AMEETHYST

Daily while I walk my way to office from Andheri to Chakala, I feel terribly glad that I do not own a bike or a car. I’d rather reach much earlier than those poor chaps stuck in the traffic. I pass through a population of stagnant honkers who’re in a rush; not just to reach their workplace, but in a rush for everything. Taking it slow and living the moment, is not what defines Mumbai. This city sets the pace for itself; but dies every day to live upto its speed. While some make a living on the streets, some spend half of their lives watching them suffer. Who cares? I am late to work. We’re here to make money and live our dreams right? Well, that’s the truth. Who cares? If someone is dying on the streets or in the train station, people are rather busy reaching their offices and meeting deadlines, while some are busy taking pictures and uploading it on facebook. Maybe they follow some primitive Shakespearean ideology of; drown not thyself to save a drowning person . The concept of...

1964 Next morning when he got up, he was in Berlin. This time, he was not imprisoned nor was he in shaggy, rugged clothes. Amar wore a chocolate brown flannel blazer, beige scarf and he had notepad and a pen in his hand. He was sitting on a window seat of a van driven by his father. Amar could recognise his father and was in an ecstatic moment. “Appa.....” he screamed and hugged him. His father suddenly stopped the van and looked at Amar furiously. “Are you insane?” he roared. “You could have killed us both” “I am sorry paa” Amar apologized and turned his gaze down at his notepad. He didn’t understood what he’d written. He was surprisingly able to read, but the words didn’t make any sense to him. They just looked like random letters and numbers. He quickly shifted his focus on the nature outside and found the view completely mesmerizing. He’d never seen such beautiful sceneries back home and this was the most wonderful moment of his life. “Where are we going Paa?” Amar st...

1941 World War II had begun and many countries were finding it difficult to answer the rebels with peace. For the warriors of death, peace was not a considerable solution. However, somewhere in a tiny village of India, a lover was born. His name was Amar . His father was a truck driver in Berlin and frequently travelled to India to spend time with his family. Amar’s mother was a scientist and suffered from chronophobia ; the fear of time; and this characteristic was flamboyantly adapted by Amar who further became a master of Time Control . Amar was a born lover. He inherited romantic skills from his mother and the looks of his father. While the world was at war; little Amar fell in love with flowing stream; the blowing wind and the glowing sunshine. Gokarna , which means cow’s ears in Kannada, was a small village on the coastal Karnataka, where Amar lived his dreams and took pleasure in savouring the nature’s beauty. He never read books because he was illiterate; he never mad...