A Bowl of Elusive

Back in school, there was a guy called Rishikesh Bhatia (name changed) and he was a bully. He was short but domineering, maybe because he came from a wealthy Punjabi family and Punjabis are naturally boisterous, at least in comparison to the east Indian population. Coming back to Rishikesh, he was entitled, loud and angry. I am sure there were reasons for him being the way he was, but I had my own troubles and tribulations to keep me busy and look at him from a 360-degree angle. I did not like him that much and I am guessing he did not like me either. But we rarely crossed paths, our friend circles were different, and we did not have to interact most of the days. And then one day, we got into a fight. I can’t for the life of me remember what the fight was about. But I do remember how it played out. When school ended, I was walking home with another friend, dragging our cycles along with us, just outside the school gate and Rishikesh Bhatia came charging at me from behind with a long st...

If you reach a certain address at the Greenfield School Lane in Sambalpur, Odisha, you’ll come across a big green walled house. That’s my house. My permanent residence. Even though I haven’t lived there for over twelve years now. The earliest memories I have of this house is from 1996 or 1997 when I would come here for the holidays. It was my grandparents’ place back then. And my father would get me here whenever he could. Of course, I’d been here before but that’s only as far as I can remember. I loved coming here because it was a break from my otherwise troublesome life.  And I remember the house being very different from how it is now. The architecture didn’t change but the house’s identity did. For example, when my grandfather was around, the central hall always had this smell of Colgate tooth powder that he used to clean his dentures with and even now, that smell invariably reminds me of him. And the kitchen used to be my grandmother’s kingdom. The kitchen, with wal...

And just like that, Neel found himself all alone. Somehow, the last few years were over and he was just left behind, a shell of the man he once was and out on his own. He knew he had to rebuild his life and he just couldn't begin to fathom where to start from. He had to do something about the house as he couldn't, for the life of him, manage to clean and maintain such a huge place. So he decided to move in with some friends. The move was smooth and by the end of October, Neel was settled in at his room in the new apartment. He had set up all the essentials to keep him content and that was the beginning of his second life. Now for the loneliness, Neel had a few ideas. He signed himself up for online dating, hollered at a few old flames and explored the vast playing ground called the internet. He came up mostly empty, of course. Turns out, you need the green if you want the scene. And Neel wasn't rich. So soon, Neel was off the dating sites, cut off from most of the ol...

Death has a strange finality about it. It's extra-ordinary. You die and you just cease to exist. You may leave behind a few people to mourn for you if you're lucky. But soon, even they will move on with their lives. You'll just stay behind as a fond memory and a bunch of old pictures. My father died on the 8th of March, 2000. Before his death, he was the only parent I had had for over seven years. But life moved on. I was 10 when my father breathed for the last time. But I couldn't shed a tear. There was just too much crying around me. Amidst all the mourning, I was trying to cope with the fact that my hero was dead. He had literally been the strongest person I knew, both physically and mentally. And he just succumbed to an illness and nobody could do anything about it. Fifteen years later, I don't know whether any of his friends still think about him. I am not even sure whether anyone really knew him during his lifetime. But I did. And today, I...