Skip to main content

A 'note' of Optimism

I drank a glass of water and eased myself.The sea of audience joined in an applause.Some smiling faces,some shut eyes,some blanched,some patient,some "oh thanx man",some "jus get lost man".The vote of thanks was short and impressive.It's always better to be short.A couple of "thanks",a shower of gratitude,a list of names,the menu is somewhat always same.
As I came down the dais,Mr.Mathews walked up to me.The hand shake was firm.
"aye Jon,ves a wonnerful speechh maan.Ofcorse optimism is the key to sucssess dese days.D way u put dem,ves amaizing.D stories,instances..jus lov'd it."
"Thanx mate."
A dozen more words and shakes.My spiel had takers."hmm..dts gud."
"Of course..Of course..Optimism is the key to success..Never let pessimism creep in."
I echoed my ideas again to a few of them and signed off from the hall.I rushed down the stairs.My cab was waiting.I made it fast into the rear seat and asked the man to leave.
"Railway station."
"Sir."
"How many minutes?"
"ten..fifteen..traffic..depends sir"
The time on my watch showed 18:48 . I once again checked my ticket.Time of departure 19:05
"Oh...no man,damn it,I'm gonna miss ma train..."

Comments

  1. there is sure an unmistakable cadence in ur words(especially the intro part):)..

    n sure case of us, the "hypocrite LECTEUR!—mon semblable,—mon frère!"(intended pun:) )..

    ts nice, d way u tried diff devices(accent switches), ur characteristic ending, bt com on, i am nt sure this is ur best..

    ReplyDelete
  2. :)yup..i kno...i tol u rte...i got this thread from u...d heated discussion at the seminar hall...
    felt like typin smthn and this was born..

    ReplyDelete
  3. i dont know how many times i will keep telling uthis but nevertheless...gud choice of subject...its a different beat indeed...but i agree with aravi, it cant be counted among ur best...maybe u cud hav stretched it a bit..

    ReplyDelete
  4. k, remember ya tellin that bt i didn get it at that time:):)..
    yp, our discussn, bt for aneesha, i wud hav lukd like a niiic old turkey fresh from a bath:):)..

    ReplyDelete
  5. beautiful as always ..farah..nthng more to say actually :)

    ReplyDelete
  6. @sulfia....thanx dear...
    even i too agree wth d obsrvation...

    @aravind :)

    @Neetha..thanx dear..

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Until we meet again"

One Two Three,they came and I lost my count. All in an embrace brown and blue with a band of white. I clutched my ring But missed the caress. The waves faded into the waves But I had no shoulder to rest. The vastness ahead swallowed my tears and echoed from a distant land "Until we meet again."

O Mother! Hear me say.

O mother! I have lost a battle fought unfairly in the darkest hours of humanity. Brutalized in the claws of a menagerie, I stare into deepest trenches of agony. In their inhuman acts of choosing turns, they strangulated my dreams and trampled my individuality. Rocked from holy to unholy dust In seconds of beastly lust, I weep not in tears, but blood. Into the despairs of endless torture, I fell dignified like a fallen duchess. O mother! Hear me say. Hunt the hounds and feed them my gangrene. My nails have buried bits of their flesh, despair not mother, feed the rabid dogs. O mother! I am hurt. I want a drop of water to wet my lips that are swollen from some rotten worms. I have broken bones and disjoint hips, and wings that have lost all its feathers. O mother! Am I still alive? Treasure my reveries, for I give up. My breath is shorter than a millisecond And I don’t know for how long, I will breathe, slowly into death. O mot...

Only If I Could

The smile on her face was still the same, as I had seen her on my 7 th birthday.   But the red lipstick had lost its glow and the fair skin looked a bit tanned. It was not the red glowing sun that had baked her brown as she had been indoors for more than a dozen years. It was the dust and years of negligence. I had once shared my childhood with her. The red saree with its golden spots carefully spun had given bright colours to my dreams I had woven on yarns of childhood games. She looked like a bride in her bright red saree celebrating life with golden bangles, tingling the bell of festivity. She smelt of jasmine.           Now, her beauty is a blurred reflection of the past. The bangles are broken and red saree has faded. She now smells of kerosene that I had once accidentally spilled on her. Her smile did not elicit a smile from me. But I was tempted to pick her up from my closet. There she lay for seventeen years, uncared and...