Naveen leaned back against the car. He wasn’t able to stand straight. Loud music still rang in his ears. His roommate, Marvin, staggered behind him.
“We are fucking drunk.” Marvin was a fan of stating the obvious.
“How many drinks did I have?” Naveen wondered.
“I stopped counting after my fifth.” Marvin declared. “The first two rounds were tequila shots, then a vodka, then two whiskeys…and then…” He paused and appeared to be thinking. He laughed, “Who the hell knows what else I had.”
Marvin skipped forward. “Tonight’s gonna be a good, good night….oh yea...tonight’s gonna be a good, good night…”
Naveen cut him short, “Tonight is over man. But, tomorrow’s gonna be bad, bad hangover…oh yea…tomorrow’s gonna be a bad, bad hangover…”
Both of them burst out laughing. Marvin rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
Naveen nodded. “Thanks. The feeling is mutual.”
Marvin pointed at the car they were leaning against, “Is this your car?”
Naveen turned and stared at the car, as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh yea, it is my car. The good ol’ Honda Civic. I love this car.”
Marvin pulled against the handle of the door, “Open it.”
Naveen searched his pockets, produced a key and unlocked it. Marvin opened the door, leaned down into the car and let out a gut-wrenching sound.
Naveen’s expression froze. “What the hell are you doing? You opened the door to throw up in it?”
Marvin remained bent over, holding his stomach and vomiting out. Naveen grabbed his roommate’s shoulder and pulled him up.
Marvin had a broad smirk. “Ha ha ha ha…I got you….”
Naveen exhaled, glanced into the car, and then cracked a smile. “Not bad….well done.”
Marvin smiled, “Alright, let’s get out of here now.”
Naveen nodded. He opened the driver’s door and paused. “Are we gonna drive back?
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, like you mentioned earlier, we are fuckin’ drunk.”
“We definitely are. So what?”
Naveen shook his head. “Let’s take a cab. We’ll pick up this car tomorrow.”
Marvin grunted. “Don’t be such a wuss.”
Naveen raised his eyebrows, “A wuss?”
“Yea, a wuss. If you want, I’ll drive.”
“You?” Naveen laughed, “C’mon man, you’ll barely be able to make it into the car without falling a few times.”
Marvin frowned, “I fooled you with the fake vomiting, didn’t I? That shows how sharp my mind is right now.”
“I don’t know about your sharp mind and all, but yea, you did fool me, I’ll give you that.”
Marvin stumbled towards him. Before Naveen could react, Marvin grabbed the car keys from his hand and collapsed into the driver’s seat. Naveen stared at him for a moment, shrugged his shoulders, and went around to the passenger’s seat.
“Alright, that’s more like it.” Marvin fired up the engine. “Let’s do this.”
Marvin backed the car out and picked up speed. “So, where we headed?”
“Umm…how about home? It’s 3 am man.”
“Home?” Marvin was offended, “Where are the others?”
“Everyone split after we left the club, man.”
Marvin frowned, “Fine, fine…home it is.”
He changed lanes and pulled onto the freeway ramp. Suddenly, he grinned and looked across. “We still have half of that whiskey bottle remaining, right?”
Naveen winced at the thought. “You really want to puke, don’t ya?”
Marvin sang aloud, “I got a feeling…tomorrow’s gonna be a bad, bad hangover…oh yea….tomorrow’s gonna be a bad, bad hangover…”
Naveen joined in, “Oh yea…tomorrow’s gonna be a bad, bad hangover…”
They cruised along, picking up speed as the freeway cleared up ahead. Marvin put on the radio and tuned to the classic rock station. The lyrics sounded from the speakers “Now, I’ve got that feeling once again. I can’t explain...this is not how I am…”
Marvin’s eyes lit up. He cleared his throat and started to hum. “I….have become…”
Naveen joined in, “….comfortably numb…”
Both sang aloud, out of tune and out of sync, “There is no pain you are receiving....”
Suddenly, Naveen noticed some flashing lights behind them. “Did you see that, man?”
“Shhh…” Marvin admonished. “A distant ship’s smoke on the horizon…”
Naveen shifted in his seat. He blinked and looked back again. A black-and-white police car appeared behind them.
Marvin continued on. “When I was a child, I had a fever…”
“I think the cops are following us man.” Naveen said.
“…Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying…”
Naveen nudged his buddy on the shoulder. “Seriously man, there is a cop car behind us.”
Marvin glared at him. “I’m sure it’s not for us. Here, I’ll show you.” He changed lanes, giving the police car room to pass.
“…now I’ve got that feeling once again…”
The black-and-white car changed lanes too and stayed on their tail. Without warning, the flashing lights blazed on. A siren rang out, piercing their ears. A voice bellowed over a microphone. “Please pull over to the side.”
Marvin shut the radio off, and pulled the car aside and turned off the engine. The two roommates exchanged a quick look.
“I told you.” Naveen murmured. He felt his heart beat faster.
Marvin sat in silence. He rubbed his eyes.
The police officer slowly walked over to their car, and demanded to see license and registration. Naveen fumbled through the glove box and produced them.
The officer shone a flashlight on Marvin. “Do you know how fast you were going?”
Marvin cleared his throat. “Must have been about sixty five?”
“You were doing seventy miles per hour. Do you know what the speed limit is here?”
Marvin stuttered, “Six-Sixty?”
“It’s a fifty mile per hour zone.”
Marvin swallowed. “I’m sorry officer.”
The office stared at them with unblinking eyes. The bright yellow light from his flashlight shone directly into their eyes.
“How many drinks have you had?” He asked Marvin.
Marvin paused to think. Naveen recollected his roommate’s impressive alcohol consumption chronicles from earlier. He cringed inwardly.
“I…umm…I’m not sure…” Marvin struggled for words. “Maybe just a couple of beers.”
The officer’s expression remained unchanged “A couple of beers, ha?”
“Please step out of the vehicle.”
Marvin looked up. “But officer…”
“Step out of the car.”
Reluctantly, Marvin obeyed. Naveen started to open his door.
“Not you.” The officer commanded. “You stay there.”
Naveen heard the office ask Marvin to take a breath alcohol test. He felt his stomach churn. He saw Marvin make an attempt to protest and then grudgingly blow into the contraption that the officer produced. The officer took it back to his car.
Naveen leaned out the window and looked at his roommate. Neither of them said anything. The officer returned towards them, along with his partner.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
“Ha?” Marvin stood there, dazed.
“Please lie face down on the hood and put your hands behind your back.”
“But, officer...I didn’t do anything wrong.” Marvin protested.
“Like hell, you didn’t. You failed the breath test. Your blood alcohol level is above the allowed limit. You were driving under influence.”
Marvin’s face went ashen. The officer read him his rights. Marvin bent down on the car and put his hands behind. A pair of steel handcuffs snapped on his wrist. Naveen stared at them. He felt the blood rushing through his veins. He swung his door open and jumped out of the car.
“Please officer…” Naveen pleaded.
The officer’s partner looked startled by Naveen’s sudden movement. In a flash, he had his hand on his gun. “Get back in the car.”
“Please sir…” Naveen went on. “We are just kids…”
The partner’s eyes were locked on Naveen. “I’ll ask you again to get back in the car.”
Naveen saw the look in his eyes and hastily retreated to the car. He shrunk into his seat and watched Marvin being bundled into the police car. The officer’s partner got into the driver’s seat and pulled the car away. Naveen’s breathing became quicker and quicker.
The officer appeared at his window. “And how many drinks have you had?”
Naveen looked at him. “I don’t remember….not too many.”
“Uh-huh. Please step out of the car.”
Naveen obeyed. Without a word, the officer displayed the dreaded breath testing contraption that had already claimed Marvin as its victim. With a resigned look, Naveen blew into it. The officer took the device aside and then, came back to Naveen.
“You failed too.”
Naveen nodded, wondering how steel handcuffs felt like. Would they hurt?
The officer continued to gaze at him. “But you weren’t driving. We will, however, have to get your car towed. Another car will come around any minute and will give you a ride home.”
Naveen blinked. He exhaled slowly. So, no handcuffs after all.
“Where did you take my friend, officer?”
The officer glared at him.
“Please officer, tell me where you took my friend, so I can go bail him out later.”
The officer took out his walkie-talkie, said something into it. A voice said something in reply. Naveen couldn’t make out the words.
“Clyde hill station.” The officer said.
At that moment, another black-and-white car with lights flashing showed up and stopped next to them. The officer went over and spoke to the new arrival. He opened the back seat door and indicated to Naveen. “Get in.”
Naveen slid into the seat.
“Where do you live?”
“Bellevue, sir.”
The officer drove the car ahead. “Tell me which exit.”
Naveen felt his head nod. He blinked and tried to stay focused. He felt numb.
“Do your parents know that you’ll are driving around drunk like that?” The officer asked.
“Umm…our parents are in India, sir.”
The officer glanced at him sharply in the rear view mirror. “So, what are you’ll doing here? Students?”
“No sir, we work here.”
“Is this the exit?” The officer pointed ahead.
“Ye-yes. This is the one.” Naveen stammered.
The officer continued to study him in the mirror.
“Next left, after the signal, sir.” Naveen said. The officer swung into the lane.
“Umm…it’s the apartment complex up ahead and the last building to the right, sir.”
The car stopped abruptly. The officer glared back at him. “We’re close enough. You get off and walk from here.”
Naveen felt himself nod again. He opened the door and put one foot down. “What about my car, sir? How do I get it back?”
“Hold on.” The officer mumbled into his walkie-talkie and a voice responded. “King’s Towing Company. Look them up and call them.”
With that, the black-and-white car sped away from him. Naveen staggered towards his house. He paused and took a few deep breaths. He looked up at the black sky. Where was Marvin?
He brought out his cell phone and dialed his roommate’s number. No response. He left a voicemail. Then, he called another friend, Kaushal, and explained the situation to him. Kaushal listened and told Naveen to stay right there, that he would reach there and they could go get Marvin out of jail.
Naveen stood outside his house and waited. What a night it had been. The cold air penetrated his jacket, but Naveen felt nothing.
Kaushal arrived within minutes. “Not been able to get through to Marvin. We should leave a note for him on the door in case he comes back here.”
They scribbled a quick not and stuck it on the door. The image of Marvin being handcuffed was burned in Naveen’s mind.
“So, I looked up Clyde Hill station. Let’s go there.” Kaushal said.
They took off towards Clyde Hill. Suddenly, Naveen’s phone started ringing. The sound seemed unfamiliar. He stared at it. It was Marvin.
“Where are you, Marvin?” Naveen blurted. “We’re coming to get you.”
“Relax,” Marvin’s voice said over the phone. “I’m back at home. They filed the charges and released me without bail.”
Naveen registered this slowly. “So now what happens?”
“Now, my case will come up in court. I have to find a lawyer I guess.”
“Oh…” Naveen went silent. “But you’re okay, right?”
“Yea.”
“How do you feel?” Naveen asked.
“I….have become…comfortably numb….”
The Empty Boat
The yellow sun illuminated the clear, blue sky. Gentle waves splashed against the shore. The church bells clanged. The birds chirped. A typical summer day in the floating city. Venice. A paradise to many, an abode of relaxation, a magnet to travelers.
Maurizio rowed his gondola upstream. He was headed home for lunch. His thoughts were occupied by the saffron aroma of his wife’s homemade risotto. He could almost taste it.
Suddenly, he felt himself being thrown back. A garish purple gondola had appeared from nowhere and collided against his boat.
Maurizio looked up at the mustached boatman. He waved his fist, “Watch where you’re going, idiot. Are you drunk?”
The boatman in the other gondola just shrugged his shoulders, by way of apology. Maurizio shook his head. He clearly had the right of way. Where did these morons come from.
Maurizio continued to curse under his breath as the two gondolas separated and continued along their way. He rowed ahead and gradually his thoughts returned to his upcoming meal.
Half an hour passed without further incident. Maurizio navigated past the central market district. He slowed down and steered towards the land. He was almost home.
Once again, he found himself jerked back. He lost balance and fell on his back. He looked up and saw that another gondola had collided with him. He face turned flush red. He could feel the anger rise up inside him. He gritted his teeth.
He stood up. “What the hell do you people think? You can do anything you want? Maurizio will teach you a lesson you will never forget. Maurizio will beat you so bad that…”
He stopped short. He found himself yelling at thin air. There was no boatman. The brown gondola that lay before him was empty. It had simply come loose from its mooring and floated with the waves.
Maurizio felt his anger subside. He laughed at himself. He pushed the empty boat aside and continued on his way. As he pulled towards the land and parked his boat, a realization struck him. Both the collisions were identical. But the first seemed to justify yelling and the other seemed to justify laughing. He smiled to himself.
From that day, he treated any offending boatman as if he were an empty boat.
Maurizio rowed his gondola upstream. He was headed home for lunch. His thoughts were occupied by the saffron aroma of his wife’s homemade risotto. He could almost taste it.
Suddenly, he felt himself being thrown back. A garish purple gondola had appeared from nowhere and collided against his boat.
Maurizio looked up at the mustached boatman. He waved his fist, “Watch where you’re going, idiot. Are you drunk?”
The boatman in the other gondola just shrugged his shoulders, by way of apology. Maurizio shook his head. He clearly had the right of way. Where did these morons come from.
Maurizio continued to curse under his breath as the two gondolas separated and continued along their way. He rowed ahead and gradually his thoughts returned to his upcoming meal.
Half an hour passed without further incident. Maurizio navigated past the central market district. He slowed down and steered towards the land. He was almost home.
Once again, he found himself jerked back. He lost balance and fell on his back. He looked up and saw that another gondola had collided with him. He face turned flush red. He could feel the anger rise up inside him. He gritted his teeth.
He stood up. “What the hell do you people think? You can do anything you want? Maurizio will teach you a lesson you will never forget. Maurizio will beat you so bad that…”
He stopped short. He found himself yelling at thin air. There was no boatman. The brown gondola that lay before him was empty. It had simply come loose from its mooring and floated with the waves.
Maurizio felt his anger subside. He laughed at himself. He pushed the empty boat aside and continued on his way. As he pulled towards the land and parked his boat, a realization struck him. Both the collisions were identical. But the first seemed to justify yelling and the other seemed to justify laughing. He smiled to himself.
From that day, he treated any offending boatman as if he were an empty boat.
The Beggar
Rohit discovered a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. He stared at it for a moment. Shrugging his shoulders, he took a puff and exhaled the smoke slowly. He surveyed the scene around him. Sophia College Lane was deserted, as one would expect at midnight. The dim street lights only somewhat illuminated the sloping lane. The red tobacco stains on the white wall stood out amongst the assortment of foot marks, food particles, dirt and other decorative attempts.
“It’s the time to disco…La La La La…” A hoarse voice sang out behind him. Rohit turned to see a group of college kids sauntering down the lane. Two girls, dressed in loose tops and tight jeans, walked close to each other, giggling. Staggering ahead of them was the guy singing, dressed in a striped shirt with the top three buttons opened.
Open Buttons continued his sorry attempt to sing. “It’s the time to disco….oh oh oh…yea…oh oh oh…” It sounded more like an asthma patient coughing.
Rohit shook his head and took another puff. The group took no notice of him as they continued down, with Open Buttons blaring on, and the girls exchanging hushed comments.
Their voices faded away into the night. As silence descended around him, Rohit remembered his own college days. Those were such fun times. No job or money to worry about. No sense of responsibility. He took another puff and walked down to the large banyan tree. He stood under it, recalling the times he had come there with friends during college.
“Can you give me a cigarette, brother?” A voice called out, interrupting his thoughts.
Rohit swirled around. A short man appeared from nowhere, dressed in torn rags. His hands were gnarled, his fingers out-of-shape. His face was covered with a thick beard. His pants were rolled up to display swollen knees, expanding outwards like inflated balloons. The skin around the knees took a dark purple color and was mutilated in several places.
Rohit grimaced, and took a step back.
“Please brother, just one cigarette.” The beggar pleaded, extending his right palm.
Rohit stared at those knees, which were swollen the size of beach volleyballs. His stomach churned and his legs felt wobbly. He had to look away. He looked up at the man’s imploring eyes. He brought out a packet of cigarettes, and handed one to the beggar, who eagerly put it in his mouth.
Rohit produced a lighter and lit the cigarette. The beggar took a long puff and started to cough loudly. The twisted hands pressed against his chest as he continued to cough. The coughing barely subsided, and he took another puff. And then coughed some more.
Rohit looked at shrunken figure before him. He became acutely aware how lucky he was. Sure, he had lost his job and his girlfriend had dumped him for some larger hunk. But who was he to complain. Life had been kind to him.
The beggar looked into his eyes. “You’re a kind man, brother. Can you spare me some money? I haven’t had a bite to eat for days.”
Looking at the man, Rohit didn’t doubt it for a moment. He took out his wallet to check how much cash he had.
Without warning, a rough hand grabbed Rohit’s neck. The wallet disappeared from his hand. Rohit could barely register what had happened. He found himself being shoved back against the banyan tree. His cigarette fell to the ground.
The beggar’s eyes glared at him, no longer pitiful, rather red with rage. The black beard drew inches from Rohit’s face. A smell of vomit filled his nostrils.
“Feeling sorry for me, were you?” The beggar’s voice turned into a hiss. “Now, I have your money. Remove your watch and give it to me.”
Rohit’s eyes widened in shock. He blinked and looked at the beggar. The contorted hands produced a long kitchen knife, the kind used to chop onions. The tip of the blade pressed against Rohit’s neck. The beggar’s eyes were the color of blood. If he pushed the blade a little deeper, real blood would spurt out.
Rohit felt his pulse rate quicken. His breathing became shallow. He snapped off his watch and handed it over. The red eyes examined the metal strap and silver dial. A smirk appeared on the man’s face, revealing yellow-stained teeth.
“Good boy. Now, what else you got?”
Rohit leaned back against the tree. The knife blade hovered around his adam’s apple. He swallowed a breath of air. His eyes locked onto the knife.
The beggar slapped Rohit’s chest “Give me your belt….and…your glasses...quickly.”
Rohit obeyed, without a word. He had gone from sympathetic bystander to hapless victim. And it had happened in a flash.
The beggar glowered at Rohit, “Stupid, little rich brat.” He shoved his loot into his shirt, and starting laughing. He laughed so hard that it turned into a cough. His back stooped low, as he spat on the ground. Those inflated knees seemed incapable of bending.
The red eyes caught Rohit observing him. “What you looking at, ha?”
Rohit felt the metallic blade against the skin of his neck again. He bit his tongue.
The beggar continued to stare, without blinking. “Your phone…give it…”
Rohit slid out his mobile phone from his jeans pockets. He extended it towards the gnarled hands. All of a sudden, the phone started ringing.
“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me…Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak was like me…”
Rohit stared at the phone. He blinked. That wasn’t his ringtone at all. The music grew louder and louder, ringing in his ears. He couldn’t see the beggar. He blinked his eyes again. The music was deafening.
Rohit sat up and rubbed his eyes. His palms were full of sweat. He looked around him. His bed, his desk, his cupboards came into view.
“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend…” Music emanated from his speakers. The digital display on the radio showed the time as 09:02 am.
“Rohit,” His mother’s voice yelled from somewhere. “Wake up and turn that alarm off.”
*****
“It’s the time to disco…La La La La…” A hoarse voice sang out behind him. Rohit turned to see a group of college kids sauntering down the lane. Two girls, dressed in loose tops and tight jeans, walked close to each other, giggling. Staggering ahead of them was the guy singing, dressed in a striped shirt with the top three buttons opened.
Open Buttons continued his sorry attempt to sing. “It’s the time to disco….oh oh oh…yea…oh oh oh…” It sounded more like an asthma patient coughing.
Rohit shook his head and took another puff. The group took no notice of him as they continued down, with Open Buttons blaring on, and the girls exchanging hushed comments.
Their voices faded away into the night. As silence descended around him, Rohit remembered his own college days. Those were such fun times. No job or money to worry about. No sense of responsibility. He took another puff and walked down to the large banyan tree. He stood under it, recalling the times he had come there with friends during college.
“Can you give me a cigarette, brother?” A voice called out, interrupting his thoughts.
Rohit swirled around. A short man appeared from nowhere, dressed in torn rags. His hands were gnarled, his fingers out-of-shape. His face was covered with a thick beard. His pants were rolled up to display swollen knees, expanding outwards like inflated balloons. The skin around the knees took a dark purple color and was mutilated in several places.
Rohit grimaced, and took a step back.
“Please brother, just one cigarette.” The beggar pleaded, extending his right palm.
Rohit stared at those knees, which were swollen the size of beach volleyballs. His stomach churned and his legs felt wobbly. He had to look away. He looked up at the man’s imploring eyes. He brought out a packet of cigarettes, and handed one to the beggar, who eagerly put it in his mouth.
Rohit produced a lighter and lit the cigarette. The beggar took a long puff and started to cough loudly. The twisted hands pressed against his chest as he continued to cough. The coughing barely subsided, and he took another puff. And then coughed some more.
Rohit looked at shrunken figure before him. He became acutely aware how lucky he was. Sure, he had lost his job and his girlfriend had dumped him for some larger hunk. But who was he to complain. Life had been kind to him.
The beggar looked into his eyes. “You’re a kind man, brother. Can you spare me some money? I haven’t had a bite to eat for days.”
Looking at the man, Rohit didn’t doubt it for a moment. He took out his wallet to check how much cash he had.
Without warning, a rough hand grabbed Rohit’s neck. The wallet disappeared from his hand. Rohit could barely register what had happened. He found himself being shoved back against the banyan tree. His cigarette fell to the ground.
The beggar’s eyes glared at him, no longer pitiful, rather red with rage. The black beard drew inches from Rohit’s face. A smell of vomit filled his nostrils.
“Feeling sorry for me, were you?” The beggar’s voice turned into a hiss. “Now, I have your money. Remove your watch and give it to me.”
Rohit’s eyes widened in shock. He blinked and looked at the beggar. The contorted hands produced a long kitchen knife, the kind used to chop onions. The tip of the blade pressed against Rohit’s neck. The beggar’s eyes were the color of blood. If he pushed the blade a little deeper, real blood would spurt out.
Rohit felt his pulse rate quicken. His breathing became shallow. He snapped off his watch and handed it over. The red eyes examined the metal strap and silver dial. A smirk appeared on the man’s face, revealing yellow-stained teeth.
“Good boy. Now, what else you got?”
Rohit leaned back against the tree. The knife blade hovered around his adam’s apple. He swallowed a breath of air. His eyes locked onto the knife.
The beggar slapped Rohit’s chest “Give me your belt….and…your glasses...quickly.”
Rohit obeyed, without a word. He had gone from sympathetic bystander to hapless victim. And it had happened in a flash.
The beggar glowered at Rohit, “Stupid, little rich brat.” He shoved his loot into his shirt, and starting laughing. He laughed so hard that it turned into a cough. His back stooped low, as he spat on the ground. Those inflated knees seemed incapable of bending.
The red eyes caught Rohit observing him. “What you looking at, ha?”
Rohit felt the metallic blade against the skin of his neck again. He bit his tongue.
The beggar continued to stare, without blinking. “Your phone…give it…”
Rohit slid out his mobile phone from his jeans pockets. He extended it towards the gnarled hands. All of a sudden, the phone started ringing.
“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me…Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak was like me…”
Rohit stared at the phone. He blinked. That wasn’t his ringtone at all. The music grew louder and louder, ringing in his ears. He couldn’t see the beggar. He blinked his eyes again. The music was deafening.
Rohit sat up and rubbed his eyes. His palms were full of sweat. He looked around him. His bed, his desk, his cupboards came into view.
“Don’t cha wish your girlfriend…” Music emanated from his speakers. The digital display on the radio showed the time as 09:02 am.
“Rohit,” His mother’s voice yelled from somewhere. “Wake up and turn that alarm off.”
*****
Let's Play
Water, water and water everywhere. What a spoilsport the monsoon was. The lawn setup for Andy’s birthday party was filled with ankle-deep water. Krish arrived late, dropped off by his mother. He joined his glum-faced fifth-grade classmates, huddled under the doorway where there was cover from the downpour.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Hi Krish.” It was Andy, dressed in a flowing black cape, with a tall hat adorning his head that read ‘Birthday Boy’.
“Happy birthday.” Krish smiled, and hugged his friend.
“Thanks,” Andy replied. “Look at this stupid rain. It’s spoiling the day.”
Krish cast his eyes across the lawn. On one end, a long table was covered with a cloth, which partially concealed some cookies, sandwiches, and cake. Balloons fluttered in the wind, tied to the side of the table. Several bottles of Coke and Sprite lay in a bucket of ice. A cardboard box had triangular, pointy party hats. On a higher table lay two square, black speakers which emanated music, barely audible about the din of the rain crashing down.
“Let’s go home.” Raj, another classmate, said.
“It’s so cold. The lawn is mucky. I wanna go back.” Someone else chimed in.
“We can’t even play Super Mario.” Also on the lawn, was a projector screen and a Nintendo Wii console setup with multiple controllers.
Krish looked across the lawn again. One of the balloons had come loose and floated on the accumulated rain water. An idea struck him. “Come with me.” He grabbed Andy’s hand and scurried onto the lawn.
“Krish, where you going…leave my hand…” Andy protested. Their legs splashed the cold rain water, which seeped into their shoes and socks.
Krish emptied the sodas and ice from the bucket. “Help me lift the bucket.”
Andy scowled. “I’m getting wet...” Reluctantly, he followed Krish’s lead. They each held one side of the bucket and hauled it onto the higher table, in between the speakers, with the open top facing forward.
Krish went to the centre of the lawn, grabbed the stray yellow balloon and threw it to Andy. Andy caught it, and without thinking, threw it back. Krish took it and ran towards the table. He leapt into the air and hurled the balloon into the empty bucket.
“Gooooalll.” Krish yelled and jumped up and down. He ran towards Andy with his hand raised above his hand. Andy reacted and high-fived his buddy.
“Your turn.” Krish said. “Pick me up so I can get the balloon back.”
Andy grabbed his friend’s waist and lifted. Krish stretched his arms forward and fetched the balloon from the bucket. He ran towards the center of the lawn, and threw it to Andy, who held the balloon, and stood there, looking at it.
“C’mon, score a goal.” Krish urged. Andy ran towards the table, jumped up and threw the balloon into the bucket.
“Goaaall…” Krish screamed.
“Yessss….” Andy beamed and punched the air. Krish ran to him and hugged him. They retrieved the balloon once again.
Two more classmates marched onto the lawn and joined in. Then, four more. And five more. Within minutes, the whole class was splashing about in the mucky rain water, passing around a balloon and taking turns throwing it into a bucket. Loud laughter echoed through the lawn. Their shoes turned brown from the mud. Their bodies were drenched in the rain. Their faces were covered with smiles.
“Pass it to me.”
“It’s my turn next.”
“Goaaaall…”
They gathered around the latest goal scorer and hoisted him onto their shoulders. He raised his hands and shouted with delight.
Soon, one of them obtained a stool so that retrieving the balloon would be easier. They elected captains and divided themselves into teams. They passed the balloon to their teammates while the other team tried to catch it along the way.
“Goooaaaal…3-2….we’re winning…”Andy let out a roar.
Krish grinned from ear to ear. “How’s your birthday now? Having fun?”
“Best birthday ever…”
*****
“Every child is born an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when they grow up.”
- Pablo Picasso
Ah, the joys of being a child. Playing a game. Having fun. The play instinct, the instinct to have fun, is the primal driving energy in any human being. It’s the part inside us that makes us come alive. Children are great at it. They are constantly playing, having a blast, laughing. But, adults forget how to do this. They lose the ability to let go and just have fun without any purpose or reason.
This play instinct stokes our imagination. The heart of all creativity is imagination at play. The creative mind plays with objects around it and thereby creates something new.
How often do you let yourself play? How often do you have fun?
There is a child inside all of us. Block some time every week to take your inner child on a play date. During this time, switch off your phone, don’t read the latest news or check your bank account, don’t check your mails or messages or Facebook updates or tweets. Disconnect from the world.
Do anything you feel is fun. Explore anything that intrigues you. Take a walk on the beach; go for a swim; photograph a sunset; paint a mountain scenery; cook an exotic recipe; sing along to your favorite music, even if it’s corny music that no one else respects; dance barefoot to drum beats; make a collage of old photos; sketch a portrait; write a story; go to a temple or church and chant hymns; go on a long drive with no destination. Do whatever your heart tells you to do. There are no rules. Just let yourself have fun.
By doing so, you will fuel your creative imagination and awaken your inner artist-child. Life possibilities will open up for you. Follow your bliss and doors will open where previously there were only walls. Do this regularly and you will experience magic.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Hi Krish.” It was Andy, dressed in a flowing black cape, with a tall hat adorning his head that read ‘Birthday Boy’.
“Happy birthday.” Krish smiled, and hugged his friend.
“Thanks,” Andy replied. “Look at this stupid rain. It’s spoiling the day.”
Krish cast his eyes across the lawn. On one end, a long table was covered with a cloth, which partially concealed some cookies, sandwiches, and cake. Balloons fluttered in the wind, tied to the side of the table. Several bottles of Coke and Sprite lay in a bucket of ice. A cardboard box had triangular, pointy party hats. On a higher table lay two square, black speakers which emanated music, barely audible about the din of the rain crashing down.
“Let’s go home.” Raj, another classmate, said.
“It’s so cold. The lawn is mucky. I wanna go back.” Someone else chimed in.
“We can’t even play Super Mario.” Also on the lawn, was a projector screen and a Nintendo Wii console setup with multiple controllers.
Krish looked across the lawn again. One of the balloons had come loose and floated on the accumulated rain water. An idea struck him. “Come with me.” He grabbed Andy’s hand and scurried onto the lawn.
“Krish, where you going…leave my hand…” Andy protested. Their legs splashed the cold rain water, which seeped into their shoes and socks.
Krish emptied the sodas and ice from the bucket. “Help me lift the bucket.”
Andy scowled. “I’m getting wet...” Reluctantly, he followed Krish’s lead. They each held one side of the bucket and hauled it onto the higher table, in between the speakers, with the open top facing forward.
Krish went to the centre of the lawn, grabbed the stray yellow balloon and threw it to Andy. Andy caught it, and without thinking, threw it back. Krish took it and ran towards the table. He leapt into the air and hurled the balloon into the empty bucket.
“Gooooalll.” Krish yelled and jumped up and down. He ran towards Andy with his hand raised above his hand. Andy reacted and high-fived his buddy.
“Your turn.” Krish said. “Pick me up so I can get the balloon back.”
Andy grabbed his friend’s waist and lifted. Krish stretched his arms forward and fetched the balloon from the bucket. He ran towards the center of the lawn, and threw it to Andy, who held the balloon, and stood there, looking at it.
“C’mon, score a goal.” Krish urged. Andy ran towards the table, jumped up and threw the balloon into the bucket.
“Goaaall…” Krish screamed.
“Yessss….” Andy beamed and punched the air. Krish ran to him and hugged him. They retrieved the balloon once again.
Two more classmates marched onto the lawn and joined in. Then, four more. And five more. Within minutes, the whole class was splashing about in the mucky rain water, passing around a balloon and taking turns throwing it into a bucket. Loud laughter echoed through the lawn. Their shoes turned brown from the mud. Their bodies were drenched in the rain. Their faces were covered with smiles.
“Pass it to me.”
“It’s my turn next.”
“Goaaaall…”
They gathered around the latest goal scorer and hoisted him onto their shoulders. He raised his hands and shouted with delight.
Soon, one of them obtained a stool so that retrieving the balloon would be easier. They elected captains and divided themselves into teams. They passed the balloon to their teammates while the other team tried to catch it along the way.
“Goooaaaal…3-2….we’re winning…”Andy let out a roar.
Krish grinned from ear to ear. “How’s your birthday now? Having fun?”
“Best birthday ever…”
*****
“Every child is born an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when they grow up.”
- Pablo Picasso
Ah, the joys of being a child. Playing a game. Having fun. The play instinct, the instinct to have fun, is the primal driving energy in any human being. It’s the part inside us that makes us come alive. Children are great at it. They are constantly playing, having a blast, laughing. But, adults forget how to do this. They lose the ability to let go and just have fun without any purpose or reason.
This play instinct stokes our imagination. The heart of all creativity is imagination at play. The creative mind plays with objects around it and thereby creates something new.
How often do you let yourself play? How often do you have fun?
There is a child inside all of us. Block some time every week to take your inner child on a play date. During this time, switch off your phone, don’t read the latest news or check your bank account, don’t check your mails or messages or Facebook updates or tweets. Disconnect from the world.
Do anything you feel is fun. Explore anything that intrigues you. Take a walk on the beach; go for a swim; photograph a sunset; paint a mountain scenery; cook an exotic recipe; sing along to your favorite music, even if it’s corny music that no one else respects; dance barefoot to drum beats; make a collage of old photos; sketch a portrait; write a story; go to a temple or church and chant hymns; go on a long drive with no destination. Do whatever your heart tells you to do. There are no rules. Just let yourself have fun.
By doing so, you will fuel your creative imagination and awaken your inner artist-child. Life possibilities will open up for you. Follow your bliss and doors will open where previously there were only walls. Do this regularly and you will experience magic.
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