My Dad

“Scramble” “Scramble” the announcement from the speakers and these few young flying officers in their blue dungaree, with wings on their chest, helmets in the hand, rush out and before you can say the word “go” they are climbing up the ladder into the cockpit. With the first ray of the sunlight they are flying up in the air, touching the heights and the speed, playing hide and seek with each other, an hour later they land, walking back with smile on their faces, knowing this was one of the perfect saurtis. Even 30 years back this was the common exercise for the Pilots of the Indian Air Force (IAF), one of the handsome faces walking back was of my Father – Pilot of the IAF.

Today I was looking at him sitting in the hospital, gasping for breath, I could hear the wheezing from his lungs even four seats away….this is something that we have grown up seeing, his asthma attacks. After some years of flying he got his first attack, and then he was grounded.

He was lost in the battle of lungs and air, when this Airman came and wished him, he had no clue that someone was talking to him, looking totally blank into the air, fighting to get some breath in him….. 

I remember clearly, when I was young and use to pass the guardroom with him, the guard would give him a perfect salaam with the rifle and thud of the feet, and dad keeping his back erect would reply to him with a strong “Jai Hind” and I would be so proud of him, knowing that he was the best, today he was looking into the air unaware that someone was calling for him, in response we could only hear his wheezing, I gave the Airman a smile acknowledging on Dad’s behalf. 

He who at one time use to take his plane up in the sky not once but day after day for years, one who in the war of 1971 had been to the war struck areas, into the neighbouring country flying low to drop food for our army men, who was fearless of any danger that laid ahead. Today when we go out, he quietly opens the car door and sits next to the driver’s seat waiting for me to come and take the wheel.

Later I was next to his bed watching him draw oxygen from the oxygen mask on him, how different were the reasons for which the mask was on now and when he use to have it on, up in the air.

I can not explain what I feel when I see him struggling for breath each time, I cannot come to terms with the fact that he is the same person who was so independent and carefree, one I use to be scared of as a kid, now is emotionally dependent on us, his children. He is the same person who had temper on his nose tip now is patience personified. The man who did not care for the world was now living for his family. Man who ruled the sky once was now confined to the safely of the fresh air of his room. May be that is life.

I think it is time for us kids to realize that our parents have done enough for us , and we need to stand up and give them what they have given us, they want nothing much, all they ask for is - Love, patience, respect and most of all, Our Time. Lets start doing it now, before it is too late.
*.*.*

"No" Papa "No"

Sleeping calmly in her room, covered with the satin, dreaming peacefully of the fairies, she is not aware of the devil that was about to destroy this fairy land…..he slides besides her , caresses her may be with the tune of lullaby, but the movements of the hands and the song of lullaby does not match, she is scared with her eyes opened, why is papa touching her in such a weird place, why is papa removing his shame shame…..papa no….papa it hurts……. papa………………..

We have heard or read about such stories many times, with many different cases and faces. The one just stated is the creepiest of all.

My body fills with fury when I see or hear a case like this or even vaguely connected, I want to light earth on fire and put an end to the devil called man. There is this women, a statue of sacrifice, who nourishes dreams, sacrifice her life, blood and body for her kids and this man in her life. This man who has no right to breath peacefully even for a moment……

Ever since he touches teenage, lusts every girl on the street, in the night brings himself to the highest pleasure imagining removing her cloths and bringing each one of them naked, when he looks at them the next day or talks to them, his eyes works like an x ray machine, looking at the bare curves of her body. This is how he steps into the lustful world.

He grows, and every girl he meets or makes friends with, there is one constant desire in his mind, to see her next to him naked in his bed, and that desire comes true every night, with the strokes of ecstasy, he rips the shame of the girl apart and brings her on the street, his mind is full of filth.

Each girl making love to him, gives him her mind body and soul, on the name of love, the purest thing on this earth……and he zips up with a faint smile on his face, adding one more "count" to his male ego, he has an addition in his list to talk about with his friends …..he just got a nice f**k and that is all it meant to him.

He has his share of physical satisfaction and decides to get settled with a homely girl, the one who will make his home and parents happy, raise his kids well and take care of him too. This double faced man wants his wife to be Goddess of home in the morning and a whore in the nights….in his bed.

Middle age touching him, wife gets busy with kids and commitments at home, his lust is still on fire, wife is getting older and busier, in his mind she has lost the drive, and he looks out. … and when he is looking out why not someone who is young and hot with desires.

He gets to a girl probably his daughters age, the thought never crossing his mind, that the girl he is sleeping with was probably being born when his own daughter was born, he does not realize that the girl he is screwing is probably a right match for his own son. His conscious does not even wake up when he gets her pregnant, when he is playing with his grandchildren at the same time…no - lust of a man is never satisfied.

This is the same man that we woman put on the pedestal with God, cry when a girl child is born and fast and pray to have a baby boy…another devil to be born.

We women are just fools, but not me, if I look at them with the eyes of the relations, they are either brother, farther, uncle, son, husband…. but if I look at them as they are - a man…to me they are all alike … bastards, full of lust.

*.*.*

Obsession is it?

It comes with a pang of hatred, I see her with him, touch his hands, kiss his lips and….. Oh Lord am I human, that I want to cut every bit of hers that touched him?

The scenes could change and sequence could vary, but each time I feel the same blood flow up my legs and collect in a pit in my heart, that pains, pains so much and I close my eyes to see that image, I push it away, but it comes back from like a flash, and leave me boiling, fuming in rage.

I have not seen or met her and does it even matter? it is in the past, even I have skeletons in my closet, but they seem nothing. I cannot bear the thought of some other eyes looking at him, some other lips lust for him, hands wanting to touch him……so much so I cannot share him even with his family, his smiles should be only for me, he should only share moments for me, how can he laugh with them when he says he belongs to me?

How can he sleep in the room that does not have me around? how can he walk on the roads and let people look at him? I hate the cigarette smoke that he takes in, as it touches the insides of him that I cannot reach, how can he talk to strangers and let them hear his voice? How come the air around him touches him all the time and not me….why can’t I bear these thoughts…..why?

I want to be the food that satisfies his hunger, the water that takes his thirst away, blanket that gives him warmth, the breeze that brushes his cheek, I want to be the only thing he needs, wants, desires and loves in life. I want him to love me and me alone.

I cannot and will not share him with anyone, be it family, friends or foes. I will not let him even hate someone as that would take some space in his mind. I will not let him live where all his needs are not satisfied by me.

I am foolishly, madly and hopelessly in love with him. But people say it is an obsession. You tell me obsession it is or love?

All I ask him is to love me and let me love him, day after day, night after night. Is it too much to ask that you call it an obsession?

*.*.*

My Life Shines on me again.

A thin line of light came out of the dark sky, black clouds were parting to give way to the stream of rays, it tore apart the darkness and once again lit the entire surface, flowers were blooming, birds chirping, and every small particle on ground was glittering, earth shone with a smile, welcoming the brightness once again.

That’s how I feel today, darkness is gone – My life shines bright on me once again…..

I thank you Lord for showing me this day.