In The Night

I have named it 'In the night' because it is this song by The Weeknd which inspired me to write on this issue. The base story includes a f real-life experiences of a go-go dancer so as to make it sound more realistic.

She isn't the regular white-collar worker. She is of the stuff what werewolves are generally made of- she isn't at night what she seems to be in the daytime.

It was her first night at the club.
Stiff and unable to find the groove in the song's rhythm, she tried to shimmy into it with her eyes closed. It was when she opened her eyes that she discovered the hush about her.

Tattooed men in pony tails and handkerchiefs banded around their foreheads, women in black-leather vests and hot pants, and smoke so dense she didn't even see the first beer bottle hurtling through it. When it crashed a few feet to her left the bartender flew after it and yelled at her to just keep dancing. Somehow, amid the hooting, booing and catcalls, she did.
"Go back to the convent where ya came from!" came a voice from the ruckus as another couple of bottles landed on either side of her. She had set out to make $20 as one of the three girls dancing that night, and she wasn't leaving without it. She danced in a trance. 

Her nine-to-five, five-day-a-week job as secretary to the hospital administrator at the City Hospital netted her only a bit more for the week than her Saturday job, moonlighting as a go-go dancer. Somewhere amidst the paper bills and the crowd of slugs writhing and leering at her she discovered herself pirouetting on the nefarious beats. It wasn't her fate, it was her obligation. An obligation to reimburse the $20 she was being paid, an obligation to dance not because she loved to but because it was her means of subsistence, an obligation to enthral the inhuman douchebags with her physical comeliness because she was a woman.

As the sweat pours down my fishnet stockings, these guys think they're gonna take me home and score, while I'm wondering if I can throw in a load of laundry before I heat up the leftover lasagna.
~An anonymous go-go dancer

The Chemistry Between Hearts

The pupils forged ahead like warriors do on hearing the war siren. 'Thank you ma'am!' This time it was a concise one, unlike the usual extended syllables one. After all, it was the lunch break.

Everybody stormed through the battlefield, ready to foray, but one retreated. No, he wasn't a coward. He was the bravest. The staunchest. 

'So you were waiting for me.' said a voice which emanated from his posterior.

'Yes, Anaya.' 

'How come you still remember me?'

'You know why.'

And there they advanced, on the war-struck land, which had now been at peace due to evacuation. Holding each other's hands they strided, marching with the same gait, like soldiers with patriotism in their hearts. It was love, not voluptuousness.

'I love you, Anaya.'

'Love you too.'

Herein she reduced to what she was- a faint memory. Memory, which he had held captive in his mind all these days, memories which made him forget she was not in this world anymore. Memories, which made her a part of him.

The elements in their hearts formed covalent bonds which could never be separated from each other.
~The Chemistry Between Hearts ❤

Love has a perpetual succession- Men may come and men may go but love goes on forever. Love never dies.                              

In the memory of my late grandmother. Love you DADI! You'll always be alive in my memory. May your soul rest in peace!

Rat Race In The Corporate World

Rat race is an endless, self-defeating and pointless pursuit. It conjures up the futile efforts of a lab rat trying to escape while running around a maze or a wheel. There is no end to it.

In a day, people spend about 7 hours sleeping, 2 to 3 hours watching TV, doing household chores or enjoying some private time with siblings, spouses or their children, and another 2 to 3 hours relaxing or socialising with friends, maybe. The rest of the time, about 10 to 12 hours, is spent at the workplace.

This implies that about 50% of your life revolves around the place you work. So dragging yourself to work every day, dreading interacting with your colleagues and avoiding your boss will get you nowhere. To quote Confucius, "Do not do unto others what you don't want others to do unto you." Change your attitude before you expect others to modify their attitude towards you. This way you can sustain in this rat race.

But looking at this from another point of view, at the bright side, competition breeds progress. Innovative products, remarkable technologies and consumer convenience are just a few examples of how competition improves our lives on a daily basis.

"The trouble with rat race is that even if you win, you're still a rat," according to Lily Tomlin.

If you love being a rat, do it.

EPHEMERAL

I never felt my heartbeat as deep as I do tonight. I can feel my heart falling for you, the black in my eyes has ended its search here. 

‘Is this love?’ I ask the heaven above.

And in my eyes, the black in the white is scintillating reflecting the white which is in the black above… And thus the heaven has given its consent. Heaven must have known.

The ephemeral glow has now retreated and I can see the permanence in front of me- the ever-shining star... you.

Though your glow is everlasting, this moment is ephemeral. And I don’t want to lose you. I want to embrace your light so that the darkness in this world doesn’t obliterate it. I want to even walk with you on the thorns, when life ain't being a bed full of roses. The demons inside me yearn to affiliate with the saint inside you. Can you be mine? ❤

It Was A Rainy Day

The slanting raindrops were caressing my nose, cheeks and arms partly and the puddles were drenching my legs. Even if you are carrying an umbrella, you get drenched anyway. Then what use is it? I shut the umbrella and moved on. Now the raindrops were falling directly on me, but this time it was my soul which was getting washed up. All the sad memories diffused out and my mind was consumed with the buoyant ones. I realised that rainfall is not just falling of raindrops, it’s the renaissance of the soul. Meanwhile, my interpretation about rainfall was interrupted by a soft voice which was contrasting to the thunderstorm striking the heaven above. I didn’t exactly hear what he said. Maybe he said something like ‘What is the way to…?’ and I had yet another philosophical answer to that ‘Dark is the way and light is the place.’ But I kept my dying urge. What tantalized me was his voice. I had heard it before.
There was a boy. We recognised each other. We were two parted lovers who could never gather the courage to say those three words.

But now that we were together and that too in such a burning weather, we could finally open our hearts out. I was about to open my umbrella, realising he might need it but he held my hand. So there we advanced, unfastening all the anchors of self control, pouncing into puddles, hands open wide to the raindrops, and singing out loud to the empty streets of town. We talked and talked, a paradigm of the jobless, like vagrants. For this moment, I could remain a vagrant forever.

The rain ceased and the sky had turned pitch-black. It was then that we realised we had to move to where we actually belonged, we could no longer live in our utopia. Oh, how I wished the rains never stopped! And my wish did come true, but this time it was the shower in my eyes. A shower of happiness for our reunion or of despair that we had to part again, I couldn't tell. We took our ways and moved on.

He turned and looked back at me. No, I wasn't stupefied, I saw that coming. Now I couldn’t control my emotions. I let it go, ran towards him and hugged him tight. I was almost all over him. He counter-hugged me even more strongly, the most fierce opponent I ever faced. Gradually, the hold loosened and we knew the battle was coming to an end. And like two warriors, still struggling for a last chance to defeat the other, we didn’t let go of each other’s hand. Now the battle ended, the only difference being that none of the side won. Each was too strong to be defeated by the other. Counterattackers? Counterparts.

I asked him where he had to go and if I could show him the way. He was new to this town, but that same old lover for me and the same pretending-to-forget person. This moment suddenly reminded me of how we met. It was when he forgot a particular destination, which I could point out as a pretence. I remember it was raining then. I remember his wet lemongrass aroma. Indeed, some déjà vus are bigger than other déjà vus. I could bet he knew the way now as well because he took the right street among the four, in the mid of which we stood and walked casually. He sucked at acting. I smirked. He took the road on the west and I took the one on the east. Exactly the opposite. Sigh. But looking at the bright side, opposites do attract. And after all, the sun has to return to rise in the east after it sets in the west. 

Just like one saves funds for a ‘rainy day’ (here, a time in future when money may be needed), we started planning for the rainy days yet to come in our lives.

Rainfall is sensual and magical- two souls interconnected by raindrops fall for each other. And that’s why it’s called ‘rainfall’!