The Man with The Blanket

He did not know that his last meeting with her was actually his last ever meeting with her. For a few hours, he was in a state of complete shock. It felt like the full force of the Niagara had come crashing down on him. Denial was not an option, only a far-away state of utopia. Black and white seemed one. He knew then, that he would have to take some drastic steps to resurrect his own life. Fear, regret and a multitude of emotions he never knew he could feel seemed to converge upon him like locusts on a crop field. At that moment, what he craved more than his own crazy ambitions, more than his unbelievable vision for mankind, more than his own private little world, was rain – an unrestrained, torrential cloudburst. He wanted to feel raindrops beat down on his body like shards of broken glass. He wanted physical pain to overpower the effects of the searing mental pain permeating every level of his existence. He felt like he wanted to die. Death, however, had other plans that night.

Vinod parked his car at Marine Drive and stepped out to stare at the sea. He looked at his watch. 3:57 AM. He was yet to come across a feeling greater than the one he felt when he stood at Marine Drive, the wind in his hair, the night skyline shining like the ultimate beacon of hope in the distance. Today he was here because he was missing Her a little more than normal. He had long reconciled himself to the fact that he was never going to be with Her. But the only thing that had changed for him was how much he loved Her. He loved Her more with every passing second. He looked around. Even at 3:57 AM, his city was awake. He found it hard to contain that hint of a grin below his shaggy beard. Mumbai never slept. Neither did he.

The compartment was almost empty. Not surprising for that time of the night. He saw just one other man, huddled in a blanket, sitting by the far entrance. He knew that things would change soon, at Dadar. Even at 4 AM, Dadar would be crowded. He hung himself out of the compartment as far as he could, without falling off. He knew it had to happen. He just didn’t want it to happen so soon. He turned to look at the man with the blanket. For an instant, he felt the tiniest bit of envy. The man with the blanket was probably worrying about where his next meal would come from. An easier pain to deal with, compared to the one he was feeling right now. The blanket looked warm and comfortable. Without a thought, he swung himself back into the compartment. The man with the blanket was precariously on the edge. He stepped, soundless, towards the man with the blanket. Dadar went by. No one got in. Strange. He did not know what came over him at that instant. All he knew was what he was about to do. Fear was as absent as other human life in that compartment. Perhaps one was a function of the other. He was now standing just behind the man with the blanket. The sense of power he felt at that moment was unparalleled. The man’s life was in his hands. One nudge and that would be the end of him. He reached out towards the man with the blanket...

Vinod’s eyes never left the gentle waves washing up against the stones at Marine Drive. Like countless times earlier, he wondered why the stones were shaped that way. He couldn’t help smiling when he thought of a statement he had made nearly two decades ago, when he said that he wanted to steal one of those stones as a memento. Eventually, the successes of his life began flashing before his eyes. He thought of his widely acclaimed masterpiece, The Lonely Stone, the underrated bit of magic, Shards of Dark, and his own personal favourite, Cloud of Gloom. He thought about the inspiration behind each painting, about those incomplete conversations with Her that made him attempt to complete them with art, and the resulting fame it brought him. He would have been nothing without Her. His thoughts turned to Aarti. He wondered if he was cheating on his wife by thinking about Her. He was a devoted husband, and he truly cared about Aarti. He loved her for the person she was, but he wasn’t in love with her. He was in love with Her. It had been twenty years since he had even seen Her, but he had never forgotten Her. He never would. Suddenly, the waves at Marine Drive took a violent turn. It was as if they were responding to what Vinod suddenly began to feel within.

His hands were just millimetres away from the man with the blanket. In a few seconds, it would be over.

“Is that what you really want to do? Will that end it for you?”

He jumped back with a start. The man with the blanket had spoken. After a few moments of silence, the man with the blanket turned to face him. What he saw made every strand of hair on his body stand on its end. However, some inexplicable force made him stay calm. What was even more inexplicable was the fact that this force seemed to emanate from the man with the blanket itself. Perhaps when fear and courage arise from the same source, man reaches a higher state of consciousness. He spoke with a voice as calm as an indoor pool.

“Yes. I need to do it. I want to do it. I want to feel the power coursing through my veins.”

The man with the blanket smiled.

“What if I give you something better?”

He was intrigued. He did not know where this conversation was headed. But the state he was in, he began to sense that the night was only going to get stranger.

“What?”

“Another life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me phrase it better. What if we make a deal? You take a life, and I give you a life.”

“Whose life would I have to take? And whose life would you give me?”

The man with the blanket smiled. The smile was as cold as ice. He understood.

“Where will I find him?”

“Where lives collide every day, day after day...”

The train passed Marine Lines station. Behind the man with the blanket, he saw a row of lights, and nothingness. Again, he understood. The man with the blanket turned back to his original position. He returned to where he was standing. Slowly but surely, the train chugged into Churchgate.

As he began the short walk to his new destination for the night, he wondered if the choice he had made was the right one. He wanted to know if he still had a choice. He wondered where life would take him once the deed was done. He stared up at The Ambassador as he walked by. He wondered if, once tonight was done, he could finally go there. Soon, magnificence dawned in front of his eyes. Tonight though, it looked strangely lifeless. He wondered if it was only his imagination. He could only spot one lone silhouette, standing on the parapet, staring into the distance. He knew that that could only be one man. A short distance away from the man stood a Lexus, its headlights still on. He smiled. The Ambassador suddenly seemed much closer. Slowly, he walked towards the man. He got up on the parapet, and stood beside him, on the edge.

Vinod turned to look at the man who had just come up beside him. He looked oddly familiar, but Vinod was sure he had never seen him before in his life. Unexpectedly, the man spoke.

“Nice night.”

The waves began to lash harder. Vinod said nothing.

“Don’t you feel something strange though?”

Vinod turned to face him.

“Yes, it does feel strange. Almost sad. Like Fate did not want to happen, but it had no choice...”

“Like an artist wanted to dip his brush in yellow, but inexplicably dipped it in black...”

“Like steam did not want to exist, but when fire and water meet...”

“This is the end, beautiful friend.”

Just before he hit black, Vinod saw one of the stones at Marine Drive closer than he had ever expected to see it. Then, nothingness...

Vinod suddenly felt alive. Born again. He felt muscles where he had none before. He felt power. Not momentary power. Natural, real power. The power of status, fame and money. The power to stand tall in this city of giants. Power that he never felt he would have or feel in this life. Calm, he got down, got into the car, turned the key in the ignition, and felt the engine come to life.

Three Women

Mom and Grandmom are the two most amazing women in the world. They are the very foundation of my existence, and I owe absolutely everything that I am to them. Warm, generous, funny and sincere, they are everything that I try so hard to be, and fail so miserably at being. The foundation, however, isn’t the only component of a building. That is why this post is not about them. This post is about three other women who are the brick-and-mortar of this random building that I am referring to. The foundation brought the building up, but the bricks are what give it the appearance that it has today. The foundation is why the building believes in God, and the bricks are why the building sees God in everyday life. Since I can now sense the building analogy going a tad bit out of control, I shall proceed to write, in chronological order of their appearances in my life, about these Three Women.

She wasn’t a woman when I first met her, but she now stands tall (quite literally!) as a singularly striking person who has worked amazingly hard, deserving every bit of success that she has achieved in life so far. All of six when her path first intersected with mine, I have pretty much seen her grow up. While the people most responsible for me wanting to be a filmmaker are my parents, third on the list is undoubtedly she. For me, it all started with Hindi film music and the countless videos that I made in my head on my favourite songs. She is, hands down, the ‘star’ of most of these videos. For the longest time, she was the only girl who I thought of or cared about, and so is pretty much one third of the image that I have of the ‘perfect girl’. This amazing woman often underestimates her own strength, and I have long stopped trying to convince her to not do so. I’ve realized that she seems to work best when she thinks she cannot do something, later going on to pull it off with aplomb. There are days when I wish I could just sit her down and tell her just how much she means to me, but words have long dried up in my heart. Nearly all of my ideals about love, hope, happiness and friendship were formed during her presence in my life, and for that I can only pray that she is always happy. ‘Tum paas aaye... Yun muskuraye...’ will always be about her, and no one else.

Here, then, I must make a confession. There exist two separate lists of people who have had a hand in me following my dream of wanting to be a filmmaker. The first list is of those people who are responsible for me wanting to be a filmmaker – my parents, and the girl mentioned above. The second list, on the other hand, is of those people who actually inspired me to go ahead and chase my dream. This list consists of just two people. Two Women.

When he was four, a little boy began working on a painting. Over the years, amidst projected illusions of kitsch, cabaret, mush, Mumbai’s underworld, kung-fu action, khushi and gham, he worked on his painting bit by bit. When he finally completed it, he thought it was perfect. When he looked skywards and asked God for a reward for completing his ‘perfect painting’, God simply smiled and said, “My child, I completed this painting 288 days before you were even born. Your only reward then, is that in your lifetime, you shall see this painting that I have made, and you shall see Me in it.” When I was 21, I saw that painting.

And then there was one. Little did I know that the most charming face I’ve ever seen, actually hid a tiny little bit of dynamite! That’s the Third Woman and perhaps the one most responsible for me chasing my dream. She has singularly played the part of every single relation I have known, in the time that I spent with her. She was a friend, a parent, an elder sister, a kid sister, a teacher, and a whole lot more. Every time I get around to describing her, I keep coming back to that same word - dynamite! An effortless worker, a kind heart, a genuine soul and most of all, an energetic personality, she can charm the grumpiest person in the world with her demeanour, and destroy the worst of enemies with her fury. She personifies the phrases, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!’ and ‘Heaven hath no beauty like a woman pleased’. (I came up with the last one. Please forgive me!) She is also perhaps the only person who can truly intimidate me, no matter what the circumstance. When I need advice, she is the only person I can think of. Again, the only thing I can do when it comes to her is pray to God that she is always happy, always smiling and always spreading her charm. Ask me to describe her using a Hindi song, and the only one that comes to my mind is ‘Kaise mujhe tu mil gayi...’

For me, the one thing that binds all Three is trust. I trust all of them blindly. They can do no wrong. I’ve heard beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. Does that mean that if the beholder is blind, beauty is absolute?