Thaniyaavartanam (The Repetition)

Asif came in to his home and flung his school-bag in the corner.

His Abbu was repairing the tape-recorder and observed Asif closely and noticed the change. Asif had something in his mind. He went to his room and found him laying on his face, probably crying. His Abbu, caressed him and asked, " What happened beta" ?

Asif, said in a feeble voice, "I find myself an odd-person in school. All the other children parents are rich and well educated. They boast about their lives and lifestyles. I feel very uncomfortable with them. I want to leave this school and come with you like Irfan works with his Abbu".

Asif's Abbu looked into his eyes and said, " No beta, you need to continue, or else you will find yourself in this same situation with your son"...........

The Problem Solver

Abu-bakkar was the famous problem solver of his times.

People called him the gifted one. There was also a rumour that he practiced black magic. Nevertheless People used to visit him from distant lands. He asked them to sit on his magic chair and then they recited their problems to him, and then he would ponder over those for some time and propose a solution. Many of them worked miraculously. For some he did not say anything. He asked them to go back. Amazingly their problems were solved automatically.

Then came a time when Abu-bakkar himself faced a big problem (too big to describe in my blog). He searched in all directions. He even tried to visit some of his competitors in disguise to get a solution to his problem. None of them worked, the problem continued to eat him away. He stood at the foot of the iron statue in the market listlessly. Soon it started drizzling and then it started pouring. He sat there drenched in the rain, hoping his problems would be washed away. The rain went after some time, the problems didn't. Darkness set around him, and then he watched the stars in the puddle in front of him. He saw the Iron statue, and then he saw himself. Un-shaven, frustrated, Abu-bakkar..... the famous problem solver..... Allah ! he exclaimed and ran, splashing the water in the puddle. He ran towards his home, entered slowly and pulled out the largest mirror he had.

Carefully he observed himself in the mirror. The mirror that now rested on top of the magic chair...............

Bhavra.... (The bee)

"Pappa, I need a photograph of a bhavra for my biology class on monday. Can you come with me to the garden to take one photograph" ? he asked. Pappa was busy with his laptop, trying to complete a presentation for his review.

"Its not easy, beta", Pappa said.

"Why, pappa. You take such nice photos. You should help me take this. Other wise I will take your camera and take it myself" ! he said.

Pappa gave out a squared expression which generally indicated agreement, "Ohhk! ...... I will come with you", Pappa said.

They went to the garden and after monitoring for a few minutes, he spotted a bhavra. He jumped and exclaimed, "Pappa, there it is. A big one". Pappa chuckled, since he knew it is not going to be easy. Pappa tried to focus the lens on the bhavra, but failed to do so.

Pappa knew, the bhavra is like the mind, hopping from one flower to the other..........

Wet Papers.......

Finally the day came for him to forget her.

Even though their relation lasted only for 2 days, the pain was excruciating. He couldn't bear it. He opened up his diary. He had written her name on every page of the diary. He read those 5 letters....... His mind wandered, there was some junk hindi movie called "Dhai akshar prem ke". But these were 5 letters....... 2X ..... he cursed himself, what a crap joke for the situation....... he started sobbing. Something he had forgotten since class nine when he was scolded by his English teacher. Eyes that have been dry since years started to fill with tears, " Roone de aaj humko, do aankhen sujaane de.......". He hugged his diary and cried.... cried and cried.......... He cried till his tear glands said enough..............So, he got up and switched on the TV. Flipping channels for 20 minutes, his fingers stuck when he saw " Jab we met" on one channel. He watched it for some time and then the idea struck him.

I will burn this diary he thought. He held the flame against the diary. But the pages, his memories refused to burn. They were wet..........wet with his love.........

Drip Drip Drip........

Drip Drip Drip........ Drip Drap Drip........

There seemed to be no correlation between the pattern of the rains and the tears that flowed down from his eyes. Still it flowed. Rains from the heaven and tears from the eyes. But both have to stop. That's nature, the sun has to come out. So he wiped his face and opened the make-up box. He used all the bright colours that were present. Red, orange, yellow..... some silver. Colours that mask the truth, like raincoats........ They just keep the rain out, but cannot stop them. He remembered that he had a blue raincoat in childhood...... he smiled, memories are always funny..... and added more colour......

The announcement boomed across the ring......"Next item.....Raju Joker......"

Avada Kedavara !

I hope J.K.Rowling will not mind this simple story based on her Story !

Avada Kedavara ! Shouted Lord Voldemort.

Harry Potter was thrown back by the the impact of the Curse and he lay on the cold forest floor. But he was not dead, he rose again.

"But this is impossible", cried the girl with the black bindi. "Avada Kedavara is a death curse, unforgivable as you described earlier. How can Harry survive it. It does not make sense".

"Rowling is a great writer", said Professor Bandopadhyay. "She has imbibed basic human science in the form of her magical creation".

"But how " ?? This was the common question that echoed through the classroom.

Professor Bandopadhyaya explained, "She explains in her book that when Lord Voldemort cursed Harry, he actually killed a part of himself that was inside Harry. This is the same thing which happens when you curse someone in real life. When in a relation each one of us has a part of the other inside us. Acts of cursing just kills your own self rather than the other person. Isn't Rowling a master of human relations"?