Note of gratitude.

Addressed to pain and loneliness somewhere in my brain.

It is very different and difficult to redirect the river of pain in one’s mind to the tip of the pen and water the barren paper. It sometimes costs seeds of tears. I’m just trying to do the same.

Pain and loneliness if go together, my mind responds with bubbles of decisions. I actually think of an ice-berg decision that hardly finds time to melt. But bubbles are the ones who surface. And these bubbles sing lullaby and might have disappeared in the next morning. Clear and calm, ready for another game.

Loneliness is when others eat the fruit that you too deserve. Loneliness is when you choose the other way when others choose the way.

Pain may be of many reasons. Pain of losing love is the worst(best) among these. Some pains nurture loneliness in the mental incubator.

I just had such an experience. I expected, prayed and prayed that I too could get a share of the fruit. Vain!!

Pain in the mind is like thorns with motors attached to its back. They themselves harm. When loneliness comes in, it’s like a periodic hammering system that hammers down the pain. It aches a lot. We search for shoulders to support. The search never ends.

[Sub note: - Above paragraph had been written in an engineer’s perspective, let me at least do this.]

Writing at this moment is one of the best things one can really do. Even the pen seems to spill more ink as tears.

This is very much exactly the time domains in which I feel like, I must have a spouse. I want to immerse my face n her fragrant lap and weep loud, like a baby. I want her to kiss me long to ooze out my pain and caress my head and sing me, “everything is gonna be alright”.

Sometimes you may feel like asking me, if I don’t get my parents’ love. Yes I do get it. But for me, the concept goes this way. If you need to completely get out of this mental trauma, you need a loving spouse. You always need her kisses. They’ve to intoxicate you.

I want to forget the pain. Why should I not be allowed to taste the fruit?

This kind of situation is intoxicating. We may sometimes feel the best of being in such a situation and then the inertial forces may anchor us therein, always pain-struck. “Do bother to come out of the world of pain and loneliness”, onlookers (friends in history) might say. It is because they do not know the ecstatic aroma they offer in the heaven of pain. They do not know the music of loneliness the maestro.

Loneliness goes away when others start sharing the fruit with me. Till then, oh! Loneliness you are my beloved. Pain goes away soon. It just visits me often and disappears in history.

But they always gave me company when others enjoyed the fruit. My grateful self is obliged. They always help me go for a decision. They trigger my passion factor. They always compose the best of music in my heart, sets its rhythm. They always ask me to do something to outdo everything so that I can be second to none once again.

Without them, I can’t even imagine myself listening to songs like, “Thanhayee.....” and “Loneliness.....(westlife)”

So I’m so much thankful.

With gratitude

Labeeb Ibrahim.

muSICK

THE STORY OF MY MIDDLE FINGER

This was written long before. I feared publishing this.

DISCLAIMER: Any characters in this story if found resembling with any one of my readers, it's not deliberate. purely coincidental. And the story demands it. The whole thing has to be taken in an (south) Indian frame of reference.

This is not muSICKal, but it has got to do something with ma muSICKal life. u may wonder what has it got to do with it?
This ain’t silly at least for me.....................
It was a Sunday. As usual it wasn’t morning. It was evening.......Na ..................... I must tell something before it.
You know what? The middle finger is the icon of a culture... it is like one f the best ways in which you can express your disagreement. It’s indeed one f the many. It’s one of a kind.... but what the heck? That doesn’t matter. I dunno other best ways of showing disagreement. Even if you say that u can teach me some, I can just show you my middle finger and say you “f!@# off”. How else do you think I can use loads of phrases using the most gifted word in English, the F-word? It’s indeed a ‘u know who’ word.
So mid finger is the sign of man in us. It’s the right answer for sarcasm. Then why majority, the multitude dislikes it? Again my mid finger rises. Don’t even dream of a doubt, it’s voluntary.
We’ve always played the role of reformers in our SOCIETY. We thought to reform the purpose of mid finger show. Better say me myself without even having a meeting or discussion with other members of the reformers’ union, just made a reformation. The story (sad) follows:
I made the same mid finger show as a means of greeting my buddies. Gradually it turned out to be the only way of greeting. Slowly I was ‘famous’ for the reform. Lots f my friends grew jealous. They’d conspiracies against me in store. I strived all those. And I won. I was once again f!@#in happy. Instead of showing a single mid finger I even used two f my hands simultaneously. Won’t it be tiresome? Still then I did it. Won’t u feel proud if it were u? Absof!@#inglutely you’ll. Same way I too felt it. I self patted on my back. I felt like I cud do something more. So much more than this.
During the early days of the great reform, I felt for the opposite sex. What will they feel? They are the social co-workers. There must be harmony. It ran through my mind. It disturbed me so much.
The encouraging half of my cerebral hemisphere had the answer. I decided to do it. But then came the time for creating the right situation for the drama. Yep man drama. I waited n waited n waited. But then came the hero, here our hero does the role of a bugger; oops I don’t mean what the word means. I mean he bugs me a lot. So he was sitting with the great feminist of the era. Miss Always. My friend said she’s a womenist. Whatever! . God save men. Hero bugged me once. I’m patient. So I at once turned at him and was about to refer to his great grandfather. Then I saw our Miss Always with him n I went mum. SPARK!!! Shit always doesn’t happen. He bugged me again. I was no more patient. I turned rather fast. Threw away the pen in my hand and then ............ and then showed the great celebrated mid finger. He was uluppless(new word not yet included in the dictionary of mean words). He smiled at me. the smile made me believe that I was not alone on the path of reform...
I wish u too had watched the chammal(new word not even included in Malayalam dictionary) on the face of our Miss Always. She turned away with a very accepting smile on her ‘tree-face’ (maramontha).
I n hero felt like having accomplished something. Na ... a very great thing... a milestone accomplished.

That’s all about history. Now the true story begins. Believe me the great celebrated comedian Supandi D boss lives in the Avaran’s where I too have got the enviable opportunity to live. The Avaran’s is believed to be the centre of all reforms. One day when Suppu (that’s how we call him with love) came in, I as unusual showed up both ma mid fingers. He smiled and showed the same back. I thought it was over then he came near me. I’d not stopped the act of showing the greeting symbol so as to emphasize welcome. He came nearer I was least bothered. He came closer. I was happy. I dreamed of a FRIENDLY hug. But what happened next still remains....... OUCH...... it aches so much.
He twisted my tender finger till crackling noises were heard. He’s so merciless and mean.
There the truth also ends. I’ve not practiced this weird method of greeting since then. I learned lots of lessons as I usually do.
Now it is vacation and I fought for letting me learn music. I went for music keyboard practice. The first week I had to do so much of finger exercises. I started doing as my instructor told me. Then I experienced the pain. It was torturing me. Instructor asked me “what happened?”. I humbly answered “Sir, I can’t fold my finger so much...... ‘cuz......... both ma (mid) fingers have injured while I played volley ball”. He told me to consult a doctor. He believed n still believes that I’m a skilled volley ball player. And first lie based on ma mid finger was born.

Lie is shit... I have to say it.