Back with a Bang

So , the last time I wrote something here , was a time when Kapil Dev was in polka dotted diapers and dinosaurs used to prance around the earth with gay abandon . Ok , that’s a slight exaggeration about the extent of my absence , but you get the drift.

Absenteeism reasons , though I assume you care more about the dirt stuck under the nail on your left little finger than my absenteeism reasons , range from being out of the city on a 15 day road trip to Ladakh, to , settling in a job where the best part of my day remains hitting the shut down button on my 256 MB RAM laptop, to, discovering that I don’t have enough money to buy the new cell phone I so covet, to, recovering from body (including buttocks) pains ever Monday from rigorous dance practice on weekends for an upcoming friend’s wedding. (she better be thankful for all that we are doing, and more so, she better be thankful for all that we are NOT doing !)

But, tonight I think, I will talk about something – which is totally unaligned with the kind of person I am . I mean , considering the kind of person I am , the deepest conversation I should be having should be about some elephant with a real bad desire for a female…elephant ! , but I say with the unflinching honesty of a Vinod Kambli on Sach ka Saamna , I am not trying to seem like the next Aristotle here . All I am trying to do is talk rather pointlessly about something which has been hovering in the back alleys of my mind since quite some time with the feeble yet significant buzz of a mosquito trapped in your ear canal – Death . . & birth.

Death , you know . That part of life which ends it. Considering that I have not yet not died though many sensible people have tried to eradicate me, I don’t know how it must be after death , but I do imagine it to be very quiet , relaxed , solitary and chill after death . I am not sure if there is a heaven for the good guys and a hell for the bad guys, and as a result , I am not very concerned about the old woman I pushed off the stairs last week . I mean, you understand how annoying it is to be not be able to rush down the stairs because a 67 year old ahead of you moves slower than a sofa , don’t you ? But the fact remains that I am going to die someday, whether it happens when I am digging into a cheese grilled sandwich ( I hope I have finished the most of it by that time , mommy says food should not be wasted ) or it happens when I am wedged between the a BEST bus & L&T tractor (Yes, that’s actually possible if you walk in Andheri east) , whether I am going to be regaled by Arabian dancers in some heaven , or be served as supper to hungry devils in a green tubelight-ed hell .

And you know, what I am thinking about is that moment , that moment which is sitting delicately at the end of the road called life as it ends , yet opens up into the unknown chasm called death . That moment, when I will be on the verge of being lifted by death , and I will know in my heart “Shit yaar , yeh end hai , ab picchar baaki nahi hai mere dost” . Now no “Dawa ya Dua” can save me ! No people , no movies , no cars , no job , no relationships , no money , no smiles , no Himesh Reshammiya , no fights , no competitions , no career , no TV , nothing , after the event called Death.

That moment , when I will know in my heart , that irrespective of my willingness to go or not , I would be gone next moment . In that moment , I imagine myself to feel guilty about the heart I broke , happy about the smile I brought on a face , sad about the moment I should have told my mother I loved her but did not , proud of the moment I believed in someone and stood by her , happy about the times I spent laughing with my friends , grateful for the moments somebody knew me as I am and accepted me , heartbroken about being a son lesser than a son I should have been . And just experiencing a little of that moment by writing about it , I am shocked by how easily do I forget what really matters . I mean , how easily do I forget that I am going to die and a lot of stuff doesn’t really matter . How easily do I forget that however blind I may try to be to my reality , that moment will thrust the sum of deeds in my face without leaving me with an escape route . How easily do I allow myself to lose perspective and be drowned in the useless ego fights , pointlessly hurting the very people I love , choosing not to say sorry just because I am too proud to do so, being afraid of taking that stupid seeming but heartfelt leap because I never have . How easily I forget the impending arrival of that last moment , and as a result , how easily I forget what really matters during the moments I have between now and that moment . How easily I shut up my heart and listen to all the voices around me , when in the end , the only voice I will have to hear is the voice of my heart .

How easily I forget death , and thus , how easily I forget how to live .

I mean , sometimes I really need this perspective check and get out of the holed up thinking and view life in a more cool manner . Saala khul ke jeena bhool jaata hoon yaar . I mean , I act like I have a lot to lose and get all scared and calculated , when hai kya mere paas khone ke liye ?

I know you are either confused , or bored , or both and would label the drivel above as some cheap regurgitation of some pocket book sized Geeta I recently read . But you know , I am just talking to myself.

So chill , don’t walk out of this blog feeling all suicidal and kill yourself by smelling your own feet . Aise hee baat kar raha tha dudes .

Now, let’s talk about birth, though im tempted to talk about what causes it ! Lets leave that for another blog.

Birth – having a kid, being a father. It’s an alien comcept to me. One of my closest college friends is about to become a father in a few months. We were in college together, very close friends until some misunderstandings drove us apart. (DCH was based on us actually !!! yes, there was a 3rd friend too – again, lets leave that for another blog !) But, solely due to his large heartedness, and willingness to let bygones be bygones, we are friends again, not as good, but im hoping we shall be with time.

So, coming back, we were in college together and well, were, so to say, in the same place as far as life was concerned. Don’t know how else to explain this. Anyways, he got married early, which at that time was a pleasant surprise for me. I was happy for him. Now, he is on the anvil of fatherhood and this put me into deep thought.

I am the same age, yet so far from feeling like I can actually get married and have a kid. Getting married, yes, I can still think about. But fathering a kid – I stil think I am a kid ! So, I was just thinking about how our thoughts have changed over the years. He is ready (he better be) to bring another living being into this world, to provide for it, to nurture it. I, on the other hand, do not trust myself enough to be able to do that satisfactorily. I love kids, as long as they are someone else’s. It’s one thing to hold them, to play with them, be silly and make them smile. But it’s quite another thing to actually raise a child. My friend and I, we were at the same place mentally once, 5 years back. We are poles apart now.
Will I ever be there, where he is ? I hope so.

Anyways, moving on, I ve been watching a lot of movies recently – the ones I liked recently are – Inglorious Basterds (Tarantino Zindabad !), UP, All the Best & Jail. Did not like Ajab Prem. Wake up Sid falls somewhere in the middle. Neil Nitin Mukesh’s nickname is “frozen face” from now on & Ranbir absolutely ROCKS !

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my return to the blogging world. Too bad if you didn’t, coz baby, I’M BACK !!!!!!!!!

It's tough to say Goodbye

The Gang

Time: 11:30 p.m.
Place: Outside Yoko’s – our FIRST hangout place !

“Where is he ?”, I asked Kauhik (Koseek) & Varun (Va) as soon as I reached.
“He’ll directly meet us at Gokul”. We left immediately for Gokul.

Time: 11:40
Place: Gokul

Rahul (Ra) usually takes our order n gets us all our ice creams. Today was going to be no different ! As usual, we order 5 ice creams among the 4 of us (1 for each & 1 special flavor common for all !). And the conversation started . . .

Me: “my ice cream is ridiculous”.
I had a habit of tasting new flavours every time & “coffee-walnut: certainly didn’t meet my approval.

Va: “I told you. Why do you mix random things like coffee n walnut”.
I had seen him shake his head in disbelief when he first heard me mulling over coffee walnut !!

Suddenly, I dropped a piece of my ice cream while eating & scooped it up and put it on a tissue paper.
Koseek:“What are you doing dude ?”

Me: “Arre, it had fallen down – im just putting it away”

Koseek: “Oh, I thought you were saving some for the crows, like so many people do. Hahah !”

Me: “Hey, is this a belief in Sindhis predominantly ? I had a sindhi female in my previous office who also daily kept aside some of her lunch, went to the terrace n offered it to the crows !”

Koseek: “Not specifically sindhis. When someone in the family dies, it is believed that he/she turns into a crow and that is how it starts. Someone must’ve dies in her family.”

Me: “Yeah, dying waala funda I know. My mom also believes that. I don’t”

Va: “Arre, I also believe that yaar. My dada had expired. Since then we started offering bread butter to a particular SAME crow that visited our window every morning. And im very sure it was the same crow And he NEVER accepted bread without butter ! He used to thow it back in from the window ! My dad also ALWAYS wanted ghee or butter on his bread. And the clincher, once I was alone at home n smoking at the window – we were in school – and the cow was perched on a branch opposite my window & ANGRILY drilling his beak into the tree as if he is upset & angered. I completely believe that that crow was dadaji !”

Ra: But these crows r solid haraami yaar. How much noise they make & if one of them dies . . oh god. Ten thousand crows come together n jeena haraam kar dete hai kau kau kar ke. Koi kuch nahi kar sakta !!

Everyone was in splits in the way rahul expressed himself with gestures and tone of voice. He was known for cracking funny comments in an extremely exaggerated way. Ten thousand crows !!

Me: Yeah, I go to the terrace everyday after my dada’s death n feed gaathiya to the crows. And if by chance, one day im sleeping late, one of the crows comes to my window n wakes me up by crowinf incessantly ! I was surprised in the beginning. I tried sending my mom up to the terrace for a week & once when she was late, the crows sat outside her window n woke her up ! Thy had figured out that it is a different person and also that she sleeps in a different room ! They are super intelligent, boss.

And, by then, the ice creams were over.

Can you believe that this was the last proper conversation we would be having while sitting together & hanging out. We were just the same as always - no emotions, no relevant talks. Completely irrelevant, random topics to talk about - even if it was the last time we were probably talking face to face !

“Ek photo banta hai yaar”, someone said. We placed the camera on the opposite table and were trying to find a good angle for a automatic shot, when some one came in and offered to click our snap. Our last snap together for a long long time.


The last ice cream ! (We shoud've gone for supper..hahaha)

Yes, Rahul was going away the next morning to London for his Masters. He would return after a year for a while & then go back there for work. He said he’ll return soon and wants to settle here, but who know what happens 2 years down the line. As of now, he was going.

Yuvaraj had left 3 years back & come back yearly only for a few days after that. Now it was Rahul. And we had grown so close in the last 3 years. Spent so much time together.

Weekly movies at gaiety-galaxy (until they decided to increase the ticket costs !), Saturday night meetings at Carter road, many a times with nothing to discuss, Goa trip – Palolem, 9 bar – all that Rahul had told us !!!. Then, the MP trip, where we spotted a tiger n I ll never forget Rahul’s comment in the jungles there – “Sambar is a waste of a species !” I sill laugh when I think of that !!

Rahul’s jokes, his unnecessary comments, his way of exaggerating everything, his behavoiur once he’s 2 bottles of beer down, his mischievous smile – white teeth showing prominently in his dark face – and you know he’s upto something when he smiles - we’ll miss that all. Always.

We dropped him home, bid him a goodbye and he said, “see you guys at the airport tomorrow”. We said that we had decided not to come, that it ll be time for him to be with family. But he insisted, got a bit emotional & we could not refuse. In our hearts, we knew that we had to be there at the airport the next day.

We did go the next day, again wished him luck & saw him enter the airport and then we turned our backs and left. Goodbyes at the airport are always difficult for me. I ve cried everytime I ve gone there to drop a friend off. I had cried when Rajat had gone, I had cried when shweta had gone. I had cried when yuvaraj had gone. And I dint even have the guts to go for my 2 most difficult goodbyes (I wont name them here). I did those a few days earlier than the flight.

This time too, I fought back tears n crumpled my nose when varun looked at me.
“Airport goodbyes are tough dude”, I said.

Yes, in today's day & age - the world has "flattened", as Mr. Friedman puts it. The channels of communication have improved and increased - phone costs are cheaper, free chat through google, yahoo, skype, use of webcam etc etc. Yes, but it definitely doesnt make up for physical absence. and we'll realise that shortly - in our saturday night meetings !

Yuvaraj was gone. Rahul was now gone. And then, there were 3.

Moments

Silence greeted us with a warm embrace as we made our way to the park. The sun wasn't out yet and the world seemed abandoned.

A carefree breeze wafted around us, enthused to have found some life. The trees rustled in glee as they played along with the breeze. A few birds chirped here and there, breaking the silence with a surprising loudness.

She walked beside me; casually chatting about nothing. The wind played about her hair causing it to fall across her face. She flicked back the offending strands in her own inimitable fashion.

She caught me looking at her. I looked away, a little shamefaced.

"What," she said with her voice full of mischief.

"Nothing," I mumbled. I wasn't sure if she heard me but she didn't press on the issue.

Maybe now is not the time, I told myself. But then again, I may never know when the right time is.

We walked for a bit, hand in hand, with silence for company. The sky metamorphosed to a bright orange as the sun woke up from its slumber. The air stilled, as if comforted by the warm rays, and then the sky broke down above us.

She ran for cover while I stood still, mesmerized by the rain. My body felt surprisingly warm under the torrent of rain.

A big smile broke out on my face as I whirled about the summer shower.

"Come over here," she chided me while thoroughly getting wet under the tree.

I jogged towards her and held out my hand. She looked at me, curiously, and then reached out for my hand. I looked into her eyes for a moment and then pulled her towards me.

"You will get the both of us sick," she said in mock protest.

I pointed out towards the sky where a rainbow had burst into the sky. She looked at the sky, her hair all over her face and a faint smile dancing on her lips, enraptured.

I looked at her; enraptured.

Now, I told myself.

I leant even closer and whispered into her ears, "Will you marry me?"

She looked at me, her face impishly cute, and said, "Damn! You stole my lines."

I grabbed her then, under the summer storm as the rain danced around us, and kissed her until the world stopped . . . and she sneezed !!

"You were right about getting sick," I said.

Anticlimaxes & Balls

Bad Manners

The strange green light bathed the small boat in its luminescence. The boy and the girl in the boat oblivious to its presence were locked in a liplock was not meant to be opened by any key made by hands of men. Their hands roamed over each other and their bodies hot and feverish rocked the boat to and fro in the calm water of the river. All calm, except the green light that was now increasing in its intensity. It enveloped the boat like a light fog and slowly started pouring itself into the boat.

A tentacled figure rose out of the fog, and hovered silently over the boat. It observed the entangled couple with the interest a child shows in a new game.
The girl opened her eyes mid-kiss, noticed the floating tentacles and leapt off the boy with a startled yelp. The boy looked around confused at the green mist that was now covering half their boat and tried to calm the girl, but his own rising panic was enough to send the girl into a crying fit of hysteria.

"YOU!" thundered the green tentacled figure and pointed at the girl. The girl stopped crying at once, her tears choked back by the fear of the unknown.

"It's bad manners," the floating form said, "to open your eyes when kissing."

------

Really Bad Manners

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The Urge

There were times in his life when he could not control it. The urge bubbled inside him like something alive and potent, kicking and screaming to be let out. He stared at the girl sitting across the table. His first date in many years and he was feeling that old old desire again.

What will she think of me if I do it?

Will she leave, or will she strike me in disgust?

Words rumbled and jumbled in his head, he had to find a way soon or there was going to be trouble. He looked behind him at saw a waiter in the pathway, if only he could reach his leg to the side and trip him and spill those drinks…he found out in a second that he could.

The waiter missed seeing the leg and was soon making acquaintance with the cold floor in a puddle of the drinks he was carrying. Some of it, as intended spilled on the skirt and top of the girl.

"Excuse me dear, I have to use the rest room." she said and left.

He smiled contentedly, gave in to his urge and started to suck his thumb.

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BALLS

"Balls! Balls! Balls!" the Ballseller hollered at the top of his voice. "Battered in love and fucked up in life? Need some guts, to talk to the wife? Come one, come all, come and get some balls."

The market was held every full moon under the big bridge. This was one night when the few shopped for things weird and amazing, for things unseen and unheard of. The price was paid in Stories. Stories were a funny currency, for every shopkeeper in the market wanted a story from anyone who wanted to buy something.

A boy walked up to the Ballseller. "I'd like to buy a pair . . I want the biggest balls you have" he said.

His feverish and tiny body made it look like he needed a warm meal more than a pair of balls. "Ha, ok" said the shopkeeper and rummaged into his pack for the biggest pair of balls he could find. The boy stepped into the shop and took the balls in both hands. The shopkeeper looked at him expectantly, waiting for his Story.

"Once," the boy began, "a boy with the biggest pair of balls won the hand of a Ballseller's daughter, only because he had the biggest pair of balls."

The Ballseller guffawed like a horse and said, "You got some balls, kid."

---

Balls, we all need a pair.

I AM . . . . .

I have observed it so closely, but happening only on the opposite side of the net. I have been so close to victory, yet I have ended in defeat.


I have seen this moment touch me momentarily and then go far, far away into oblivion.


I have heard my fans chant my name vigorously, yet I have seen myself getting smashed to smithereens.


I have known the expectations, the tension, the trepidation and then the hollowness, the point of no-return — the loss.


Yet I have survived—I have seen death from close vicinity for three times but I had the courage to live on.


The zeal kept me going, the belief kept my heart throbbing, the optimism kept my blood rushing through my veins.


Yes, at this very familiar place, I have seen myself picking up my tattered soul after a bloodless battle and live on for that one last opportunity, that one last chance to turn an emaciated soul into an enlivened one.


The faith, the trust, and the everlasting desire pushed me through.


And here I am standing on the brink of history on Championship Point waiting for my opponent to commit that one last error.


And yes—he does it!


I fall down on my knees. I bury my face into my hands, my eyes welled up with tears.


I don’t want this special moment to end: let me savour it—let the time freeze forever. It’s all so surreal; I can live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths at this very moment.


Yes, this is the moment I have waited for so patiently for such a long time, the moment that I had so desperately wanted to witness to emulate the career Slam feat of my idol Rod Laver.


Today I am there.


Yes, I rise like a Champion, as The One destined.


Finally, Roland Garros has been conquered like i earlier conquered Wimbledon, Australia and the Flushing Meadows


The Paris clay doesn't seem so merciless any more and the world has never seemed a nicer place where self-belief is still rewarded.


My hands are risen skywards to pay my gratitude to the Almighty who had helped me to comprehend the profound importance of the words "belief" and "hope" — the two very words that had been my very lifeline for the last three years.


And I hear the applause that is finally embracing The Deserving Victor with open arms — the very applause that had eluded me for so long.


Yes, I have finally realised my dream.


Yes, I am the winner of the French Open 2009, the co-holder of the record-equalling feat of 14 Grand Slams and only the 6th person ever to win all the 4 Grand Slams.


Yes, I am Roger Federer.

101 - Unfinished Beginnings & A Fresh Start

This is my 101st post !!! yay …. Congratulations to me !!

I was wondering for the longest time what exactly to write in this post – should it be specifically dedicated to completing 100 posts or should it be a regular post of mine, with no mention of the completion of 100 posts. And, if it has to be a regular post – what exactly do I write. Considering that I ve been very frequently blogging the last few months, I was going through a mini blogger’s block !

And then I decided upon what to write.

Unfinished Beginnings

Many a time, I begin writing something, but it loses steam midway. If I still think its worth keeping, I don’t delete it. Sometimes I manage to make a full post out of them, sometimes they just stay in my pc unfinished. Here, I ll post all those unfinished beginnings…….

1.Sometime in 2007
The internet is a major obstacle to what I need in order to come up with a post, namely a couple of hours of peace and quiet. And this just cannot happen if GTalk is buzzing with pings and someone constantly writes on your wall, or someone compared you to their friends and decided you have less mother potential. This is why Shakespeare was so successful. Seriously, if you think about it, all the great writers were around only when there was no Internet. Then the 90s arrived, the World Wide Web was invented, and BAM! We’re left with Chetan Bhagat.

Nevertheless, every now and then, there’s something I see or hear that I just HAVE TO blog about, and so I shut out all connectivity with the rest of the world and sit down to type. Like, for example, the end of 2007. I felt I just had to write a year summary and so, I started typing, “By most accounts, 2007 was a fascinating year. These accounts are, to use the correct technical term, wrong. Schoolboys of the future, when they read about 2007 in their history books, will regard it with a great deal of affection, because it will be the shortest chapter. And also because it will feature pictures of Britney Spears without her underwear.”

2.A Few Questions

What the hell am I doing here!???
Where am I going with my life!?!
Am I the only one without a life?
Am I the only one who is not getting married?
Can I be in love with two people at once?
Am I the only one who does not know what the f*** they talk about at work??
When is Friday coming along?
Do I really HAVE to work out?
Has my life come to such a point that THIS is what I'm thinking of?
Does there have to be a Monday after a Sunday?
Who says Harry Potter is for kids??
When is the next free breakfast/lunch/anything...?
Will I get up in time for work?
When do I get to have sex??
Am I losing a day of my life each day that I work?
Have the rules of courtship changed?
Have I aged instantaneously??
If I walk in a Hawaii shirt will people stare?
How much time before I understand something?
How much time to go for 6:30 ?
How much time before I hit the ill fated 30's?
What's the time!???
How many weeks before I have some real plans for the weekend?
Has life in the 20's lost its glamour?
Is this who I really am?


3.Random Stuff
Since the beginning of time, Mankind has always had a tremendous fascination for balls. They just can’t seem to leave them alone, or let them be, so to speak. They feel the need to constantly play with them, scratch at them, rub them or just plain hold them. Womankind also is known to perform all of these activities, but less frequently and only during particularly intimate moments. Mankind, on the other hand, shamelessly does it whenever the opportunity presents itself. At work, at play, at weddings, at funerals, you name the place and Mankind will be there, scratching.

4.An Unfinished Poem

I know you do not drink you morning tea with me anymore,
Why then do I still search for the tea stains of your mug on my floor ?

I know you do not talk with me anymore,
When then do I still wait for your replies to my questions galore ?

I know you do not ring my doorbell anymore,
Why then, everytime it rings, do I feel its you and always you at the door ?

We have not walked together in a long time,
Why then, at each step I take, do I feel your fingers entwined in mine ?



A Fresh Start

Ok – so that’s done. That’s all I had .

There’s a new blog – Straight From the Heart that a friend of mine n I have started. It will feature stories, snippets, poetries, shayries and other things of that sort.

Please read it regularly & comment on it more often than you do here !

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Celeb Sightings - Dedicated, as always, to Chili

Anu Malik (or Aannu Mallik, however it is spelt): He was at Mangi Ferra, Juhu for a "Entertainment ke liye kuch bhi Karega" First show party
There were many other TV actors who i did not recognise.

Ayaan Ali Bangash: Again at Mangi Ferra for dinner

Rajeev Masand: My fave movie critic - saw him outside Famous Studios, where my office is.

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Quotable Quotes

You talent is God’s gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God.

There can be no happiness if the things we believe in are different from the things we do.

The greatest conflicts are not between 2 people, but between one person and himself.

The nice part about being a pessimist is that you are either being constantly proven right or being pleasantly surprised.

For all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these – “it might have been”

Conversations - 2

Tired and sweaty after a long session, the two of us lay on the terrace in a post-coital embrace. It was a clear night and we soon lied next to each other, looking up, both of us with a joint lit in our hand and staring at the sky. She suddenly broke the silence.

“People become stars when they die…”

I looked at her as her face reflected the orange glow of the lit joint. ‘Where did that come from?’ I thought. I figured being high on weed makes you philosophical so I put in my own two cents.

“They go to Heaven. The bad ones go to Hell.”

A trail of smoke emerged from my lips as I spoke and danced in the air, reaching for the stars.

“Who’s a good person and who’s a bad person?” she asked, her voice husky due to the weed, never taking her eyes off the stars.

I looked at her again. ‘Nope. She isn't kidding around.’ I thought. She was expecting an answer.

“Good people are good people and bad people are bad people…” That was all I could think of saying. “…you know what I mean?”

“I don’t.” she replied and took a deep breath. She really was high.

“Umm…good people are the ones who have done good deeds and bad people are the ones who have done bad deeds.” I explained and took a last long drag hoping the explanation was good enough.

“What is a good deed and what is a bad deed?”

“Can you stop the crap now? You are ruining the trip.” I said wiping off the sweat on my forehead and started rolling another joint.

She completely ignored my request. “Is smoking weed or having sex or fighting a sin?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So we are going to Hell?”

I kept quiet. She looked at me. I looked back. Then she went back to staring at the stars. My silence must have told her I didn’t have an answer. She was quiet for a while. Just when I thought the conversation was finally over, she spoke again.

“If I kill a man and I know I’m not wrong, then I’m right. I haven’t done a bad deed.” She paused to look if I was listening, then to her finished joint which she replaced with a new one and took a deep drag.

“…and if I haven’t done a bad deed then it has to be a good deed. I think smoking weed isn’t a bad deed either…”

She paused for a few seconds and looked at me smoking. It seemed as if she wanted me to somehow acknowledge what she said. I was thinking about it anyway.

She continued. “…so that means there is no such thing as a bad deed. Then there is no one who goes to Hell. If everything is a good deed then everyone goes to Heaven. That means we are living in Hell.”

The fact struck me hard as if someone had punched me in the stomach. It was the deepest thing I had ever heard. ‘Fuck, I am in Hell smoking weed and going to Heaven for that.’ I thought.

“Okay. So you kill a man and you think it is right. So it is a good deed and you go to Heaven. This place is Hell, and everyone goes to Heaven. Agreed? But what happens if you feel guilty?”

The question made sense, I could make out by her expression. She twitched her eyes a little, then frowned. The question bothered her but only for a few seconds and then she looked up at the sky again, smiling.

“I think feeling guilty is a good deed.”