls with ”Stick No Bills”, some holy cows, the dying farmers, the shortcuts, the Garbage in the “Keep this Place Clean Areas”, the colorful Chathurthis, the painful moharram rallies, the big fat Indian weddings, your coughing grandma, the Holy Scriptures Grand-dads, the beggars who WORK on a tender basis, the blood spilt in the name of Riots, The Logic less, stupid Soap Dramas, 50,000people chanting “INDIA, INDIA”, people with cameras roaming around slums so that they can put up exhibitions and win money, ever smiling babus who ask for votes from the foolish vote machines, the Rikibok, Poma, D.O.P.E S.W.A.G t-shirts and caps, Some small, paper with Gandhiji photos smiling(If you know what I mean) where he is not supposed to, the fights in Subsidy queues, the common bike with a deafening, ferocious silencer, the safety road lines for which people don’t give a fuck about, the street hawkers, the PaniPuri stalls, so-called schools, colleges built with cement, sand, brick and the important ingredient Black Money, Imported Dogs wearing T-shirts, tiaras and kids wearing t-shirts with big unmatching patches, the open man-holes waiting to create a News Channel Debate and a column in the 5th page, the biryani and rasgullas, the free A.C. providing malls, Auto-Rickshaws who are the King of the roads, the rhythmic horns in front of hospitals, the killing stench of shabby hospitals, the flooding sewage and dry lakes, students with suspensions for asking questions to their superiors, your future wife whom you should take back to your foreign nation, the lives lost due to religious riots, malnutrition, adulteration, abortions, tumors, drunk and drives, to all those compromises, delegations, manifestos, promises, smiles, tears, FLAMES games, your schooldays crush and to your motherland, the land that bore you, the land that needs you.

Say Bye! And never turn back just walk up ahead to your airplanes, put your newly bought mobile phones on Airplane Mode, Buckle Up, eat all the on-flight food you can, Land in your Utopia and upload a Status on Facebook “Checked in… #dreams_accomplised #time_for_New_Beginnings #miss_You_India”. Make every preconception that the world has on India totally true.

“Because IT’S YOUR LIFE AND GOTTA TAKE CARE OF IT!”

-©Just Barath #Common Man a.k.a #Confused Indian

P.s. – To my readers from other nations.. Thanks for reading this post fully. Please erase every preconception you have about my nation. Ok even if you have..In some part of India there might be someone who will show the true, light spirit of my nation. My fellow Indians, there are exceptions to all those points I have talked about. If you feel you’re an exception well Kudos! If not Please don’t leave India totally after your College, India needs you. Life may not be really comfortable here, but try to change it. Please! Wishing you a happy Life! #Thank_You

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My Travel Diary. Page #2

The Sunny June 25th. I guess I packed my bag properly. But I was never satisfied with packing my bags for a trip. Always I would forget something. This time was not an exception. The trip was to Eraviputhenthurai, Kanyakumari District. A Journey of 737 kms to the Southern tip of India. I was like Going down and down. Just to face disappointments first. Things eventually got better. But there was something about this place I visited that disturbed me throughout the trip and even after I got home. To brief it up, God owns the place, but to an extent the Government disowned it.

I decided to bring to words whatever I felt about this Journey. The Happy and the Ugly Side. For this place has given me so much love, I repay the love with these words. I try not to be serious in my posts but at some points it is inevitable. We got off our train at the Nagerkoil Junction. And from there we realized that the rest of the trip was broken into segments. The third part was the most aching. We were forced to the last row of the bus which had one of the coolest driver I had ever seen. The roads that the bus travelled were not wider than my streets. It was like the roads were exactly measured after letting a bus pass through. Most of the time the wheels were on the side sands of the road. It was a thrilling ride to the destination. The beautiful sights on both sides of the road decreased the pain a little. All the houses resembled the descriptions in “The God of Small Things” book. I had that expectation before the trip began and Ms.Arundhati Roy had portrayed the place perfectly. A 10 on 10 perfect description.

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Credits: The God of Small Things- Ms.Arundhati Roy

Talking about the food in the place, I was very uneasy with it first. But when I got to know that’s the resident’s style I got used to it. But still on the 2nd night they served us Idli. It’s the traditional food back at home. I was like filled with Tears of Joy seriously!! The food was good for the rest of the trip. Though I did not fill my tummy every meal, it was good.

Few incidents in this journey were the greatest learning experiences for me. More than all the Tech Stuff they (Not me!) discussed, few discussions I had with the residents hit me hard. A friendly cricket match was organized within the campmates. I had no interest in playing. So I stood out. A guy came over to me and a light conversation sparked up. He asked about us. I told that we were all from different colleges of the south. He asked me if I knew all MY campmates. I told I knew only 10 among the 90. Then he told me to go and talk freely to all my campmates. He also asked about the girls at the camp. I shaked my head and he smiled. I teased the players for their funny game along with those kids. I remember 3 of the pack Sugilan and the twins Zinadine and Zidane. Zinadine got my mobile from me and started using it freely. I had no stuff to hide, so I let him use it. After seeing some random photos. He got my friend’s mobile and opened the gallery. He did not react much, but my friend did (Explanations not needed for this). We took a group pic and after the game we went into the beach.

A beach was located very close to our stay, like a 5 minutes’ walk.

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Our Discussion room and the view

But the beach was not a happy experience. It was broken into fragments throughout the stretch. The water was unclean. Never have I seen such big waves continuously even at Marina (Which is a beach back home). The water has greatly moved in and deaths and mishaps due to the giant waves are common at the place. Yeah! I mean it. A resident who talked so freely to us about the village and showed so much love to us explained us the case. The people have never slept peacefully as the sound of the waves keeps them awake. The fear of being washed away rises during the monsoon. Though the waves looked beautiful for selfies and photography after hearing about the plight of the people it was a disturbing sight all the trip. The only solution, but a really complicated one would be to provide alternate housing conditions. But it is not easy as it sounds!

On our way back home from the trip. I asked the auto rickshaw driver about the condition of the roads. He told us that the roads were laid long back and the potholes are patched only during the election campaign days and the politicians use it as a tool to ask votes. This is the dirty side of Indian Politics that stops every Indian Youth from entering it. The truth that they want to see in the scenario is only present in their manifestos and never in their actions.

There are three things that unites this village Christianity, Brotherhood and Football. You heard it right. Many youngsters from this village represent the state in Santosh Trophy National Football Tournaments. Football is their pastime, their symbol and their identity. I was really surprised by a thing about the village there was a chapel at an interval of ten houses approximately and every Chapel was a big, crafted one.

The sole purpose for which I chose this trip was to get experiences and I got a fair share of it. Oh! Wait. I also got some beautiful photos taken by me in my mobile which I will treasure a lot. This is how I wanted this this particular travel post to be. A picture of the village that means a lot to me.
Bon Voyage!

-©just barath

P.s.- For more photos of the trip check out my Instagram Account- just_barath
The first page of my travel diaries – The link Page 1