Nora

 

It was 12 o’clock in the night. There was a knock at Michael’s door. He was groggy.  Who would knock at this time? He peered through the peephole, eyes already squinted with  lack of sleep. There stood a young lady in a red saree.  She smiled as Michael peeped through. Michael recoiled.  But he opened the door all the same. Curious and suddenly less afraid. 

“Can I have a glass of water?” She asked. 

Michael mumbled something that vaguely sounded ‘sure’. 

“ Please come in, “  he said 

Now, why did I say that? He wondered. She was attractive but there was something beyond beauty that attracted Michael. He felt some connection. 

She entered his house and sat in the chair that was offered. Smiling. Satisfied. Contended - Thought Michael as he brought a glass of water. 

She took a sip, put the glass down and smiled again. 

“ Hi Michael. I am Nora,” she said. “ I have travelled and come from far.”

Really? Where is your bag? Wait! Where are your shoes or sandals or whatever?  And how did she know my name? Michael thought but didn’t ask. Secretly thinking he was famous.  

She said she knew all about Michael. And then she started talking. And how! She talked about history, geography, alchemy and what not.  She talked about computers and their workings. Probably referring to AI? God knows. She talked about anything and everything. 

Michael was mesmerised. And this time not by her beauty. He sat silently stupefied. The amount of knowledge she possessed and processed was astounding. She went on for hours. Michael hadn’t uttered a word, and he wasn’t bored either. Just an odd nod out of courtesy sometimes.  His sleep was gone but again it felt like he was dreaming with a heavy dose of something. It didn’t feel real. 

Michael realised Nora hadn’t touched her water but for the first customary formal sip. Well! She hadn’t knocked at 12 o’clock midnight for water for sure.

After what seemed like a five hour marathon session of encyclopaedia, Nora paused. She looked at Michael intensely and said “ Michael,  I am going to write down a series of numbers and give it to you. “

Aren’t you full of surprises, my dear Nora? As if the history lessons weren’t enough. 

“ What are they? “Michael asked. 

“ It is key in the form of numbers,” Nora said. 

Gosh! This is definitely some dream, thought Michael convinced. 

Sensing no questions coming forth from Michael, Nora continued. 

“ Let me explain,” she said. 

Please - I have no energy to understand or ask any question. 

Nora smiled and nodded. 

Did she understand? Mind reader?

Anyways.  Michael waited for the fantasy dream to get over. 

 “ The series of numbers which I will jot down is a sequence to open a locker .  And that locker is the cell in your brain,” Nora said. 

Well! Well! Well! Cent percent a dream. Thank god I will wake up in some time- Michael mumbled to himself. 

“ In fact it is a formula which, when repeated three times in the order which I give , will open a brain cell in your head which has been idle so far. You are not aware of this cell nor the memory it contains. It is in your subconscious mind. Once this cell is opened you will see a picture of a grave with an address.  And in this grave lies a key. The key is not hard to find. It lies just underneath the stone. It is the key to a vault. The address of which I will send you after you get hold of the key. And the procedure will be the same. You will receive more sets of numbers to open a brain cell in your head. Remember, the sequence of numbers can only be opened by you. It will not work for anyone else who possesses this sequence. Because it is stored by me with your identification.  And that identification involves lots of things. Gene, voice, biometrics,  to name a few,” Nora concluded. 

“ Any question? “ She asked. 

You must be joking. 

Number 1 - who are you?

Number 2 - why me? ( not that he minded )

Number 3 - are you serious?

But instead Michael asked, “ Could you explain that in English, please?”

Nora smiled. Well- she looks just like me, thought Michael. 

“ The numbers are like any secret numbers that open a safe. Only in this instance they are called memory numbers. Instead of punching or turning a key to open a safe, you call out these numbers, which is basically a formula that opens a cell in your brain. And that cell has a picture of a grave,” Nora said. 

“ Where is this series of numbers or formula as you call it? “ asked Michael. 

“ It will be on your phone once I leave,” Nora said. 

“ And what’s in the vault? “Michael asked. 

Nora smiled. That smile again. “ Thank you Michael for the water” She got up and without a further word opened the door and left. 

 Before Michael realised this was an abrupt end, she had closed the door behind her. Michael walked back to his balcony hurriedly to catch a sight of her leaving.  But there was no sign of her. He just heard a faint swish somewhere. 

Wow!  Quite a night. Must be close to morning, thought Michael scratching his head.  He looked and glanced at the wall clock. It showed 12 midnight still. Thinking the clock had stopped, Michael went to look for the time on his phone. It was 12. 

Utterly confused and sleepy now, Michael went back to sleep. I’m sure tomorrow there will be no trace of this, he thought.

He slept for a long time. Or so he thought. He got up with a start. His alarm was ringing. It was 4 AM. He thought he must have slept for ten hours. He went to the hall to check the time on the clock. It said 4 AM. 

Michael went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, brushed, and still thinking returned to the hall. Nothing was amiss. Well! It was a dream after all. But then he noticed the glass of water lying on the table with one sip missing. 

The dream or whatever it was , came roaring back. Michael went and checked his phone again. Nothing. But when he looked closely there was one tiny light beeping on his phone. 

When Michael touched it, there popped a series of numbers. Just like what Nora had said. Michael almost dropped the phone. So it wasn’t a dream. But then , why did it feel like one? And what about the time? It had stayed at 12 even after many hours. 

Not knowing what else to think or do, Michael repeated the number sequence once- nothing, second time, still nothing, third time, still nothing. He kept his phone down and waited.  He didn’t  know for what to happen. And then he heard a swish inside his head. It was the sound of a safe opening, just like Nora had said. Michael waited. He closed his eyes. And there it was. He could see the picture of the grave in his mind. It was like remembering something or visualising something long forgotten. The picture was very clear. And below the picture there was an address.  The address of the grave. It was written by hand. It was probably written by Nora but it felt like Michael’s handwriting. Michael memorised the address. Not that he needed to since he could always reopen the “ safe” with those numbers. But still. Just to be safe. 

Michael couldn’t make out the location so he typed it in his laptop. 

The first leg of his journey was about to begin….

Buttering

 

The sleepy cats came scurrying

at the sound of a whistle. 

Black, white, yellow, grey; purring-

now hungry and un-bristled. 

They rolled from the trees and dunes

with eager but cautious paws.

Meows sang a different tune

for the food deserved applause. 

Royal and too proud to beg -

rubbed their tails around the legs. 

Equal Reach

 

Problem - How to regulate the flow of people at temples or at other  religious places ? So that there is no pushing or shoving or stampede, and people can pray peacefully. 

Solution - One entrance, one exit. About a hundred meters from the temple entrance, build a conveyor belt on which people will stand. The conveyor belt will go inside the temple, around the deity and all the way towards the exit, and out. There will be one single line. No preferences, no bifurcation, no division, no special darshan, no special ticket, and all that drama. When there are more people waiting outside, there will be a single zigzag queue leading up to the starting point of the belt. 

The conveyor belt will start when the temple opens. The belt will move at a steady pace. It will not stop or pause even near the deity- effectively giving equal chance to everyone to pray.  One separate counter or huge bowl to offer flowers, donations or any other material likewise.  The conveyor belt will take that route but without stopping. The conveyor belt will be on till the temple is open. It may stop only if there is a Pooja or washing of the deities or any other religious sentiment or rituals.  Else It will flow continuously. 

God will be much happier seeing us human living in harmony.  Equal reach.

Dig

 

The road digging has begun. 

Old shovels clang one by one. 

Maybe there is gold deep down,

or the right to random fun. 

Taima

 

Michael returned home from a long journey. He was in Africa and Australia for a month- in African jungles and in stony deserts of Australia to be precise. And all that he brought back was a tiny vial which contained the venoms of a Black Mamba and an Inland Taipan-  the most poisonous snakes of Africa and Australia. 

He was exhausted from his travels but excited and eager. He opened his journey-bag and  took out the vial and placed it on his desk. The vial had passed through the securities at the airports undetected because of its small size. He opened the vial. It had no smell. Perfect. He removed a small bottle from his desk. The bottle contained a small gas-like chemical which he had developed himself in his lab. This chemical was developed for the longevity of the venoms Michael had explored and brought back with him from Africa and Australia. He put a drop of it in the vial and closed it.  The mixture turned purple, red, green, yellow and finally with a hush- white. This was the most toxic and poisonous chemical ever created. If stung, it would bring down the biggest of dinosaurs , if they were still around, in a second. He watched the solution for a minute or so, thought, and named it Taima - Taipan plus Mamba. Oh! My creative raja!

From another drawer he took out a small purple box.  He opened it. On a dark blue velvet cloth was a pin - the flying pin, again created by Michael. It had all the ingredients of a super computer chip in the shape of a pin.  It could fly at the speed of light. And, would be controlled by Michael. Michael smiled. It was his brain-pin. The evil smile finally spread over his face. 

There was this tiniest latch on the pin unseen by a naked eye. Michael switched on his laptop. A few clicks and punches, and the latch opened with a hiss. He opened the vial. Slowly and steadily he poured Taima inside the pin. He punched in a few numbers on his laptop. The pin numbers.  The pin closed firmly tight with a hiss. The final product- The pin Taima was ready. 

Now comes the best part. Taima would fly anywhere in the world even to the remotest place not in the map-  at Michael’s command. And when any human or even an animal gets stung by it, it will first suck out all the memory from that person’s brain cell and store it in a fraction of a second before killing him or her. The sting will melt the body of a person instantly as if some lava was poured over him or her, but there would be no trace left of it. No marks. No ashes. Nothing. Zilch. As if that person did not exist. The memories recorded and stored in Taima would be everything that person had witnessed and stored in his brain from the time that person was born and was capable of remembering things. His or her childhood, ideas, things seen,  thoughts, vision, ideals - everything would be stored, and which could be viewed whenever as if someone was watching a film. Even the subconscious mind, the person’s dreams and whatever the person was capable of memorising.  Michael could tap into the brain as if the person was alive and view it on his screen with complete clarity. 

The launch pad was ready. Taima was restless and eager to go. 

Michael waited for his phone to ring.  A client would assign him a target. The client was not aware how Taima operated or would not get to know anything other than that that the target was eliminated.  The client would not even know how the target was eliminated. The data stored in Taima would be Michael’s only.  And he would then use it as he deemed fit….

The Brush

 

In the kitchen where I stood,

colourful prayer flags hung. 

I was warming up some food

but the prayer bells had rung. 

As I turned towards the wall

an old  brush near the flags fell.

“keep it elsewhere” - was the call-

the prayer flags seemed to tell. 

The signs by Him are subtle. 

The bells chimed, the flags fluttered. 

The Leaf

 

The leaf fluttered in the breeze. 

The dew rolled down to the ground. 

Then shone the pale yellow crease

amidst the flowers abound. 

Slowly the leaf turned red-brown

in contrast to the green crook. 

Will it decorate a crown,

or mark a page in a book?

In hope it fell from the tree. 

The broom swished away its plea.