Sun Days

Day or night, the sun never goes down.

It wallops, it gallops, it eats your head, it vibrates. But never goes down.

Glittering waters or the artistry of the clouds. Deep meanders or open flings. It ain’t going down.

Sun never goes down. Hope never goes down. We are hope.

Narcos: S1 & S2

“I am ashamed. You are a murderer”.

Nothing defined the paramedics of ‘Narcos’ more than these epochal words from Pablo Escobar’s father.

All this blood and vengeance for a drug trafficker and a narco terrorist? Well, every story has dual lens and this one is no different. Just that, it was one hell of a man hunt.

‘Narcos’ is stupendously shot in a vibrant and voracious chase of a man who threatened the very existence of the government and its administration. In fact, Pablo Escobar made a mockery of the entire system by throwing stuffed cash on your face. It was all bloody dirty cash, but who cares?

There are many individuals and celebrities – good, bad and ugly, who have inspired and shaped me in the formative years that has invoked a sense of perpetual discipline in my personality. I look forward to such inspirations who can tow me down to the pinnacle of eternity and provide a glimpse of what matters in the end. Vision, Purpose and Redemption are the key.

‘Narcos’ is a breathtaking tale of the emergence of the drug cartels in South America and how Colombia truly became the mixed capital of the world. And one man, rose and rule as the King. We also see various shades of the Pablo Escobar – his violence, his patriotism, his love for the people of Colombia, his acts of defiance and terror, his side of the devil and its evil tentacles. For more than 2 decades, the Colombian forces along with DEA (US counter intelligence) fought hardcore battles with the drug cartels. In their peak, the drug cartels were an absolute menace (not the human kind) and it is difficult to believe that we had such lethal dominance by a man of mere flesh and blood who had no fear. Colombia was reeling under the drug kingdom, everything and anything else was not important except one. Pablo Escobar.

‘Narcos’ is well written, in fact, beautifully scripted and spectacularly moving. It has some of the best written lines for a television series – please note I am not a big TV series aficionado, so I mean every word of what I am penning down here.

Wagner Maura as Pablo Escobar is brilliant and astounding. His posture, the intensity, the madness and the man himself – he encapsulates them in to his own like never before. I am not in to Brazilian Cinema, but I think I now have enough incentives to get in to it.

Few of them stood out for sheer audacity of events and the fearlessness that surrounds the horror of the human mind.

“We are Bandits, my brother. We will always be one”. Gustavo’s words to Pablo when he intends to enter politics.

“He owns lot of houses but he has no home”. Aptly stated and conveyed through the narrative by-lanes.

“Look at me”. Pablo’s words as he shoots down Carrillo, Head of Search Bloc.

“Let them see me, they are my people”. Pablo to Limon as he gets out of the tarmac of the car, meets people in the streets of Medellin and distributes cash.

“After all these years, I am in front of Pablo fucking Escobar. But when we finally get to him, the devil is a disappointment. His beard grows if he doesn’t shave. Fat and shoeless”. In narration, as spoken by Steve Murphy, DEA agent.

Season 3, I am coming.

The Lonely Sabotage – Continues to Conclude

The cops got in to an investigation after taking the bodies in to custody. The post mortem reports were no surprises but for the girl’s. The couple were identified as the girl’s parents, who were brutally murdered along with the girl, their throats slit with a kitchen knife. There were blood stains all over there bodies and presumably assaulted before being killed.

But as it appears, the girl was murdered days before she was actually killed.

The girl’s parent’s maternal home is a small town, around 200 miles away from their place. Both families are quite close to each other. In fact, the maternal house has no girl child and the girl was the apple of their eyes. They often visited each other during festivals and shared their happiness of being together.

Who would have guessed that a family so affectionate to each other would have hidden desires of dark ferments?

As the cops dug deeper, and a more provocative questioning, the girl’s aunt confessed the diabolic intentions. Her husband, and the girl’s uncle has been absconding since 2 weeks. He used to call her but since last 2 weeks, she lost touch with him. They both have a teenage son who is a college drop out and owns a small cyber cafe along with a xerox machine in their town, few meters away from where they live. Her husband owns a small retail shop of groceries and fruits in the main market of the town.

But since last 6 months, his husband has turned in to an upsurge monster. Or, may be something even more uglier and tormenting. His unusual late working hours and sudden inflow of perpetual cash made his wife blink an eye, more than once. After few days of relentless questioning and trash talk, he reveals his involvement in drug trafficking business through the local goons of the town. Worse, some part of it also involves human trafficking. Needless to say, his wife was throttled to death with this news but stood helpless as the maniac threatened to kill her and their son if she had other ideas.

Since both families were close to each and the equation of her uncle being an enigma, spelt doom on the girl and her family. And the girl’s uncle had a devious mind. The girl became a bait for his unscrupulous deeds.

He began to sexually abuse the girl when he visited them, and at times when the girl’s parents were out since they were oblivious of this devil at home. He even took the girl to his place on the pretext of getting her a bicycle to commute, drugged and raped her. This continued for a while and on one such occasion, the aunt was a direct witness to his lust and crime. Yet, she was too meek to speak out. He even used this girl to carry few packets of substance to the neighbourhood in the pretext of getting her a job in a top company.

Few weeks back, a deal of his went berserk and the local cops were out for the hunt. He went out without notice, called her wife to ask if the cops came home. But his lust for the girl was beyond his desire to escape the inevitable.

The day before all 3 were killed, he went to the girl’s house. Drunk beyond measures, he captures her before intoxicating her parents and tying them up in a corner. He drugs her to keep her calm and rapes her. He leaves, dazed and dashed once his filthy desires vanquished his lust. He kills her parents, while on his way out.

Post mortem reports revealed that the girl died from drug overdose.

DNA test from semen traces proved that it was him.

The Uncle. The Husband. The Man. The Animal.

He is still absconding. The hunt is on and the case remains open.

The Lonely Sabotage

What begets of a sunshine girl who is conspicuously confined to the doors of darkness and anguish?

She was timid but curt, pretty but not flamboyant. Besides, she liked keeping to herself. With a cherry like smile and rolling brown eyes, she was this restrained girl of unreliable dreams. Quite and outside the cynosure of eyes, she liked quietness around her. 

Since last week, though, things have changed. She still keeps to herself and is quietness personified. But there is sorrow and pain in her eyes. Not the type to vomit our emotions or vent out in a fit of rage. But there is something so unusually distracting and tumultuous about her sudden stature. People in the workplace chatter but don’t talk to her. She hardly talks to anyone, if fact she does not talk to anyone. 

Couple of weeks gone by, the pain and the sorrow is still hovering large. The smile has disappeared and eyes look terribly woven.

What could have gone wrong? What could be so viciously staggering that is troubling a 25 year old to no bounds? 

After 4 disastrous weeks, she stops coming to work. Her colleagues, her peers, her bosses – all are worked and lost. But no one has the answer. She has just disappeared, just gone. 

One of her more inquisitive and caring colleague decided to take a peek at her home, which is located in the suburbs and the reachability is tenaciously disabled. Yet, she decided to take the plunge and find out what’s gone wrong (or perhaps can go wrong). She was ably supported by couple of adjoining people at work.

But nothing came out. The house was locked out and no one was at home. As it appeared, no one has been home since couple of weeks – the neighbours gave them good evidence.

Disappointed and dejected, they came back. They requested the neighbours to give them a call if they saw or heard about her whereabouts.

Couple of weeks went by without notice, and the realistic audience decided that the girl has gone absconding and was one of those characters who don’t come back. Pretentious and filthy.

3 days later, one of the neighbours called stating they find something unusual and scary about the house as they hear some noises though it is conspicuous and difficult to decipher. There is also this stale smell that is quite scary to explain. We rush to the girl’s place.

We break the door open to find out that the girl is lying in a pool

of blood. We have a man and woman lying beside her, with their throat slit. The dead bodies have been in this state for more than a week now and it was difficult for us to stay in the place any further.

We were stunned, no words to express the gore we just witnessed. 

What would have happened? What led to the mysterious death of such a tepid and innocent girl? Who are the 2 people found dead near her?

We only had questions at our disposal, but answers were more scary and heinous.

* The concluding part of this story will be published on Monday, 21 Aug at 11 PM.

Am I Home?

It is 1970. Civil War. The longest running and perhaps, the most ignominious in the history of human tragedies.

No war in the history of mankind has been kind. In fact, the ruthlessness lies in the aftermath, not in the ways of war.

In the wake of demands for a separate state, separate constitution and independence from the autocrats, innocent lives were lost and several rendered homeless. Thousands were displaced and we have never seen them again. I guess, we will never see them. But hopes don’t die, they are not meant to die. 

I have hopes too. I hope to see the light at the end of the unknown tunnel. I hope to see my family again. I want to see my daughter going to school again. I want my wife to wait for me when I return from work. I want my parents to feel proud that their son is doing well for himself in life. I want my siblings to visit us every week for dinner. I want the kids to play around in the garden. I want those moments back. I want to live those moments again. I want to live again.

As it stands today, we are separate souls in search of our soul mates. Our families are scattered or lost, our homes have been bombed, our workplace is a no-place now. Our industries are dead because we have no one to run them. Our economy doesn’t exist, or may be it does.

The war has ravaged our spirits, along with our land and its wealth. I feel I have lost my identity. I feel the credibility of being an accomplished is lost. I have the urge to live but how? I have the insatiable in me to survive but for who? Yes, the war is for us. But am losing grip over the factual representation of this calamity. Am I fighting an enemy in flesh and bones or am I battling my demons within? No sleep, but I have lost sanity.

Our city has turned in to an island of gaping quicksand. And with us, everything around is dying. Obscured death, if I can say what it is.

30 years later…

I am in Chester, UK. I own a convenience store, managed by me and my wife. My son is a freelancer and occasionally visits our store. My daughter is married to a British and they live in Liverpool.

Yes, I have a life. My family has been returned to me amidst chaos and catastrophe. In fact, I am one of the few who have emerged alive from the clutches of war and violence.

I feel, I have seen it all. But I am still not home. I know for a fact, I will never make it. 

There is no home, we have enclosures and we are breathing.

70 Years of ‘Bharat’

We have come a long way, we have a long way to go. Every country goes through turbulence, so have we. Every country has its moments, we have had our own. Every country has a vision, we have ours. No country is perfect, the flaws exude beauty of renaissance and evolution. We did, we do, we will. 

Jai Hind!

Death Smile

She is an Iron Lady. I have never seen her blink an eye or being moist in a situation. She took tuition classes, her husband has a decent job and her son was studying in a boarding school in a different town. A family of 3 with dreams of their own, I knew them as a courageous and friendly family.

But destiny had other plans. A plan that shattered their lives and bought them to knees. But I just had one question. Why?

One midnight, the phone rings aloud. The call is from her son’s Boarding school. They inform that her son collapsed in his room last night and they did not have a clue till one of his room mates tried to get in to the room. With a heavy and scary tone, they inform her that he is dead. 

Her world has just gone down. The couple rush to the boarding school and get his body back home. Doctors inform that he died due to a respiratory problem leading to cardiac arrest. 

I met her a few weeks after her son’s death. She was her usual self, didn’t talk much and I did not have the tenacity to stay longer. But I could see the pain she locked herself in.

Not willing to remain inside and refuses to come outside. I could see how her world has collapsed with a blink of an eye.

But disasters have this uncanny knack of knocking doors twice. Again, I was living with the same question. Why?

I visited her a few months later and during the normal conversation, ended up enquiring about her husband. Her response startled me. He has been diagnosed with cancer and is under treatment for the last 3 months. Her voice, not for a minute, had a touch of fear or apprehension about the situation she is dangling with. 

I was out of town for 4 months. When I was back, I learnt from her that he passed away last month.

Her life stood toppled and devastated. Yet, she stood firm and I did not see tears in her eyes. She continued with her tuition classes. She started visiting a nearby orphanage and offered her services. Few months down the line, she quit classes and became a regular in the orphanage.

I have since moved out of the city since 7 years. Last time I visited her place, door was locked and neighbours have not seen her around for sometime. As of today, I don’t know where she lives or has moved to.

I, at times, remain astounded by the ways of life. We are not perfect. We make mistakes. We have sinned. Yet, life bestows numerous opportunities to redeem ourselves. And, we survive. We live to see glory.

But in the adversity of time, life decided to show off it’s gruesome face to this lady and her family. 

I am still living with the same question. Why?

*Inspired by real life events.