MY STORY...

This is not an ordinary story. Simply because it's not about ordinary people. And it's not an ordinary tale of love and hurt, faith and deceit. It is my story, and it's a story about me. As a rule, everything besides me in this story is irrelevant, unimportant and trivial. And I'm taking this liberty to declare such because this place is "exclusively" my domain- perhaps the only place in this Universe where I own some kind of importance. Which further tempts me now to take "all" the importance there is, and to do unto the world what it has done to me all the time elsewhere. I, therefore, propose to reduce the sigificance of everything besides myself to zilch, the same way as everything and everyone reduced mine to a farce outside the realm of this story.
Ha! As u reap so u sow!!
This is what I call the "Law of Balance". Somehow, someday, everything evens out.

I was born once upon a time-someday at some place- but the details are not important. I had a family and a home, and I consider myself lucky for that. But me and my family always let each other down, and I never got a separate room for myself in that home-not until I got maried, but by that time I had moved to a rented flat, and even then I was forced to share it with an intruder. As a little kid, life was very unfair to me. Not that it remedied its behaviour in the subseqent years, but perhaps it hurt more as an infant.

As if born in a lower middle class family of seven or eight members was not enough, I had to contend with being caught between two brilliant elder brothers, and two talented younger sisters. We grew up together, but perhaps they grew up better, and faster. Fate was once again cruel to me- for I was but a very very ordinary child. My siblings though, were blessed with better brains and more talents than me. And I was nothing but the black horse of the family. I suspect that is the reason my parents loved them a lot, and hated me equally, for I was but a useless student, who barely struggled though his high school despite all the tuitions.

My eldest brother was an ace cricketer, and played for a long time for some high-level team. Once upon a time I had wanted to be like him. But soon everyone realised I was pathetic at the game, and then- then they laughed at me. I remember clearly the tears in the eyes of a nine-(or ten)year old surrounded by a crowd of mocking eyes and scolding tongues for a distasteful display. Later that night my brother had come to me and tried to console me. He asked me to practise with him the next morning; I threw a vase kept next to me at his face. He still retains a two-inch scar on his face.

I had my reasons for doing that, but at that time, nobody understood- my parents beat me black and blue and locked me in the store for two days without food- and now, I don't care to explain. This is my story and nothing else is important, not even those reasons.

At the age of 16, tired by my own failures and the successes of those around me, one day I stole some money from the home and ran away. Some fifteen-twenty days later the police caught me stealing food from a restaurant and handed me over to my family. My Dad beat me up like hell and my mom never spoke to me after that day-not till her death. My crime was too big; she was too upset that I had stolen and sold her favourite gold earings.

By then, I had already failed once at the matriculation examination and after this incident, I dropped school and foud work in a garage.

By nature, I was basically a loner. I never had any real friends to speak of, and I preferred being within myself most of the time. The three years at the garage were the happiest time of my life. But life can't tolerate being good with me for long. My Dad died of some disease, and mother had a paralytic attack. Not that I cared, but there was suddenly more responsibility on me ,which I hated, for my brothers were in another town pursuing their careers. They came one day, and forced me to learn up accounting work, and got me a petty job. I had no option but to do that, for I had no strength to oppose them. I hated myself then, and them.

Then, I don't know when I changed into an angry, irritable, discontented man. Some years later, when they saw me happier with my liquor and gambling, I was forcefully maried off to someone. I tried to be happy and nice after that, but couldn't. I tried to love her, but couldn't. Some years later, she ran off with my neighbour and left me a rowdy son. Why, I don't know and I don't care.

Even then, nobody sympathised with me. People at work laughed at my back, and since family did't exist for me, I was left alone. One day, drunken and inebriated, I broke my son's skull. The neighbours took him to the hospital, and me to the police station. When I returned after a month, I learnt he had been sent to an orphanage. Good riddance, I said.

I never heard of him after that, until some hours ago, when a young guy in his teens came to me and said that he was my son. I didn't reply, and he swiftly finished his job and left. And now, here I am, lying peacefully for the first time in my life in the middle of the road.
Dead or alive? That's not important.

Somehow, someday, everything evens out.