Last Years ….

Arun is an imaginary character which / who the writer thought could match his imagination. Arun is in love with a girl whose name is lovely. Hey as the name suggests, she is lovely too. Sometimes the author wished if he had a girl like lovely, but alas it would matter if she had love for him.

All characters are made up. Readers please excuse me if you happen to find any resemblance to any situations or names in your life with what is mentioned in the story.

I am an Idiot and thats enough ….

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If  you desire to blossom like a rose in the garden, first you have to learn the art of adjusting with the thorns”


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Arun looked at the cell phone at mid night of 31st December 2009, to see whether anybody messages him “HAPPY NEW YEAR” like every other year since he had the mobile phone for 4 years now. It was late night and he was drunk after the party. Friends gathered at his room for celebrating the new year eve. Messages were coming from friends, Ad companies posted a few messages in between to make the cell seem active to him. But then was one which he was expecting from her and it never came till now.
In the background, rumbling noises became louder and louder until they were loud enough to shock him and wake him up.  He was out of his kick as the noise got his attention. It was the pan of boiling water that was boiling over and over. He was thirsty and there was no boiled water left after the party.  He put the water on the stove and  had forgotten the pan and sat looking at the phone in the free room. Kapil’s message was the last one, but he cudn’t read it.  He rushed like a rocket to the kitchen and immediately put off the gas burner, lucky he that there was a bit of water still waited for him.  Rest all evaporated into the air, like her love for him.
He looked at the pan closely and monitored it for any burns or damages to the vessel. Last they had burnt their newly bought Induction heater due to carelessness.  Ah, it stuck fresh in his memory.  The pan was like her heart. It was full of water for drinking an hour before, but where did it all go. Where did all her love for him go ?

“Why didnt you tell your heart not to leave me, when you told me not to leave you?”
He was pacified and relieved to see the pan unburnt.
Arun was used to the mobile phone for the past 2 years, especially the LG make.He had 2 phones, most people keep an extra one for the special call that touches the heart and absence of that call means a vacuum which smothers the soul.

A few days later one of his friends dhanya, asked him,”Why do we cry?”
Dhanya finished her education and waited for her final year results.  This time she had a lot of time to think about what happened in her life.
I never knew how to answer that question, infact he too wanted to know “Why he cried ?”

Over the few years, when we gather experiences and bitterness for our helplessness, we slowly feel that it was a waste of time running after the butterfly called happiness.

There was a brothel in the city, located near to the railway junction. A bit far but still close to the heart of the city.  Mostly girls of the age group between 20 – 35 worked there,  Serena was one amongst  ‘them’.   It was called the ‘Sweet Home’.  As she was an  employee,  receiving a small fixed salary and a portion of the money spent by the customer. The brothel owner received  the rest of the payment for services. And there were plenty of loyal customers.
Arun knew that some of the girls working there  are born into the brothels, with no control on their fate. Dhanya once asked him,
“Arun, do you have respect for a prostitute?”
But why then did she ask him at the dinner table when they were going to celebrate his birthday that night.
“The kids there have so bright eyes and they explain their future with a big smile…”

Arun and dhanya celebrated his birthday this year together at a resort. Normally they never get time to be together.

He spent time with close friends and made them feel happy. It was magical about him.  Some who close to him would never want him to leave.

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The making of a prostitute

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According to appu who visited the brothel once last year, ” Serena is a good girl, who lacked good parenting”

“But then what is good parenting?”

“Good parenting ! Its a mystery!”

Appu  told him once about what happened during one of his semesters of MCA in erode. Erode is a place in tamil nadu.  During college days boys bring girls  to their rooms. Especially if they live in a public hostel where stricter checks are not kept on door entry.  And such things happen at night.  Brothels are not limited to a building where men go and vomit their desires on a already torn out lady. Brothels happen anywhere. Even in our minds.

I asked appu if he had seen her fully that day and touched her.  He immediately retorted back by saying, “I never had those intentions that day”
“My friends were all experts in it” , he was very proud to tell about his friend sukesh. Sukesh was a master play boy according to appu.
“we were all just beginners then, infact i was afraid to look at her alone in the room.  Even prostitutes have a code of conduct” ,
“You cant go and simply …”

Tales of his friends going to  such places and bringing  in were a lot.

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Words and words are all i have to give you my friend…………….
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I wonder if i could become a good parent. To become a well rounded developed human being the child needs to be allowed to explore dimensions that are moral, intellectual and emotional aspects of a situation. Then make decisions on his own so that independence makes him stronger and true.

The role of a parent is to carefully and wisely guide the child through these paces in an unbiased manner.  During the child parental interactions, adult egos need to be kept in a hidden box away from the children.

This involves and requires  a huge amount of parental effort , time and patience, but as a special educator  who works with learning disabled children, It works well.  It  is a beginning that never ends.

I will teach my children what is attitude by an example. But to sum it up i can say

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“People laugh on me because  am different and i laugh on them because they are all the same.  Thats called attitude. Life is yours , You have all the rights to live it in your own way, that way is called your style…. thats what you will be recognized with.”

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Problems arise when the parent is dishonest, and then the child picks these signals. Children are amazingly receptive and adults never realise it. Adults have a feeling which makes them feel so.

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