2nd row, 3rd bench.

"Did you bring my cards?"
"Do you intend on playing cards before your presentation?"
"I am talking about those cards on which those gibberish names were written, which makes English a language of aliens to me."
"You’re talking about your cue?"
"Bingo."
"I forgot. You should have reminded me about it."

”Doesn’t messaging you 5 times in a day constitute your definition of a reminder?”

“You should have called me you miser. Do you intend on building a Taj with all the money you save, while not calling your friends? Don’t blame me now. Just concentrate on the 2^nd row, 3^rd bench and everything’s gonna be all right.”

These words of Wasim sounded like those hollow speeches of Bush after the Iraq war. Everything’s gonna be all right. Wasim was the Bush in my life (except that he looked better and his enemy has never sported a beard).

I was jolted back to reality by the words of Vibha Mehra, our Botany H.O.D. The sentence which came out of her parted lips was the most fearful sentence of my life (leaving my girlfriends favorite line- “It’s time to talk about our relationship”).

“A wonderful presentation by Asia has come to an end. It’s now time for Sumyth to come and raise the benchmark which she has set for him. So Sumyth would you please come forward and do the honors?”

It was a rhetoric question otherwise I would have replied in a no. It took time for me to lift my weight out of the bench, as though it has been doubled (for records, even doubling my weight would be less than the average). I took a long walk from my bench (no points in guessing that it is the last bench) to the stage at the front. This walk evoked those memories, the consequence of which has outlined the start of a disastrous day. It all had started on a Wednesday.

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“So today, the Vodka plan is on?”

“The plan is on schedule without you. After 2 pegs your memory diminishes to such an extent that you are unable to tell the difference between your mother and sister” sneered Aniket.

Meet Aniket. The guy who has answers to all the girls questions and questions to all their answers. On a second thought, maybe not, considering that he is still single.

This remark from Aniket brought out muted laughs from Wasim and Sundar. Wasim is the wannabe of our class. He is sure to receive raised eyebrows and glances, whenever he walks down the corridor of our college, from girls as well as from guys. Sundar is a contradiction to his name; which means beautiful. It’s very difficult to point out him from his shadows. He is darker than the dark.

“All right guys have it your way on the highway. But remember that every dog has his day.”

“And today is surely not your day”, said Wasim.

“So class this was the end of your topic-meiosis. A very important topic. Hope it has penetrated your grey matter.” The booming voice of our H.O.D. was loud enough to obliterate any swear words that came from my mouth.

“Thank you so much madam. We have been waiting for this moment ever since the start of this damned lecture.” Aniket comically said.

“Oh, so the 4 of you decided to give my lecture a visit. I am honored by your gratitude.” She paused to grasp the effect generated by her sentence from the class. “On a serious note, why did you guys gave this topic a miss?”

“Ma’am this topic was worth a miss. We decided to concentrate on other important things at hand”, said Wasim.

“Like watching 2012” whispered Sundar.

“So if it is so simple, why doesn’t one of you guys give a presentation on this topic?”

Furtive glances were exchanged between the 4 of us. To comment on a topic was different while being a topic on which others would comment was different.

I stole a look at her. She was sitting in her usual place. 2^nd row, 3^rd bench. She had a i-know-you-can-do-it look. This was my opportunity to shed my back bencher look and prove that I could tell the difference between the cell of the plant from that which is inserted in gadgets.

My hand shot upwards, defying all laws of gravity in the process.

“All right Sumyth. Let’s see what you have rolled up your sleeves the next Wednesday.”

The bell rang and the class emptied leaving only the four of us. “So Mr. Champ, what was the reason behind your momentary lapse of nervous breakdown?” asked Aniket.

“I was just doing it for her”

“Who her?

“2^nd row, 3^rd bench.”

“She has got a cool name.”

“Shut up.”

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I reached the end of the row. Wasim never brought the cards on which all the big names of the presentation were to be written. Without it, my presentation was a waste. A house without bricks. I was worried. I looked up at the sky (not literally, ceiling in my case) and prayed that my presentation would not result in my mockery.

“Good morning Madam and all my friends. I am going to acquaint you all today with the different dimensions of meiosis and alter your picture of meiosis, since reality is just a perception. Your perception of me is that I am just a guy with no interest in studies, whereas I perceive you all as a bunch of folks with brains canalized in altogether wrong path-studies.”

A thunderous ear shattering applause erupted. Thanks to my friends at the back bench who have been promised a free treat.

But that was the only high point of the presentation, considering the turbulent turns it took during the course of time. You can fool someone all the times but everyone can be fooled only sometimes.

“Prophase can be divided into 4 stages- Pachytene, Zygotene, Diplotene, and Seventeen.”

The class broke out into a laugh. Shivangi- a girl whose feelings shall always be transformed into her talkative eyes, spoke

“Isn’t that supposed to be Leptotene?”

“As cross pollination spoils the individuality of a strain, cross questioning hampers a good presentation.” These words came out from my mouth with no intention of hearing any laughter from the class, which eventually I got to hear, but to be evasive from her question. I continued.

“The deoxyriboseneuclotide of the cell is our genetic material which gets exchanged between the daughters and sisters of the chromosome family.

Someone please remind me to check whether that is the longest word in the dictionary. And don’t be surprised when I say that word in one go. I have derived a picture to memorize it. Two ox with their ribs exposed are swimming in a tide, whilst a nuclear bomb was hurled at them.

And on and on and on my presentation went, with the intellect of the class barely raised. I took a look at her. Her eyes were shining brightly. But it had nothing to do with the illumination my intellect had dawned upon her. The afternoon sun shining brightly from the open window was the culprit.

Some men are born great while others have greatness thrust upon them in their lives. I belong to the latter category but I rued my chance of making the opportunity count.

“Well Sumyth, you can take back your seat. I see that your knowledge about meiosis is far from complete. So, Safa would you please help Sumyth in his presentation, so that we can expect an enlightening lecture rather than a stand up act.”

My heart leapt at the sound of her name. For she was the ‘her’ in this story. Some people lose even after winning, whilst others win even after losing.

I have a knack of belonging to the latter category.

“Yes” she said.

After the end of the lecture she walked towards me.

“Hey Sumyth, you need to walk a long distance before you will able to talk about meiosis.”

Ill walk across seven seas, girl.

“So let’s start from today. My place at 6 p.m. And don’t be late. I hate latecomers.”

And I love people who hate late comers.

“So will you come?”

I don’t think so that there is any need to tell you that my answer was in affirmative. I have to save some typing efforts to conjure the sequel to this one. 2^nd row, 3^rd bench to the last bench. An odyssey.

Death- The Ultimate Judgement

I scream my pain out from my gut as the last rays of sunlight fall from the earth and darkness wraps me in her embrace. My voice echoes off the canyon walls, coming back to me. I raise my arms, spread wide, and moonlight reflects off the sword in my right hand, setting a fairy of light to dance at my feet. Once more I release my ragged cry, letting it drag across my throat like a diamond on glass. I scarcely notice the pain, it is just one more wound among the many already on my body.
I am shirtless, and blood oozes from the numerous cuts that stripe my well muscled and well scarred chest. I spin, swinging the long blade of the sword out to gut an enemy who isn't there. As the curve of steel finishes its arc and stretches my arm back, I flash my left hand across my stomach. The blade of the short, strait razor bites deep and clean. There is no pain, but my howls break the surface of the night. I can hear the agony in the bouncing echoes of my voice.
I ache for the tears to come, but they stubbornly refuse. In three years I have been here three times. This is where I come to punish myself. This is the place I shed my blood in lieu of tears that my eyes won't cry. When the emotional heartache is too much to sustain, when I can no longer balance the world on my shoulders, this is where I come for release. The scars from my previous trips bear witness to the deeper and more painful scars on my heart.
Two years nine months and twenty-one days ago, that was when my first trip here was made. The night she was diagnosed. The doctors had said they would do everything in their power, but she was already in stage three cancer and the outcome didn't look good. After she fell asleep that night I got up and started driving, trying to make some sense out of the recent events. Somehow I had found myself here, screaming out to God at the injustices of this life. The only thing I had with me then was my old throwing knife. The blade was dull, and it ripped through my flesh more than it cut, but the blood that flowed from those wounds seemed to wash my anguish away.

.........................................................

The second time was three months ago. She had been loosing the battle from the beginning and after a while she slipped into a coma. I left the hospital that night knowing that I would end up here. I remember stopping at the house just long enough to retrieve the strait razor that I had here with me now.
The scars from that night had still been red and jagged when I arrived here an hour ago. I've lost a lot of blood this time though, enough so that the dusty ground seems permanently stained. I know, however, that within a week it will all have disappeared. Blood or no blood it was just dust on the wind. I try to scream again as the razor winds down my side, bouncing off my ribs, but there is no sound. My voice is gone. It's time to go.
Before I climb into the Honda city she got me as a Diwali gift our second year together, I look around at the canyon one more time and, with barely a thought, draw even red lines on my cheek bones with the razor. Inspiration hits me suddenly and, after opening the car door, I take the long blade of the sword and sink it almost to the hilt in the hard earth. That done, I climb back into the car and start the drive out. The engine growls as I step on the gas pedal, and tires squeal in protest as I continue to accelerate despite the ever sharpening curves. The open gas cans in the back slosh their remaining contents all over the seats and floorboards. Burning the house hadn't been as difficult as I would have imagined. It had caught quickly, and I was sure it would burn to the ground before anyone arrived to try and extinguish the blaze.
I glance down at the accelerator as I hit the only strait section of the old canyon road. It reads 75mph and I frown painfully, causing my cheeks to start oozing fresh blood over the crust of the older gore. I set my foot on the accelerator and push it as far toward the floor as I can. There is a brief pause before the car leaps forward like a large cat after prey. By the time the 90 degree curve comes into view the powerful engine is hurtling the car's steel frame to a mind numbing 130mph.
'I told you I couldn't live without you.' I say as the car leaps off the road.
As I sail airborne down the embankment I have just enough time to wonder if the gas in the back will ignite before I see the ground rushing up at me.

the fifth element

What connects the murder of four individuals from different corners of the world? All hell is breaking loose as a deadly experiment is posing a threat to wipe out an entire religion from the face of the earth.

Now its time for a retired New York times reporter to reach the esoteric heights an bring back order from chaos. Will he manage to come good or the evils shall triumph again?

Coming soon an exciting novel from me. Be in touch to read this professional attempt from an amateurish author.

the day i cried..........

ther r tyms in lyf,
wen u lose ur soul mate.
love is shown d exit,
& its place is tkn by hate.

Resistance was shown by me,
it wasnt dt i neva tried.
i tried 2 hold her, in vain;
it was d day i cried.

The clock unwinds nd i tke u bck
to d days v laughd abt.
v both lykd each other,
leavin nt even an inch of doubt.

bt stagnancy spoilt it,
nd i tried 2 go ahead.
a vital mistake it was,
bcumn d reasns 4 d tears i shed.

it wsnt entirely my fault,
u lied 2 me abt him.
nd u wer pushd away 4rm mah lyf,
reconciliation chances r slim

bt i still hold u close 2 me,
its jst dt u dnt realise
d dagger is pierced in mah heart,
nd its waitin 2 gt sliced

y is it always dt,
deception happens 2 me?
hatred has flooded my heart,
so has d river 2 d sea....

redemption is a bttr choice,
bt im 2 afraid 2 tke it.
cuz it goes hand in hand wid luv,
nd i dnt wnt 2 b a part of dt shit.

i dnt want u 2 b,
d reasn 4 which i died.
hnce im trying 2 4gt,
d fateful day i cried.....