Friday, 3 November 2006


Mr Jacob Mathew kept the trophy securely in the shelf.”THE MOST SUCCESFUL BUISINESS MAN OF THE YEAR AWARD”-These words were engraved in the golden plate of the trophy. He allowed his 85 kg weighing body,marred with diabates,cholasterol and other diseases which are the gifts of the modern life style,to recline on the easy chair.”The most successful person in the world”-the words used by the chief guest to describe him were echoing in his head.The thunderous applause of the audience;glittering flashlights of the cameras;swarming mediapersons.;But his heart was aching.
The party thrown by him was studded with eminent personalitities-filmstars,politicians,buisinessmen.But he was not able to dissolve into the party.He hung a smile on his cheeks.Later he drew a straightline on his face,after thr cheek muscles found it difficult to support the smile.Something was pricking him.”Congragulations”,”How are you”,”Whats up?”-these words fell on his ears like rain drops spattered on a piece of boulder.When he realised that he was an insoluble entity in the party he sneaked out of it to his some.
“I am at the zenith of succes.Yet I am not happy.Why??”
The words engraved on the trophy beamed a sarcastic smile at him.He was feeling hungry.He went into the kitchen in search for anything to eat.His wife,children and servants are enjoying the party.After groping around sometime,he stumbled upon some donuts.He took one in his hands nad gazed through the hole of the donut.
“My life is like a donut.Nothing inside.Just a hole.I have accumulated all material welath.But nothing has nourished my inner self.If i eat up the external part of this donut...what is left..nothing..just air..if i shed my exterior self..there wont be anything left...just voidness...”
He was feeling bored.He swithched on the TV.On seeing the images of him being felicitated he swithched it off.His eyes then stuck on an old almirah.It was stocking some old certificate,documents and other antiquated things.-a dignified form of a garbage bin. On opening the old almirah doors,an old trophy tumbled down with a crackling noise. The trophy he got for clinching the first place in some music competition at school level.
His cerebral cells took a fast rewind. Old memories were dusted off. Music was a passion for that school boy. He took pride in the fact that he belonged to the privilaged class of persons who are gifted with the boon of music. In the fabric of life he wanted to sew the dream of becoming a great musician. When audience felicitated him with thunderous applause , he felt that he epitomized glory.He felt like a conqueror,who after vanquishing the whole universe,skipped around by yelling” I am the most succesful person in this world”.Music was the elixir of his life;it was for music he lived;it was music which fuelled his life.
“Why didnt I become a musician?”
There was a time when he used to proclaim proudly that he wanted to be a musician.
But this was not well received always.Later on he started feeling tounge -tied,when he was confronted with the question “what did he want to be.?”.He tried to evade it by giving elusive answers like “I dont know”,”I havn't decided”.He had a dream.But not the grit to materialize it.
His father told him”Think practically.An engineer or a doctor has got a status in the society.People look upon them with respect.There is no guarantee that you will be succesful as a musician.Be an engineer or a doctor.Your life is secure.”
His mother told him”Think practically.The demand for an engineer or a doctor is very high in a marriage market.It is very easy for an engineer or a doctor to get a beautiful wife”
His brother told him”Think practically.A doctor or an engineer can easily fetch a lot of money.You can easily get a big bunglow,car,etc”
Gradually he mastered the art of thinking practically. He took science subjects.He joined entrance coaching classes.He took consolation in the fact that he has got a respectable answer to give if any one asked him what he wanted to be.
“I want to be an engineer or a doctor.”
All the subjects like physics,chemistry,maths wre choking the musician inside him.He caged his inner self in the prison made of his own avarice and lack of determination.He stopped paying heed to his inner voices.He felt it more practical to follow his reasoning than his instincts.He lost the power to control himself.His mind was controlled by his avarice,his greed and his ability to think practically.
He was like a piece of log floating in river.
Thus he became an engineer.A software professional.A business tycoon,However,as he was ascending his inner self was descending.His unfulfilled dreams,his old ambitions,his old passion;everything was piled up in the cellar of his mind.When he was beaming with glory,his inner self was weeping.He put the musician in himself to a premature death.
He glanced at the trophy.It has become rusty.He wiped off the dust and cobwebs.But it cannot recover its lost sheen and lustre.He cleared his throat.He tried to recollect the lines of a song which he used to sing.Words are coming to his lips.But no sound is coming out of his soundbox.It is very difficult to open a door which has remained shut for ages.At last,words came out of his lips with music.But he could not identify the sound,-a cacaphonic,hoarse voice,
No,this is not my voice.I had a sweet,melodious voice,It had a midas touch which could convert every bystander into a listener.This is not my voice.
He tried again.It was worse.Again.No.
“Oh my goodness.I have murdered my innerself,I have shattered my own dreams.I was endowed with a gift.But I lost it.I am loser.I am the biggest loser in this world.I was gifted with a piece of diamond.But i bartered it for a glowing piece of ember.My life is not worth living.I don't have the right to live in this world”
He committed suicide.


Anonymous said...

have read all of your stories,four of them,and quite baffled by the complexity and yet the simplicity of them,your characters come from modern day life;your characters ,three of them,go through tragic end, that makes me question that whether you are like that in your life or you are inspired by shakespeare "s tragic heroes.
Posted by attuljakhu on 01/06/2007 09:24:50 AM

Posted by Morbid-Calendar on 01/09/2007 03:36:45 AM

Anonymous said...

Writing creates spcae for imagination as much it fills what was empty and meaningless.But it cannot saturate that space and leave nothing for the reader to cherish and create.Nor can it refrain from creating any spcae at all,and thereby orphan the reasy-the logic is not alien to common parlance. Considering the writer's amareurish skills,pseudo that they may seem,it is not wise to cognize his efforts as a mere futile endeavour. No doubt the writer's art is divorced from more hardcore definitions of efficacy.Neverthless,it has complemented the reader's creative instincts and brought meanings into life.
Posted by A.W. Lanong on 01/11/2007 10:39:44 AM

Anonymous said...

Ada where do u get time 4 all this??
Posted by Adarsh on 04/20/2007 06:07:24 PM

i'm_alive said...

Very nicely written. Some parts of it were quite deep and likeable. I read 2/3 stories of yours, and all of them left an impression on my mind..

Just one criticism about this particular piece-- it had a very abrupt ending.

And why do all the characters die in the end? It's scary... :P

Keep writing :)