The Landline says Goodbye!

     I always loved that I ushered in positivity; and a certain basic courtesy amongst humans. Even if you were speaking to your worst enemy, you still had to be civil and start the conversation with a cheery "Hello!"

I don't remember much of my life before I entered the family I now serve. And I've served about twenty five years - longer and more illustrious than most of my peers in other homes. They have been "dead" for a while now. I mean, a more advanced species called the "mobile phone" and its ubiquity is spelling doom for us in a lot of ways!

I was brought to life one happy morning, with my identity being the number ending **71. My first cry, something humans called the "ringtone" brought as much joy to the household as the birth of a baby. It was still those days when a landline symbolised a certain class elevation and not mere connectivity. We came in multiple colors and designs with multiple ringtones. And boy, did we enjoy the status!! With me was the directory. Again how classy it looked depended on the family's taste. I'd say the family's choice of directory wasn't great - but it wasn't mediocre either.

Memories of my early days are filled with instances of two boys trying to memorise my number with fervour. It seemed a matter of pride that they now owned a phone and wanted to share their phone number with anyone they knew! The perplexing part was that they competed between themselves to memorise phone numbers of my kin who resided in homes of their kin. They could've easily referred to the directory for the numbers - but no! Memorising numbers seemed to be an obsession for a long time. 

What was intriguing though in those days, was the manner of the elder lady in the house - the grandmother. For some reason, she never wanted to use my services. I never felt she hated me. But for some reason, she never wanted to touch me. And on those desperate occasions when she was compelled to use my services, she would stand away from me and shout out at the top of her voice.  Lucky, I had a speaker feature that enabled her to listen to the party at the other end, invariably her sons who were in different parts of the country. It was ironic that I ultimately carried the news of her death to different relatives like an intimate messenger, while we never shared an equation while she lived.

I get quite philosophical of his part of my role. I've conveyed news of births and news of deaths; Of moments of happiness; Of moments of anxiety; of episodes of ill-health; of reassurances of great health; It almost made my ringtone the harbinger of good or bad news depending on what the family was expecting at the time. I've noticed the look of happiness when I chimed and also the look of dread when I chimed. I only wish I had the power to alter my ringtone to suit the occasion. May be...sound ominous when the news was bad and merry for the good news. Alas, I didn't have the psychic power to discern the emotions of the caller!

About five years into the new millennium, I realised my species was quite ubiquitous. The family soon found me a companion, who ironically never stayed in the same room with me. She was called the "Cordless". Black, slender and elegant, one could carry her around the house and still speak to the person on the other side. Unlike me who was always connected and grounded. The beauty was that she was almost useless without me. And she realised that pretty quickly! Whenever someone brought her to the living room, we would exchange looks and a mute conversation would ensue. Inevitably, she would go back to her room. I'd yearn to see her again. I like to believe she pined for me as well.

But rest assured that the cordless and I were a deadly combination. If someone called and the call was received through me, it was possible for a second person to listen to the conversation through the cordless! Ohh my! The scandals it created those days in some households! For some reason this family always seemed to operate in good faith. It was boring. But it was peaceful.

The cordless and I did spend a few years together. But then she died an untimely death. She started malfunctioning way too often for the family to take care of her. Her ability to move wasn't such a great advantage after all! I missed her silent companionship. But got used to the life of a loner again.

As the kids grew up, though, they started spending a lot of time with me. These guys were above average intelligence and there were a lot phone calls prior to exams. I have distinct memories of the father proudly conveying his sons' exam results through me to his friends and family. After a point, I could've recited the scores myself. For some reason, even I felt proud on those days! Probably a phone call that I facilitated helped them score better....??!

That was the time I suddenly became indispensable to the family. I was soon connecting the family to something called the "Internet". This time the euphoria was bigger than at the time of my birth! Gone were the days when I was connecting individuals. I was now the family's ticket to the world that seemed to appear on their computer screens! The Internet opened up possibilities that hitherto didn't exist and I was the key that unlocked those possibilities! I definitely enjoyed the exalted status. If I sneezed, their entire world caught cold. I was treated with utmost care......

And that care has started turning into more of an obligation in the last seven years or so. It turns out that most of my fraternity were managed by the "Government" - a group of humans who never manage to deliver what is communicated(unlike us!). And the government had an incentive to promote our "distant cousin"- the mobile phone. Our internet story was soon collapsing around us. New technology for the internet meant we were not indispensable after all.

The lady of the house kept me alive. I was still her preferred communication partner as she dialed her sisters everyday and spent hours discussing family gossip or the latest recipe that she tried over her hapless husband and kids. Over the last few years, the features on the mobile phone and the plummeting tariffs meant that this last string of utility slowly started severing as well!

I grew morose. I aged faster than I'd aged in years. On occasions I chimed because of a rare call, I tried to sound boisterous in a cry for attention. Relatives of the family who visited the home looked at me and said "Our landline doesn't exist anymore....it's just a burden!" before adding "who calls you on it anyway? Why don't you dispose of it and save four hundred rupees a month?" Such cruelty. I mean, it wasn't unexpected in a way. Humans do send their aged to old age homes. I'm not sure if there are old age homes for land lines being discarded?? Yes, I've heard of museums. But that's for the illustrious amongst us - or the downtrodden. I, like the family, am average. Middle class.

I went out of order for a few days in the last couple of weeks. The family is now contemplating whether they have to "get rid" of me. I hoped they would just say I'd "served my purpose" and not use the "save four hundred rupees" angle. But then, cold logic triumphs emotions in most humans. Only the elder boy looks at me with intent once in a while, as though asking me what I'm feeling right now. If I could live and breathe, how would I feel...being relegated from a position of importance to a toy that has lost its significance?

Well, this monologue is exactly how I feel! And if there was a last wish, I'd want to be that happy messenger carrying the news of the boy's wedding to his friends and family. I hope he finds someone as elegant and understanding as my beloved cordless!!

                                                                                       - 19th January 2023

 

GauNama - The Autobiography of Gauvendra Gandhi

          GauNama - The Autobiography of Gauvendra Gandhi

*Selected excerpts from the Autobiography of Gauvendra Gandhi who ruled India between 2455 AD and 2475 AD. The work itself was found in 2503 AD, post his death in captivity*
                                                   
                                                *****************************

23rd December 2455, Tuesday

It has been a month since I took over  as the Emperor of India. It took a while for the masses to accept that a Bull has anointed himself  as the Supreme ruler. This after multiple generations of Cows starting from my great aunt Gayathri The Gentle to my Mother Gayathri Four. It didn't matter much to us Cattlefolk - but then the humans of India , whom we rule for close to a century now, did create some cacophony.  Their media had a field day in front of the Imperial Palace. A couple of my ministers had to appear on their television channels and explain why a Bull had finally ascended the Imperial throne of India. The answers to them were diplomatic - gender equality, bringing in diversity in thinking and actions and all the positioning you'd expect from seasoned politicians (we learnt that from humans too...). The reality though is different. And that is something India and the World is going to watch as my reign unfolds. This day, the Emperor of India is Gauvendra Gandhi.

28th January 2458, Friday

Today marks an auspicious day in my legacy as Gauvendra Gandhi, Emperor of India. I unveiled the world's tallest statue of the Kamadhenu - our mythological ancestor. Human scientists confirmed that this is visible from space. We Cattlefolk respect her. Not only because she was supposed to have these super powers that helped her bestow anything that was asked for - but also because she won over human respect thousands of years ago and helped cattle become an integral part of their religion. And religion - am thankful we don't give much thought to it - was at the root of the polarised Indian society. It is their religion that helped us wield a sophisticated power that slowly entrenched us in their society. And one fine day, we took over. It was a midnight coup - but a non-violent one. Much like how the humans of India won their independence. Alas, there was a Mahatma who shared his last name with me and had different visions for India. 

Nevertheless, the statue of Kamadhenu would still wield its power over the humans of India. When the human devotee buys a coupon of one hundred cow dollars (equal to ten thousand rupees), he can collect milk that flows straight from the Kamadhenu's udder. I must confess here that a portion of this money we collect goes to the betterment of needy humans in different parts of the country. I'm a benevolent ruler that way. However, the humans who come to the Kamadhenu and worship her to wash away their sins don't deserve the respect. 

I must admit that there was a lot of hue and cry when we first announced this project  - that it would cost millions of cow dollars that could be gainfully employed elsewhere for the betterment of the cattle society and that of humans too. But then symbols unite. The demolition and subsequent rebuilding of a temple of a human deity supposedly united an entire country. I remember reading that in the notes made by my formidable aunt - Gayathri the Gentle. And Kamadhenu would be a symbol, an edifice, a monument of Imperial Power -the Power of Gauvendra Gandhi. 

30 August 2467, Saturday

It has been three months since I decreed that all the cows in the country need to be milked at nationalised dairy farms only. Individual milkmen and farmers milking cattle would be declared an illegal act from 1st September. 

There has been a lot of hue and cry over this decision in the entire country in the last three months - I admit. Human milkmen and farmers of the unorganised sector have been protesting incessantly. Well, I've considered their opinion - but the Imperial throne has its own way of decision making. Gauvendra Gandhi is here to leave a legacy. 

Milk is now an imperial asset. It cannot be part of the unorganised sector. Every litre of milk needs to be accounted for. We cannot have a parallel economy of milk that milkmen and farmers are driving. And once all the milk is stored in our nationalised dairies, we'll supply them to human and cattle masses alike - depending on the dietary requirement and allowances.

Each individual - human or cattle - would have to declare their KYC to get their ration of milk. And that would help my think tank spread the web which we have been weaving so meticulously all these years of my reign.

The imperial informer network has indicated that thousands of cattle have been driven away from smaller villages and homes by farmers and milkmen - who find no use for them anymore. Our brethren are now finding refuge in the Metros. There is some urban disquiet as well - but they should realise that the imperial throne is adorned by Gauvendra Gandhi.


16th February 2469, Monday

I officially unveiled the "Cows and Cattle in Curriculum" program today. Hundred and twenty years on, its time cows and cattle seep into the minds and scientific temper of the Indian masses. We have always been there - emotionally and psychologically. They worship cows and cattle and revere Cattlefolk - the reason why the Imperial throne is with Gauvendra Gandhi today. However, there is always the problem of the younger generation wanting to rebel and question the rule. And such a rebellion needs to be suppressed even before it begins.

With the glorious history and mythology of cows and cattle now being introduced in primary school as a separate subject, we are now carefully controlling the public narrative. Human students in high school would now have to complete a formal internship in our nationalised dairies as cowherds. The premier institutes of the country have been instructed to start specialised courses on cow and cow products with specific focus on research on cow urine and cow dung. This effort has always been made by humans in India over centuries. With scientists and intellectuals from Cattlefolk community now contributing, it would definitely result in accelerated results. Or we can always ensure that there are results showcased to the public. Emperor Gauvendra Gandhi's vision will always triumph. 


6th June 2475, Thursday

The Imperial throne passed its most significant Law in its 125 years of rule today. This was in fact, done to commemorate 125 years of rule by our great dynasty that started with the illustrious Gayathri the Gentle. 

All cattle persecuted across the world - for meat, milk or labour can now make their way to India, which is now declared the world home for cattle. Such cattle would now get immediate citizenship in India- upon crossing the borders.  Any Indian human raising his voice against this or not treating cattle - national or immigrant -with due respect, would now be stripped of citizenship and transported to detention centres being built across the country.

It's time we show humans their place. My great aunt might never have set out with this vision - but I'm going to accomplish what she would never have imagined. My ambassadors at the world bodies and conventions have been securing the diplomatic front. Our military might has now been bolstered - thanks to decades of clandestine research and training. The Indian human would soon be subjugated. My secret force is already detaining their key leaders including the Prime Minister, who has always reported to me. Their social media is being blacked out as I write on these pages. There would just be one television channel which showcases only my speech and messages. And my first message would be"Gauvendra Gandhi is the Universal ruler of India"


25th June 2500, Friday 

It's been 25 years since my dethroning and capture. My reign as India's Universal Ruler lasted 20 days - before I was forced to resign in public and captured moments later. After a trial at the human court a couple of weeks later, I was handed life imprisonment and sent to a third rate prison.

India is now ruled by humans again - their Prime Minister is someone who calls himself the Aam Aadmi. I thought my trial would go on for years together and I could get away on bail. But it wasn't to be. The new Indian judiciary turned out to be swift and lethal.

Where my aunt Gayathri the Gentle found an opportunity to rule was with Indians' obsession with religion, petty politics and polarisation. We are and continue to be far inferior to humans in terms of ability, intellect and resourcefulness. The exalted status that they gave to cows was a way to preserve their religion - an opportunist act fraught with selfishness. 

Cattle were considered Gods. The early humans were right in a way. Cattle helped them in their farms and our milk was a source of nutrition and an alternate source of income. We were gentle and willing to get domesticated. We were symbols of productivity, fertility and prosperity. It made perfect sense - but only till that point. 

Generations later, people aiding corruption in the morning wanted to wash their sins in the evening by feeding cows. Drinking cow urine was supposed to purify the body. Touching a cow was supposed to bring good karma. My folk roamed the streets and gullies of India with gay abandon. We defecated on the streets and urinated on the footpaths. We stalled traffic for hours. And even after all that, we got plenty of respect and reverence. 

Where things got dramatic was when we were made symbols of religion. And we never thought being symbols would mean we would be dragged to communal warfare. Lynching people in our name wasn't what we intended as destiny. There is a section of people that consumes beef - but may be some of us are born to fulfill that need for humans. And when the human realises he is harming a living creature he would stop anyway - if he wants to - irrespective of whether it's a cow or a goat or a pig for that matter. 

And that is where my great aunt used her strategy and industriousness and innocuously orchestrated her midnight coup to win this great land for our dynasty. The human Prime Minister at that time was willing to accept Gayathri the Gentle as his emperor, for the sake of religion and staying in power. As long his party was in power, who was emperor didn't matter to him. And slowly, Gayathri usurped control and generations later, we were audacious enough to call ourselves Imperial rulers of India.

Looking back, when I ascended the throne 45 years earlier, my plan was to totally subjugate the humans of India. My think tank carefully structured and orchestrated the strategy for me. It would start with the Kamadhenu monument as a symbol. Bringing all milk production to nationalised dairies was a way to centralise authority and control. The data collected by KYC would give the Imperial throne the ammunition to identify and persecute dissent. Introducing cattle in curriculum would organically introduce my ideology to human children and help us spread the message across generations. 

Where I probably went overboard was with the legislation on persecuted cattle of other countries and revoking citizenship of dissenting Indian humans. It was a step too far and too soon, in retrospect. We invoked their dying sense of self-respect and prodded directly at their ego of superiority. The clause of revoking citizenship kindled their sense of unity. And once the Indian humans chose to rise above petty politics and religion, they were far too superior for us to pose a challenge.

I remember every moment of the twenty days of my reign as "Universal Ruler of India". Each day was a challenge as the rest of my 20 years had never been. And each day proved why humans are considered a superior species. In a corner of my mind, I wonder if Gayathri the Gentle underestimated the human Spirit. But there is also of a part of me that says that she exploited the weaknesses that were eating away at that Spirit. Anybody would.

Introspecting lazily in this cowshed of a prison, with the titbits of information I receive from human guards, I believe India has changed for the better. Religion and Politics still exist. But I understand politicians have risen above polarisation. The statesmanship that my aunt has written about in her book is slowly finding form again. The common man - Aam aadmi - seems to be at the centre of everything and politics now revolves around the people.

The Holy Cow still finds respect. The Kamadhenu still stands tall and attracts tourists. However, humans now cannot receive milk from her udder - even at a cost. She reminds people of an era gone by - a symbol of how Indians lost their independence all over again to religion. But cows are no longer allowed to roam the streets and defecate in the open. Swach Bharath two aims to make India animal ODF free. People are allowed to practice their own food habits. Beef is not frowned upon. I think it's the human way of reminding us of our place in the society. 

For us, life has come a full circle. Cattlefolk visiting me tell me life for them outside is not so bad - except for those times when some of them are hunted down by police for being complicit in crimes two decades ago. There are a few invitations to escape and rebel - just like the Aam Aadmi did all those years ago. When I close my eyes and strain my ears, those voices still ring in my head. May be, just may be, there is that one more day when I still proclaim "Gauvendra Gandhi is the Universal Ruler of India"Human stupidity knows no bounds! 
                                             
                                                       ************************************ 
*Gauvendra Gandhi died in captivity in 2503. His death ended an epoch. His followers from Cattlefolk weren't able to find a new leader of his stature. The Prime Minister of India declared India animal ODF free on that day in a subtle yet powerful act of symbolism. The statue of the Kamadhenu remains Gauvendra Gandhi's biggest contribution to Indian history. These excerpts have been made available in the public domain to remind Indians how religion and polarisation almost spelled doom for the human society. The image is from when Gauvendra Gandhi was on parole, a few months before his death*


                                                                                  - 09th March 2020

  This is a satirical work of fiction. Inspired by events around us, attempting to mainly entertain and vaguely inform. 

When The President Passed By...

                            When The President Passed By.....

I perched on top of a branch that would give me a good view of what was happening in the entire Street. It was what humans would call "A Bird's Eye View". Being a Pigeon, I definitely qualified for that metaphor. 

Something seemed unusual. An air of eerie discipline seemed to be settling on the Street through the day. I ignored it initially - but as a restless afternoon turned towards the evening, there were unmistakable signs that the Street was preparing for something big. The hugest betrayal was when one of my loose feathers fell on the street as the wind ruffled my wings and a man clad in Khaki - who humans call the Police Constable -  rushed to pick it up and throw it in the dustbin. His eyes gave me a piercing look that warned me against littering the street again. Funny, I thought. Nobody had cared for bird feathers earlier - not when hordes of human generated garbage piled on the Street everyday.

I overheard some of the humans talking on the lines of "Revolution" in the shade of the tree I was perched on. From the snatches of conversation, I could understand that things were about to change forever. The cleanliness drive launched across the country was about to finally percolate to the Street. The Street would not be littered. And littering would attract huge fines. The system would be hugely disciplined from now on. The President would be inaugurating this new state-of-affairs tomorrow! 

The President - he was this Head of the Nation that humans talked about with great reverence. Being Head of the Nation meant he was respected by all of us as well. I mean we are his subjects too - the homeless birds, the stray cattle and the street dogs. We silently wondered what would be the consequences if we chose to empty our bowels on the Street as usual from tomorrow - specially my kin, who air drop their waste like missiles in times of warfare.

As night settled in, machines and rollers entered the Street with a team of White uniformed Traffic Police along with Police constables. And within minutes, all potholes on the Street were filled with tar and concrete. Though most of it was patchwork, the Street seemed to bask and blush  as Moon shone through the tree branches and illuminated the newly laid tar. I couldn't help but wonder if  elections were approaching in the human world. The last time I saw these machines on the Street was during a period when there were lot of public announcements and cacophony going on. My Granddad had told me that humans choose their leaders during these elections and it improves their life. Well, I'm not qualified to comment on the improvements - but the Street sure needed some tar to look beautiful again!

The Khaki and White Policemen now ran an evacuation drive on the Street. Vehicles parked in front of homes were towed away without mercy. Stray cattle that settled on the footpath lazily everyday and mooed without a care were shooed away to their sheds with purpose. Humans who were tired of campaigning and complaining against these issues were delighted that their prayers were answered at last. Somewhere, someone, somehow had galvanised the system. The clean footpaths, the clear road. For a moment, even I felt I was missing something by not being human!

The Street spent the night in palpable excitement. I joined the frenzy as well - asking my little kids to hold onto their bowel and not spill its contents on the Street.  I wanted to do my bit to impress the President. Who knows...may be the next step was a toilet for the animals!

Morning dawned to last minute preparations and checks. Bureaucrats clad in spotless attire were there at sunrise to examine the spotless Street. Workers from the municipal body were cleaning the Street again - and again. Their Boss-who most of us were seeing for the first time - was instructing them to do it again in an hour's time. Policemen took up vantage positions throughout the Street anticipating the arrival of The President.

Suddenly, my kids started squeaking in excitement. I looked around. In the horizon was the Presidential convoy. It was the moment the entire Street was waiting for in the last 24 hours. The ushering in of a new normal. As the convoy passed I could feel those human dreams manifesting themselves in the Street. Tarred roads, clear footpaths, litter free surroundings, well behaved traffic - seemingly insignificant yet so critically important for a high quality life.

Life seemed to stand still for a minute - as that convoy of 52 cars and 2 ambulances passed through the Street. It was tough to spot the President - sitting snugly in his Mercedes Benz. But seeing the Presidential Benz itself was a life time achievement for most humans. As the moment passed and chatter broke out, many claimed they had seen his face; Some claimed they saw his upper body and he was busy talking to his colleague in the car. Some ventured to say he waved at them. Most ludicrous was the argument that the Mercedes was a decoy and he was always in a police van, surrounded by commandos for security. My kids were still in salute with their chest puffed out - a mark of respect for our First Citizen.

And then, life on the Street hit reality again. The vibrant White and Khaki that adorned the Street over the last 24 hours slowly moved out - like dreams slipping out of a waking mind. Cars and bikes suffocating in the stuffy compounds of their owners' homes slowly came back to the freedom of the Street. Garbage stored carefully inside homes for the past day came back whizzing into the Street again. And as more vehicles plied the Street, the potholes would inevitably resurface. We watched life unfold on the Street in the next one hour from our perch atop the tree. With each passing minute, my mind was becoming clearer. And as I watched disappointment on the faces of the few campaigners ,that regret of not becoming a human was ebbing away too. We were better off having a "Bird's Eye View" of their life - not living their infinite complexities and compromises.

My chain of thoughts was broken by a loud plop. I looked around to see what happened. My youngest had decided to break her penance of constipation. Toilets for animals - well that would be a story for an other day....or generation perhaps!
                                                               
                                                                                   - 30th December 2016, Friday
                                                                                 

The Lament Of An Old Textbook

             The Lament Of An Old Textbook

"I still remember the day I came to life. Yeah..I know it's weird to remember that. But we do. All of us books do. I can still remember the soothing splash of words on each of my pages. And the tug when I was bound by a cover page. It was a tender tug - not the rough one like the one for those hardbacks. I mean..I sure understand why they are valued and collected now. Perhaps I was never meant to be one.

Being a Chemistry textbook is not easy. And being a Chemistry textbook across owners  - is nothing short of an ordeal. I still remember those younger days of mine. The way I sat on a bookshelf in a posh bookstore along with hundreds of my siblings. We were the first textbooks of a new syllabus - and boy! Didn't we get the attention! Our father - the writer - was particularly popular in academia and we were reaping the rewards. We were literally flying off the shelves and even before I could thoroughly bask in the attention, I was picked up by a young boy. The first thing I noticed about him was his gold rimmed glasses. One look at him and I was sure he was what we in our world called "The Geek". "You'll have sleepless nights!"one of my siblings called out, as I was thrust into a polythene and carried to his home.

Sleepless nights it was indeed. I was stacked in between his Maths and Physics textbooks. I still remember the sensation when he wrote his name on my first page. It was a proud feeling. I had found an owner at last! It is the moment all of us textbooks wait for. A sort of coming of age for us. He then took me in his arms and smelled me. That was weird....but it was kind of -for want of a better word - cute. I knew I smelled fresh and am sure he liked it. 

But then the rigor started. He was a Geek and spared no effort to master my contents. Soon, my pages were strewn with scrawls and side notes. There was underlining with a pencil. And then there was highlighting. I enjoyed the attention at first. But then...it got tiring along the way. I figured he never enjoyed Maths or Physics and particularly enjoyed Chemistry. Which meant it was hardwork for me. I would be the first one to get up in the morning and the last one to sleep at night. My pages started fading. And I no longer appreciated being scrawled all over the place. It didn't help that my pages had so many incomprehensible equations. This meant there was more scrawling and side-notes. Over time, he spent a particularly long time on those pages with equations that I lost interest too.

I started wondering if the world was this mundane after all. I was bought by a Geek. He used me and mastered my contents. What after that? It was a stalemate. I would forever be a book of incomprehensible equations. I hated it when the lights were switched on in the morning. And because his exams were closing in, I didn't get proper sleep in the night as well. The Maths and Physics textbooks chuckled as I returned to the stack late in the night. They envied the attention I got initially. But now, the tables had turned. I'd give anything for the extra hour of sleep they got.

The day he finished his Chemistry exams, I slept peacefully for a whole day. I wasn't disturbed for a month after that - when the results were announced.  He topped his college in chemistry ofcourse. I'll forever remember the special pride with which he looked at me that day. The Maths and Physics books got none of it. I must say I was proud of my owner that day and of myself too. It is what we set out to do as books. Give the owner the knowledge we endeavour to and make this world a better place to live. 

I was ruminating about these larger philosophies of life when I was hurriedly removed from the shelf .The next thing I remember is a sharp thud on the ground that hurt every inch of me. Then the haggling ensued. And then reality hit me. I was being sold to a seconds vendor. This was probably the hardest moment of my life. My self esteem took a beating. I had looked up to the owner - inspite of all the difficulties I faced with him. He had given my life a meaning. But here he was - selling me at less than half the price without a sense of attachment. 

                                                 .................................................................................

The seconds shop lacked the class of the book store. We were commodities here. I met a lot of my siblings who had their own stories to share. There was space constraint and dust accumulated quickly on my covers. The shop owner dusted us nonchalantly and it made me sick. More than the environment, it was my state. I kept brooding. My siblings tried to cheer me up saying it is a part of life. But I always felt I had a higher purpose than a second hand shop. May be a university library! There I'd be an object who'd command respect. I'd feel treasured and valued. 

I never thought she would choose me. I mean, a number of good looking girls had visited the seconds shop. But no one particularly showed interest in my siblings or me. So it was surprising when her smooth fingers ran through my pages. I felt invigorated. I quite liked her touch. Without hoping too much, I hoped she'd buy me -for once I didn't bother about the price - and lo! she did! I can never forget how cosy I felt as she held me to her bosom and walked all the way home.

In the next two weeks, I regained most of my lost fervour. It was sheer joy to be woken up by her tender fingers every morning. And she would just stare at me for a whole half hour before putting me back in the shelf. There was no scrawling or highlighting. Occasionally, she would doodle an abstract image on one of my pages and that was it. The other textbooks received similar treatment and I must say we were all happy.

As time passed, she started scribbling a name on my pages. And then she would spend a long time just looking at it. Sometimes with joy; sometimes with longing; sometimes with sheer frustration and hope. I could never make out whose name it was until she took me to college one day. She showed the pages to a guy. I then realised that it was his name on my pages all the while. Ofcourse, Chemistry could mean different things to different people! From then on, I made that trip to college often. Messages of love were scribbled on my pages and passed between the guy and my owner. It felt weird to play Cupid in this age of smartphones. But again - I enjoyed a position that none of my siblings would! 

Over time, I realised she never had the academic interest of my previous owner. The Chemistry text for her meant a storehouse of her guy's handwriting and words. She was a queer romantic that way. She would come back home and spend hours looking at his handwriting. She would smile at those messages. I was obviously unhappy because being a romantic conduit between two young lovers was never part of my life purpose. As the exam season started, I went back to thinking of my previous owner who made optimum use of me. I felt I belonged in such circumstances.

Then one day, she came back home and pulled me out of the bookshelf with a force I had never experienced. She started tearing out pages with his name and handwriting (which was practically half the book!). I feared the worst. Somehow better sense prevailed and she took to tediously scratching out all the messages. It was painful to see so many scratches being made on my pages that day. But even more painful to see her pale face. As tears streamed down her cheeks and a couple of drops fell on my pages, I felt eternal sympathy for her. The love story had ended before it had blossomed.

She never took her Chemistry exam seriously. She pulled me out of the shelf a couple of times before the exam and crammed into her mind whatever she could. Scribbled a bit here and there. I didn't mind it as I knew my journey with her was coming to an end. Once exams ended, I hoped she would hold me to her bosom and take me to the seconds shop. It was not to be. I was bundled with other textbooks and her Father dropped me off at a seconds shop. She was not even there to see me off. Perhaps I reminded her of a lot of things she wanted to forget.
   
                                         .......................................................................................

My second stint at the seconds shop was longer than the first. My pages were now faded. As a book I was two academic years old, which meant a syllabus change was due in the next couple of years. I'd be rendered obsolete and die a natural death. The innumerable notes and scratched love messages that I inherited from my previous owners didn't help my cause either. They sure enhanced my appeal with my siblings I met at the shop though. I now had two different stories to tell them. And the storyteller that I was, I always used my skills of weaving a narrative to keep them hooked. It helped that not many books there had been to two owners. I was respected. But the flipside was I had very few takers now. 

My University Library dreams still lingered on. But from where I was, it was difficult to be picked up by a librarian. After a couple of months, life definitely got boring. My siblings eventually got tired of my stories and I longed to be picked up by someone - anyone.

This was the time my current owner entered my life. He dragged me out of the shelf in a tearing hurry and left the seconds shop. I was rather excited as I travelled home on his bike. There was plenty of hope that this owner was like my first one - an academic who wanted to consume the immense knowledge hidden in my pages.

How wrong I was! He brought me home and dumped me in his cupboard with the same force he had dragged me out. And then he left. Days passed. There was no sign of him. The darkness of the shelf was tiring me out. The closed space suffocated me and all other books. But the owner was not to be seen. My strength left me and I could sense old age. The pages seemed strained and the cover weak. I silently noticed as the ink started fading in a few pages. And then the worst happened. Dust started accumulating. Darkness and moisture bred termites and cockroaches. I felt terrible as the cockroaches crawled on my cover. I was never meant for this. I pined in pain and prayed to see the light of day again. 

And as though answering my prayers, I was dragged out of the shelf one day. It was forceful, but I felt happy that I was atleast seeing light again. But something was wrong with the owner. He reeked of alcohol. Even as he tried to read from a couple of my pages, I found the stench intolerable. His eyes could never focus. I found his attempt to concentrate laborious. And within a while, the inevitable happened. His face fell in between pages 362-363. And in poetic coincidence, the pages described ethanol and its properties. 

And as he dozes off on my pages, drooling, I felt it apt to narrate my story. Well, I could have always moved from Geek to Geek, who would revere me till their course ended and then drop me off at a seconds shop with indifference. But then, destiny had plenty else planned for me. The girl would have treasured me and I'd be family heirloom if her love had blossomed. But I would have been stuck with her forever. My current owner...well...I'd first hope he clears the drool off from my pages before I think of anything else!"

                                                                                           - 28th August 2016, Sunday