Desdemona

I vividly remember the day she came to me - she was suffering and the moment I saw her I understood her ailment. I had seen it before and I knew her end was near.

She walked in haughtily into my consulting room and told me she was Desdemona. I asked her what’s with all the paint on her face. She said she was a dancer, a performer. She travels from town to town, dancing in front of the crowd, taking care of her old mother with whatever she collects.

I told her what she knew already. She was calm. I told her that another patient with the same problem is waiting inside the room. It was a cat, a tomcat. 

It was a seed, a seed which penetrates your limbs and grows inside your thighs; grows into a full grown thorny plant inside you, killing you from inside. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

I saw her the next evening - her body along with an old woman’s, floating in the river, like a tableau in a carnival. Her face was still painted, her eyes - her eyes were staring at me. She was still that performer she always were. And, it is the same face I see every night in my dreams, making me wake up every single time, drenched in cold sweat.

Eden.

    In here, they see us how we want them to see us. In here, there are no fixed faces or personalities. In here, names are nought but naked placeholders. For today’s superman might be cowering in front of you tomorrow. Yesterday’s sweet-heart might be a killer today. In here, we are all pure.

Shadows.

"Have I seen you before?"

"Well darling, let's assume that you have indeed seen me (which I believe is bollocks in itself) but why would it matter either case?"

"No, I guess it looks like we are going to be intertwined for another hour or so. And I guess I thought."

"Thought what - please don't have any ideas, darling. And why can't these bloody humans turn off these lights at the very least. I could have gone somewhere and done some chores and come back."

"My Master always used to turn off the lights, you know."

"So you say it is my Mistress' fault, eh?"

"No, I wasn't actually saying that."

"Well, it can even be that your master has never seen such a woman as beautiful as my Mistress that he wanted to watch while doing it!"

"You have no idea what my Master is capable of!"

"Do I care? Only thing is that if the lights were turned off I could have been spared of the misery of being entwined with a slime like you. How much fire does your master have anyways? Will he be taking much longer?"

"Depends on how much time it takes to tire that hag of your mistress."

"Wish my Mistress could be a little bit more selective!"

Fly Me High!

"But darling fairies are only in the stories. No dear, you can't fly. Come on sweetie, now please get out of that costume, will you?"

"No! No! No! I am the little pink fairy. I even have a wand. You can't remove my wings. I have to fly."

"Oh! Please, dearie. Don't be so difficult."

"No! No! No! No! No!"

"Enough! That's enough tantrum! March to your room. I shall give you five minutes before I come there. And, I don't want to see any of those stupid wings again."

"I can fly; all fairies fly! I am going to fly high out of these windows."

Butterflies.

"Wow! How long since we last saw a butterfly. And now look at them come at such large numbers. Look, this one is huge and red and blue and what the hell. Mosquitos! Mosquitos! Alarm Alarm, We are under attack."

Underwear.

"Underwear! Underwear! Underwear! That's all he cares about. Every single day he comes in with yet another load of underwear. When I say underwear don't think of them as those sexy kinky lingerie. I mean all those fat bloody men's underwear, you know." the furious lady said. "So you don't ask him about this, I mean about this kind of underwear shopping spree? the man who can be a police detective asked. "Of course I do, but that didn't work the last 11 years, did it?" "And he wears them all?" asked his companion. "Well, I am not sure. I don't think so. But, I'm not sure, see I haven't seen him in his underwear." "You haven't seen huh?" "Well see we, we don't have sex; never had sex. See I'm a lesbian and he is gay. Our's was a marriage of convenience." Cut back to a flea market where we see a man searching for something. Cut back to an younger looking version of the same man, much younger. We see him being almost strangled by a Sadhu. And he whispers hoarsely in our man's ear -  "An underwear, only an underwear can save you. Make sure that you have it with you when you need it." Our man, our man needs proof and he demands it. The Sadhu gave it - he gave him the colour of the underwear he was wearing. And also the colours of the one's he had been wearing for the last one week. 

What's Up Doc?

The man in the television was saying, "Who said the bunnies were funny? I, for one thing, always hated them. If it was for me, I would have caught every single one of them and skinned them alive. If I didn't have to clean their innards, I would have roasted them alive and ..." The one with the red badge and an eyepatch flicked the television off. He turned around and said, "This is the one guy I was talking about. He goes around half the world talking about skinning us and roasting us alive. We have to find him and find him we will. You, my fellow bunnies, are my elite. Go find him for me."

The Girl.

There are three layers. The girl is singing, but it's not in this layer. But which layer am I? Is it the outer, the middle or the inner? I don't think this is the inner layer, because since I'm not crouching into myself, as I would have been if I were in the inner layer. Is it the outer layer? I don't think this is the outer layer, because since I am not getting thinned and blown away into microcosms, as I would have been if I were in the outer layer. So it must be the middle. So the girl must be either in the inner layer or the outer layer. What is her song - Is it the pain of being crouched into oneself or the euphoria of being blown away into the universe?

Everything's Perfect!

"It's just an injection Arnold." "Yeah, but I'm not Arnold." "Well, everyone's Arnold for me. So sit down, and show me your forearm." "Are you sure this is perfectly safe, all fine?" "Everything is perfect, it is. It is natural and in this case quite mandatory that you feel some dizziness immediately after the injection. So, are you, now?" "No, not really." "Are you NOW?" "Yes I am, yes." "See, I told you - it's perfect. Now you'll be seeing everything over-exposed, brighter. Things will become more surreal, and I tell you, it's more fun. I know, because I've been there."I was floating; dreaming; flying; falling into an abyss.

 "Oh, I didn't think he was gonna buy that crap. Is he unconscious now - safe to be moved?"

"I'm the veteran here. I know, everything is just perfect. And yes, you can move him now."

Steel bird.

It's the steel bird again. This time it will shoot through. No - my emotion driven but highly illogical part of the mind said. It won't; as long as we keep our spirits high, it will hold up. But, how - asked the me-me, the logical me. Look at the dents it has already made. Looking at the situation and gauging by the steel bird's strength, it will just need one more chance. No, don't loose hope - she says. (Somehow that other emotional part evokes a feminine vibe.) I (the me-me), let out a deep sigh. The steel bird hit the wall of the tree, broke into the nest and took the little birds inside it. I tapped the cigarette with my finger and closed the shades on the window. I let out a deep sigh.

Sunflower.

I was riding pillion on my friend's bike. We were stuck in a jam, with cars all around us. I checked the one on the left. A small sunflower toy was on it's dashboard, you know, the one which dances from left to right when the car jerks. I look at the one on our right - it also has a similar toy, only a different colour. This must be a pretty popular toy around here. The one car behind us, also had one. Then I thought, everybody has one, why not me? A sunflower started growing on my forehead then, dancing slowly from left to right. Then I realised - Hey! But I am not a car. But by then it was too late.