An introductory page before the main action of a novel
It is the story of a poor boy, poor not in terms of funds but in terms of gratification. It is the story of a boy who born in lower middle class family in Mumbai. It is the story of a boy who has nothing to do with contentment and enjoyment. He is an ordinary boy who wants to achieve something in his life but waiting for some miracle to happen. Its my story. I am Yameen Thara (“KILL ME”). I don’t want to go in details about this now. I am writing this story because I felt I had to tell someone something and also want to confess. One request for you please doesn’t stop reading till the last page.
Also, let me tell you one more thing, this book is full of truths and real happening in one’s life. The hero of the story which we are about to have the honour to relate to our readers have nothing mythological about him.
A short time ago, while reading a book of my favourite author inspired me to write a book of own happening in life. It was not my intention here to enter into an analysis of this curious work of writing a book. While having a coffee on one Saturday night I take out my pen from a drawer and started writing, as I was having two days holiday from my hectic business of teaching. Words started coming in my mind and I started fulfilling my dream of writing a book and finally it is in front of you now. I would not say that this book is full of motivation and inspiration like other books but it talks about real pain and a conceal of my life. But, it is well known, what strikes in the mind of the writer is not always what affects the mass of readers. But I am putting my 100% to make it as a real story of one’s life.
On the last Wednesday of the month of August, 1985, an ordinary boy was born; in the city of Mumbai where in every couple of second 1 is born. At the time of my birth it was the time of festival where everybody in a city was enjoying but I never know that this enjoyment will ever come in my life.
I bought up in Nanded. In this little town I have many memories; my father was a businessman who fulfilled his duties very conscientiously and a man who rarely was able to give time to his family. My mother looked after the household and lovingly devoted herself to the care of her children.
I was ordinary simple boy like other but my childhood was not as usual to all it is totally different to all other kids. I was not having any friends of my age. Nobody in a street was of my age. I was having only two friends which were of my dad’s age. They were living according to themselves. In my childhood I never knew what is Gilli Dandu and kancha (Game which is played very commonly in childhood).
As I was not having friends I started making animal as my friends. I know telling Donkey as a friend is crazy thing but to share everything and keeping myself busy, I was doing this. I never share this thing to my parents because I am the only boy in my family on which all the responsibilities are there. I was also having one sister but she was 5 years elder to me. Ha my sis was also one of my friends but I never share my feeling to her. Nobody in my family knew what is going inside this smiling face. Always smiling face was keeping so much darkness inside.
I was crying looking at the open doors and waiting for some miracle to happen. I was thinking someday boys playing in Next Street will come and take me to play with them. Which never happen and I was continuously waiting for them like people wait for a tiny drop of water in desert. My sis every time supports me and tries to bring me out of loneliness. But it was not so easy for her also to do that.
At the age of three my mom put me into the school. This was English medium school for only name sake. Few days past in school but I was not sharp and was not feeling comfortable with other student. In short I was dumb in studies and a student who loves loneliness.
A young boy, we can sketch his portrait at a lonely road without any ambition and without any friends. Imagine how he feels at the age of four. He was totally different from all other student in the class he was just a boy which was observed of all observers.
After spending some critical years in poor family, I forget all my wants and needs. In very little age I got an idea I have to do it and fulfil it by my own. I was the son of a poor businessman, and while still a boy I grew restless and left all my dreams.
I spent my elementary school years at co-ed school called Nehru English School. I had a terrible time there; for some reason I was one of the pariahs of the class. The boys and girls were rich and clannish. The teachers were unjust, unpleasant and incompetent. My grades were only fair.
I was put to the Nehru-school at eight years of age; it was difficult for me to survive there also. I continued, however, at the Nehru-school. My classmates were friendly for a change. I liked the little intrigues with the girls in my co-ed classes. The other students and I went for lovely hikes in the mossy, brook-filled woods. But I failed in the semester exam, and made no progress in my Educational career. Many of my friends use to cheat and pass but I was having my own rules and regulation which pulled me down. I believe that nothing was useful which was not honest.
When I was barely nine years old I thought of doing something of my own. We were planning to buy a house by leaving the rented house. I inspired my dad by telling only a single sentence which motivated my dad to buy a new house. I told them, “dad I will now go to school by walking instead of Auto which will save Rs 120/month”. From childhood I have learn only one word i.e., sacrifice.
I was about fifteen years old, I think, when I succeeded in making myself what I had resolved to become. Thus I was able to fulfil the promise I had made as a poor boy not to stop until I was ‘somebody.’ I had gained my end. But in Nanded there was nobody who had remembered me as a little boy, and the world Childhood itself had become strange to me.
It was at this period that I first began to have standards of my own. I spent a good deal of time playing in the open, on the long road from school, and mixing up with some of the roughest of the boys, which caused my parents many uneasy moments. All this tended to make me something quite the reverse of a stay-at-home.
I gave hardly any serious thought to the question of choosing a good education in life; but I was certainly quite out of understanding with the kind of career which my father had followed.
I think you may like to know something of his (My father’s) person and character. He had an excellent constitution of body, was of middle stature, but well set, and very strong; he was ingenious, could draw prettily, was skilled a little in writing thought in Urdu, as he sometimes did in an evening after the business of the day was over, it was extremely agreeable to hear his poems. He had a mechanical genius too not in terms of degree but use to take out some or other work at home on the holiday, and, on occasion, was very handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools; but his great excellence lay in a sound understanding and solid judgment in prudential matters, both in private and public affairs; but I remember well his being frequently visited by leading people, who consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the town or of the committee he belonged to, and showed a good deal of respect for his judgment and advice: he was also much consulted by private persons about their affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently chosen an arbitrator between contending parties.
My mother was opinionated, outspoken within the family, and quick to label things “amazing” or “disgusting” ⎯ two of her favourite words. But she was always patient and loving with me, always approving. One of her most characteristic gestures towards me was to smile and then nod encouragingly. For so many years it was just two of us there for lunch together.
But neither parent inquired into my education, asked who my friends were or what I did away from home. I think that led to my tendency to avoid seeking advised always to rely on my own decisions.
I think that an inborn talent for speaking now began to develop and take shape during the more or less tough arguments which I used to have with my companion. I knew if ever I shut myself into my own room for an hour of loneliness, it was at the risk of being sent for to join the hospital of mad.
But I won time for what my heart was set upon, nevertheless, either in the early morning, or late at night. I had a strange passion for dancing, in those days; and a good preparation it proved for the subsequent work of my life. About this I may mention an incident while it occurs. I was watching my favourite dancers and choreographers song who is best in his profession none other than Prabhu Deva. I was inspired by his flexible moves and started imitating him. I still remember it was not so easy to be flexible like him. I had spent infinity of pains over it,—step by step; and I am confident I was not wrong in my judgment. I found some of the guys who were also interested in dancing. I at one time took, in competition with my companions and neighbours.
After watching Prabhudeva’s video and by comparing my work afterwards with the original, I discovered many faults and amended them; but I sometimes had the pleasure of fancying that, in certain particulars of small import, I had been lucky enough to improve the method or the steps, and this encouraged me to think I might possibly in time come to be a tolerable professional dancer, of which I was extremely ambitious. My time for these exercises and for practising was at night, after studies which I rarely do or before it began in the morning, or on Sundays. I did make many mistakes along the way and my professional dancing career from the beginning depended heavily on chance, rather than sensible planning. I think being a choreographer was the coolest thing I’d ever thought of, and I knew in my heart of hearts that my greatest ambition was going to end now.
My next mistake (although, as usual, my luck was with me in the end) occurred in 2000: I was 15, I’d never had a real date, much less a girlfriend because of my shy nature. I was fairly shy, and felt uncomfortable when thrown together with girls. I rarely had a talk with any girl, but I fell in love with Minal, 15 years old, My classmate and the one of the most attractive and popular girl of my class. The only reason we knew each other at all was that my best friend Rahim was living in Tilak Street which was one block away from her residence. To see her daily I used to go to my best pal home. Even though I had nerve dare to talk to her. I became increasingly devoted to Minal, and saw her as often as possible.
In the early spring of 2000, I was 16 years old, a senior in high school, but change of school again, now I switched to an public co-ed school called Andhra samiti for Std. X. Quality of education was very poor here but I dint have any option left with me. I have only two options left with me either to waste one precious year of my life or else take admission in so called English school. I and my father selected later one. Actually speaking there was no change in my education life, I was one and the same. Being a Protestant, I was still a bit of an outsider. The other boys would sometimes threaten to name me.
Some of the teachers at Andhra samiti were good, especially in mathematics, and physics. My best friend at Andhra samiti was a boy named Samleti (we used to call him Sam) ⎯ who later turned out to be Drunker.
PAGE MISSING....
After completing my SSC I opted for Commerce, started focusing on my studies, scored good in my HSC.
I was put to the Nehru-school at eight years of age; it was difficult for me to survive there also. I continued, however, at the Nehru-school. My classmates were friendly for a change. I liked the little intrigues with the girls in my co-ed classes. The other students and I went for lovely hikes in the mossy, brook-filled woods. But I failed in the semester exam, and made no progress in my Educational career. Many of my friends use to cheat and pass but I was having my own rules and regulation which pulled me down. I believe that nothing was useful which was not honest.
When I was barely nine years old I thought of doing something of my own. We were planning to buy a house by leaving the rented house. I inspired my dad by telling only a single sentence which motivated my dad to buy a new house. I told them, “dad I will now go to school by walking instead of Auto which will save Rs 120/month”. From childhood I have learn only one word i.e., sacrifice.
I was about fifteen years old, I think, when I succeeded in making myself what I had resolved to become. Thus I was able to fulfil the promise I had made as a poor boy not to stop until I was ‘somebody.’ I had gained my end. But in Nanded there was nobody who had remembered me as a little boy, and the world Childhood itself had become strange to me.
It was at this period that I first began to have standards of my own. I spent a good deal of time playing in the open, on the long road from school, and mixing up with some of the roughest of the boys, which caused my parents many uneasy moments. All this tended to make me something quite the reverse of a stay-at-home.
I gave hardly any serious thought to the question of choosing a good education in life; but I was certainly quite out of understanding with the kind of career which my father had followed.
I think you may like to know something of his (My father’s) person and character. He had an excellent constitution of body, was of middle stature, but well set, and very strong; he was ingenious, could draw prettily, was skilled a little in writing thought in Urdu, as he sometimes did in an evening after the business of the day was over, it was extremely agreeable to hear his poems. He had a mechanical genius too not in terms of degree but use to take out some or other work at home on the holiday, and, on occasion, was very handy in the use of other tradesmen's tools; but his great excellence lay in a sound understanding and solid judgment in prudential matters, both in private and public affairs; but I remember well his being frequently visited by leading people, who consulted him for his opinion in affairs of the town or of the committee he belonged to, and showed a good deal of respect for his judgment and advice: he was also much consulted by private persons about their affairs when any difficulty occurred, and frequently chosen an arbitrator between contending parties.
My mother was opinionated, outspoken within the family, and quick to label things “amazing” or “disgusting” ⎯ two of her favourite words. But she was always patient and loving with me, always approving. One of her most characteristic gestures towards me was to smile and then nod encouragingly. For so many years it was just two of us there for lunch together.
But neither parent inquired into my education, asked who my friends were or what I did away from home. I think that led to my tendency to avoid seeking advised always to rely on my own decisions.
I think that an inborn talent for speaking now began to develop and take shape during the more or less tough arguments which I used to have with my companion. I knew if ever I shut myself into my own room for an hour of loneliness, it was at the risk of being sent for to join the hospital of mad.
But I won time for what my heart was set upon, nevertheless, either in the early morning, or late at night. I had a strange passion for dancing, in those days; and a good preparation it proved for the subsequent work of my life. About this I may mention an incident while it occurs. I was watching my favourite dancers and choreographers song who is best in his profession none other than Prabhu Deva. I was inspired by his flexible moves and started imitating him. I still remember it was not so easy to be flexible like him. I had spent infinity of pains over it,—step by step; and I am confident I was not wrong in my judgment. I found some of the guys who were also interested in dancing. I at one time took, in competition with my companions and neighbours.
After watching Prabhudeva’s video and by comparing my work afterwards with the original, I discovered many faults and amended them; but I sometimes had the pleasure of fancying that, in certain particulars of small import, I had been lucky enough to improve the method or the steps, and this encouraged me to think I might possibly in time come to be a tolerable professional dancer, of which I was extremely ambitious. My time for these exercises and for practising was at night, after studies which I rarely do or before it began in the morning, or on Sundays. I did make many mistakes along the way and my professional dancing career from the beginning depended heavily on chance, rather than sensible planning. I think being a choreographer was the coolest thing I’d ever thought of, and I knew in my heart of hearts that my greatest ambition was going to end now.
My next mistake (although, as usual, my luck was with me in the end) occurred in 2000: I was 15, I’d never had a real date, much less a girlfriend because of my shy nature. I was fairly shy, and felt uncomfortable when thrown together with girls. I rarely had a talk with any girl, but I fell in love with Minal, 15 years old, My classmate and the one of the most attractive and popular girl of my class. The only reason we knew each other at all was that my best friend Rahim was living in Tilak Street which was one block away from her residence. To see her daily I used to go to my best pal home. Even though I had nerve dare to talk to her. I became increasingly devoted to Minal, and saw her as often as possible.
In the early spring of 2000, I was 16 years old, a senior in high school, but change of school again, now I switched to an public co-ed school called Andhra samiti for Std. X. Quality of education was very poor here but I dint have any option left with me. I have only two options left with me either to waste one precious year of my life or else take admission in so called English school. I and my father selected later one. Actually speaking there was no change in my education life, I was one and the same. Being a Protestant, I was still a bit of an outsider. The other boys would sometimes threaten to name me.
Some of the teachers at Andhra samiti were good, especially in mathematics, and physics. My best friend at Andhra samiti was a boy named Samleti (we used to call him Sam) ⎯ who later turned out to be Drunker.
PAGE MISSING....
After completing my SSC I opted for Commerce, started focusing on my studies, scored good in my HSC.
PAGE MISSING....
will be cont...
