CoMpELLed!

“ she is bossy and aggressive and therefore a born leader. She slapped AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN WHO PINCHED HER CHEEKS. SHE IS OUTSPOKEN AND CAN BE VERY LOUD AND SHRIEKY. AS FAR AS PERSONALITIES GO, SHE IS COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF HER BROTHER. BOTH ARE EXTREMELY HONEST.”

And thus explains joyshri lobo her “Present-generation” grandchildren.

“She slapped an elderly gentleman who pinched her cheeks.”

There’s something about these black eyed blocks that translate a thousand thoughts. They force me into submission to a moment from a fictional non-fiction existence.

There’s a girl on top of a bench. There’s a crowd. Batch mates. Classmates maybe would be a better word for them, morons. They who are speaking a million syllables in a single breath.. They, who don’t know that the girl on the bench has been forced to be there. The force emanating from insolent pestering by those who forget to acknowledge her in their blabber race . They, the ones who don’t know that she’s been sleeping 2 hrs, maybe less, with each passing day. They, who don’t know that she can get high by way of will alone. They, the “batch-mates.”

“SHAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHTTTTTT AP PEEE- PULLLLL”

Seconds of silence, perplexed looks, shocked embrace of sullen eyes. She knows they will listen now. Will the silence last and the command vibrate through a few more seconds of utter bliss?

Compelled.

It’s a strong word, but not fictional. She is compelled... She stands, not on the bench, but in the shoes of a 5yr old. On the porch of house where she would spend most of the 21yrs of her life growing up. This time there’s a girl in front of her, an entity-someone who would be a close friend in the future. Someone, who as of now is a cousin, an irritating, over-liked rival. An adamant soul. But then there are dew drops on her cheeks. Dew drops on a hot sultry summer evening? But that’s how they look-her tears.

Probably then, the girl who will stand on a bench one day, feeling like a maniac, pretending to be no one else, wanting to be different, is a sadist way before she knows the meaning or the existence of the term.

Sadists don’t have a conscience. Or am I wrong? An existence without conscience, is it like an actor who doesn’t know that the world’s a stage?

The child of a past- that engulfs the future. Is the sadist the future of the grand-child? Will the children of today face the sadists’ approach to life? Will she-whose cheeks are pinched today because of her countenance be compelled to be a maniac?

Will the countenance of someone’s present hide the flaws of an irate mind of the future, as also, the flaws of a parent who is lost because they are a part of an inexplicable plot ?Would the world of her future not remember the cheeks from a childhood when she slaps herself back?

Is it possible that force has a magnified multiplied reaction?