Ahmed Sahab meets Neo.
I have always believed that I am the next Picasso, or even bigger!
Call it overconfidence, dreams or stupidly naive thinking- but that is what has been with me. In me.
A divine path has been laid for me, time will reveal it to the rest of the mortals and my supremacy will be accepted.
Thanks to Orkut, I realised that a few thousand artists share the same belief! Adrenaline started pumping in me, the ninja warrior waking up from the deep slumbers, reaching out for the sword to kill one and all who tried to ape me. The odd blend that I am, slipping in my adidas sneakers, torn jeans and a hugging T shirt with a jacket to hide the flab around the waist, the long chain that holds the keys to my royal enfield- I stared in the mirror long and hard as if a Mike Tyson is looking in the eyes of his opponent; "Youre all DEAD!" Convinced, I tied the bandana around my head and reached for my sword. Suddenly, a hand emerged from within the mirror, caught me by the throat and just kept tightening itself. This cant be real I thought...... I am not a Neo inside the matrix, the sword is just an inch away. I dont have time for stupid fancies like these........ get up and kill!
Taken over by a way stronger human being, i would've still tried to reach for something that would injure and help me...... but this!!!
'Bhusaaval aa gaya.' The tea vendor confirmed as the train came to a halt. Suddenly life took over the animal that was moving in the darkness of night. The red snail stopped in the midst of strong smell- a mixture of refined oils, piss, toothpaste and bananas. Though the tea tasted awful, yet the warmth was a welcome change in chilly morning. Slowly chaos ruled over the train.... people waking up, calling for chai and the sounds of co passangers spitting and brushing their teeth filled the platform.
The seat next to me was taken up by a person wearing kurta pyjama, a skull cap and sported a beard with tobacco stained teeth. A Muslim was my first impression and something made me uneasy within. The thought was passed away with a smile and a realization that most of the warmest humans I have met till now have been of the same faith.
"Salaam", I said smiling. The black eyes lit up and the smile that followed warmed away the remaining traces of the cold.
A simple hindi speaking cook at a roadside hotel was this man sitting next to me. Ahmed Sahab and me instantly hit a comfort zone of two lost relatives.
"We all believe that we are special, when the world gets mean or we dont see life falling in the direction we want to move- Hatred, Hopelessness and Haziness takes over.
The fact is- We In truth are special!
We are all created for a cause, this cause cannot be answered coz no one- abseloutely no one can decipher the reason behind the will of Allah. Existence in itself means there is a plan, our meeting in this train has happened coz Allah wanted it, so be it.
Young minds like to think that they are the best. They are in a way God has willed them to be. Not everyone can be the biggest hero the century has seen, what they could be is- an instrument or a connecting dot in the line that underlines the best and the biggest. We are all interdependant.... If Gandhi was not pushed out of the train, maybe the chances of him being the Mahatma would have not been there. The person who pushed him, the hatred he potrayed that made the young lawyer resolve to get the changes he got is also an imprtant charecter- a catalyst in history.
So many people meet us and in a way we cannot understand- they change our lives, secretly moulding us in a way our maker wants His plans to be carried out.
No matter who we are, where we wanna go..... we need to trust that the all knowing and merciful Allah has plans for us all. Plans way greater than we have imagined."
_________________________________________________________
It was a different space time, the coffee I sip now is definitely better than what any of the stations could offer. I dont remeber very well what happened after the mirror caught me, it all seems to be a hallucination, but the mysterious mark on my throat always makes me wonder....
From the in numerable journeys that I have taken in the second class compartments of so many trains, I dont recall which particular journey I met Ahmed Sahab. All I remember is that it was a chilly february morning, those words resonating deep within me and a black out.
Its february again.
The memory of Ahmed Sahab haunts me specially this month of the year. The mystery is more troubling because it always is followed by a pain in the mark on my throat, as if it is somewhere interlinked with the spooky mirror incidence.
The only comfort that the pain brings along is an acceptance that Picasso was what he was, I am what I am.
I might lose myself in the thousands of self proclaimed Picassos of this age, the only thing that will help me is an acceptance of the fact that I am not Piccaso.....
I'm Grover.
Sarandeep Grover.
Call it overconfidence, dreams or stupidly naive thinking- but that is what has been with me. In me.
A divine path has been laid for me, time will reveal it to the rest of the mortals and my supremacy will be accepted.
Thanks to Orkut, I realised that a few thousand artists share the same belief! Adrenaline started pumping in me, the ninja warrior waking up from the deep slumbers, reaching out for the sword to kill one and all who tried to ape me. The odd blend that I am, slipping in my adidas sneakers, torn jeans and a hugging T shirt with a jacket to hide the flab around the waist, the long chain that holds the keys to my royal enfield- I stared in the mirror long and hard as if a Mike Tyson is looking in the eyes of his opponent; "Youre all DEAD!" Convinced, I tied the bandana around my head and reached for my sword. Suddenly, a hand emerged from within the mirror, caught me by the throat and just kept tightening itself. This cant be real I thought...... I am not a Neo inside the matrix, the sword is just an inch away. I dont have time for stupid fancies like these........ get up and kill!
Taken over by a way stronger human being, i would've still tried to reach for something that would injure and help me...... but this!!!
'Bhusaaval aa gaya.' The tea vendor confirmed as the train came to a halt. Suddenly life took over the animal that was moving in the darkness of night. The red snail stopped in the midst of strong smell- a mixture of refined oils, piss, toothpaste and bananas. Though the tea tasted awful, yet the warmth was a welcome change in chilly morning. Slowly chaos ruled over the train.... people waking up, calling for chai and the sounds of co passangers spitting and brushing their teeth filled the platform.
The seat next to me was taken up by a person wearing kurta pyjama, a skull cap and sported a beard with tobacco stained teeth. A Muslim was my first impression and something made me uneasy within. The thought was passed away with a smile and a realization that most of the warmest humans I have met till now have been of the same faith.
"Salaam", I said smiling. The black eyes lit up and the smile that followed warmed away the remaining traces of the cold.
A simple hindi speaking cook at a roadside hotel was this man sitting next to me. Ahmed Sahab and me instantly hit a comfort zone of two lost relatives.
"We all believe that we are special, when the world gets mean or we dont see life falling in the direction we want to move- Hatred, Hopelessness and Haziness takes over.
The fact is- We In truth are special!
We are all created for a cause, this cause cannot be answered coz no one- abseloutely no one can decipher the reason behind the will of Allah. Existence in itself means there is a plan, our meeting in this train has happened coz Allah wanted it, so be it.
Young minds like to think that they are the best. They are in a way God has willed them to be. Not everyone can be the biggest hero the century has seen, what they could be is- an instrument or a connecting dot in the line that underlines the best and the biggest. We are all interdependant.... If Gandhi was not pushed out of the train, maybe the chances of him being the Mahatma would have not been there. The person who pushed him, the hatred he potrayed that made the young lawyer resolve to get the changes he got is also an imprtant charecter- a catalyst in history.
So many people meet us and in a way we cannot understand- they change our lives, secretly moulding us in a way our maker wants His plans to be carried out.
No matter who we are, where we wanna go..... we need to trust that the all knowing and merciful Allah has plans for us all. Plans way greater than we have imagined."
_________________________________________________________
It was a different space time, the coffee I sip now is definitely better than what any of the stations could offer. I dont remeber very well what happened after the mirror caught me, it all seems to be a hallucination, but the mysterious mark on my throat always makes me wonder....
From the in numerable journeys that I have taken in the second class compartments of so many trains, I dont recall which particular journey I met Ahmed Sahab. All I remember is that it was a chilly february morning, those words resonating deep within me and a black out.
Its february again.
The memory of Ahmed Sahab haunts me specially this month of the year. The mystery is more troubling because it always is followed by a pain in the mark on my throat, as if it is somewhere interlinked with the spooky mirror incidence.
The only comfort that the pain brings along is an acceptance that Picasso was what he was, I am what I am.
I might lose myself in the thousands of self proclaimed Picassos of this age, the only thing that will help me is an acceptance of the fact that I am not Piccaso.....
I'm Grover.
Sarandeep Grover.
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