That beautiful thing called 'LOVE'

 

They sat cozily facing each other. He stretched the chair, sat comfortably; pulled it further to get closer to her. He gently touched her hand and began to play with her fingers. She responded to this flirtous sin with a sensous giggle and an intense gaze with her black kohled eyes. She raised one of her left fingers to remove few strands of her hair that posed as a hurdle to the lover from a close encounter. She winked again. A gentle dimple formed on her cheeks.

He stroked her hair and drew her closer. Both of them sipped each others’ coffee which brimmed to the full complimenting the heightened cresendo of their love. There was no meaning of their prattles. They were engrossed in mysterious yet unending conversation. Such is the intensity of love, such is the power. It binds two souls with an eternal thread of attachment. A sense of belongingness that clings two hearts together for a time immemorial.

The chairs laid vacant for long for there was nobody except these two love birds. He animatedly drew sketches with his fingers on the table while conversing with her. A loud thunderbolt struck outside. The bright sun was concealed by smoky clouds. A gentle drizzle started followed by a cold breeze. It brought along with it small droplets of water which settled on his eyes. He winked a bit. It interferred in their romantic delusion only to make them realise that their intense love needs a little break only to understand what is happening around. She pepped outside the window panes, looked up and allowed her face to get wet with the season’s first monsoon. Soon, the drizzle changed its form. It started to shower and made their romance warmer.

A sudden silence prevailed all over. Somewhere the two were waiting for this moment. They wanted to seize the opportunity for a perfect love making moment. He decided to make the first move. He sealed his eyes on her lips giving her a subtle hint for the obvious. She understood the sign and responded him back with a gentle nod. A cloak of silence prevailed all over  the deserted café as they brought their lips closer. He raised his right hand and moved his thumb over her soft lips. She took a deep breath and reacted to this sensous endeavour with a passionate kiss.

 

 

 

Lost and Found

                                                                               CHAPTER 2

 

Thank God! It’s Sunday today. No tension of reaching office early. I have all the time to myself. After a tensed night’s sleep, I left early for the day. It was 11:45 a.m. I hurried past the Airport Rapid Metro Express exit gate and rushed my way towards the Air India Lost and Found counter. The staff this time although was different, but they courteously listened to my luggage dismay episode and took me towards the luggage counter. I marched like a winning martyr towards the counter hoping to get the luggage all safe and sound.

“Your name Sir?” an official with the batch of Air India questioned me after a thorough inspection as if I am a terrorist who has left his valise full of explosives. “Pradip” I replied with confidence and with a gentle smile.  “There I got it!” I told my inner mind after I spotted my sister’s luggage tucked away in the midst of Louis Vuittons, Reeboks, Skybags and a number of other luxury brands of bags. After a brief exchange of information and documents, it was my turn now.

“Sir can you show me the Letter Of Authority?” I happily forwarded it. “No sir! it won’t work. I need a proper letter. ” I had no answer after this stupid and horrendous reply by the official. I was confused, should I break his head first or mine. Regaining my cool mind I politely asked him, “Sir! What is your problem? Do I resemble a terrorist that I have to prove my identity? And this letter has all the required permissions and the authority of my name.”

After a number of heated conversations and arguments, he finally handed over the luggage to me. I opened the bag and rechecked it a number of times. Once convinced, I gave a call to my sister to give her the good news. Hearing the news, she got elated. “ Yeahh! Thanks I love you Bhaiyaa” came the comforting reply from my sister.

This whole saga of ‘Lost and Found’ taught me one thing – We should always think positive and never give up hope even if we face dejection in the first place.  

Lost and Found

Chapter-1

“1 unread SMS,” a message popped up in my mobile phone at 6:30 p.m.  I gently tapped the “Read” option and there it was “Not getting you over the phone. I left my luggage at the IGI Airport yesterday. It contains my high school certificates, pan card and a lot of important documents. Please get me the bag as soon as possible! ” I had my heart in my mouth; even I could finish reading the entire message sent by my cousin sister who stays in Bangalore.

I immediately replied back, “Listen I understand, but it will take some time.” As soon as I send the message, I was immediately retorted back with a number of angry emoticons and another message that read, “Just shut up! Go now, I have already sent you scanned copies of my passport, boarding card and the Letter of Authority.” With all hopelessness and nervousness, I embarked my journey towards claiming the unclaimed luggage.

It was 8:30 p.m. I walked inside the ‘Lost & Found’ counter of Air India. “Excuse me! I have an unclaimed baggage that was left unattended by my sister who was travelling from Delhi to Bangalore.” My query was met with a disgruntled look by a 35 year old woman. “Do you have any documents of the passenger Sir?” I immediately forwarded the documents to her.  “Thank you! Kindly have a seat sir. I assure you that you will get back your lost luggage today.” I was too impatient and eager to get the lost buggage, but as luck would have it, my wait was accompanied by a halt of two hours. In between, I made a number of enquiries and ‘n’ number of trips near the enquiry counter to know the status.

11:30 p.m. I woke up from the short slumber that took me in its arms. I hurriedly went to the enquiry counter to one of the staffs who were answering queries from other eager passengers who suffered a similar fate like me. “Did you get my luggage?” I asked one of the staffs on a positive note. “Sorry Sir! We can’t help you today because the store where the luggage was kept has closed down and we cannot give you any guarantee that your lost baggage lies with us.” Their gentle response infuriated me with anger and I lost my cool. “What the hell are you saying dude. How on earth is that possible? You just assured me few hours ago that I will get my luggage back”

My phone vibrated. I saw the name of my sister flashing on the screen. My heart pounced a bit again but stopped within a second because the outburst of anger took over the short nervousness. I continued my protest on a war footing front. Keeping my cool I requested him to have a discussion with his superior. After a short clandestine meeting, the two came out of the short cubicle and with a fake smile the Senior Manager very kindly gave me his number and promised to return the lost luggage.

Feeling dejected and a little worried I called up my sister.  I was mentally prepared to get berated by her. “I didn’t get your bag, but they have assured me that I will definitely get it tomorrow.” After a 2 second pause, there was a soft and mild voice, “Ok, take your time and do inform me when you get the bag.” Her response was a comforting one. It was 12:00 p.m. (midnight). I caught the next metro and returned home with positive hopes. 

Right to Write

The assassination of a 27-year-old Bangladeshi blogger - Washiqur Rahman Babu in broad day light, curbs the independence of bloggers. His only fault was writing secular views about Islam.

Before I proceed further, I would like to quote the exact words that instigated the perpetrators to execute this heinous crime.

   

 (English translation of the comment)

Today is Independence Day in Bangladesh.

Today Mullah’s are independent. Fundamentalists are independent. Corrupted people are independent. Political leaders are independent. Rapists are independent. Military is independent. Shafi hujur (a radical Islamic leader) is independent. Blind partisans are independent. Textile factory owners are independent…

But our farmers-labors-workers are not independent. Our minorities-indigenous-hindus are not independent, our free thinkers are not independent.

Source: http://www.dw.de/bangladesh-bloggers-show-solidarity-for-washiqur-rahman/a-18350196

There are no specific terms and conditions on any social networking website which states that “You are prohibited from posting any religious comments.” If you read the last two lines of the paragraph given above (But our farmers-labors-workers…………), you will realize that Rahman has thrown light on some of the pragmatic issues faced by the society. If speaking for the lower strata of the society or showing sympathy for a particular set of community is a crime, then we are very unfortunate that we live in a world where there is no value for humanity.

Everyone has the right to express his or her opinion irrespective of his or her religion. At the end of the day, it is the lawmakers who take the final decision of passing a particular law depending on how grim the situation is. We as bloggers or even as social networking fiends bring forward the problems faced by the society. Not only this, in some cases we also propel the administration to take a proactive measure in safeguarding the rights of the common people. Even in the Nirbhaya case, it was social media that had gathered the mass support not only from India but also from other parts of the world.

 Freedom of speech is the fundamental right of an individual. Nobody has the right or the power to harm him or her. It’s time that the administration of a country takes a stand against these criminals and set a law with the harshest punishment.

Washiqur Rahman. May your soul Rest in Peace

Pic source: The Hindu