The Gutter Of Talent

I recently chanced upon a very strange spot in the city. It’s quite funny how you might live in a city all your life but never manage to see a particular spot. You might hear about the place and may even have a vague idea of it’s location but you never get round to visiting it even though it is so close to home. The place however, in my reference exists in every city of the world. It has an omnipresent character. It is as pervasive as pollution yet hidden away from sight as sewage lines. The place is the gutter of talent.

The gutter of talent is the place where all the talents of the city which have not been utilized are eventually flushed into. You remember your friend with the breakthrough business plan? Or the cousin who was so good at acting, singing etc? Or your only graduate uncle who gave up that IIT seat to take over the family Kirana store? Well they all now stop by here on their way back from their underachieved lives. Although symbolically insignificant, the stench of rotting talent is the worst of it’s kind. The funny thing about smell is, now this is a universal principle that the person emanating the scent, rarely seems to notice it but a the third person has to put his reserve to the test, by suppressing his urge to cover his nose and retch.

Oh what a sight it is to stop by this canal of filth! It is a perfect place for many a caution stories. The once successful, beautiful, intelligent, artistic, creative the list goes on.. are now reduced to the decadent, suppressed, lifeless, depressed, unhappy…this list too goes on. Many of them confide in me from time to time telling me about their good old days. It’s the past that’s promising for most of them and the future looks bleak. Ask them how they ended up here and you get all sorts of answers on how the world’s wronged them, some begrudge the society, Some parents, some siblings, some friends, some enemies rarely do I hear self-blame. But I hear there’s another gutter for that somewhere in this city.

It’s not that their unhappy. No. They are very happy. Pretty much like Sureshbhai. Sureshbhai uses this atrocious smelling perfume and has been using it for years. I hear people have told him of it’s wretched smell to which he responds “I can’t smell it.” . What is excruciating about these people is that like Sureshbhai, they never seem to notice what they are giving out. It is the people who surround them have to bear the brunt. Each one residing in that gutter is an utterly gifted person. I have met many of the best orators, writers, singers, artists, fathers, daughters, sons and mothers on my frequent excursions there. Ironically, each one knows how good they are and can be but whether they lack in initiative or action is beyond me. For now I am content with my visits there and don’t ever want to go back. If you’re interested, you’re welcome to try. All it takes is for you to find out what you love to do and just stop doing it.

Prison Diary

There was once a time, I sat alone.
Longing for company, Locked in my home.
I used to look out into the dark nights.
Hoping that a visitor just might,
Make his way unto my doorstep.
I waited in patience brushing the tears shed.

Scores of eyes glared at the manor in intense hate.
even as Many a feet crossed my gates.
Yet not one cared to tread in.
To see me well, to share a grin.
I was unaware of the outside din.
It now appears they believed I've lived a life of sin.

Tired of the waiting, I retired to my armchair
just not caring.
It was then I received a visitor.
My first one after the last had left years earlier.
He wasn't a handsome specimen mind you.
For he sported ugly horns and heeled boots.

"What do you want of me?", I asked him.
"A lime would be good, with a spot of Gin."
came the reply.

I watched exasperatedly as this guest of mine,
Helped himself with considerable audacity.

"You are accused of three heinous crimes."
He said tapping the now empty bottle.
I steeled my self for this trial of times,
even as my hair stood on its ends hearing his nasty chortle.

"Pray, speak what my deviance is?
Point him out, he who has grievances.
Remind me where I have erred,
So I may surmise what else is there to be learned."

"Very well, You shall have it as you wish."
He said waving his hand with a flourish.

There appeared a cloud from the fireplace
Broadcasting an incident where I fell from grace.
It was an incident of my youth,
Since when I have never forsaken the truth.

"Is it to be believed,
that you have acted with immense greed?
By resorting to honesty,
You have damned society to face it's own hypocrisy."

"It is true." I replied.
Undaunted, unmarred

"Then I pronounce you guilty as charged!"

"Charge number two:
Have you ever been selfless?"
He asked even as I was reeling with acceptance.

I recalled the now long gone past,
whence I had forsaken my desires and held fast.
It was then it dawned upon me, It seems
I had lived for others giving up my own dreams.

Pangs of regret began to choke me,
Even as the cursed devil moved on to charge number three.

"Has forgiveness too been your game?"
He eyed me crossly.
Sunk as I was, I hung my head in admitted shame.

"How then can we allow you to reside in this Society?
One that values dishonesty and thrives on duality."

It was thus that I was ostracized,
But it was wisdom rather than regret that donned my eyes.

So I went to the gallows a happy man,
Looking back at the world for that one last time,
It was a good run, I still say.
As I wait in my cell block for a visitor to come my way.

Over the events, I have learned.
Good deeds can't be cured.
How I wish I could join the herd!
My name is God,
And I have left the world.