Eternally Young

She wore a bright red, sleeveless evening gown. The lipstick matched the colour of her dress. She dyed her hair black, a stark contrast to her bright dress. She carried a black clutch and paired her dress with black heels. Her eyes glittered black and were kohl-lined heavily, to hide the crow feet and the slightly baggy look underneath.

Her face was heavily made up - a pathetic attempt to hide her 54 years on earth. She had been moisturising her hands and feet for several years now, and yet it looked as if in a few years, the gnarled look would slowly take over. The red finger and toenails somewhat distracted from the weathered look, but not for long.

She eyed herself critically and what she saw passed muster. She would never regain the first flush of youth, surely, but nor was she out of the race. Yet.

She checked the time. As the clock struck 6, the doorbell to her suite rang. He was punctual, as she had expected. She smiled at her reflection and adjusted her lips to get it right. She tried different expressions and finally settled for what she thought was a smouldering look.

The bell rang again. She walked quickly to the door, paused, took a deep breath in, put on the smile and opened the door.

He stood there in bottle green full sleeve shirt with dark blue jeans. She realised with a pang that he didn't look a day older than the first time she had met him almost 10 years ago, when he was just 32 or so. He moved back, seeing her dressed as if playing a part. The dismay was evident on his face though he smiled by way of greeting.

She put an arm on his shoulder and reached up to touch his cheek. Reluctantly, he leaned closer.

"I have ordered dinner in the room," she said in a husky voice.

They sat across the table and she served him wine. "So... How have you been?"

He shrugged and picked up the glass. "All well?" he asked, as if saying too much would get him in trouble.

"How is your girl?"

He took a deep breath, sipped the wine and started to say something evasive when she smiled with an eyebrow raised. "I remember the day we met so clearly."

"Do we need to go there? I have got the papers for you to sign."

She leaned back . "Oh, what's the hurry. Is my presence so abhorrent now? I can remember the day you pleaded with me to marry you. Remember, that day?" He was silent, so typical. "I even pointed out the age difference, but you didn't seem to care."

"You were right then. Happy?"

She laughed, a pleasant, throaty one. "Sometimes one likes to be wrong. But looks like you were! You thought you would love me always, no matter how old I became. But you couldn't, could you?"

"Look, this is getting us nowhere... I was wrong, you were right... So..."

"You do know you will not be young always, don't you?" she asked sharply, moving forward.

He inhaled sharply.

"What a pity," she studied his face without blinking. Nervously, he gulped the drink. He felt his throat burn. He coughed. "What a pity... But no... I love you too much."

"Look," he began but choked. He coughed some more and she affectionately patted the top of his head. "I love the way you are. I would hate to see you grow old..."

He got up, clutching his throat. She leaned back, an arm casually flung across the back of her chair. "People discard you when you grow old. It hurts, hurts deeply. Especially when it is someone you love." She looked at him as he went on his knees, coughing still, eyes popping. "I won't let you grow old and wizened and weak and abandoned. I want to remember you the way you were when we first met," she said, her eyes glowing dreamily, away from his prone form, struggling for breath, the veins in the neck  standing out from the struggle. Suddenly, she got up and sat next to him. "No, you cannot grow old and be forgotten, like me." She took his hand and said softly, "I love you too much to let you hurt yourself."

He fell back limply, his body still as the final breath racked his body. "No," she murmured, stroking his hand gently. "You will remain forever young."

One Earth: Seeking Answers

One Earth: Seeking Answers: I turned the car a/c knob to 2, turned the vents towards me and wondered at the change I had undergone. There was a time when I hated the...

shiva stuti (+playlist)

Greatness at a Price

Let me be done with the problematic bit first - language. Throughout the book, people 'laid down to sleep'. There were other editing mistakes that had slipped through, and being an editor myself, I can only wonder at what the original text looked like. Maybe the editor needs to be patted on the back for giving us a highly readable book despite these flaws.

The author has been involved with the theatre and maybe that's what gives him such a hold on the plot. His interest in history makes him scratch beneath the surface and present a highly plausible tale of one of the greatest kings in Indian history, despite which not much is known of his early days. So what Pillai writes of comes from his readings of the books mentioned in the Bibliography - most of which are about the agrarian economy in the times of the Nandas and the Mauryas.

My knowledge of the Maurya founder comes, like most other historical/mythological tales, from Amar Chitra Katha. I realise the lack in my education when I read authors who take this popular tales and dig deep.

For me, Chanakya was always the hero and Chandragupta Maurya, a beneficiary of his guru's infinite wisdom. Even in Ashwin Sanghvi's Chanakya, this view was strengthened.

Pillai, on the other hand, shows Maurya in a different light, with much more personality, skills and foresight. Even without his guru, he has mettle. His life is not all that smooth and he not a playful man having fun in life. He is a king, a responsible one, and morose, toughened by life and bereavements, betrayed by near and dear ones. 

The journey is fleshed out neatly, logically and without any rose-tinted glasses colouring the picture. WYSIWG - What you see is what you get. You need to act to achieve your goal, but that does not always give you joy though it may give you the desired result.

A must-read for those who like historical fiction, and even those who don't. But, read with a liberal mind to forgive those errors in language for the purpose sometimes is larger than technical details.

One Earth: Debut Compost

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A Fervent Hope

BJP on its way to forming the government. Narendra Modi on the verge of becoming the prime minister.

While one camp celebrates, the other throws its hands up in frustration, thinking nothing good can ever come of yet another old party coming to power.

How did this frustration seep in? When I think back, I remember PV Narasimha Rao from the Congress as prime minister and the revolutionary changes he brought about to the country's economy. I remember Atal Behari Vajpayee and again the continued progress. Yes, there was the Godhra incident that we cannot forget, that we should not forget.

Then came the Congress government, two terms. Progressive decay, as a relative pointed out. Corruption in every aspect of life. No wonder, we are bitter about politics, political parties in general.

We now have BJP elected, well entrenched in the Parliament. The challenge is not just for the party but the people as well. Responsibility, if you will.

* Of delivering on promise of ensuring progress
* Of ensuring communal harmony
* Of fighting corruption
* Of good governance

And the people, of making sure the government walks the straight path.

The hope is that the Congress under an inexperienced Sonia Gandhi was an anomaly. That opposition will be strong and monitor progress closely. That Congress will learn from its mistakes and reemerge with more sanity, headed by visionary politicians and not promoted by nepotism. I have no love for the party but we need options at all times if democracy must work.

That AAP will learn and emerge a strong voice that understands governance - yes, we need more than two parties.

But always, always, that the interests of the country will remain supreme.

One Earth: What kind of mother are you?

One Earth: What kind of mother are you?: How can I miss the action elsewhere -  mother langur rushes on.  "Mommy, take me too!" the young one clings. My father...