Tuesday, October 31, 2006

A gun is always a gun.

I have a bad habit.
Oh! No!

It is not true…I have many bad habits.
One of them is that I trust people.

Some times it gives me a chance to learn lessons long forgotten. It also at times forces me in to very delicate situations.

I have a humble-simple house in which anybody can come and go as they like. I had a bit of repairs in the house and one of my friends was kind enough to help me repair it.
So I handed over my key to him. He helped me immensely with out a reward and we became more intimate friends. He had access to my house anytime and I never asked my key back. It was not important to me anymore. He had access to my armory too, but there were only some old guns lying around which were as old as me. You can’t even harm anyone with any of them.

One day when I arrived home, I found my door locked.
I used my key to open, but I found the lock has been replaced. I was perplexed and tried all methods to enter.
I don’t need to be a mathematician to know that I was locked out of my house by my dear friend who was the only one that has my spare key.
I kept calm as I know my friend is playing some kind a silly jock on me. I know that he is very sensitive person and so I waited knowing that he won’t harm me.
Finally he came out from the shadows, and I found some thing else.
A rusted gun which was pointed at me … taken from my own armory with which you can’t even kill a fly.
The gun was pointed at me and no one else.
I can understand and accept his wild theories as a reason for this, but the gun was a threat. I also knew that my fried is harmless and that the gun can’t fire a shot.

I don’t accept threat as I consider it terror.

I don’t accept threat of any kind…what ever the reason.
I told him to hand over my house which belongs to me. The house is mine and he is an intruder. I also told that I won’t listen to him until the threat is removed and the house is mine.
I got my house back now with out any damage.

I neither hate him nor was I scared… because I know a story.

I want to tell you that story today, a story as old as many of you.

Long long ago, there was a woman and her only small son residing in a wild but secured area in a mansion with a few woman labors in the house.
Except a vast courtyard and a single out-house for the timber workers a furlong away, there were no inhabitants nearby as it was timber country.
Her husband was away for most of the time on timber business for long intervals.

She loved her son very much and adored him.

One day on a June midnight, three men with guns sneaked in the building, drugging the lone watch man.

The woman and her son were sleeping in the upstairs rooms as her husband was away on business.

They crashed the door and busted in where they slept. A young maid was sleeping on the floor.

The woman got up in her robe and saw the men with the guns and held her son close with frightened eyes.
The boy was asleep but got up with the sounds of the door crashing and started to cry.

The maid was terrified and fainted on floor; they gagged, tied her up and locked her in bathroom.
The boy was mercilessly snatched away from the woman and gagged. One of the men held a knife loosely at the boy’s throat and demanded to the woman for the keys of the safe and her jewelry box.
Two men pointed guns at her at close range, one from the front and the other on the side.
She looked at the boy’s eyes a last time, and in that look, he saw helplessness and a good bye.
The face of the woman transformed to a mask; her eyes became cold, small and her thick lips became thin.

She faced the man in the front and told them in a local dialect, to point their guns from the front, and not from her side, as she dislike to get shot from the side.
They were now restless at her boldness, the man with the knife on the boy’s throat moved and held the knife closer but the woman did not even look at the boy; did not even turn her head but faced the men with the gun and told them, that if they want the key to her safe, they have to beg and people don’t beg with the guns.

The men suddenly looked ashen as she continued to tell them that they need her alive, to open the safe as it has a combination lock and told them to if they don’t remove the gun from her face, she is gonna push the old fashioned button that is connected to the big fire gong in the workmen huts, that announces a fire in the timber yard…an emergency push button.

She shouted at their stupid faces to beg and beg and beg… and walked straight to the button and pushed it with her left leg with the two gun barrels on her face.

The sound of the gong could be heard for miles in the night. All the three terrified men ran to the stairs, colliding with each other, pushing the gagged boy away.

They were terrified of her husband, as they already knew that he was ruthless with criminals and he wielded great muscle power.

She continued to shout at them to beg if they want, with crazy rage.
She suddenly woke up from her trance, turning and holding the boy, she started to cry.

Later the timber hands found the woman and the boy on the floor holding each other and unconscious.

I don’t know what happened to the intruders when the workmen caught them.

I happen to know this woman.
She is no more now.

Long after this story… once I had an opportunity to ask her... looking at those kind and soft eyes, why she was ruthless with the robbers, ignoring the safety of her loving son and even the threat of pointed guns.

She smiled and told me that a terrorist thrive on inducing terror on the victims and explained to me that she was sure that what ever she gave them at that time, she and her son were marked as dead, for they knew that her husband will trace and kill them if she is alive and remember their face. So she and her son were destined to be massacred in cold blood, what ever their mission.

She also added an advice to me smiling with her perfect white teeth, not to budge on threat of any sort if I can.

I remembered her when I was threatened, for I know her so well.

I followed that rule here and pondered what she might have done.

I learned another small lesson here.

I thought that I need to share this with you.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

A Hornbill

Dreams are now wingless, feeble

A hornbill stay waiting, rain drops
his tears

He choose crying; his soul shrunken,

Alas ! rain drops kept drifting
squirting, sprouting

Saturday, October 14, 2006

Awakening..from the absence

A long and greuelling 38 days, the first 5 days being the most turbid.

During those 5 days my urge to write and to read was uncontrollable even to the extent that, one or two times I thought “to hell with my vow”
But I just held on.

Then my attitude totally changed regarding writing as I have picked up some confidence, the total control of my habitual bloging turned me to a pure determined person

Though I stopped posting in my blog, my urge to read has lead me to go through the blogs that I normally visited with out writing a comment.

A couple of days later, I stopped reading blogs too.
As days passed, I was careless as a whisper… the blogging completely out of my mind not forgetting the fact that I was always aware of my reader’s comments through my mail box, asking me to come back.

I am back here after a long gap knowing the very precious fact that I am, after all, not a blog addict.

In addition to that, just before I was planning to stop writing in my blog completely, I had a strong inner feeling that the very existence of the blog was hurting some one seriously. This had sped up my decision to quit.

Now I realize the fact that my blog has nothing to do with the hurt issue and so, here I am with gratitude towards one and all of you for bearing with me and to those who cared to come and comment here earlier.

My long absence has made my soul dry and here now, I have nothing for you.

I am leaving my soul at still… perhaps to have little fermentation to take effect to turn it as good as aged wine.
I will be in your blog sooner or later but if I happen to miss any of your blogs, do remind me please.