Holi ke Rang

Holi ke rang...

Was it because of some dye in the Holi colour or was it something to do with that wash of pinkish light I had walked through?? But my life wasn’t the same again…

Though I wasn’t keen on playing with colours, couldn’t escape the traditional Holi revelry of Navy Nagar. My brother-in-law, Commander by rank but a doctor, head of INHS Ashwini, was given respect in a traditional way, a kind of leftover ritual from Raj era. Everyone put a respectful tilak on his forehead which he reciprocated. But I, the honoured brother-in-law, had no such respect extended. I ended up in a drum full of coloured water. In fact virtually drowned in it when they dumped me into it, head first.

The next day being a Sunday I went for a late night show. An old Kishore Kumar movie. It was those times before the advent of Multiplexes and small screens, and the ‘Malls’ were yet to make their entry and poke holes into our wallets.

After the movie I went to fresh up and coming out found the usher in the process of pulling the shutter down and I had to run out before he did.

After that ear shattering noise of the shutter rolling and crashing down, it was ‘mind shattering’ silence in that narrow side passageway one normally exited to in most cinemas which connected to smaller unlit alleyways behind them that mostly doubled as a free parking lot for the people coming to the movie. This one stretched nearly half a mile before it joined the main road. Buildings on both sides had its rear gates opening into it and next to such gates were garbage bins overflowing with stale household litters and full of huge grunting rodents which even chased the cats away. So I walked exactly through the middle of the road. And then it dawned on me, the road was absolutely empty and very dark…

Conscious of being alone and the city’s reputation, and singing ‘khoobsoorat hasinaa, jaane jaan jaane man, rang jiske labon ka, dhoondhta hai chaman…’ just to keep me company, I stepped up my pace to reach the main road as soon as possible. ‘tu nahin, tu nahin who haseen to sanam, koi aur hi to hai...’ and then, I heard footsteps behind. So I wasn’t alone after all. Comforted, I looked behind. There were two of them and from the way they were walking, I became a bit apprehensive and very casually crossed the narrow lane and walked towards an area awash with a pinkish light. I heard their footsteps and looked behind; they were also crossing the lane.

I reached the wash of pinkish light in the hope that someone’s rear door may still be open and found it wasn’t. I started speeding as I crossed that lighted area, almost jogged forward and nearing the main road felt the footsteps wasn’t following anymore. I slowed down and looked behind. Standing beyond the light were those two with a curious and confused look. Ok, they weren’t following me at all and, now, probably wondering what this silly guy is running away from.

Thank God, I thought, and walked towards the station and was in time to catch the 12:35 local and was home in half an hour. I freshened up and changed and went to bed in the comforting feeling that, tomorrow being a Sunday, I don’t have to wake up before 8.00 am when the milkman arrived. Just before 8.00 I woke up and, humming another song from yesterday’s movie ‘mere mehboob qayaamat hogi, aaj ruswa teri galiyon se mohobbat hogi…’ went to brush my teeth. I switched on the mirror lamp, and…almost jumped out of my skin, if there was any skin.

What I saw in the mirror was nothing, just nothing. No face or hand or…

Alarmed, the brush fell off my hand. I looked again, nothing… an empty mirror with just my favorite Warli mural reflecting silently behind. As I kept staring in shock, the doorbell chimed. I turned around, picked up the bottle from the kitchen, and opened the door and extended my hand holding the empty bottle towards the milk man.

To my surprise I found the milkman bending and peeping inside and he shouted; “saab doodh”.

Annoyed, I said “Abey udhar kya dekh raha hai, kal ka bhang utra nahi kya??”

I don’t know what happened then. The milk bottle fell from the boys hand and crashed to the floor, glass and milk splattered all over the landing and as I was watching that, the milkman took off like an arrow and all I could hear was his receding footsteps.

Now I was really nervous. Have I become invisible?? I went back and looked in the full length mirror on the dressing table. Nothing, not even the night pants I was wearing could be seen, in fact I could actually see through me, not even my own shadow blocking the view behind. So is this what happens when one is invisible?

After the added chore of cleaning up the staircase landing, I went to shave and, to my utter dismay, was unable to. Finally taking a wash without actually able to see whether I had soap suds left on my body. I dressed up without seeing because as soon as I wore pants or shirt or socks, they too became invisible. Nothing visible once it was on me, not even talcum powder. Phew!! How can I live like this?

Aghast, I decided to take a trip to Navy Nagar, back to my sister’s. Jeejaji, brother-in-law, may be able to help.

Deciding to go by public transport and not use my scooter, lest I created mayhem on the street with a scooter without a rider. The police may even use their guns to shoot down the ghost rider, if so, will the bullet just pass through me?. No!! I didn’t want to experiment with that, so I took a walk to the local station.

At the ticket counter I was the fourth in line and as soon as the man in front got his ticket, the guy behind me extended his hand through me and said ‘VT return’ as if I wasn’t even there. Wow!! Why should I buy a ticket as no one could see me anyway. So I just boarded the next train to VT and walked out to the bus station to board a bus to Navy Nagar.

I sat down pondering what really happened the previous night after that movie. More people boarded the bus, and I couldn't believe it, an old lady looked at me and sat on my lap. My lap, for god’s sake??? I just stood up and decided to travel all the way to my destination, standing. The conductor didn’t even look at me.

I walked the last mile or so to my sister’s house and rang the bell. She opened the door, but I waited quietly. She looked left and right, finding no one, started closing the door when I pushed the door open and walked inside. She shouted ‘kaun hai’ loudly enough for jeejaji to come running out. Finding no one at the door and the mysterious look on my sister’s face he asked what was that all about.

Then I spoke; ‘jeejaji, its me’. He asked; ‘is that you Ken?’ I said yes and went on to narrate everything that had happened since yesterday.

He went inside, rummaged thru his bags and came out with a contraption that he connected to the plug point and switched it on, and, like a torch, focused it on me.

There I was, glowing in that ultraviolet glory. Jeejaji laughed out so loudly that even my sister, still not out of the shock, couldn’t stop herself from laughing. I joined their laugh a bit sheepishly but with relief.

Jeejaji described the event as once in a lifetime aberration, when a particular type of pigment got synthesized and which absorbed all kinds of light. So, in a way, that made me invisible which should normally wear off in a couple of days by the bright sunlight. His use of ultraviolet light that normally did not deflect light back had made me glow.

Wonder was that what made those two goons so confused…?? Was the colours used by the sailors mixed with some cloak-and-dagger stuff of the navy, some kind of ‘Stealth Warfare’ item???

Oh!! And how was I able to see through me in the mirror??

DISCLAIMER: The invisibilty dye is a product of the fertile mind of the writer and is not to be linked to any similar item or product of the navy, if it exists.

                    .............................Ken Featherlite.............................

10dulkar Forever...

Some Great News and some that are straining to be news…

Its the day after “The Lord of the Crease”, Sachin retired. No untoward incidents were reported from anywhere in the country. Some people were still found moving around with the Indian Cricket’s blue jersey with No. 10 printed on it and proudly waving the Indian Tri-colour, as this will be the last time the No. 10 will ever be used on an Indian Cricketer’s jersey. The BCCI has decided to retire No. 10 in Sachin’s honour.

The Prime Minister, changing the rules, has already sent a recommendation to the president for honoring Sachin with the highest civilian honor of the country, the Bharat Ratna. The PM personally spoke to Sachin and gave the good news.

Someone has already suggested that Rupee 10 currency notes should have Sachin’s picture on it as well as on the watermark, and Rupees 10 bimetallic coins should have image of Sachin’s on it and the FinMin is expected to support the motion.

The Railway ministry has sent in a proposal to start Sachin Express from Mumbai to all Metros, in the line of Duranto Express. The Train, to be coloured Blue will have only Sleeper Class coaches and numbered S10–A to S10-T.

The BEST Committee has, in an extraordinary meeting, decided to ‘permanently honour Sachin, by naming the 10 Ltd. bus as Sachin Ltd. And charge a flat Rs.10 as fare for all distances, forever, no upward revision of fare, doesn’t matter whether diesel or CNG prices goes up or down in future.

The 10th Road citizens of India are all joining hands to get their streets’ name changed to Sachin Road. (Two are in the city of Mumbai; one is in Khar and the other is in Chembur).

The Indian High Commissioner in England has approached the British Government to rename 10 Downing Street as ‘Sachin’ Downing Street in his honor.

And finally, The CWC has recommended to the congress high command to rename 10 Janpath, the official residence of Sonia Gandhi, to 10 Sachin… we are waiting for the confirmation of the same…

Ken Featherlite (…and why don’t I change my name to Ten Featherlite?)

wish I had another chance’...

"It didn't work out… "

Ha… so easy to say, especially if it’s a narration of how and why they’re separating.

One just had to see the pain hidden behind that statement, the remorse and that feeling ‘wish I had another chance’, as they proclaim in false bravery that everything will be over soon.

These were the people, who, in all their wise and matured judgment had weighed every option, before taking that all important decision of their lives. ‘All Important’ as in ALL IMPORTANT’. It was as all important a decision as the previous all important decisions of their lives they had taken to come together and live happily ever after. Now, while opting to separate, they’d weighed every option, or so they thought.

Mustering enough strength to take that decision and finding enough reasons for it, they went about gathering evidences and witnesses to prove that they can’t live together any more. The mandatory two years they’ve been just doing that, nothing else, finding evidences, so the family court judge passes the judgment in their favor. Trying to remember those occasions, places where they felt most insulted. How the worst behavior was meted out. Trying to catch-up those who were witness to those scenes, to convince them that they should corroborate in court. And then there was that one small matter, who gets the possession of the child and that of alimony, maintenance, who pays whom and how much etc.

As the Day of Judgment neared, they went on a flashback to find whether they had submitted enough evidences. Yes, their Lawyer had convinced them, no way the judge will be able to keep them together.

‘Marriages are made in heaven’ and here they were breaking it up.

The flashback took them back, a whole way back. Those moments of their lives etched in the happy part of their memories. That memorable wedding ceremony, the first night and then off the next day for a week long honeymoon, all came back in a flash. Moving into their own house, honeymoon stretching a few more years, and three years later that greatest gift a couple can have, a child. Those cherished moments of bringing up that child, now 12 years old.

They meet occasionally now, for that someone very special in their lives, their child, linked to them unbreakably. Whose life, in all probability, they’ll mar for life. Inflict a wound on their child that’ll never cure, that’ll pain forever. That’ll leave a gap in the child’s life that’ll never get filled up, ever. To be branded as a single parent child, or…

So what happened that they have reached here in the family court, waiting for the pronouncement of judgment, they wondered. Will it be really over today, now? 15 years of marriage. Deep in conversation with their respective Lawyers, they stole a look at each other, hoping that the other wasn’t watching. Their eyes meet, eyes with pain in them and welled up with tears.

Suddenly the bailiff’s voice reverberated in the courtroom ‘all rise’.

As they sat down, they heard the court clerk shouting case no. 237/2007...

They both stood up along with their Lawyers for the pronouncement.

Judge’s voice boomed “…Therefore, this court, in view of all the evidences presented, is of the view…

Stunned silence!!! They looked at each other in disbelief.

The judge, after announcing that copies of the judgment will be available a week later, walked out.

As the judge’s voice still reverberated in their ears
“… Legal Separation cannot be allowed, and further directs…”
they were not listening any more, they ran towards each other, tears in their eyes, and embraced...


                                                                     -Ken Featherlite

Unraveling Mystery named Man 2.0; Woman...

Need to know basis’, a usage as old as one can remember. In this modern era of Eves-dropping techniques, bugs and spying cameras, small or smaller than a pinhead. Oh, for those uninitiated into the world of ‘office stationery’, no don’t try to ‘look up’ this word in your ‘Words’, you probably won’t find it. A Pinhead is the rounded head of a pin about 30 mms, the other side having a pointed sharp end that the airport securities will confiscate if you carry it on your person, used to staple together loose sheets of paper, well mostly. Oh, you may see some guy using it to clean up his dental plaque. Yeah yeah, that pin, exactly. Your 2 gigabyte ‘memory’ hasn’t slowed down yet.

And the realtime transmission of the ‘data’ thus eves-dropped, images, read pictures, and voice recordings etc. at the speed of light, the internet became the tool. One doesn’t require that ‘scan, copy, print & fax’ thingy one used to have at the office. Gone are the days the spooks had to set up their own mini dishes and upload data through gadgets the ‘special effect’ guys conjured up.

If ever there was a ‘big brother’, it is now. Nowadays all one needs is an ordinary 3G hand phone (mobile, cell phone) that do almost everything that once needed a hall full of electronic gadgets with a dozen operators.

No secret is a secret any more. Every so called ‘Secret’ whether coded, scrambled, encrypted or just converted into some ‘electronic jumble’ are just some digitalized binary mish-mash that can be ‘decoded, ‘unscrambled’ ‘decrypted’, ‘unmished’ or ‘unmashed’ by some ten year whiz kid or ‘geek’ lovingly called ‘hacker’.

No, there are no secrets, nothing remains to be unraveled, hacked.

But high above, there’s this guy called ‘God’ who’s been laughing all the way since he created ‘Eve’. Eve, one can’t decode, unscramble, decrypt, unmish or unmash or hack into her brain, or her mind. The only ‘yet to be Unraveled Mystery’ of the Universe. Man hasn’t yet reached the end of the Universe, not yet. But he will, surely. But will man ever unravel ‘her’, naah, never… even her creator, God, has failed…

Man was the prototype of human beings God tried to make, in his own image... Then he saw all his faults (the mirror wasn't invented yet), found a few shortcomings... and then he perfected the human being... , a missing thing here, and an addition there, and lo and behold, came the perfected human being; Man version 2.0... and called it ‘Woman’. Not a bad creation, eh… 'perfected human being = woman'. But why he still persisted with Man 1.0, only God knows. He could have created a New man or Man-now or even a namoW, matching his perfected version... At the end, what God created and why, is still a mystery to him… and in this case, even God doesn’t know… Wonder why God took that break on the seventh day we call Sunday???

The Man 1.0 , God named it Adam (it, because language and grammar came much later), was lost the moment the Man 2.0, God named it Eve, set eyes on it. Lets not get lost between the two its and refer them as him and her. No man has ever remained untouched by her mystery. She won’t just come into your life. She spreads into you like the fog or mist in winter. Maybe that’s why she still remains a mystery... 


The unraveling will continue...

-Ken Featherlite

“Oh!!! it's him again..."

“Oh!!! it's him again..."

Tringgg….. tringgg… her cell phone rings.

Oh! Its him… What a time to call, she thinks, but attends the call…

“Hello???” she.

“Hi! Howdy?” he.

“Okaaaay…” stretches it a bit…, impatiently, conveying her already escalating irritation…

What an inopportune time to call, she thinks. She has so much on her mind and then he has to call now. Ok, I’ll just give him a minute and get him off some way.

He’s silent.

“Oh, hello?? Are you there?” Maybe the line got disconnected, she thinks, hopefully.

“Yeah, right here.” He.

“Yes, tell me. What’s special??” She asked, very formally. She didn’t want to sound too curt either.

Uncaring of her irritated tone; “Just remembered you, so I thought why not call you? Nothing important, though. Remember that presentation I had made??”

Now which one was that, she wondered. “oh yeah, that one. did you…???

“Yes yaar, the same. Got a very unexpected response.” He.

Now the cat in her; “Unexpected??”

So it goes on for some time. And then “You’ve been a great help” He continues; “Remember that…”

“Look, I am expecting a very important call, can I call you back?” She had to prevent him jumping into another one of his escapades.

“Sure, I’ll wait for your call. Bye…” He sounds just a bit concerned, again, but disconnects.

Ha!!! What a relief.

How many of these types do you know? I mean the guys you don’t want to talk to, don’t want to be seen with and yes, no use for?

You won’t remember when he came into your life. He just glides into your life. You might have met him in a party eying you from afar. You might have met him in a friend’s place helping out, or just in a bus or train or at some public place. Before you know it, he has smoothly landed in the apron of your life, like an old student to a teacher, like a lost son to a mother or like some old friend, someone you knew from a long time ago, part of your life from yonder.

He just cozies into you with his glib talk, has your cell number and e-mail address before you know it and when you reach home there’s already a mail waiting for you in your inbox and that message tone you hear is his message of thanks to you.

He’s one of those flirty characters, sometime overbearing or even patronizing. He’s the one with that ‘holier than thou’ attitude. He’s that ‘know all’ kind of fellow. Probably he thinks too much of himself. Sometimes he suffocates you, constricts your thoughts, just real pain in the ‘you-know-where’ kinda guy…

You would love to ‘hate’ him, but for some reason you won’t do that, someway you are always in contact. You remember and call him when you are stuck, want to know something, something about something, some consultation. Then brush him off, coz he doesn’t stop talking, but you probably got what you wanted. He triggers something with his non-stop yapping…

He isn’t someone despicable or despised. He isn’t someone who troubles you for something or other. He isn’t someone who owes you money you’d loaned him, nor is he that one who keeps asking for help. Though he’s just useless, he’s always around, just around the corner when you want him. When you think of him, he’s probably already dialing your number and, when connected, will probably tell you that he was thinking about you.

Oh! Then there is nothing he’s not adept at, or so he probably feels. He has an answer to give for everything, a comment on every issue and an answer to every situation, and he’ll, unabashedly, voice it even though he isn’t asked to, or expected to. He makes you feel better, or he’ll try to, if he feels you are sad or in dumps or in deep s**t. He’ll talk inconsequential things, things that aren’t important at that moment, that hour or day. But he’ll blabber on, almost as if he has guessed your mental condition. He speaks you out of that mental condition, weans you away from your present thoughts.

He’ll make you feel on top of the World, praise you high, ‘chane ke ped par chadhaata hai’ kind of guy.

He keeps you interested for a few minutes, gives a lift of sorts to your drooping spirits, makes you laugh at some silly jokes he brings out of some freezer… old and oft heard ones… but he uses them in such an irrelevant and silly kind of way, you can’t but laugh. He’ll make you feel wanted. He’ll make you angry or happy, chirpy or just cross if you want to be changed. He changes the mood you are in, for good or bad, you forget what you were doing or were busy at. He’s absolutely useless otherwise, but he’ll listen to you…

He’s also a human being. He also has his own sorrows and happiness. He, also, falls in love, mostly one sided, as he doesn’t express it but keeps it to himself. You wouldn’t know whether he’s in love with you or not, but you’ll always feel so, mistake his flirting nature, hence you are a bit wary, a bit concerned. Sometime you are really annoyed and reprimand him and push him out of your life. You hope never to see him again, never to talk to him again.

Oh! He’ll feel the rebuff, be pained, feel bad and dejected but he’ll just get up, dust his cloths, comb his hair, smile at himself and the World and out he goes. He’s back again for one more round of romance or being useless and always at the beck n call of the girl he has decided to latch on.

Till one day you miss him, you think about him, and then…

your phone rings…

-------------------- Ken Featherlite --------------------

abhi naa jao chhod kar...

Fail Not Thy Meet

(with due apologies to Shakespeare)


Then her cell phone rang, in that endearing ring tone she’d set for him ‘Main zindagi ka saath nibhaata chala gaya, har fikr ko dhuen mein udata chala gaya’.

He was like that, contrary to his age and responsibilities he had, full of cheer and élan. She had so many online friends, but none, ever, like him. She remembered why she had got attracted to him, 10 years her senior in age, a profile that itself spoke the man he was. This online friend had become so important to her that she knew she can’t live without him. Now the day was nearing, when she’ll see him, in flesh and blood, her love. She had been expecting this call.

She lifted the cell phone and, with all the love she could muster in her voice, said, ‘Hi’.

He was as chirpy as ever and with that ‘josh’, so typical of him and said ‘howdy silly?

She always went soft and mushy when he called her that, not his regular ‘sweetheart’ or ‘chocolate’ or ‘buttercup’ or ‘butterscotch’ or his own special concoction, ‘Chocolate covered Alpenliebe’. Though a diabetic, he loved sweets and used all his favorite items on her. Didn’t she love him soooooooooooooooo much?

She said ‘Hi dumbo,’ he liked it very much. ‘Tell me’ she said as usual and he said ‘luv ya honey, my silly girl.'

‘I am reaching on Friday afternoon and will be checking in ‘Hotel Grand Cannon’ he said, his joy so contagious that she felt some of it rubbing out on her, too. It was her suggestion, because it was only 5 minutes from her home, and he had booked online. In fact she had drawn the schedule for his three days stay there.

On his arrival, he was to call her and after sprucing up, he was to meet her at Café Coffee Day (funny about that advert, ‘a lot can happen over coffee’) right across his hotel. They had decided to sit across each other holding hands and looking into each others' eyes, not talking, just saying everything they wanted to say through their eyes. Then they were to go around the town, just holding hands and have dinner at a quite place. Not that she’ll need it, or he. Each other’s company, itself, was enough. Then watch a movie and later drop her back. He had always wanted to do that, so he can kiss her goodnight. He lived in a kind of dream world only young boys of 18-19 will think about, right out of those love stories the youngsters read.

Saturday and Sunday were so fixed that Sunday evening was specially kept for a meeting with all her net friends and he was to be the star attraction. He wrote well and always original. Most of her friends online had always liked his writings. He wrote stories and poems, both in Hindi and English. Only thing that prevented him from writing in the other 6 language he knew was the lack of readership. He was a real ‘polyglot’.

He had said that as soon as he arrived, he’ll give her a tinkle, and saying he had lot of things to wind up before starting tomorrow, he hung up with his usual ‘luv ya honey’.

She suddenly remembered that today was Wednesday and he was reaching on the day after tomorrow. Hell!! She had to do so many things during the next two days. Make arrangements for that meeting, get her old pink/brown striped shirt washed and ironed, he loves it, she remembered, and she was going to wear that, for him. And she had to visit her beautician, for having her hair done, it’s been more than two months and she was avoiding it, ‘lazy bum’ that she was.

The next two days were very hectic. She had to call up all her friends and ensure their attendance, fix up the menu, time and what to do afterwards. Surprisingly, he didn’t call the next day, till he was in the train.

She could imagine him jumping around in the train as he spoke in his inimitable effervescent style as he said that his seat was confirmed and that the train was on time. Throughout that evening he kept on calling her and sending her messages, as he usually did.

It was ‘that’ Friday, one she’s been waiting for. Unusually she got up very early. As is her routine, she switched on her favorite FM channel, and listening to the songs, went about preparing to go to office. He was not due till evening, but she had decided to go to office early and finish all her work by four, so that she can come home and change, before meeting him. Her FM channel, for some reason wasn’t playing the usual love songs. She also heard RJ mentioning some railway accident and, as these channels usually do, give out telephone numbers for the relatives to contact the authorities. She thought about switching on the television to know more about it and as she was just searching for the remote, her cell played the message tone. She knew it’s got to be his, his regular good morning sms. She loved them and had told him that his sms always made her day. As usual it was one mentioning how much he loved her and how deep; today it was ‘as deep as the deepest mine man has ever dug’. She loved it, always loved the innovative way he said he loved her. Assured, she had forgotten the train accident completely.

As expected he called dot at 5 pm and said that he’ll meet her at CCD in one hour flat. She told him that she need to go home, wash and change and will meet him at 6.30 sharp and he should go and occupy a table at the farthest corner.

She arrived on time at CCD and, as he had promised, hugged her and remained like that for so long that she knew people might be wondering. She felt her being drained out, out of all her pain, hurt, unhappiness that has been accumulating in her over the years, she felt relaxed and relieved and a lot lighter. He held her at arms length and looked at her and gave that smile he calls his weapon. Actually it was a great feeling, his hug and his smile. Later, after dinner and the movie, he dropped her home, and, as promised, he kissed her, deep and passionate and left her near the lift after giving her a wink, smiling impishly and humming the song 'abhi na jaao chhod kar, yeh dil abhi bhara nahin...'.

Saturday and Sunday went as planned, exhausting but terrific. The meeting with her friends was a great hit. He had that uncanny knack of endearing every one he met, in seconds. A few words and his touching your elbow while shaking hands, was electric. Even men, there were three of them, started liking him once their protective mask got removed by his friendly casual down to earth countenance.

Late, around 1.00 am, he had dropped her near the lift and, again, kissed her passionately, lingering a while longer. He said good night and requested her to come to station to see him off. She agreed, morning train time did not clash with her office hours, and said good night and entered the lift.

As she switched on the light in her room, she saw the day’s Newspaper lying exactly where she had left it in the morning, half hidden under her pillow. As she lifted it, a picture of a mangled train caught her eye. And below that picture was a list of people who were dead or injured. And, staring at her in the list of the dead was the name ‘Ken Featherlite’

She couldn’t believe it. Ken had just now dropped her near the lift. He was with her on Friday, till late in the evening, whole of Saturday and today. She and her friends and Ken had a great time together. Could it just be a mix up in names? But she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Called two of her friends who were in that meeting and they, too, felt it could be a mix up of names.

Then she decided to call the Hotel. They checked their guest register and said, ‘no ma’am, he didn’t check in at all’. There was no one in that name registered in their hotel.

Now she was really shivering. She dialed his cell number. No ‘pal pal pal…’ welcome tune. No ringing. No message from the cell company.

As she disconnected the line, her cell rang, the sms tune.. she looked at the screen, message from Ken Featherlite. Relaxed, she opened the indbox and read the message;

“Hi Honey, how can I miss meeting you? ‘Fail not thy meet…..’ “

She looked up, her eyes rolled and she collapsed…

-------------------------------------------------------Ken Featherlite

‘In search of a perfect HUG’

‘Why’ : she.

‘Why? Coz you’ll like it’ : me.
‘I don’t like it’ : she
‘Why don’t you like it, I thought a hug’s supposed to be good and are liked by all…’

… and so it went…

Are there good or bad hugs?? How can a hug be good or bad? Can they be different in type or kind or...?

HUGly questions…

I can understand the difference between a smile, a grin and a smirk. But a hug? Bear hug apart, can a hug express different emotions, too?? Can it be anything other than a hug?

Well??

Of course, in a very different kind of way and it’s in the mind of both the giver and the receiver.

And then the revelation; that the hug has everything to do with the mind and the receiver’s immediate mental, physical or spiritual condition…

Aahaaa…

I went about searching for the perfect HUG

Remember how a little child comes crying to her mother and the mother just hugs the child even without asking what had happened while uttering words like ‘its ok kiddo, shhh.. dahling.’ The child, after a few seconds in ‘that’ hug, stops crying and goes back to whatever she was doing, even before the mother had started asking why she was crying.

The child was sad or hurt, in pain or just unhappy or maybe for any other reason or that she just wanted to feel the comfort hug gives. The mother only knew her child needed her, needed to be comforted and the reasons didn’t matter, the solution did. That simple hug did what the child was expecting, gave her the comfort, gave her the feeling that someone cares and she can run to her mother whenever she needs that comfort.

One doesn’t need to know the reasons why the other needs to be comforted, or need that hug; in fact the receiver isn’t even aware that it was a hug that was needed, but just needed to be comforted. But the giver understood the need that a hug is needed to be given at that exact moment, the need to comfort, without asking any questions, and all will be fine.

It’s this precise moment the hug is given, that becomes the most important part of a hug, timing… A delay caused by asking questions, asking the reasons actually takes away all the comfort from the hug, it just becomes something uncomfortable and the receiver tries to squirm out of that hug.

The wonderful warm and cozy feeling of comfort is when the giver knows a hug is needed, and understands the receiver’s mental condition that needs to be comforted, and gives it immediately, that brings miracle that has made HUG such an important thing in our lives.

Then there are occasions and reasons for hugs, like now…

HUGZZZZZ…….

A hug is worth its weight in gold if it is given at the precise moment it is required and given without a word.

The ‘perfect hug’

------------------------------Ken Featherlite