Twins

I think this one might have beginning and end. (A Diner. everyone is frozen in motion. Only Alvin speaks)

Alvin: There is something that you can tell about a man's character from the time that you meet him. Heck I used to know Bozos who'd meet me at 10 a'am and offer me coffee. I always knew they were bright as a spark plug. Heck. Catch me drinking coffee at 10am. No Sirree. I am a nightbird. Now if you're lucky, you offer me coffee at 6pm, I might consider; if you're lucky.

But I'm always up for some scotch, you know what I mean? So when I spot a man, across me at the diner, with a hip flask at 10am with a label on it that says Ballantine's.

I know he's raw but he aint no fuckin spark plug.

(motion resumes)

Alvin: What's your name son?

Bob: What the fuck's in it for you?

Alvin: I beg you pardon?

Bob: You ain't no spark plug? Don't kid me. You're not here to sell me coffee are you?

Alvin: What's the matter with you? Are you a dimwit? Can't you see who I am? Here, have a drink. (pours from a magically produced bottle of single malt) It'll make you feel better.

(pours a drink).

(pause)

Bob: So what is in it for you?

Alvin: Well, you see, I am a teacher of sorts.
(drink pouring bonding routine - "cheers", pause)
And right now I'm out of pupils.

Bob: Fuckin mother dilate my pupils. Are you insane? You offer a man a good drink at 10 am. when he's been drinkin' all night and then you try to en-roll him as a student? That is a fuckin freakshow of nature man, that's out there.. that's...

(irritated re-clinking of glasses. pause, shot is consumed, second drink is poured, a cigarette is lit - Alvin's)

What the fuck do you teach anyways?

Alvin: I teach observation?

Bob: Well ring my bell, William Tell? (aggressive) Do I look like a fuckin observatory? Tell me do I look like a fuckin observatory?

Alvin: Yes. (offering a lighter instead of a match-box Bob's been struggling with)

(pause)

Every man who is not drinking coffee at 10 am. is either an observatory or is being observed by one. Which do you prefer?

(Alvin orders some coffee)

Bob: Boy, you have some ego you ...

Alvin: Son of a bitch? Come on, I can teach you better.

Bob: What..

Alvin: ..am I talking about? Join me and you'll soon find out.

(pause. Bob is dazed)

Bob: Can I have another drink?

Alvin: Only when you agree to quit.

Bob: What?

Alvin: Doubting me of course. What's wrong with you? Cat got your tongue? Here have some more whisky.

Bob: Right.

Alvin: Now come on, we have a job to do.


----

(the scene is a diner, everyone is frozen except Bob)

Bob: Alvin was a trip. You see, he always thought he had people figured out. He always thought, he was teaching them, grooming them and all, when all they were doing was taking his ideas and making them their own. You see the world wasn't as kind as it seemed to Alvin.

(motion resumes)

Well we did it Alvin. Great idea!

Alvin: That's the old school; boy. See I told ya, you would learn. Don't you love it? Ha! Here have a drink, offers some scotch.

Bob: (toying with the spoon). No thanks Pa, I'll pass. It's not like I've discovered some silver spoon hanging in my mouth.

Alvin: What?

Bob: I said I feel like I could touch the moon and that’d be going south!

Alvin: Well, that's what I feel! Now listen here Alvin. I know you feel like you've figured me out. When I was your age, I swear I thought the same pretty much about everyone around me especially the girls. Here, have some coffee.

But listen to me now, and this is important. Don't let rules rule you. You'll end up becoming a teacher. Do you understand?

Bob: I think I do.

Alvin: Then why are you alone? Now I'm the old man, and I'll tell you this. Every person is not a map. You can't figure everyone out! Sometimes, you have to lose yourself to find yourself.

Bob: (viscously) I think I know enough about loss.

Alvin: Hmm it's your old man, isn't it? I can see it in your eyes. It's not the same. I hope you discover your pupil earlier than me.

Bob: Excuse me?

Alvin: I said Alright. I hope you discover your true bill earlier than me.

(there is a look exchanged. both people know that nothing more need be said)

(motion freezes, except Bob)

And at that moment. Something made me unsure of myself.


---

(the scene is a diner and it's night, everyone is frozen except Alvin, Alvin is drinking coffee, Bob is eating Bacon)

Alvin: Bob! He could read me straight as a book! Now I've always had that, but to see that in another! Foof! He made me unsure. And the more unsure I felt about myself, the more sure I felt about him.

Heck, there I was old and supposedly wise, but it sure as heck seemed he was on to me!

(motion resumes)

Alvin: That was well planned Bob.

Bob: Thank's, I'm a quick student.

Alvin: So how'd you know?

Bob: About the plan? Simple. You told me.

Alvin: I don't understand.

Bob: Well you told me the plan would be whatever you thought I would do.

Alvin: That's interesting, and you knew what I thought that you thought that that was wht I would think you'd do? Here, have a drink. (pours some coffee). Do you play chess Bob?

Bob: What the fuck do you think we've been doing?

Alvin: What?

Bob: I said it wouldn't it be luck, if that's what we're doing?!

---

(the scene is breakfast time at a diner (morning), everyone is frozen except Bob. Bob is visibly older)

Bob: You know the strange thing about time? It only passes when you don't realise it. It's like Shakespeare said. The world's a stage and you're an old geezer. You only realise that you are right when you're a child again and by then, no one gives a fuck anyway. Don't you see it?

(motion resumes)

Bob: Pa! Are you alright?

Alvin: Yeah son, I think I am now.

Bob: Can I get you something Pa?

Alvin: Coffee. And don't forget the fuckin cigarettes. Never forget them.

Bob: Right, coffee and cigarettes any thing else?

Alvin: Oh and could you see if you can get the legend of 1900 too? These kids these days, they pay attention to everything important. Steal the card will you? I want to know who they are; I want to know where they are; I want them to know who they are; who you are; I want them to see, and I want them to... what was I saying?

Bob (pouring coffee for himself and whiskey for Alvin): The question Pa, is what makes you think they don't pay attention to everything important?

Alvin: Oh Bob! You never understood me, as long as you think they don’t; they don’t. You see, I had a talent. Now, I've given it to you. Go out and get them. I taught you to be a teacher because I had none. What are you a fuckin sparkplug? Did I teach you that? Hah? Dimwit moronic, modo. You are a dodo. Quack quack. Hahaha.

You see what we’ve done? Hah? You see it? We’ve screwed each other. ‘cos I’ve fallen in love with you. And you’ve taken to call me Pa too. Which fails to make you ridicule me in public and you do it in private which is worse. And I tell you I aint no sparkplug. QUACK QUACK. I may be a duck but I ain’t no fuckin sparkplug

(pause)

What you drink your coffee black now?

Bob: Yeah.

Bob: I taught you how. Don't you see?

(pause)

Alvin: Well, what are you gonna do about it? I die tomorrow. Do you even know who I am, will you know who to call to the funeral? QUACK.

(pause)

Bob: No.

Alvin: Well you better start find out, yes?

…

(the scene is a cemetery. Alvin lies dead. Everyone is frozen in condolence. Only Bob is animated)

(there is a line of never ending people, who line up to offer flowers at the body (they are not frozen even though the priests and everyone else except Bob, is/are frozen). Each flower is a “thank you teacher” muttered under breath)

(someone's flowers drop, Bob picks them up and places them on the coffin).

(motion resumes and the Priest says:)

Priest: And at the end, he said, “Eloi Eloi Lama Sabachthani”, Father, Father, why have you forsaken me...

(the end)

Sketch

Her eyes, he drew, with a piece of charcoal,

Blue skies now dark and gray

screamed a rebellious rain. 

Then he drew her without a mouth

And the world was quiet again.

Confines

You sketched me in charcoal
I wrote you in ink

Bold, strong strokes.
Lines and Edges connecting the dots.

And that's where it ended.
We were never water colors.
We did not fade into each other.

Strange to meet you

The post has no beginning. Don't bother imagining one.
Satan: Now I make friends few and far between, but I make them my own. With that big picture, with that big picture, I tell you Mr. Director, Direct, don't try to act. Don't try and act. Sigh.

Don't you understand the quality of these words uttered with my voice on your stage?

You are nothing without me and plausibly the converse about our relationship with each other.

Now the trick behind my question in saying this, is go ahead, direct me. I implore you, no in fact I challenge you, to direct me, give this boat out there in the storm, some direction.

(to servant boy) Boy, give the man a compass. (boy hands director a compass) Yes, directions?

God: South by south west. 5 degrees north and a bit to the right.

(Satan moves to the indicated spot on the stage).

There now we go, now you say your line. (very crisp and proper) "Storm is over".

Satan: But what is my motivation? What am I feeling?

God (irritated): You are feeling love.

Satan: My position?

God (pleased): Doggy style.

Satan: Use me. I am a medium too of your immense expression, of your power, your energy. What is this shit? Are you kidding me?

God: Perhaps, it's a strange possibility. Ok. I'll go with it. Read that into the lines.

Satan: Which lines?

God: "Use me. I am a medium too of your immense expression, of your power, your energy. What is this shit? Are you kidding me?"

Satan: Really? Oh!

God: Precisely. Now who came up with that idea?

Satan: We did? How nice to know that.

God: Yes very nice. Now let's breath some sanity into this piece. Shall we?

Satan: That would be very nice too.

God: All right. Actor, out with your real name. Don't be a stranger. It's not just Actor, is it? It could be interesting!

Satan: No not "Actor" don't submit to vanity. Vanity is my domain. Sanity is yours! You can call me Satan.

God: Pleased to meet you Satan. And what part are you auditioning for today?

Satan: The part of an Actor.

God: Which one would it be?

Satan: I don't know. The script writer knows. He is my friend.

God: But surely you must know the name of the characters or at least the name of the play perhaps?

Satan: I forgot them next to the cigarette that was burning in the ashtray, yes that's where I forgot them. Sorry, No.

God: Now come don't be playful.

Satan: I remember there were two characters. This shit is real? You're really filming this?

God: I see several cameras whizzing around like planets on a universal stage. Don't you?

Satan: Wow. A real screen test. My mama would have been so proud. Fuck! I can't remember the name of my mama. This is bad.

(pause)

This is such a nice combination of the creative energies of theater, stage, audience, camera, film, editing technology, biotechnology, astrophysics, and religion. Quite intense. This script writing thing! What? Now I'm supposed to be a scriptwriter?

God: No. A secretly diseased schizophrenic actor, who is auditioning for the part of an actor playing a part in a script written by the Director in which the name of the actor happens to be Satan?

Satan: And you're the director? And I'm the actor? Are we sure of that?

God: Actually, I don't know. It's an interesting possibility. Now read that into the lines, please.

Satan: Are we sentient beings?

God: (sarcastically) No, we are energy. Now the lines?

Satan: What lines?

God: The ones next to the dot's.

Satan (puzzled): Are they vertical?

God (highly ammused): No.

Satan: Horizontal then?

God: (almost laughing): No.

Satan: Then?

God: Verbal. They are in that book you've been holding for so long.

Satan: Oh so this book is the script.

God: Yes and you wrote it.

Satan: Eh?

God: Yes. Oh so now I've become a writer at this moment.

Satan: Yes, you or me?

God: Does it matter? What's your reading of it?

...

Amid words unsaid, unreal,

glances, angry, averted,

I forgot to reveal,

that each unshared taunt,

existed, for you remain,

the one, I want to want.

60 (80, 4x5)

Six months ago, I was starting the new season on a positive note. The previous year had been an unprecedented success and had led to my election as vice captain. People were citing my averages from the last season. I was bordering on cocky, was buzzing with ideas and was raring to have a go. That is when it all went the clichéd way.

We are so often forced to call cricket a funny game that it has become clichéd to say so. You can guess what happened then. It started with a couple of unlucky dismissals - a wrong call here, an overambitious shot there. I rubbed them off and kept the faith that the big innings was just round the corner. Then misfortune intervened. I took a blow to my left hand which put me out of action for a couple of games and in my absence my understudies put in some strong performances. I was still confident in my mind but an element of doubt was beginning to creep in. On my return to playing I couldn't retain my usual spot in the line-up. The captain shifted me down, as much to give the other contenders their chance as to see if maybe I would click at another position. It wasn't going to work. The "demotion" hit my ego. I became desperate and went further downhill from there.

Over the next month I played at every occasion I could. With a false bravado I would go in to bat and try to hit myself out of trouble, believing luck could not desert me forever I gave every ball a mighty go. Some connected, enough didn't. I was searching for any runs, ugly or lucky, hardly any came by. I dropped further down the pecking order. So down that the captain started playing me as bowler. I was a fair bowler but that's not the point. I was there to be a batsman and I wanted to keep things so, but it wasn't a matter of wish now - I could no longer lay a straight bat on ball. The previously cited confidence was by now properly shot. Every slight deviation in line looked out to get me. My hands shivered when I picked up a bat. When I stepped in to bat I was already imagining a drudged walk back to the pavilion. Cricket started to frustrate me.

So desperate and frustrated was I that I would try anything. Fortunately, a batting course came by. I silently signed up. They had video analyses, trained batting coaches, fitness trainers, bowling machines and other fancy things, all to help me bat. Over the course of a week they recommended changes in my technique, they put me through a tough fitness regime, they started from scratch and taught me how to play all the basic shots that my muscle memory had all forgotten about. My batting looked crude and messed up. They tried to tighten its screws and chisel at it. One day I was terrible, the next day I could get into the right position. Then came some drives. Cuts. No pulls still. They talked to me about temperament, about sticking in there and valuing your wicket. I had good final session. Crisp shots flowed off my bat, my defence was tighter and I was fitter. Some confidence oozed back. I was ready for redemption.

Still a funny game, cricket. Fate(rain) curtailed the next match and the Captain couldn't justify slotting me in above other deserving men. I was still playing as a bowler for him. I went in last after prolonged wait and whatever confidence had gone in my system had by now rushed swiftly back out. I over-enthused over a simple straight drive and was out first ball. We lost the game, due in some measure to my non-performance. The team lost its cool, the Captain lost his sense and strong words flew. Sense prevailed ultimately, but I knew had hit rock bottom and it was emotionally painful. However, as is often the case with that place there was only one place left to go.

So over the last two weekends I have scored a 48 and a 60. The first was a wretched looking but gritty performance in an insignificant friendly game. Significantly though, my captain was there and he appreciated my willingness to stick it out in difficult times. The team appreciated the score. I felt good about holding a bat again, after a long time. I rued missing out on a half century but the time for that was to come the next Sunday.

Against strong opposition in the last league fixture of the season I opened batting. I started patiently and unhassled. Soon the ball was leaving the bat-face nicely. Boundaries came by - off cuts, even off pulls ! Drives which used to find fielders started finding gaps. Runs started to flow, the opposition deflated and the runs flowed harder. Somewhere between the first and the second drinks break I reached my half century to the hard applause of my team. The bat was raised for a moment and hands were shaken with the other batsman. Then I went back to batting. It wasn't much for a reaction because I wanted many more such moments and I was hungry for many hundreds of runs. It was not redemption yet. It was a very good lesson in life.

That haar ke jeetne waale ko Baazigar kehte hain.