Please! Stay Away if you meet God
52 Multiplied by 70 equals 3640
Have a Pint, Change the World
Hugging the Miracle Man
Mourning over and about Life
Replacing my Resume with my Eulogy
Fuck is Interesting
The BMW Project
Salt and Sugar in Life
Triskaidekaphobia
City of Catacombs
War against hair terrorism
The End was Near
If you see him, Kill him
I am going to tell God everything
Please! Stay away if you meet God
After an exhaustive workday, I went of to sleep chanting god’s name, as was my habit. Then I came across a dream unlike any dream I had seen before. I saw my soul traveling to a distant foreign land. I found myself standing amid beautiful landscape, which had milky waterfalls, lush green trees, multi colored flowers and green, yellow and white mountains. It was an awesome sight; cool and pleasant wind blowing all over the area, and some clouds were seen strolling over the mountaintops. The golden sun was spreading its warmth on the land below. I was mesmerized seeing that beautiful sight.
That's when a man with a vibrant face and radiant smile appeared in front of me. He introduced himself to me as god. Immediately I knelt down and joined my hands to offer him my gratitude. He handed me a book which had something written in gold. He told me that the book contained some lessons about a new way of living life. He was God. God explained to me in details that he was terribly upset with the ongoing tragedies, crisis and wars happening all over the world. He was shocked over the fact that humans were killing humans under the cover of nurturing their own interests. He was frustrated over the fact that humans were slaying each other under his name while all he wanted was to show them the road to peace, enlightenment and salvation. Unfortunately everyone had misunderstood and misinterpreted god. That's why he wanted me to work as his assistant and preach the new way of life that he had designed in the book. He wanted the message to reach to every corner of the world. But unfortunately I annoyed him by declining his offer.
He angrily questioned me, that whether I knew that declining the offer I was wasting a once in a lifetime opportunity of being god myself. He demanded an explanation. I started of by apologizing him and told him that I was obliged and flattered by the fact that I was offered an opportunity to be his messenger and as good as God. By doing what he said, I would naturally be forming a new religion; the new book would be the holy book of that religion. I will have thousands of` followers, I will have a place in every country where people would worship my idols. I would be remembered for the coming thousands of years. But as the humans I know, there will be some who will oppose my ways of giving them the new road to salvation. They will attack the place of my worship; they will break down my idols to pieces. To straighten the scores, people of my religion will carry out the same acts of violence against them. People of my religion and theirs will kill each other, rape women, burn children; forcibly try to convert people to their respective religions all under the name of protecting their god. I questioned him whether was it really fruitful and of any help of me being god. He did not answer me; instead he left furiously by calling me an unfortunate and an unlucky human being. He probably took it as an insult to him and left the vicinity.
Although he had a good purpose and a good cause, which might have been designed with the suitability for today's world and situation, but I guess by declining his offer I have avoided the formation of a new religion, which would be followed by new castes and creeds. I have averted the formation of new countries, I have already saved the lives of many men, women and children who are yet to be born, I have avoided two countries going on war, I have saved some peaceful people of tomorrow from the unborn fundamentalists of my religion and lastly I have saved the world from turning into a bigger mess than it already is. God had his own concepts, so he left angrily saying that if not me, then he would search for another person who would obey his orders and carry forth his messages to the human race for a better tomorrow. Well I said no to him but I would like to advice all the others that "Please! Stay away if you meet GOD."
- Aniket Keluskar
52 multiplied by 70 equals to 3640
I know you must be wondering why I would head an article declaring an equation. Okay let me share the story behind that.
I loved my Grandparents with whom we spend every summer vacation at their country home. The entire family would get together for three weeks long fun. Hordes of cousins, uncles and aunts accompanied with chaos. Uncles and aunts would come and go but it was mostly kids that remained stationed.
There was one mystery that everyone spoke about but none had a clue. Every Sunday mornings my Grandparents disappeared for 3 hours. It was a mysterious topic of gossip between everyone.
One day I decided to follow them. I took my cycle, wore a hooded T-Shirt, black glares and followed Grandpa’s car which turned to a curve into the trees that led to the isolated beach. I hid my cycle in the bushes and followed them. I hid behind a tree and saw Grandpa laying a mattress. Grandma placed a basket on it, removed plates, breakfast, a thermos filled with coffee, some cookies and a stone. Grandpa removed his paint box and they both painted the stone leaving it to dry in the sun. For the first time I saw them kiss too. Sometime later they put the painted stone in a glass jar. I never understood the purpose of it all. They got up to return so I hurried back and cycled home.
I headed back to my room changed into fresh clothes only to return to the breakfast table where I blend into the conversations of my family. They arrived and one of my uncles said “You are late today.”
To my disbelief my Grandpa declared “We were at the police station.”
‘Wow he is lying’ I said to myself but the rest questioned them about the reason. “Oh nothing much today a guy in a hooded T-shirt and black glares followed us on a cycle. So we are hoping the cops would find him.”
I was shocked to hear that but my inquisitive family showered them with numerous questions. I passed the entire day restlessly as I was scared.Eventually I surrendered to my Grandparents when they were alone. I was in tears when I confessed and requested my Grandpa not to hand me over to the cops. They both were silent for a moment but eventually burst out laughing. They hugged me and took me for a stroll.
Grandpa said “We knew all the time that you were following us.” I genuinely said sorry but I had to ask the question “Why did you paint a stone and keep it in a jar?”
Grandma asked “How many weeks are there in a year, my child?”
“52” I replied instantly.
“What do you think would be an average person’s life?” I wasn’t sure at that age but my Grandpa explained “Let’s consider 70 years, so now multiply 52 into 70 the result is 3640. So how many Sundays do we have in 70 years?”
“3640” I replied
“We both got married very early at the age of 20. We collected 2600 stones in three glass jars considering our average life to be 70 years. One stone represented one Sunday of our life. Every Sunday we spend 3 hours of quality time with each other, have breakfast together, paint a stone, kiss each other and thank God for the beautiful family he has given us. Then we would throw that stone away remembering that another Sunday of our life had gone.”
I interrupted “But today I saw you keeping the stone in a small glass jar.”
Grandma smiled and replied “Yes, the 2600 stones that we had gathered at the age of 20 were all thrown in the water every Sunday. We threw the last one on our 2600th Sunday. Now the Sunday’s we have are a bonus. So we collect stones, paint them and store them. The reducing stones reminded us that we have limited time in hand to spend with each other and we should make the best of it. But now we store the stones which make us aware that we have spent another Sunday loving each other and thanking God for the extra bonus he has given us.”
That was the vacation I couldn’t forget although it took me a few years to understand the value of the lesson that I learned that day. Today I too have my private collection of Stones in glass jars, I am in my early 30’s, single but I do spend my Sunday’s with either my mom and dad, my closest friends or my changing girlfriends and if none are available then it’s my dog. I do paint a stone and throw it away thanking God for every Sunday he has given me. Life is beautiful and I can never forget the equation 52 multiplied by 70 equals to 3640.
- Aniket Keluskar
Have a Pint, Change the World
I know that you must be thinking why a writer would want to give such a title which can be misused as an advice. What has promotion of beer got to do with changing the world? Am I trying to send across a wrong message? I was thinking the same a while ago before I accidentally got information about a man who came across this idea over a pint of beer. It’s interesting?
Before diving towards the main topic I would like to state some facts about Portland, Oregon. The craft brewing capital of America is Portland, Oregon. It has an ever flourishing pub culture. It also boasts of having more non-profit organizations per capita than any other city in America. Now let’s come to the point which I am trying to promote.
I was surfing the net while I stumbled upon some information about Ryan Saari, Founder/Director of The Oregon Public House in the City of Portland. The Oregon Public House is a pub and brainchild of Ryan Saari and the result of the hard work of a lot of Volunteers. What’s unusual about this pub is that it has 3 Menus. First you order what you want to drink, second you order what you want to eat and third you order for a menu of the Local charities that The Oregon Public House has ties with.
Whatever organization you choose besides your drink and food, 100% of the net profit is donated to the charity of your choice. The idea is as simple as that but who would’ve thought that it was so easy to help someone. Well Ryan Saari did. There is no Owner of The Oregon Public House instead it is run by Board of Volunteers.
This simple idea is so intriguing that it got me thinking, what if every city had one such pub and all of its proceeds went to the local communities and nonprofit organizations? Imagine the amount of difference we can bring about in every city not just in America but around the world. A simply amazing business module! A lot of huge conglomerates should give a thought to this thought. As long as we live, we eat, we drink, and we party so there’s no end to this. Then why can’t we help each other.
We as customers are not really going out of the way to do anything as we just sit and enjoy and help those who are trying to make a difference to the world. All that with a Pint and some food! I am in awe with this amazing gentleman Ryan Saari and to all those people who have volunteered for this cause. Hats off to every person associated with this idea and contributed for this cause. So next time if you are in Portland, Oregon make sure to stop by at The Oregon Public House to HAVE A PINT and CHANGE THE WORLD, Ryan Saari’s way.
Aniket Keluskar
Hugging the Miracle Man
I was on a travel trek where I unfortunately lost my way in the heartlands of a dense forest. Trekking is not a good idea without a guide. I was lost in an unknown territory, having lost track of time and out of food or water. That’s when I came across this hut made from clay, mud and hay.
An old man with a white long beard greeted me. His clothes were bare minimum, wrapped in a simple but muddy sarong. I introduced myself and told him about how I’d lost my way. He offered me help and shelter for the evening.
He had a clay stove with firewood on which he cooked a meal for me, vegetables and fruits were in abundance. There was no electricity besides the wavering fire flames that offered warmth, source of light as well as food. He offered me the purest of wine made from the local grapes. I offered him my gratitude and mentioned that it was a miracle to have met him. We retired for the day.
The next morning when we got up I asked him, I presume you have been living in the wild for a real long time. Your appearance seems to be that of some saint or a holy man. I am just curious to know if you can show me a miracle. To my surprise he readily obliged me and asked me to follow him.
He took me to a farm where an old man and his son were getting ready for the day’s work. The Saint introduced the man to me as a Miracle Man. My excitement had no boundaries but the expression on the face of the Miracle man projected confusion and he looked at me with surprise. He bowed down his head in front of the saint and quickly walked back to his field to continue his daily farm duties.
The Saint and I sat in silence watching the Miracle man. I grew restless as the time passed. Soon minutes turned into hours. Finally I lost my patience and asked the Saint “I am sorry Sir but I don’t see the Miracle Man perform any miracles! He is just going about his daily duties, plowing the field and sowing seeds. I am sorry but he seems to be nothing more than a common man, a farmer. I don’t see him doing anything great. As per my reasoning he cannot perform miracles.”
The Saint looked at me with a calm face and then broke into laughter. I was absolutely confused and looked at him questioningly, that’s when he said “Reasoning? You talk about Reasoning?”
I looked at him with a clueless expression on my face.
He asked me to calm down and replied “We both see the same man but from different perspectives that’s why you only see him as a farmer. Just look at him again, he is plowing the field, sowing seeds, he will water them and then with the help of nature in a few months to come, he will grow food. The same food that will reach you and many others; he is the reason many people won’t die of hunger. Reasoning says he will be doing this from simple mud, digging the earth and producing food for the survival of our species. ” I was astonished by this explanation.
The Saint continued calmly, “I see this farmer as a Miracle Man since he is creating food from mud. I don’t know what bigger miracle are you expecting young man? You fail to see the miracles right in front of you, the existence of the sun, moon, planets, all living beings, the five elements and the changing seasons. Young man, Miracles are everywhere around you and yet you search for them?”
I stood there stunned and speechless while the Saint left teaching me something of grave importance. I too left in a while but not before Hugging the Miracle Man.
- Aniket Keluskar
Mourning Over and about Life
Yes indeed! That’s what most of us do. We mourn over and about life almost daily. I don’t have this, I don’t have that, I don’t have time, I don’t have money, I don’t get sleep, I don’t get peace, there is a whole lot of I don’ts in our lives that we recite like a mantra.
Majorly it’s about time that we fuss about. “I don’t have time; life has become too hectic lately.” Unfortunately we don’t realize that most of the times we are busy in activity not productivity and activity gets you busy while productivity gets you free.
When will we stop complicating life by thinking how complicated it is? Why don’t we stop analyzing it and simply live it? Unfortunately like good habits we also have become slaves to bad habits, smoking, drinking, rising late, procrastinating and above all worrying which is the worst habit that we succumb too. That is the primary reason of unhappiness.
We always blame everything onto destiny or find excuses or mostly ask ourselves a question “Why does this happen to me, why am I suffering, I am a good person?” If we simply say to ourselves that I am a good person and I am not suffering; it is just the trial that I am going through then I am sure we would be happy. The experience that every trial teaches us will make us a better and stronger person to take on life as it comes. Life often presents us with good things but do we ever introspect and ask ourselves “Why me? Why is life giving me good things?” Most likely no but we need to learn to practice gratitude for all the good things that life has given us.
Comparison is yet another thing that makes us unhappy and yet another reason for mourning over life. That person owns a flashy car, wears flamboyant clothes, lives in a lavish house and oh he or she is so successful! Have you ever asked whether they are satisfied? Why does everyone want to run behind success and none want to be satisfied? Success is unfortunately defined in terms of money depending upon the material possessions owned by a person. This is a society created norm and a tool of measurement as per social strata. Satisfaction is a self evaluation process; it needs to be done for our peace of mind. You can own cars, houses, clothes, great food, vacations but the most important part is whether that gives you satisfaction? Change your tool of measurement.
Last but not the least we always tend to crib and cry about our goals and how hard and tough they are to achieve. It’s surely necessary to have goals or else moving ahead in life will not be easy. We will become stagnant. But if it takes a bit longer or some hurdles come in our path we shouldn’t get depressed or blame life for it. During those moments of temporary setbacks we should simply hang on and look back and start counting the milestones that we have crossed. “Look how far have I come?” is the correct question to ask in such a moment. You would be surprised at the answer and it will automatically turn into motivation which will help you propel towards your goal.
Concluding the entire philosophy of my Life, I often used to blame God or the higher power that my prayers are not answered. Over the period of time I learned that I have come a real long way and I have a long road ahead. The only way I can cross the road is, if I fly in the airplane of dreams, sail in the boat of hopes, travel in a vehicle of ambitions and walk towards all these with Faith.
Life is beautiful, if you know how to live. Now I suggest you too stop Mourning over and about life.
-Aniket Keluskar
Replacing my Resume with my Eulogy
I was working 24/7 running behind money, exerting and exhausting my body, my mind was consumed in the rat race of earning more, vacations had transformed to business trips, other ambitious tycoons had become a part of lunches and dinners. With great money, greater luxury, bigger house, swanky cars, expensive clothes and parties, the more money that I earned ensured little time I had. My parents, my wife, my kids had the best. They had everything money could buy. I was rich and it was a reality.
One evening after a month long business tour travelling different destinations I came home late exhausted to the core. Untimely eating habits, regular drinking and most importantly lack of sleep had taken a toll on my body. However on that particular evening I went off to sleep without even bothering to change.
Suddenly I saw a blinding white light and I could see myself hovering over my body. My wife screamed out loud waking up my parents and kids. They all ran to my bed eventually followed by a doctor who declared me dead. I had always mentioned it to my wife that I want a proper burial and a eulogy even though I am not a born Christian. I used to joke to everyone “I will be present during the eulogy and will listen to all the things people have to say about me.”
My wife honored my last wish and there it was, my family, friends, business associates and colleagues, all had gathered. I heard a lot of people talking good about me. Words like compassion, integrity, love, support, true friend, family provider etc. were being coined. My soul was touched and ready to depart from earth. I couldn’t overcome the temptation of seeing my family for one last time.
My parents, in laws, wife, kids, 2 of my best friends and my favorite uncle and aunt were seated at the dinner table, my favorite dishes and drinks too were served as one of my last wishes. Everyone seemed depressed and eating silently. That’s when my 5 yr old younger daughter broke the silence and asked my wife, “Why were people saying good things about Daddy?” My wife tried to silence her but my father intervened and allowed her to open up.
That’s when she spoke, “Daddy was never around, Mommy always said he was working, he didn’t turn up for my birthday, he used to send me gifts but I never got to see him, he was never there at my school play, he never dropped me to school, he never read stories to me like my best friends dad.” Everyone was shocked at what my daughter had innocently revealed. My elder son added “He was never there for parents – teachers meet, he never came with us for vacations, he never once taught me math which he was good at, he never taught me soccer which I loved.”
My Mother added “I used to always wait for his call but he never called me.”
My Father added “When I was in the hospital he would just talk on the phone but never once visited me.”
My Father in Law added “We are sorry to say but we got our daughter married to a machine.”
My Uncle and Aunt added “He never attended his brother’s wedding or his nephews’ baby shower.”
My best friends added “He stopped coming to catch up for some boys’ fun, he was always busy.”
My wife too gathered the courage to speak “He always had the last say, it was his rules, he never spend time with me, he forgot my birthdays, our anniversaries, I don’t remember the last time he said he loved me, he provided us with everything that money can buy. He gave a house but could never build us a home. Today he didn’t even take any of the money he earned to his grave; he was the richest loser I got married to.”
I was in deep shock and it troubled me. That’s when I saw a person holding me by my arms, 6 hands were shaking me, pulling me somewhere, I cried, tried to fight back. I knew they had come to take me but I couldn’t leave my family this upset. It was the same blinding white light yet somehow I opened my eyes and could see my wife and my kids trying to playfully wake me up. I realized it was just a nightmare. I was sweating profusely. That very instance I got up and hugged my wife and pulled my kids in my arms declaring I love them. The next thing I did was to ask my parents about their well being. I enquired about my in-laws well being. I called up my uncle, aunt, my cousin, his wife and my nephew. I called my best friends for some boys’ fun.
I took a long leave from work, planned a vacation, spend time with my kids, took my wife for a romantic dinner date, had long chats with my parents; Invited everyone for a get together at home.
I replaced the photos of my achievement that adorned the walls of my room with photos of my family. Eventually I organized and balanced my Life.
Lastly I replaced my Resume with my Eulogy, the way I wanted it to be read.
-Aniket Keluskar
F.U.C.K is Interesting
I am sure a lot of readers would be wondering why I chose such a title. Firstly I would like to start with an apology for choosing such a title and such a subject. I don’t mean to hurt the sentiments of anyone but I wish to enhance the knowledge about this most intriguing word that everyone uses in their daily life. Almost every person uses this word at least once in a day.
Now let’s get a bit historic.
Back in medieval times people were not allowed to have sex at their will even in the privacy of their homes. They had to get the consent of the king. Couples would actually seek permission from the king and once he granted permission he would give them a placard which they would hang on their doors. The words written on it were “F U C K” which meant “Fornication under the Consent of King”.
Another Legend says
Fuck was the word used for someone who was punished for prostitution. The acronym F U C K - For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge was hung up where these criminals were held so the passersby would know that they were held for this crime.
In the 1960’s
An underground newspaper The East Village Other published a version claiming that it was a medical term used for British Soldiers in the British Imperial Army. When they were reported sick and diagnosed with V.D. (Venereal disease) or STD (Sexually Transmitted Disease) as we all know it today, the word FUCK was stamped on their documents meaning “Found under Carnal Knowledge”
Playboy Magazine published an article in 1970’s reconfirming the medieval origins.
Whatever said and done the origins aren’t very clear but what interests me is that out of all the words starting with letter F in the English Dictionary only FUCK is considered to be the ‘F Word’. That’s the kind of importance it has gained.
Uses of FUCK
In English language it falls in many grammatical categories. The best part of the word Fuck is that its meaning is not always sexual. Think about it!
Adjective – A man following his girlfriend will instruct the driver “Follow the Fucking Cab”
Adverb – Towards a nagging wife “Jenny talks too fucking much”
It could be used repetitively to form a sentence “Fuck the fucking fuckers”
Fuck is a superb word with a versatile quality in it. Consider human emotions.
Hatred – I was fucking robbed.
Happiness – I passed my fucking exams.
Love – Fuck I love that fucking car.
Trouble – I got her fucking pregnant.
Violence – Don’t fuck with me bro.
Difficulty – I don’t fucking understand my parents.
Question - who the fuck was that,
Tolerance – I don’t know why I put up with this fucking man?
Beauty – She’s so fucking beautiful.
Firing – You better resign and get the fuck out of here.
I am sure all of you can come with many more of such uses. So how can we disrespect this widely used word which we utilize more often in our daily speech to display an array of emotions? It’s about time that we start respecting it; it’s already made it to the English Dictionary and seeped into movies and mouths of billions of people living on the planet.
Now I am not sure whether I am offending people by writing such an article but I request you to thank me for updating your knowledge about the most widely used word. And for those who are spoil sports and take this in an offensive manner then I would like to use it as a Noun – I don’t give a Fuck.
For all those others who enjoyed reading this Fucking article and grabbed the Fucking knowledge and enjoyed the Fucking humor part of it, be PROUD and say it LOUD – “F.U.C.K IS INTERESTING”
-Aniket Keluskar
The BMW Project
I have a nephew named Shwas but I always called him “Sauce” because he was born with red cheeks and somehow that name stuck to him for life. He grew up to be a menace to his parents, a prankster in his school and a riot for the neighbors. My brother and his wife always mentioned to me jovially “The last thing we want is that he turns out like you.”
I didn’t know whether I should’ve hated that statement or considered it to be a compliment. Nevertheless I took it as a compliment but secretly hoped that he turns out to be better than me. He never called me uncle; he called me ‘Buddy’. We were friends more than Uncle and Nephew. He loved it when I visited their house for a quick recap between me and my brother’s life.
We would sit chatting on the porch and he would tell me stories about his school and would read wild imaginary stories that he used to write about dinosaurs, planes, pokemon, cars and the cartoons that influenced him.
One day I was upset, having lost a job and life just not turning out to be the way I wished it would. I went over to my brother’s house to kill my loneliness. I took two cups of hot chocolate in the backyard of their house where Sauce was watching the sunset while scribbling something on a letter pad. He tore the page, folded it carefully and placed it in a small play bucket. There was a sticker put on the bucket which said “THE BMW PROJECT”.
I was surprised with the mystery surrounding my nephew, his activity and my curiosity doubled. “Can I join you, my friend?” I requested for his permission. He was happy to see me and asked me to join him.
“So what are you doing? You look really busy?” I asked gently acknowledging his work. He looked back with pride in his eyes.
“Yes, but I am just about to finish it, so give me a couple of minutes then we can talk.” He replied with certain authority as if he was working on something big. He finished scribbling something on the paper, folded it carefully and placed it in the play bucket. Then he turned to me and said
“So wassup, buddy?”
“Everything cool man, you say how’s it going with you?”
“Oh nothing much, a lot of worries nowadays.” He replied with a calm tone while I laughed at his reply.
Suddenly he got up, picked up the bucket with its contents and asked me to follow him. I followed him obediently. “You must be having a light on you right?” he asked casually. I was shocked; 9 year olds don’t ask such questions. But before jumping to too many conclusions I asked him the purpose. He said he wanted to burn a few papers. I was relieved and we headed to a quiet place near a tree, he dumped all the papers from the bucket and then burned those papers one by one, he gave me a high five, almost clapped his hands and a certain amount of excitement enveloped his mind. He was happy.
Now I had to ask him “What is this BMW Project and what are you happy about? What were you writing? Why did you burn those papers?”
He held my hand as we walked back and declared “You won’t believe me buddy when I say that I have so many worries in life.”
“Oh really tell me about a few, maybe I can help?” I genuinely offered him help.
“I have my exams coming up which I am not prepared for, my girlfriend doesn’t talk to me, I fought with a guy in school so I was punished by the teacher, I ran my cycle onto the granny next door so I am grounded and can’t play video games anymore. So you see; I have a lot of worries.”
“Yeah I understand, but what’s the connection between writing and burning those papers and your worries?” I asked with increased curiosity.
He explained “I write down each of my Worry on a piece of paper. Then I carefully fold it and place it in the bucket named ‘The BMW Project’. When I am done with the entire list I burn all those papers, that way I Burn My Worries. Trust me they disappear.”
‘The BMW Project’ stood for ‘Burn My Worries’. I stood there for a long time, thinking about what he had just said while he ran inside the house teaching me the most valuable lesson in life ‘Burn My Worries’
-Aniket Keluskar
Salt and Sugar in Life
One late evening I ended up in a Restaurant to catch up with my girlfriend. I had reached earlier than my designated time so I ordered for a drink while pondering over my thoughts. Life had been hectic off late, too much work pressure, beating the traffic, travelling cities, no time for family and no more romantic dates with my girlfriend.
While I was thinking about this I noticed that I was seated uncomfortably close to two young couples and their four annoying children. A few drinks and the couple’s sense of hearing had dropped down and their vocal chords had got a new lease of excitement. Since I was alone at my table waiting for my girlfriend the family turned out to be a good entertainment for me.
I was toying with my glass while eavesdropping on their conversation. An old man and a woman joined them and they were greeted with hugs and kisses. The Old man held the face of one guy who I guessed was the elder one and said “Oh I have missed you so much my boy.”
Then he hugged the younger one and said “You have grown into a fine young man better than I expected.”
He kissed his daughter in laws and thanked them “You both have really taken care of my boys and turned them into great men. God bless you both.”
Then he turned to his grand kids and almost bundled all of them together in a big hug.
My phone buzzed at that time and my girlfriend declared that she couldn’t make it. A small argument followed and I repeated my drink. I continued to eavesdrop and now I was comfortably seated like a faithful audience to the next table family conversations.
They were one happy family rejoicing over a family get together. They continued sharing their happiness and laughter. After a while I finally ordered for my check. The Old man smiled at me and asked me “So, young man; you leaving?”
“Yes Sir, I was waiting for my girlfriend but she didn’t turn up as she is busy working.” I explained him the situation unnecessarily justifying. He simply smiled. I told him “You have a great family, I couldn’t help but I was overhearing your conversations. You must be meeting them after a long time you.”
“Yes almost 7 days.” He replied genuinely
“7 days!” I exclaimed and continued “But the way you greeted your family it seemed like you were meeting after ages? It surely was a great gesture of bonding. I don’t clearly remember when I saw my parents the last time. Trust me life is too busy, running behind earning your daily salt.”
He laughed almost mockingly and said “Young man if you pay too much of attention to earning your salt then you might miss out on the sweet taste of sugar. So balance a bit of both in your life. That’s my advice.”
The Old man turned to his family giving me a food for thought; making me realize the importance of Salt and Sugar in Life.
-Aniket Keluskar
Triskaidekaphobia
Phobia means fear. Phobias are of different kinds. But there is one special kind of phobia that has gripped the world and that is triskaidekaphobia, which means having a morbid fear of the number 13. There are many theories about the origin of triskaidekaphobia. In medieval Christian countries the number 13 came to be considered unlucky because at the Last Supper of Christ there were 13 persons. Fridays are also considered unlucky because the Crucifixion was on a Friday. Hence a Friday falling on the thirteenth day would be regarded as especially unlucky.
Triskaidekaphobia has specially affected Europe a lot. Head towards any town in France and you wont find a house numbered 13. The Italians leave it out of their lotteries. All over Britain extremely superstitious people fail to turn for work on the 13th of the month. One Scotsman spends every Friday the 13th in his bed and won't eat anything for the fear of food poisoning or choking. On that day, about one in ten of the population of the UK will have an intense aversion to walking under ladders.
In 1968 when Geneva's new international airport was built arrival and departure channel number 14, followed departure and arrival channel 12. 1pm doesn't appear as 13 hours on the 24hour clock but it appears as 12a. Architects and builders seem to be prone by this fact so very few buildings have the floor 13th, often the floor number 13 is skipped straight to 14 after 12.
One of the most famous examples of the evils of the number 13 was the fateful Apollo 13 flight. Apollo 13 was launched on 13th April at 13:13 local
time on Pad 39 (3 times 13). Everyone knows what happened to those guys - they were stranded in space after an oxygen tank explosion and barely limped home with very little power or oxygen left.
An American businessman, Nick Matsoukas, thought it to be ridiculous that many people didn't close deals on the 13th. Nick thought of it as extremely silly as he didn't reckon 13 as an unlucky number. He wasn't bothered by it as he was 13th of the 13 children and had 13 letters in his name. He even organized an anti-superstition demonstration in Athens on February 13th with 13 girls who were supposed to smash mirrors, throw away lucky charms. But that unfortunately didn't happen as Mr Matsoukas had a heart attack just two days before.
However, not all cultures regard the number 13 as unlucky. Once upon a time it used to be and in some earth worshipping, it still is - a lucky and magical number. Consequently it said that there were 13 months and 13 zodiac signs (the Gemini twins had separate identities). In pre-Christian Celtic and Germanic societies it was regarded as important and sacred. The Hebrews viewed the 13th year of life as the time to come of age, and it is still celebrated today with Bar Mitzvahs and Bat Mitzvahs. The Mayan and Aztec calendars also featured a favorable 13th period.
So for some 13 isn't that bad a number after all. Maybe all those 13's in the Apollo mission were just coincidence and anyway, how lucky do you think those men had to be to still be around today in one piece? Famous German composer Richard Wagner considered 13 to be his lucky number. He was born in 1813 had 13 letters in his name, he left school at 13, wrote 13 operas, loved 13 women in his life. His year of birth adds up to 13 and he died on February 13th 1883. So finally it depends on you if you are a triskaidekaphobic cure it or be that way. I guess we all have been unfair to the number 13 having pretty thin excuse for maligning a number that never meant any harm to us…
- Aniket Keluskar
City of Catacombs
Paris is one of the most beautiful and well-known cities in the entire world. Paris is known as the city of lights and the city of love. It is also famous for housing one of the wonders of the world i.e. the Eiffel tower. It was one of the most well planned ancient cities in the world. It is famous for its underground railway stations called the metros, renowned for its marvelously maintained trains. Paris is also the city of the royals, the city of the kings and the queens. It is acknowledged as the city of art lovers and artists. Paris is also defined as the capital city of Fashion.
Under all these definitions the city houses one of the darkest facts unknown to most of the people in the world. When the lights are turned on the boulevards of the open-air cafes of the city, when the Eiffel tower is well lit and the streets of Paree are buzzing with activity the city just wears an amazing blanket of gems if looked from above. But deep down below the surface of this glowing city, deep below the maddening rush of the tourist, down beneath the ground lies a city within the city. Unknown to many, banned to almost everybody its called the City of Catacombs. Catacombs as they call it, are a deep network of underground tunnels, which lie beneath this shining city. This network is said to be comprising of nearly 400 miles of tunnels and passage, which go down deeper and deeper. These catacombs are spread into seven levels and are said to be more than 300 feet deep. It is not really known what was the real purpose for building these Catacombs which are said to be more than 300 years old. Government has banned the entry to any individual to these catacombs. But still there are some outlets to these catacombs from the dark tunnels of the rail tracks.
Researchers and daredevils have tried to go down deep hiding from the authorities to find what lies beneath this massive system of tunnels and passages. Most of them have not returned till date. But some who have returned with tapes of the site below are shocked to know that within these tunnels lay bones and skeletons of people dead centuries ago. They say they have found video cams of amateur explorers trying to solve the mystery but not the amateurs themselves or worse not even their bodies. These cameras reveal that the people whoever have tried to walk down the tunnels first at the start have walked slow then after nearly thirty minutes, they start walking faster, breathing heavily and then the camera suddenly drops and one can just hear the footsteps of the person running away. Nobody has yet discovered whether what the explorers saw was ghosts or anything else.
It is impossible to go below even 10 feet of these tunnels without a battery or light. There is a chilling darkness in the surrounding. A person can't even see his own hand held 2 inches away from his face. Such is the blinding darkness. The teams of researcher who have explored the catacombs have termed the place as one of the scariest places on earth. The people who have actually seen the remains of the bones and skeletons of those dead bodies say that they were standing on the corpses of thousands of people. One of the researchers also said that if really tried to dig down deeper the you could find the gateway to hell in this city of the Catacombs Believe it or not
-Aniket Keluskar
War against hair terrorism
With the war clouds hanging over the world, I happened to come across a different kind of war, which I had heard of but had not seen personally before. I had visited the barber shop for a hair cut but due to over explosion of population I had to sit back and watch the others getting a haircut until I got my chance. When all their heads were under my observation, I heard the barber calling out the person sitting next to me. He looked like a young college going kid, who had long shapeless hair that had grown in all possible directions. He looked very troubled, as he could not control the long hair from falling all over his face. That’s when I heard him giving instructions to the barber in Hindi, “Sabko Uda Do”, which literally means, “Kill them all”. The statement must have come from the current war scenario looming over the world, that’s why he must have ordered to kill them all.
The barber naturally followed the instructions and made some moves here and there and came back to ground zero, fully armed with modern day machinery extensively used in hair warfare. The guy gave a last look in the mirror and gave a green signal to the barber for launching a strike. The barber launched the first strike over them with the machine moving swiftly through them, killing them in groups and they were unarmed, harmless and helpless. The room was filled with the rattling sound of the machine and they were dropping down on the floor in heaps and heaps. There was a complete massacre and finally the first round of strikes had come to a halt after approximately five minutes of heavy destruction. Down there, I could see all of them lying dead on the floor. Then came another guy rushing to the sight of disaster with a big broom and took all of those dead hairs. He, I thought was providing the United Hair Rehabilitation Aid. Again I focused my attention back on ground zero. I could see a few of those hairs still hanging on there with the hope of survival and re growth. But soon a cloud of white shaving cream shattered over them. Then another hair warfare equipment called “Vastara” took the attacking position. After two offensive strikes, the mission was accomplished and ceasefire declared.
The guy had finally won the war against hair terrorism. He had a peaceful smile on his face accompanied with a look of loss and achievement at the same time. He had finally succeeded in the “Operation Hair Storm”. Well war has done no good to anyone, so he too had to pay 200 bucks for carrying out the warfare expenses. But he had finally achieved the single most wanted word by him at that moment. It wasn’t “peace” but “baldness”. Finally he had graduated to the world called “Bald”. Well, wasn’t that a great war against hair terrorism.
-Aniket Keluskar
The End was Near
I was staying in the town part of Mumbai, nowadays. I had just shifted from the suburbs. Although suburbs were sprawling and happening yet for me South Mumbai was much attractive and exciting. Today I had a couple of drinks which was less in comparison to my general drinking habit. I was not even feeling high but was rather feeling scared of something. People I knew or the wise men as they say, had told me before that “You get a feeling like this when the end is near.” I was always too progressive in my thoughts and never believed in these superstitions. Yet the thought of the end being near was not going away. I walked past the Bandra-Worli Sea link for the first time and reached Peddar Road. That is where my new home was.
The tall buildings which housed the rich and the famous and the who’s who of the society were pretty fascinating. I had always heard of the lifestyle of people staying in town, when I stayed in suburbs and reaching town was truly an uphill struggle for me. I do remember me talking about the modern culture of town and the way of living differed from the people who stayed in suburbs. The kind of clothes they wear, the kind of food they eat was all ultra modern or rather westernized. That is what fascinated me towards town. But today I was truly exhausted as for the first time I had travelled from the suburbs without a halt. Actually my halt just comprised of a couple of drinks. However I reached my apartment entrance. The lights were off. There was no one on the streets and I could see a few cars passing by which were driven by the so called next generation, ‘damn alcoholics’ who didn’t care about drinking and driving. I didn’t understand why in particular I was thinking about things that really were not my concern. Suddenly I had begun to lose my energy as I climbed the stairs of my apartment. Was I climbing or flying? I couldn’t understand. My head was spinning and I was hungry. The journey had exhausted me. I was engulfed in thoughts whether was I really going to die? I just wanted to eat something as was my habit whenever I felt dizzy I always ate a lot. I wasn’t sure whether I was going to get anything to eat tonight. I soon reached the floor where I had recently shifted. My eyes could see a small lamp that was always lit at night times and that’s how I recognized my house at times like this. I entered my house and headed for the bedroom because that is where I usually grab a bite when I am hungry.
I was surprised to see a woman sitting and watching late night soap. I had started to loose my energy and my eyes had blurred the image of that woman. I wasn’t sure whether I was in my house or some other. But I dared not leave because my vision was blurring more and yet the wonderful woman sitting in front of me was a treat. I was hiding and watching her but controlling myself. She was lying down on the bed wearing a beautiful silky night gown with nice long laces. She was brushing her jet black long hair with her smooth silky fingers running through them slowly.
Controlling me was not possible, now. I was sure by now that if I was caught I would be killed yet the animal in me couldn’t resist the temptation of this beauty in front of me. I rushed towards her she was surprised or rather shocked to see me. She tried to fight me back but I as it turned out I was more powerful than her. I bit her neck and as they say I gave her a love bite in the temptation of her beauty. She screamed and tried slapping me.
She screamed loudly and called her husband. That’s when I realized she was not alone.
I quickly ran and hid myself underneath the bed. Her husband came and searched for me but I was lucky he could not find me. But soon I smelled and saw a cloud of a disgusting chemical coming in my direction. I knew the end was near. That is what the humans called a Mosquito repellant. The chemical spray choked me and slowly I felt breathless. All I had done was bite a woman’s neck as I was hungry and tired from a long journey. Today although my stomach was full after that drink yet my drink cost me my life. I wish in my next birth I am not born as a mosquito.
- Aniket Keluskar
If you see him Kill him!
Life seemed just so complete, until he came into the picture. He disturbed my perfect life; that smart, cursed and evil friend of mine. He messed up the beautiful canvas by throwing the dark, red paint on it. He wove the cruel plan so articulately like a spider into my mind that I didn’t have the power to stop him. He turned me into what he wanted me to be and he kept grinning and enjoying the cruelty of his unfolding scheme. All I could do was watch everything happening helplessly, unable to alarm anybody in spite of knowing of his evil intentions. I didn’t call for help. I knew he would kill my love eventually. But I couldn’t stop him.
I was brainwashed to commit the crime. As we both discussed it every day over a drink, he told me that it was the right thing to do. We have to do it; there seems to be no other alternative. If we won’t kill her then she would kill me someday. If it wasn’t for my friend I would have had been dead today; lying dead with my head hit on the stairs just like hers. I would have probably been in a worst situation than hers. But no I had changed the destiny yet I completely blame him for what happened. Had he not given me the plans then I wouldn’t have dared to do so? I was confused, was he a friend or an enemy?
I loved her really, she was the only one I ever loved, and she was the only one I ever really had. She was my angel. She was my life. It was a beautiful life we shared together. We were one. We had a perfect life which comprised of those long walks, late night drives, candle light dinners, pillow fights, holding hands, watching the sunsets, preparing dinners for each other, caressing each other, loving each other and living for each other. Then what went wrong? I wondered for a long period of time.
He convinced me that it was she who had gone wrong. Had she not welcomed the other guy into her world, things would have been different for the both of us. For me it had turned into a tug of war between pride and power of acceptance. My tolerance was transforming into helplessness. I had seen him forwarding his friendly hand towards her. I saw their friendship blossom and transform itself unknowingly, like a caterpillar transforming itself into a butterfly. Unknowingly or was it knowingly? She knew it was happening, I had confronted her many a times, questioned her, wanted to stop her, held her in my arms more often, more tightly, not wanting to let her slip away from my life. Unfortunately he had smoothly sailed into our life. He fulfilled her in a way I never could, anymore!
This was how it was going to be. Yes, I was realizing it, feeling it. It was painful like no other pain I had ever known. My mind was gripped in its wicked clutches. All I was left was with thoughts, thoughts that would clash onto the walls of my mind like wild waves clashing on the rocks. Once I went running deep inside the cold waters of the ocean at sunset. People thought I was committing suicide whereas I was just running behind the drowning sun. I was afraid that the sun would drown and not come out again tomorrow. I was scared, what if he really didn’t, what would happen to my tomorrow and what would happen to my love? So people called me crazy. Yes crazy I was or rather had become.
It was during those times that he had intruded my life and I had befriended him who led me to this disgusting path and I followed it blindly. He was the evil with dark black and dead eyes that showed no expression. No mercy. That cold grin and an indicting stare on his face every time he was in the vicinity of my love was scary. I knew he would kill her someday. The wicked man had poisoned my mind too.
One gloomy and depressing evening he took me into his spell. He had a way with words and justifications that would rationalize the deed. He seemed to make evil things look reasonable. He plotted the final act of sabotage with great proficiency. He made me spill a huge bottle of some greasy substance on the stairway of my mansion and down went my love. One perfect hit on the marble stairs, one last cry and she lay there silently in peace.
I cried in agony and anger! He slipped away silently from the scene leaving me alone without leaving any evidence of his presence. Only if I had I killed him before then my love would have still been alive. If you see him kill him! For recognizing him, just remember his name - Jealousy.
- Aniket Keluskar
I am going to tell God everything!
These were the last words of a 3 year old kid dying in a yet another war-torn country. I don’t wish to name his religion as that might be an onset of a ridiculous discussion involving religions. People are bound to abuse each other’s religion and unfortunately social media sites have become common platforms for accusing and abusing religions nowadays.
I don’t wish to accuse any one country or multiple countries for what is happening around the world. I don’t wish to blame a particular religion too,
for the massacre happening under its name. I wish to blame each one of us. I wish to blame humanity.
I wish to know whether we are moving towards globalization, modernization or the Stone Age. When will we stop killing each other under the name of religion? The most unfortunate fact is that ‘There is more crime committed under the name of God than the Evil.’ It looks like Greed, Power and supremacy over each other are the 3 most powerful religions existing in the world.
What is our future? What is the future of these 3 year old innocent kids who are dying every day as a sacrifice of someone else’s self-indulgence? I doubt they even know any God except the ones slapped upon them since birth.
I am not sure how many of us really feel affected by the cries of those millions of innocent lives that die in wars. I am like most of the rest, simply making my point. But the last cries of this 3 year old and many more like him do haunt my mind. I myself feel helpless as I find me incapable of taking any action in doing anything to change the situation.
Peace just does not come, only through prayers; we humans need to create peace.
In the meantime I would just hope that the 3 year old boy does complaint to God as he mentioned in the last ever words he used in this short life “I AM GOING TO TELL GOD EVERYTHING!”
STATUTORY WARNING: RELIGIOUS DISCUSSIONS CREATE HATRED AND EVENTUALLY KILL
-Aniket Keluskar