The mountains stood forgotten raped by the icy north winds. Naked and yet spawning razor-sharp rocks they waited for their vengeance. They waited and waited for centuries, decades, time had lost its meaning. Legends were born, bred and battered into more rocks, more vengeance.

Rocks never die. Vengeance lives on forever! The north winds were relentless – unforgiving. It was a depraved force sodomizing the rocks to dust with undying contempt.

The rock dust rode piggyback unknown to the raging north winds as it blew amok pillaging and reducing entities. The dust swore to its brethren in remembrance of the legend of vengeance. It would return victorious.

Thus left the rock dust as a swirling invisible wraith till the north winds met its match. A vacuum annihilated it. The dust settled and how!

The river sparkled and winked in the sun. The dust was on its banks. The banks were smouldering – smouldering from lighted pyres. Dust and ashes sprinkled on the innocent river. Another unnamed journey began.

The ashes related its tale to the dust and the dust listened and remained silent. The ashes found a comforting friend in the dust. The dust accepted the inevitable. They became one but the dust never revealed its life, too ashamed of its loss of innocence.

The river flowed and died of drought. Its naked banks susceptible to the north winds. The dust and ashes lay helpless. The ashes terrified and the dust waited nonchalantly. Vengeance was going to be sweet!

The wind picked them up and they travelled in a blur never resting till the north winds snatched them up again gleefully. Time stood still again. And then the dust and ashes found themselves resting again. Only that they lost their identities. They had become razor-sharp rocks.

But where was vengeance?

Rocks never die! Vengeance lives on forever!

Part I – Mine

I was sore. I was miffed. And I had reasons to be. Somehow I managed to put up a spirited and nonchalant image. But deep within the wounds weren’t nursed back to health as yet. And I knew this would take time. I tried to do things that would deviate my thoughts. And I tried hard not to go back in time, and I must admit that I failed pathetically. Friends were concerned and worried; thought I had gone bizarre; they said I “kinda look lost”. I knew what they meant and that they meant well. But apparently this was one stubborn hangover that refused to get off my brains!

It was raining heavily. My bus was at 9.30 p.m. It would be my first visit to Lakhimpur. I had traveled extensively across Assam but Lakhimpur always was left out for one reason or the other. I cross checked my bag to see if I had taken my ticket, cell phone, dairy and other junks as I said one short, quick and final prayer to God before embarking on my journey. 24 – it was written quite bluntly on the ticket. I roughly calculated in my mind where would I be unerringly seated. I assumed that it would be on the either side of the sixth row. Only if this was some calculations dealing with rocket science!

As I swaggered through the narrow corridor of the bus, I saw a stranger on the aisle seat. I placed my bags and took my seat and once again breathed heavily. I have a mental block traveling in AC; it’s similar to a bee getting stuck on a windowpane. I said one more prayer under my breath, though this time it was an earnest request to the bus conductor not to repeat the same lousy and dreadful movies they show! The bus soon paced on the sopping wet streets and I was out of city limits soon.

I gave one passing look at my co-passenger. Not because I had any purpose, but because isn’t it natural, most likely and expected to look at least once who is the person sitting next to you and will be traveling with you for the next eight to ten hours?

One momentary look at my co-passenger and the moment froze ceaselessly for me. The hairdo, height, posture, the stare behind those glasses, the pair of glasses and even the Adam’s apple! He looked identical, like peas in a pod. It was impossible to tell apart whether I was sitting opposite to a complete stranger or was he the stubborn hangover that refused to get off my brains! I did not have the nerve to look at him again. Turning my face to the extreme left towards the window I gawked into the darkness and the rains. I felt throttled. I wanted to get off the bus into the open and soak in the rains and fill my senses with some fresh air.

The bruises not mended as yet were again brushed by a fresh coat of bittersweet feelings, which were delightfully agonizing. The temptation to call him was high. I wanted to let him know that though we were some thousands of miles apart, I was here traveling with some total stranger who seemed to be his mirror image.

But I had a promise to keep… to myself and to someone who mattered more. I dropped the idea of calling him and stuck on to my vow… but to console my battered spirit I again looked at this stranger for reasons I cannot comprehend and oddly I felt secure traveling with this stranger whose name, whereabouts and everything else was not known to me… nor did it matter… after all he was just a stranger … its just a different story that he resembled someone and brought back to me memories and an ache so enjoyable…

Part II - His

I reached the bus terminus much ahead; not because I am a kind of a person who knows the value of time but because I didn’t want to get myself caught in the annoying downpour or an antagonizing traffic snarl. I didn’t have much luggage with me, just a knapsack and a bottle of water. I was on the sixth row and the 23rd seat. A wait can be quite excruciating, especially when you are much ahead of time, like the way I am today. The moment the door opened I hopped inside the bus and made myself comfortably seated. I had no idea who would take the window seat, nor did I fancy the window seat. But secretly I wished I had someone interesting to travel with. Only five more minutes were left and yet there was no sign of my co-passenger. The ignition of the bus was switched on and the cool breeze of the AC enveloped the bus. People were filling inside and taking their seats. Yet the seat next to me still remained unoccupied. As I was giving up all my hopes – well honestly I didn’t have any preferences of a co-passenger. But clandestinely I wanted someone who’d mind his/her own business and not prod into my life or that matter shrug elbow to occupy the great divide or the handle that divided the seats!

I was absorbed in making guess-estimates about my co-passenger so much that I didn’t even realize when did she hop inside the bus. It was the courteous request to “excuse” myself to let her in her seat that I woke up to reality and tally if my intuition and reality match.

She did not look as if she was going home on holiday; she looked much more like a student doing her apprenticeship. Or maybe a backpacker. But did I really care? I wished and hoped she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d pester at the slightest pretext! Not that I mean anything impolite.

She was lost in her own world. She looked vulnerable. There was something invisibly discrete yet innocent about her. I wanted to initiate a conversation with her but for some strange reasons I stopped myself. She was too occupied in her thoughts. I could gather it from the look in her dreamy eyes. I however took note that she looked at me with a strange gaze and turned herself completely against me. I wondered if I looked so disdainful and terrible! I got busy with myself and let this woman be herself, do whatever she pleased, in my thoughts off course.

I dozed off for sometime and the screeching brakes woke me up. I looked to my left; she was in a slumber, her head tilted to one side and arms wrapped around herself. Was she cold? Why was I worried about her? Why was I inviting trouble for myself. I am not a person to muddle with a stranger’s life, but why was I concerned for this strange woman whose name I didn’t even know? I wanted to hear her voice, I also wished she’d speak to someone on the phone. But I didn’t see a cell phone with her. Maybe it was inside her bag, maybe it was switched off, maybe she was one of those rare breed who didn’t believe in mobile phones… why was this happening to me? Why did I have this urge to wrap her a shawl and keep her warm in my arms?

I reached my destination way ahead than hers. I wanted to bid her farewell. Wanted her to tell to take good care of herself. She was in a deep slumber and for the sake of sanity and civility I drooped my idea of being the super hero… after all she was just a co-passenger… its just a different story that she seemed so familiar… I felt a certain degree of bonding … and some reasons only Heaven would know.

Part III – The Truth

This is a work of pure fiction. It bears resemblance to nobody, living or otherwise. Any similarity with the characters is purely co-incidental!

He said he was in the railway station looking form me.
“Railway Station! Out of all places”; you may wonder.
But I wasn’t surprised. Nor was I bowled over. So what if it was about midnight?
Our last meeting was in this same station where I bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, running nose, watery eyes and a hoarse voice! And it was one of those rare occasions when I realized I’d miss him much.
He had these feeling running in him much before than me… I was seeing him off in the airport and I could feel the salty tears trickling from his eyes on to my cheeks as we hugged each other firmly. This was during one of our first few meetings.
We bumped into each other during Bhai’s wedding. He was Bhai’s best man.
Even before meeting him I had heard enough of him and I had a picture of him in my mind made. It’s altogether a different story that the picture I had in my mind and the way he looked quite didn’t match. It’s a different story because his namesake is the one who’d come to my mind every time he would be in our discussion.
But one thing was sure right from day one. We knew that we would be in each other’s good books. We never tried to impress, we didn’t try to act smart or for that matter woo each other. Not because we ran out of ideas but because in the back of our minds we knew exactly well that all this would lead to nowhere.
They say there is a time, place and age for everything… and without a doubt I adhere to it. Because there has been times and instances when we were lost in our own world of dreams, a world we had made for ourselves only, where it was ghastly to be sad, terrifying to be lonely and horrible to feel old! And it made both of us happy. We would giggle like fifteen year olds in love for the first time, our heart pulsating more than it usually did, we lived for the moment and we lived like there would be no tomorrow.
We were fulfilling each other’s vacuum; we didn’t have to ask reasons. We spoke to each other round the clock, be it on the phone or in our silence. We were together day in and day out updating ourselves with our minutest of details. It’s again a different story that we were thousands of miles away.
For a change the world looked beautiful. Everything around us seemed bright, happy and cheerful. And this momentary chapter in our lives termed as “happiness” was unquestionably a treasure for a lifetime.
Was everything going too smooth? Are tales with twists and turns better than mundane affairs of life?
Everything seemed smooth for us because we listened to only those tunes we wanted, we saw only those images we wished and erased all the ground realities without much fuss. We were both running away from reality.

This is not a love story with a happy ending; it’s not something you’d term as “tragic comic” either. It’s about two sane people meeting in very ordinary circumstances and gradually realizing that they had somehow missed the bus!
He was hurt and lonely and so was she. But they had different reasons to be so alike.
A broken relation, friends drifting offshore and coming back to an empty home-his only solace was his music, he rightfully treated his music as his loyal wife!
Yet he knew he could not be with her…
While she looked happy and was the life everywhere she went, deep inside she was hollow and empty. Something had died. She stopped dreaming about the good things in life. Life seemed so perfect for her, yet there was something terribly wrong.
Her marriage…
And perhaps this brought them so close to each other.
It was just being there which mattered. Plain friendship, where one could be just his or her own self, without a mask, sans the veil.
But everyone got it so damn wrong. Everyone had an opinion about it, they felt
jaded and they tried reading between the lines when there wasn’t anything to read and things were as clear as crystal water. Or perhaps they felt left out!
… and that’s how it goes.. and it’s a few moments worth…

It was the year 1935. The ‘Nuremberg law’ had just been passed by Adolf Hitler, a law which deprived the Jews of German citizenship. Severe purging of Jews was being carried out through out Germany on Hitler’s order.

Goethenstein was a Jew and an undertaker by profession, the only one in the city of Kiev. It was said that his skills were unparallel. He had made innumerable people look beautiful for one last time before they were finally laid to rest. He was old and had a wish. He had made a beautiful coffin out of Rosewood. “This shall be my resting place when I finally fall asleep when my work on earth will be over.” he used to say when people enquired about the beautiful coffin, which rested at one corner of the old undertaker’s chamber.

It was a time when the world was on the verge of another World War. The Jews, living In Germany, were shadowed by the fear of death. Everyday thousands of them were taken to the ‘Concentration Camps’ and tortured to death. On a time like this, one fine morning, the ‘Gestapo’, the German Police force, stormed into Goethenstein’s chamber.

The Captain of the force was a tall and a stout man. “ We are here on the order of our Fuhrer, Herr Hitler. He says that Herr Heinreich must not look like this when he will be buried.” He pointed at a body all smeared with blood and the actual colour of skin hardly visible. “What has happened to him?” Goethenstein enquired.

“Attacked by those filthy Jews while we were taking them to the camps” the captain replied, giving the old undertaker a dirty look.

“Please lay him on the table.” Said Goethenstein softly. He had to decorate a butcher for his funeral while the Police force stood and watched.

When Goethenstein was adding some last touches on the body, he accidentally spilled a vessel of spirit on the body, which totally defaced the corpse, and the damage seemed to be irreparable.

“You incorrigible dog! Look what you have done. You shall pay for this.” Shouted the captain and ordered his men to take the old undertaker to the Concentration camp and burn down his chamber. “You Filthy Jews. You are all the same. You intentionally destroyed Herr Heinreich’s body to dishonour the noble German race. You shall get what you deserve.”

“Please try to understand… it was an accident… Please let me go…”pleaded the old man for mercy but no body listened to him. He turned back and saw that his chamber was in flames.

It was heard that when the ruins of the undertaker’s office was being cleared, a beautiful Rosewood coffin was found, miraculously unharmed by the fire. It was later used for the burial of the Nazi leader, Captain Heinreich Harrare.

Raj seems to have a problem these days. The problem is so grave that Raj has almost given up his studies and peaceful sleep at night in order to find a solution to his problem. But a bigger problem was that he could not yet identify the cause of his problems. Urbi has suddenly stopped talking to him and he could not understand why.

Raj’s friends always called Urbi and him “Soul mates” or “Inseparable Souls.” As a matter of fact, they were quite inseparable. It has been five years since Urbi and her family moved into Raj’s housing complex and they first met each other. From that day onwards, Raj never remembered to have fought with her or spend a day without meeting her. But this time, something was really wrong. “I think there must have been some misunderstanding. I think you should talk it out with her.” Commented Ratul who was a very close friend of Raj and Urbi. But Raj did not quite like this solution and for that his ego was to be blamed. For the last few days, Urbi was ignoring him whenever they saw each other-in the morning, while going to school, in the evening, during their playtime and in many other occasions. These had hurt Raj’s male sentiments.

“ Why should I be the first one to start talking? Why can’t she come and talk first?” said Raj with a frown, one evening while having a walk with his friends.“ Wow Raj! That’s great!” said his friends, “ you showing off your ego, that also to Urbi, was the last thing we expected from you.” But Ratul always understood Raj’s problems. He said “ Hey Raj, why don’t you go and ask Neha what’s wrong. She is Urbi’s best friend and happens to be a good friend of yours as well.” “This can be done.” Thought Raj and immediately set out looking for her. He found her strolling in the park with her friends. He swiftly walked to her and said “ Neha, what’s wrong? Why isn’t Urbi talking to me?” She gave him a long Stare with narrowed eyes and said “ Raj, you say that Urbi and you are made for each other, you ‘love’ her more than anyone else in this world and stuff like that. But you never cared to give her a call and wish her on her birthday, did you?” Raj could feel his ears burning and his face glowing red in shame. “What have I done!” thought Raj. “She’s at the North side Park.” Neha said softly. Raj immediately turned on his heels and ran to the park. He found Urbi sitting alone on a bench, lost in her thoughts. Raj slowly walked up to her and said softly, “ I am sorry Urbi. I…” Urbi turned at him with tearful eyes and shouted, “You Idiot. Why couldn’t you call on my birthday…”

. . . .
“Passengers are requested to fasten their seat belts. We shall be landing shortly at Bangalore International Airport.” Raj sat up, startled by the Airhostess’s announcement. He was so lost in thoughts that he never realized that he has arrived at Bangalore. He looked outside the window. The sky was crimson as the Sun was setting in the western sky. He could see the city lights glowing below him. He was now far away from home, far away from Urbi. Time has separated the inseparable souls.

This morning as I reached the train station I started towards the third platform. It was almost 8.32 am and I sighted a flower girl. I signed for flowers worth Rs.10 as I was listening to red FM with the headphones plugged to my ears.

As I paid her it was almost 8.34 am and the Ladies Special arrived and women rushed to the compartment doors. I made my way towards the third door slowly waiting for every one to get in so that like always I could hang around the entrance, that way it made me lot easier to alight at Kanjur.

Then there were two girls, they were giggling and peeping out … then a thin short woman bustled from the inside of the compartment towards the door shoving roughly at the people who came in the way. She was wearing dirty printed salwar kameez and torn edges of her dupatta talked about her class, she had a haughty look about her. She forced the girl inside as I climbed in and hung at the door way she signed me to get inside, I said, “I would like to stay where I am.”

She start shouting at the people on the platform as the train started to move, telling them pointing fingers at me… “She wants to stand here only come take her away… come she wants to hang out here…” and suddenly as the train left the platform end she looked at me dangerously and started threatening me that if I wasn’t move inside she would push me out or rather throw me out in a highly abusive tone and I was baffled I stood there but I could see a girl signing me to keep quite and get inside from behind this lady, or should I say lady or not… she was not really lady-like. For sometime she went on and on with her abuses as I looked on …she threatened me with dire consequences if I did not stop staring at her and she warned others also that they better not quarrel among themselves also otherwise she would blast them with her body language - her eyes enlarged and exhibiting fake anger and her finger pointed like a gun ready to fire… she really looked wild and harmful.

I hate getting into squabbles so early in the morning on the way the office…it is a big no no.

At the other end of the entrance college girls joked and giggled among themselves and all the while she kept darting glances at them even as she spoke continuously and she shouted at them that they better stop laughing and talking about her otherwise they would receive nice spankings and another shower of fresh abusive words followed.

I kept watching her all the while I also stole glances around as to how others were reacting to the whole scene. It was such a funny sight, that I was almost smiling at the terror she had creating within a few minutes. She was psychic, dangerous and disturbing.

One girl moved towards the door probably she too was dazed by the terror at the door… but she fearfully moved to alight at the approaching Nahur Station. By that time the terror had cooled down a bit… that allowed people to alight and climb. I saw her talking to herself imaginative making signs in the airs at other passers by with he hands flailing in the air. Her behaviour left me shocked and disturbed for a long time during the day… still I cannot get over from thinking about the whole incident.

Working in retail, I don’t get much time off these days, so when my buddy suggested that we take last Friday and travel to Westminster Maryland, and it was going to be over 70 degrees – I was in! Tony a former Marine, and myself are avid motorcyclists, and we both own V Star motorcycles. When I asked why Maryland? – Tony went on to explain that we would join up with the Patriot Guard Riders Motorcycle Group and that we would be attending the funeral of a twenty-year-old Lance Cpl. Matthew Snyder who died while on duty in Iraq that week. Tony went on to explain that we would be needed to stand guard for the family of the deceased, because militant protestors were planning to disrupt the funeral ceremonies. I was a member of the Viet Nam Era, and vivid images of protests of the past began to crowd my memory. Although not a veteran myself I always had the utmost respect for those who sacrificed their lives so that the rest of us could live in peace. I couldn’t reconcile why anyone would bring further misery to a family of someone who had paid the supreme sacrifice. So I immediately agreed to the 150-mile journey from Doylestown Pa. to Westminster Maryland, on the morning of March 10.

It was relatively warm and there was only a slight drizzle when we shoved off that morning at 5am. Tony took the lead and we headed down rte 611 to the Pa Turnpike and 476 South. After sunrise we pulled over and I switched from glasses to goggles for better protection from the sun and we proceeded on. Tony rides a full dress machine with a windshield and had two large American Flags strapped to the back of his bike. My machine is an 1100 Custom, which is chopped and has little in the way of extras, and no windshield. This caused some distress that day because I was being buffeted by 50 mph wind gusts and had to crouch low and forward to duck the airflow as we zipped along at 80 mph. In Delaware we met up with two more riders at a truck stop. After introductions the four of us headed down 95 in staggered formation, then took 695 West to 795 North and arrived at the staging area in Westminster at about 8:30 am.

Initially we encountered about thirty bikers, but within an hour our group grew substantially. We were joined by a couple of trikes sporting large American flags, and a jeep or two. Soon a cotillion of State police bikers arrived and it was off to St. John’s Church a few miles away. We were about a hundred strong as we rode up to the church past the protesters. As we rounded the bend, I caught a glimpse of a poster that read “Faggot”, and wondered what type of misfits were protesting.

We assembled in the church lot and parked our bikes. The group leader called us together and explained the mission. We were present to honor the family of the deceased soldier, and to form a barrier between the protestors and the church where the service was being held. It was to be a non-violent and silent action on our part, in order to send a message to both the protesters and family alike. It was an eerie feeling as I stepped out onto that field and joined ranks with the veterans. I felt proud of what we were about to do. We then proceeded to march military fashion and formed a human wall between the protesters and the nearby catholic school. Many of us were carrying large American flags and faced down the protesting group. Then we were commanded to do an about face and turned our backs on the protesters and saluted the family before us.

The leader of our group explained that he wasn’t a preacher but would state our purpose that day. He went on to say that hundreds of years ago free men came together to set up a nation based on certain human rights and principles for “We the People” – you and me. And that “We the people”, set up a militia to protect our form of government for “WE the people”, you and me. That the family inside made up of members of “We the people”, sent their son to fight for “We the people” in the war Iraq. That young man paid the ultimate sacrifice for “We the people”- you and me. That this young man and his family deserved our respect and our thanks and that we would honor him today by blocking out the view of those behind us. I was very moved by his speech.

The protesters began singing a shameful parody of “God Hates America”. In turn someone shouted out that we could sing better than that, and we responded with God Bless America. We then brought around several Harleys and let them idle to block out any further distractions. As this was going on members of the family came out to the grounds and expressed their appreciation for what we were doing. A teacher from the school addressed us to say that the sixth graders looking out their windows gave us a standing ovation.

Once the protesters were disbanded (their permit ran out) we proceed to the church and formed an honor guard of American flags at either side of the entrance. The children from the school filed out in their plaid uniforms and lined the sidewalk across from the church and stood in perfect attention for about forty minutes until the Marine honor guard carried the soldier to the awaiting hearse. We all mounted at that point and escorted the hearse the twenty miles to the cemetery, where he was buried with full military honors. All along the route the intersections were blocked and we proceeded nonstop as people stood outside their businesses and watch and even saluted as we passed by.

Whether you agree with this war or not, whether you are Republican or Democrat, hawk or dove; basic human dignity dictates that you respect the fallen soldier. For it is by his action that your very right to agreement or dissent is guaranteed. Most of the cameras and reporters hovered around the protesters that day. Not much attention was focused on our group. I was very proud of those I joined with, and shed a few tears that day.

When I got home I did some research on the people that were protesting. Take a good look at what they stand for. I have included a news tape in the link, which accompanies this email.

www.wjz.com/video/?id=16051@wjz.dayport.com