The School

Sheshadri woke up at 5.00AM, his usual time every day. He completed his morning rituals and was at the breakfast table by 7.00aM. He had the day’s newspaper in his hand. While he was busy pondering over some important news item, his wife snatched the paper and kept a plate in front of him. It was his favorite breakfast.


“What’s special today? You have prepared my favorite after a long time” he winked at her

“Ofcourse it’s a special day. Isn’t It?” She smiled and went in to get the hot cup of filter coffee.

After the breakfast, Sheshadri went to his room to get dressed. He took out the neatly ironed crisp white dhoti. It had a very thin golden zari border. He then took out his favorite light blue shirt, and then wore the black coat, which made him look very handsome. As he proceeded to leave the room, near the door was his cream and gold turban, which he picked on the way out. As he was nearing the main door, he realized he forgot his most loved possession. He went back to his writing desk and picked up his pen. He put it in the pocket of his coat.

As Sheshadri walked, almost every day greeted him with a smile. There was no doubt; he was one of the most respected men in the entire community. In 20 minutes, he reached school. He had been a part of school, from the time he was a kid.

The first time he came to the school, was with his dad. They did not have uniforms then. He wore a mini white dhoti and a grey shirt with a black turban. His grandmother had pinned up a peacock feather to his turban. She always thought of him as Lord Krishna. He had been a top scorer in Mathematics, Science and Sanskrit. He had ventured out of the town to gain knowledge in the 3 subjects. He had come to the town and joined the same school as a teacher. In a few years, he was able to convince everybody that girls deserved to be in such a great school and they deserved to have girls in their school. Years later, his children were students of the school.

He had served the school for 35 years. It was time for him to retire. Neither him nor the school wanted him to leave. But they had to abide by the rules. As he entered his room, there was a note kept on his desk

“Beloved Sir,

You have always been our inspiration. We will be grateful our entire life. We would like to invite you to the auditorium, for a little surprise. Please grace the occasion.

-A humble request from your students and staff”

He remembered how he had gone in search of the best builders in town to get the auditorium built. It surely was one of the best in couple of towns nearby. As he neared, the building seemed too huge and overwhelming to him. The security guard near the door, smiled and bowed in respect, and opened the door. As Sheshadri stepped in, he could hear the loudest applause ever in his life. The number of people in the auditorium was astonishing. Students had come from all over the country. As he neared the stage, the crowd cheered. He took the centre stage, folded his hands in front of everybody, and bowed down. The applause had stopped but there was not a single person present who had not stood up. He gestured them to take their seats. He also took his place on the stage.

The farewell went for hours together, where Sheshadri did not utter a word, but everybody else wanted to convey what his role had been in their lives. He was moved by their speech, and content that he had touched so many lives. The vice-principal of the school came to make a speech. He wished Sheshadri for a peaceful life ahead and mentioned that they would be like lost sheep without his guidance, and that even though he would officially not be a part of the school, his suggestions and guidance would always be required.

Finally, it was time for Sheshadri to give the speech. He had never liked long speeches as a kid. He had followed the same principle as a teacher and till date as a principal. His speech was always, short and crisp. He made sure they left a mark on the audience. But today, he was emotional. He dint know how to talk. For the first time in years, he felt, he would probably fumble in front of his students. His first speech as a student flashed in front of him. He remembered, he was the 1st standard, and he was supposed to talk about a topic for a minute. The topic given to him was school. Sheshadri smiled. He knew what he was about to tell his audience.

As he came near the mike, students rose from their chairs. Sheshadri neared the mike.

“Thank you. Please be seated. I might fumble if I see all of you stand. You don’t want to do that to your old man now. Do you?” Everybody laughed and sat down.

“I remember the first time I was asked to give a speech in my life. I was given a minute to speak. As I picked the sheet of paper, my hands trembled. But the moment I read what was in the sheet of paper, I had a smile on my face and my father says, he saw a twinkle in my eyes. The topic I had to speak for a minute was “school”. I spoke for a few seconds. I finally ended saying “I will never ever leave this school. I love it here”. Little did I know then, that I would stick to my words. I have always loved the school, and the reason behind it is all you students, teachers and the staff. I will always have time for you people. And today as I leave from here, I would like to repeat what I had said decades ago, I will never ever leave this school. I love it here. My soul will always find peace here”

He bowed in front of everybody, waved his hand at them and moved out of the auditorium.

'Ranga-Swamy'

Ranga kept his foot on the bed sheet, while Swamy was trying to pull it, trying to cover his face. A few minutes later, when Swamy knew his efforts were futile, he rolled the sheets over Ranga. There were no beds to make early in the morning, for they had no beds to sleep on. They slept on the floor. There was no room to clean. They did not even have a house, and were satisfied sleeping on the pavement of the railway station. This was their life for years, from the time they were born.


“Ranga-Swamy”, the station master, Pratap called out, and both ran upto him. It was their breakfast time. This was the one meal he could provide to the duo. Pratap had given them shelter years before. Both were at his doorstep. His family was huge; hence he couldn’t afford to accept them to be a part of his family. He secretly allowed them to stay near the railway station. He would buy breakfast for them on the way. The porters took pity on them and allowed them to help in the work. They got their share and lived off it in a corner.

Even though both grew up together, they were different in many ways. Swamy was always the one who spoke to everybody; Ranga was the stronger one, but a silent follower of Swamy. His eyes did most of the talking. “Ranga-Swamy” were the names given by Pratap, to the lovely duo.

As days passed by, Swamy noticed Ranga was slowly losing his strength. He wanted to take Ranga to a doctor, but they hardly made money to satisfy the daily needs, spending for a doctor visit seemed out of bounds. Swamy decided, he would take help from Pratap, just this once. The duo never accepted any monetary help from him. They knew how difficult it was for Pratap to manage his family. They not intend to burden him with their problems. But, this time, Swamy couldn’t resist. It was not for him, but for his companion, who had been with him all these years. There was not a day which passed by, when ‘Ranga-Swamy’ were not together.

The next morning, Pratap handed over the breakfast to the duo. Ranga took the food and walked away, he wasn’t cheerful, like the usual. Swamy later discussed the problem with Pratap. Even though Pratap could not afford to take care of them, he considered them their own. He checked the amount he had in his safe deposit box. They decided to take Ranga for a check-up the next day.

A month later, Swamy woke up. But, this time, there was nobody to pull his sheets, nobody to roll over the bed sheets with him. His companion Ranga had moved over to a different world, leaving Swamy alone in the world, they had shared till then. Swamy quietly folded the sheets and kept it away. He went on with his routine; the smile on the 12 year old boy was missing.

A fortnight earlier, when Pratap and Swamy took Ranga for the doctor visit, they were shocked to learn, Ranga had only a few more days left. Though Pratap understood the situation, it was difficult for Swamy. Ranga was also around 12 years. The doctor then explained to Swamy, a dog’s life span is different from that of a human and Ranga, being a dog, was nearing the end of his life.

The week after the visit was most miserable. But, the duo had the satisfaction of being with each other, their entire life. Ranga had pulled the sheets from Swamy’s face and once they both had rolled over the sheets and on each other, they started panting for breadth. Ranga was on his best friend’s lap, in a few minutes he became motionless. Swamy knew, it was time. A tear drop from Swamy’s eyes trickled down to Ranga’s face.

A decade later, Swamy still is a porter in the railway station. He tries to help any stray animal. He has an old photograph of Ranga and him, which Pratap had gifted him. The void left by Ranga has not been filled by anyone in his life yet. Pratap hopes one day Swamy will find someone, who does just that, takes Ranga’s place in Swamy’s heart. “Ranga-Swamy” till then will remain inseparable.

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Nikon D7000, Canon 550 D, Nikon 5100 – G was on constant research for the past few months. Well, he was researching on DSLRs for a longer time, to choose among the 3 mentioned, it was a few months. I was not totally convinced that we need a SLR. We have a good Canon point and shoot S3 IS, and the person who uses it most is me. Ofcourse we had our discussions and anrguements. I did not find it sensible enough to spend thousands on something, we were hardly going to use.

D7000 was definetly a no from my side as it cost around 70K. I was finally ok with either of the other two cameras as they were nearly half of the first one. Fortunately, D7000 is not in stock from quite some time, hence leaving us with two cameras to choose. Last week we became the proud owners of Canon 550 D. Our anniversary is coming up this month, and what better gift to us, from us, which will be used by us.

As of now, both of us are exploring the camera. And I must say, I am enjoying it. It definelty worth it. Here is my fav pic till now, taken in Lalbagh on 6-May-2012. Reminds me of Cherry blossom in Macon, USA

The Bell

Kumar was returning to his village after a decade. The city had given him all that he had wished for, as a kid. It was a long journey in his life to blend into the city life. But, it would be longer to go back to his original life. It was as if all these years he was living in a dream. A dream, where he lived as someone else. He had no regrets of leaving his village, for he knew, he would return.

The bus was crowded, but Kumar had managed to get a window seat. It was probably the effect of his attire. The neatly pressed white shirt and the blue jeans, which he had changed into at the railway station, made him look no less than a movie star. The Polaroid dark glasses on his chalked out face, and the neatly set hair just added more stars to his appearance. As soon as he got the luggage loaded on the bus, the other passengers made way and let him select any seat on the bus. He was busy soaking in the scenery the route had to offer. He had four hours before he could reach his house, his village, the place where he spent his childhood.

His thoughts were running faster than the bus. Were they running ahead to see his future? Or to go back to the sweet memories of the place, was something nobody except Kumar could tell. He remembered his house and the temple. Both the places, where his favorites in the village. He would always enquire about them. He had unlimited memories from the time spent near the temple. He would go there every day with his friends. The banyan tree, on the banks of the river, just behind the temple, used to be their hangout place. He would run into the temple and try to touch the huge temple bell. He wasn’t tall enough then, to touch it. He would come back with a long face, to cheer him up, his friends would form a tower, for him to climb up and hit the bell. After this they would run away fearing the scolding from the temple priest.  Since Kumar would fall from the top of the tower, almost every day there would be wound or a bruise on his body.

The bell rang, but this time, it wasn’t the temple bell. It was the simple bell in the bus, which brought back Kumar from his memories. His village was just a kilometer away and this was to alert everybody to get ready to make their way to the door. The scenes seemed familiar to him. The long stretches of farmlands with men and women toiling in the harsh sun. He could see huge towers too in the middle of these farms. He understood them to be the assets of the cell phone companies. He wondered, even if there were problems for water and electricity, there was no dearth of cell phones.

The sudden break on the bus put a break to his train of thoughts. As he set his foot on the road, unloaded his luggage from the bus, and the bus continued his journey, he saw a dozen people waiting on the other side of the road. They had flower garlands, basket of flowers, drums, and trumpets. As soon as he crossed the road, he was surrounded by his uncles, cousins, who lifted him on their shoulders. The welcome party paraded on the roads of the village and finally stopped in front of the huge gate. The drums and trumpets did not stop until the huge gate opened.

Kumar stepped in, on one side, he saw the cowshed. There were a dozen of cows. Few years back, when he left, there were just a couple of cows and one of them was pregnant, due to deliver the calf. The sight of the cows and and cow dung in round shapes on the wall brought a smile to his face. He remembered how he would help his mother make those cow dung cakes. In that excitement, he would smear the dung all over his body and would get scolded by his mom for messing himself. His mother would remove his dirty clothes and bather him with the water from the well.

As he stared at the well, he visualized a small boy playing with a bucket of water. The boy’s mother was forcing him to quit playing, bathe quickly and change into the dry clothes. She was splashing water on him. He could feel the same, and realized, somebody was actually sprinkling water on him. He looked at the hand. They were the same tender hands which took care of him in his childhood. The same hands which bid good bye to him, when he was set to leave the village. He touched the hand and kept it on his head. His mother had promised him, whatever happened; she would never leave his side. She had kept her promise. She was his moral support.

He looked at her eyes. He could see tears, similar to how they were when he was leaving. There was one difference, this time he could spot the joy hidden n them. The tears were shining like diamonds. The mother and son hugged each other. As they parted, Kumar’s father stepped forward. He was waiting for this embrace for a long time. He met his relatives, distributed the gifts he had carefully packed for everyone. His mom just couldn’t take her eyes off him and her fingers were busy ruffling his hair. His father looked at him with pride, while Kumar felt content lying on the floor with his head supported on his mother’s lap.

Kumar was eager to visit his childhood hangout place, the temple. In the evening, he dressed up in the traditional attire and went to the temple. As he entered, he saw a tower of kids and one short boy, trying to reach the bell. Just when the boy was about to touch it, the priest came running with a stick to chase the boys. The tower collapsed. The boy touched the ground, luckily fell on his palms. Kumar could understand the feelings of the boy. He went near the boy, lifted him up and helped him strike the bell. The joy on the boy’s face gave Kumar immense happiness, probably much more than, is he had hit the bell himself.

A month later, there was a development in the temple. In one corner of the temple, there were multiple bells hanging at different heights. Everybody now had access to the bells. Ofcourse, this did not stop the boys to form the tower. This was to hit the bell which was six feet above the ground. Kumar felt, his decision to come back home was not wrong afterall.

Waves

The sound is so mesmerizing. You can easily get lost in them. It’s a constant thing. Day or night, it is the same sound. The intensity might vary at times, but if you observe closely, it’s just the same.

What is it that I am writing about here? It’s the Waves. Waves in an ocean. In the vast ocean, there probably aren’t as many waves in the middle. But the shore has only waves. The sea shore is where we belong. There is humongous amount of human inhabitation, so to us, the first thing about ocean is water and of course waves. All we care about is how huge the waves are. Will it take away from us, something we love? But legend has it; the ocean never takes anything away from us forever. Whatever it takes, it returns the same, after a while. Well, in what condition, it is up to us to imagine.

I was just looking t the ocean. It was throwing at me, some small, some huge waves. What was it trying to tell me? Probably I could take a message:
A wave which looks huge, very huge at a distance, might die down, before it comes to the shore. This is like a problem in life. At far, it might look huge, but it might not be a problem at all, by the time it comes near us. But that doesn’t mean we ignore everything which is huge at a distance. Similarly, a wave which is small at far, might just build up and hit you as a huge one, and sweep you off your feet. Aren’t they so similar to our problems? It is up to us to remain alert at all times, yet enjoy the small waves the ocean throws at us. Just like our life.

As strange as it seems, the mighty ocean filled with salt water, and of course mysteries inside, has a great lesson to teach us, creatures on the shore.

The Come Back

In a village near Chitradurga, Sundari seemed like the happiest woman of the day. She had woken up an hour earlier than the usual. Had she slept at all the previous night was questionable. She had completed all her morning rituals much ahead of sunrise. Sundari was the river bank when she witnessed the sun rise. It was the usual time and the same scene, but on that day, it seemed like the most beautiful sunrise she had even seen in her lifetime. After the mesmerizing sight she filled her mud pots with water and headed back home.

As she reached home, her husband had woken up, completed his morning rituals and was offering his prayers to God. She hurried to the kitchen to make him a drink. He always had a glassful of Kashaya after the prayers. It was hot drink comprising of water boiled with pepper corn, cumin and few leaves of holy basil. She would add a clove and a cardamom too, so that it would lend a sweet flavor and acted as a mint too.

It was a special day for the couple. Their son was to return. He was taken away fourteen years back. Sundari remembered the day very well. The entire village had seen her cry. She wailed as if her son was about lose his life. In a way, it was true. He wouldn’t be a free person anymore. He would be bound. “Why at such a young age?” she would question her husband once in a while. He could only hide his tears and pat on her shoulder as she leaned on his body for comfort.

Her son would accompany her to the river bank. He loved flowing water. While she would sit at the banks, he would be busy swimming and splashing water all over. Once done and out of water, he would come running to her, she would wipe him and dress him up with fresh clothes. Both of them would sit on a rock nearby and watch the sun rise just behind the small temple on the huge mountain.

Both would go to the palace after this. Sundari was one of the maids there and her son was one of the playmates of the prince. The two boys were very close to each other. Together, they would have the best times. They would run around the palace troubling the guards and maids. Sundari once caught them red-handed, stealing a snack item from the kitchen. She chased them until they reached the Queen’s harem. The boys ran and hid behind the queen. She was a kind lady and did not punish either of them and sent them away to play, also assuring Sundari that it was alright.

She knew, for the prince, it wasn’t an offense, but her son, couldn’t be behaving this way in the palace. As a punishment, she did not take him to the the palace for a couple of days, but was forced to bring him back on the little prince’s orders.

Days passed by, one day the guards were at Sundari’s doorsteps. They were summoned at the king’s courtroom. She knew, they were in trouble, because of their son. They were in the courtroom; the couple were trembling with fear, although the boy was fearless and wore a beautiful smile and a twinkle in the eye.

What they heard in the courtroom was unbelievable. Sundari was speechless. She did not know how to react. They just bowed in front of the king and came back home. That night Sundari had tears flowing on her cheeks like flood. The next day, when the guards came to take her son away, she was uncontrollable. Finally, her husband had to drag her into the house, so that they wouldn’t come in the way of the king’s orders.

After 14 years, she dint know if her son would recognize her. She wanted to make dishes which he used to love and relish. But now, she wasn’t sure if he liked the same stuff. She din't even know, if her son would like anything back at home. Sensing her anxiety, her husband comforted her. He assured her, their son would love anything she had made. After all, he wouldn’t have had the luxury all those years, away from them.

Late in the morning, the guards came in a carriage and let him out. There was a man in his early twenties. He body seemed to be sculpted. He had a heavy bangle of sorts hanging on one of his wrists. A maroon cloth wrapped his upper body, and a shining white dhoti as a contrast for the bottom. His left ear was pierced and had a small yet thick ring. There was bright red vermillon placed in the centre of his temple. As the wind blew the shoulder length wavy hair, just tried to fly backward. He looked like the most handsome man, the village had seen in years.

Sundari was amazed at this sight. It was her son, in front of her, in flesh and blood. She wanted to run upto him and hug him, cup his face in her hands and feel the moment of truth. She was awestruck by his appearance.

He was looking at his humble abode. The house was decorated with wild flowers. The simplicity made it appear beautiful. But what caught his attention, was the sight of the couple, his parents. They looked the same as the day he left them. There were probably stands of silver on their head, but they were mostly dominated by the black hair. Also, a very few wrinkles, just to prove they had grown wiser.

He could no longer control his urge and ran upto them. He bent down to seek their blessings and finally the moment, which the trio longed for, he hugged his parents. It was lunch time and the couple were busy catching up with their sons life till date. They were grateful to the king for sending their son, along with the prince, to the Gurukul.

Ragini

Ragini, a 10 year old, was the most cheerful girl Mandari Village had seen in years. Everybody in the village loved her. Every morning, she would be seen coming out of a place as good as heaven, with a pot on her head. She would walk till the river, to fill water. They had a huge well at the backyard; this water was used for household purposes. They needed the water from the sacred river only for the rituals. She would wear a long skirt, a matching blouse both with zari border. She would have 2 thick long plaits, and a strand of Jasmine buds adored one of the plaits. She had a dozen of glass bangles to match with her dress. But there was one way, which couldn’t prevent anybody from noticing her. Her silver anklets, with a numerous small bells. The moment stepped, the anklets would catch the attention of everybody around.

With a pot of water on her head, Ragini playfully would walk thru the fields; greet everybody on her way towards the house. The house where she stayed wasn’t less charming. Small hills surrounded the huge house. The entrance of the house was a beautiful arch, with iron rods shaped like arrows pointing down, forming the border for the arch. There was a long corridor, adorned with classy antique artifacts and paintings. The house had a smell of fresh flowers.

It was the rainy season, as soon as Ragini entered the house with the pot of water, it had started drizzling outside. She loved the rains. She had heard stories from the elders at home, about heaven and gods. And when it rained, she would run to the backyard, and lean at the door and watch the scenery change. It looked like heaven, same as the stories she had heard. At front, the arch seemed like a waterfall, with water dripping from the arrows pointing down. Once the rain stopped, the drops of water at the tip of the arrows would shine like crystals. Ragini would try to jump and touch these crystals. She could never succeed and the guards near the house would lift her up so that she could touch them. She always told them “I will grow tall one day, and you will not have to lift me anymore”. They could only smile at the little girl’s innocence. She would then run into the house, and into her father’s arms. He would lift her up and turn her around. She would get a thrill in rotating, just like a fan on the roof. Her mother would see this from the kitchen door, smile at Ragini and her father. She would serve the breakfast and Ragini insisted her dad feed her every morsel she ate.

Years passed by, Ragini was turning into a fine young girl. She would still go to the river everyday, to fetch the pot of water. Their house was still the heaven she imagined it to be. There were just minor changes. She no longer needed anyone’s help to touch the crystal like water droplets, for now she could jump a little and reach them easily. Her father couldn’t lift her up and twirl her around. But she insisted, he hold her hands, and they make rounds under the fan. She would still like to be fed breakfast by her father. But now her mother no longer smiled at this. Instead there was worry on her face, a tear drop in the corner of her eye. Ragini tried to ask her mother, but was shooed away saying she was imagining.

Then came the auspicious month of weddings, many of Ragini’s friends who were younger than her, at the age of 13 were getting married. She would wonder at times, why her parents unlike others never worried about her wedding. It was not that she wanted to go away from her parents. But the unusual behavior of her parents haunted her. But everytime she would look at her mother’s worried face, she understood, probably mother was thinking about Ragini’s wedding, and that is why the worry.

It was a special day, Ragini would turn 15. She was dressed up in the most expensive saree and ornaments. The 2 plaits which showed her innocence, was not present that day. Instead it was one thick plait, and she looked like an elegant lady. The sting of jasmine buds, added to the beauty of her long hair. Everybody in the household was ready, with fine clothing and jewellery. There was just one thing missing, on them. The smile. Ragini was the only cheerful girl in the entire house. She couldn’t understand, why were everybody mourning. She went and asked her father if she was dead. He was holding back his tears all the while, and on hearing this question, he burst out crying aloud. For her this was a horrible sight, she had never ever seen such a sight in her life. Her father was crying.

Everybody boarded the horse carriage, she insisted, she sit with her father. She wanted to know the reason for him crying. As the carriage moved forward, she kept asking her father, why he cried. His eyes were closed, but she could see the tear drop in the corner of the eye, trying to have a leap from his face on his shoulder. She took the end of her saree and wiped off the tear. She wanted to change the mood of her father. She started talking about the trees, the animals, the river, her friends to cheer him up. Her father managed to give a fake smile to her. She was content; she had managed to bring a smile on her father’s worried face. As she turned back, she glanced the carriage her mother was in. She was crying too. All the ladies in that carriage were trying to console her, but were not successful. She could sense they were going in the same route, which they usually take to visit her maternal grandparents. She was concerned, and hoping, her grandparents were safe.

Just before entering the village, the carriages took a turn, and stopped near a huge ground. It seemed like the whole village had gathered. As people from the carriages went in, a couple came up to Ragini’s parents and greeted them. Ragini’s family were shown a place to rest, It was under a huge banyan tree. A confused Ragini, now pleaded her parents to explain the happenings. Finally her father told her about something, she was unaware in her lifetime.

She was 3 years old, when Ragini was married off to a boy. He was not more than 6 years. When he was around 10, a deadly disease struck the village, and most of the kids lost their lives. As fate would have it, Ragini’s husband parted with the mortal world. Since Ragini was still a kid, when this happened, elders decided she should live her childhood as a happy child, and not knowing about this unfortunate event which had ruined her life. Today, as she was crossing the threshold of childhood and entering adolescence, she would be made aware of her life.

Ragini was shocked, even though her physical body had grown out of the innocent childhood, her mind had not.

“Father, What will happen to me now?” was a innocent question she asked him. Before he could answer, a few ladies took her away. Her father could listen to her cries, her mother couldn’t take all this and wanted to save her daughter from the rituals, but was not allowed to go anywhere.

Within a few minutes, the beautiful, cheerful and colourful Ragini changed into a lifeless body. Her soul was taken away. Now all that stood in front of her parents, was a body, who did not know how to react to the situation.

In a few minutes, after the soul parted from her body, she was placed in the sacred fire, for a ritual named ‘Sati’. Her lifeless body turned ashes.

Kill To Win

The “Kill to Win” fights happened every year. The crowd had gathered in huge numbers. It was the day of the “Big” fight. The Finale. Both the fighters were experts. They had not lost a single fight. They had never faced each other in any tournament. They were brothers, hence were never allowed to compete against each other. These fights never enthused the duo. It was the pressure of the audience, and the money involved in these fights, the owners coaxed the duo to participate in the fights.

The knives were sharpened and tied to them, this could be used later. Both of them seemed to be well fed, for they looked bigger than the normal. As they took the centre stage, the crowd cheered. They were doped, as the anger in their eyes dint seem genuine. How else could the owners get the two to fight against each other? They were at their respective stands waiting for the whistle.

The whistle blew and they ran towards each other. There was a head on collision. Neither of them backed out. It seemed like none of the other parts existed. They used their head to hit each other. The knife tied also came into play. There were scratches found on both of them. The heat on the centre stage increased. Drops of blood on the stage were visible. Both of them were bleeding at many places. But the format was “Kill to Win”, so no mercy was taken. The match wouldn’t end until one of them had the last breath of life.

There came a moment when, one of them was too fatigued. He wasn’t able to respond to the blows. He was on the verge of collapsing.

Just then a whistle blew. The crowd was confused. They looked at the direction of the whistle. They were shocked to see, police vans coming in. Behind the vans was the ambulance. The stretchers came out and fighters were carefully carried on the stretchers, into the ambulance. It was a Veterinary Ambulance. The police had decided, they had to stop these “Cock Fights”, else the PETA would give them a tough time. What better time to do this, than on the final day of “Kill to Win” Cockfights.