Dusky#10 The World isn't Divided into Good and Bad, but it's Sure Full of Cowards

One rainy day, as I was standing on the bus stop, waiting for the bus that would take me home, a woman who looked about 55 came to me. She asked me if she could make a call from my cell, and I extended my hand. One glance at the phone, though, and she hesitated and asked me to dial instead. Though taken a bit aback by this change of mind, I typed the number that she recited from memory, and proceeded to call it. The bell rang, and I gave the phone in her hand. She kept it close to her ear for a while, but looking disappointed, handed it back to me. I tried again, this time keeping it with myself, but still, nobody answered. I told her there was no response, and asked her who's number it was. She said it was her son's, and she had to warn him about something. I pointed her towards a nearby phone booth, as my bus would arrive any minute. She walked in the direction I pointed, but I kept an eye on her. As expected, the owner refused to let her call. She turned back and came to me, just as it started pouring. Her eyes grew large and she stepped closer to me under my umbrella. The distance was less enough to make most people uncomfortable, but I didn't move. There was an urgency in her tone, and her eyes sparked with maniac energy. It was scaring me, but I pushed the fear aside, because it was baseless. She started talking words that didn't make much sense to me, but it was obvious she had to warn him about some woman trying to hurt him. She asked me to call him again, and I obliged. With the cellphone to my ear, and the incessant ringing still going on, she told me to pass a message. I nodded my head, as she started singing. Again, maybe it was the rain, or maybe it was the frantic beating of my own heart, but the exact words never reached me. A few lyrics and notes here and there, though, and I realised the song spoke about forgiveness and how it's never late to come back. I was paralysed. She ended her song, joined her palms in a namaste, and walked away in the rain on the crowded street. I'm ashamed of letting her go, till this day, and I still feel disgusted at my own cowardice. As I regained sense a few seconds later, I ran to all nearby streets looking for her, but I could never find her. All the way back, I kept calling the number she gave, but to no avail. I let an old, abandoned woman walk away on the crowded streets of mumbai, and it's one of the biggest regrets of my life. That day, I realised the world isn't divided into good and bad, and though most of us aren't bad at heart, but we're sure as fuck some big cowards.

Dusky#9 Don't Kill Me

Don’t kill me.
Don’t kill me.
Don’t kill me.
The artist is begging.
I understand writing is your passion.
But a good degree means respect.
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
A respected profession, makes a respected person.
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
Science is good money.
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
Work harder, then. I’m sure you can find time for both of them.
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
Just get a seat. Earn admission, and I’ll know you’re not doing this because you can’t.
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
You have the brains, you know. You can make it so big in research.
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
Just complete what you started, these two years. And then, you may do what your heart says. No pressure.
Don’t kill me. Tick Tock. Runs the clock.
Everyone feels like this. It’s just a phase. It’ll go. You’ll know it for yourself.
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
Do you still feel giving up a good science degree is worth it?
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
But you love biology, don’t you?
Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me.
Say it today. But one day, you’ll realise money is important too. You can always keep writing.
Don’t kill me.
All that they say, make no sense to it. It is a one way conversation, if you’ve never seen a deer at the moment right before its shot.
It doesn’t understand money, respect, or admiration.
It understands only survival.