Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Tom's day out

Tom was a wasted genius. Everyone thought Tom was a nobody. Nobody even gave Tom much of a thought. And that was how Tom preferred it. He had his mouth organ and that was the best friend he had. The other musical instruments understood him as well, but the mouth organ was something that he had deeply bonded with.

Tom could not speak clearly, and strangely his voice had a rough jarring tone which was deeply unmusical. But his hands did the talking and more than made up for the lack of vocal expression. It did not take him more than a few hours to learn an instrument and a few weeks to master it. But his talent was known to no one. When his father discovered Tom playing the mouth organ he threatened to confiscate it or throw it away in the drain if Tom did not study instead.

Tom was feeling particularly sad as his father had kept up the promise and taken away Tom's beloved mouth organ. It was a week since he had played any music. His hands were itching to play something. He could live easily without talking but not playing music was utmost suffocation for him as that was his only mode of expression. He felt like an addict in search of his weakness. He ran to the music room in his school hoping that it was empty. He could not play if people were around. Luckily the music room was deserted. He looked around for a mouth organ but settled for piano when he could not find it.

As soon as his fingers touched the keys he was a changed person. It was his craziest performance ever. He had never felt this alive before. The music somehow magically conveyed all the frustration that his stammering lips could not. The music itself carried hope to Tom that all was not lost. That he could co exist in the society too. He was not as maladjusted as he thought he was. In the form of his music. he could offer something of value as well. In his haste to play music Tom had forgotten that it was school hours. When he finished, he noticed a bunch of people standing behind him. For the first time in his life, Tom was happy that there was an audience which had witnessed his performance. He hoped his performance had an impact on others as well, as much as it had on him. He smiled at them. The crowd replied with angry stares and hateful gazes. A school exam was going on in the class next door, and it had taken the authorities 15 minutes to knock down the door of the music class. A teacher nearby took Tom by the ears and detained him in the headmaster's room where he got the shouting of his life.

The headmaster felt highly satisfied that he had brought a culprit to book and showed him the right path. His shoutings at Tom also vented out the frustration that he was feeling. For not getting the due recognition that he deserved about the fact that the mayor had shook hands with him.

Tom went away quietly. His hands had stopped itching and he no longer felt the urge to play his mouth organ.

Saturday, October 2, 2010


There was something intriguing about Robbie. I never knew I wanted to write a story about him. Then one fine day I met him and I told him " Robbie, I am going to write a story about you". The words just came out. there was nothing intentional or unintentional about it. It was the most natural thing in the world. It was as natural as wanting to eat an ice cream when you see someone else eating it and before you know it, your wallet is lighter and your stomach is not.

When i got down to writing the story, I started regretting it. The story involved getting into the head of a person and begin to think like him. This is the most unnatural thing in the world. I wanted to chuck the idea of writing a story and eat ice cream instead.

But my interpretation of Robbie has to be told. Because Robbie being Robbie will never remind me to keep my word about writing a story about him. Or else I would be eating an ice cream right now. By now Robbie might even have forgotten the conversation about me writing a story about him. Some people like Willie would have told their great grand children that somebody wanted to write a story about them. But Robbie would not care. He would already be in the lookout for the next new adventure.

My interpretation can be done and got over with in one simple sentence. Robbie is a Hedonist. His wily, slimy, cunning and dishonest eyes keep looking for the next new instrument of pleasure. He is addicted to addictions. And thats why I dont see a rosy future for him. Already I feel his mind is becoming numb. Numb to control, numb to responsibilities and most dangerously he is becoming numb to emotions like fear. Thats the danger any Hedonist faces in his life. Hedonists can be most found in two locations. Hospitals or prisons. They have a streak of self destruction in them. Hopefully, Robbie wont self destruct. He is a great guy. One of the funniest and the wittiest around. He loves everybody and thus loves no one in particular.

MBA's are the creatures who are achievement seekers. Title, prestige, recognition, fame and money is what drives them. A need to feel superior is inbuilt in them. For Robbie, these qualities are conspicuous by their absence. He seems destined to a life of mediocrity because mediocrity is what he seeks. Mediocrity hardly needs responsibilities and that is what Robbie loves best. He loves a reckless life where the only purpose is to look for the next new adventure.