India is a democratic country. Its population is 121 billion this year. It ranks 2nd in population growth rate all over the world. Such increase in population has created crisis for food, land, money and other items which are necessary for growth and welfare of people. People work hard to earn their living. By the end of the month, he needs to pay off his debts. After paying off his debt, hardly anything remains in his hand to spend for his family. He starts hankering after wealth. This is the situation which has pushed many people to indulge in corruptions.

It has been carefully examine by the experts and research fellows that the crisis for resources exist in India. However, this situation has been made even worst by the Government officers and politicians. Millions and billions of money is still lying in their illegal bank accounts. Such illegal money does not get recovered either by any means or action. Government has made new law according to which, the illegal bank account holders can pay off tax for the black money which they are holding in foreign countries. Till date, nobody has been heard to have paid tax for such holding. Whole system is involved in this process. India has been looted many a times by the invaders in the past. They were all foreigners. But this time, the looters or the dacoits are the countrymen, Indians themselves.

Middlemen hoard food products in the store-houses to sell them at higher prices in the next year. Black marketers bury the mid-day meal of children under the soil and later sale them in the black markets. In this process, many food stock gets rotten up with the passage of time. Thus creating an artificial food crisis in India.

Today people don't get pure oxygen to breath, pure water to drink and pure food to eat. Poison is every where. Poison has effected mind and body of all living beings on the earth. After 2008, the abnormal change in price level has engulfed almost whole of India. Sudden unexpected continuous rise in prices of each and every items have made Indians even more poorer. About 75% of population of India is below poverty line. Rich businessmen are becoming richer days after days. Poor peoples are dead. Middle class families have come down below poverty line.

The new sex ratio of India has shown decline in female sex ratio. Female infanticide has taken place in most of the states at an increasing rate. Government has decided to take steps against such illegal abortions. Adhere to this, Delhi and Uttar Pradesh ranked number one in crimes like sexual harassment, kidnapping, rape and murder of teenage girls, etc. Many politicians and government officers were involved in this cases.

When we talk about decline in social and economic growth and welfare till 2011, political issues come forth automatically. All are connected with each other. Whole system is responsible behind such negative decline in growth rate. Adhere to the above mentioned problems, unemployment problem has increased abruptly. Many people are suffering due to no job, no money, no food, no proper place for living, high education fees and poor medical facilities. India is only country in the whole world which has given birth to many culture, many languages and many Dharmic gurus and sages. Due to so many culture and languages, Indians have lack of unity. They are busy in dividing states rather than changing situation and mind of people. Confusion and dispute is more. India still possess many people who are deprived of their rights and misbehaved due to their caste and religion. Many innocent Muslims were tortured by the policemen, falsely alleging them as terrorists. Many dalits were killed and farmers's land were confiscated.

65 years have passed after independence. India is still poor due to corruption. Corruption has got so much space and liberty due to bogus political system.  Many Indians have left India forgetting their motherland. India need strong leaders who can change these negative trends to at-least positive one.

‘Over here!’ Michael whispered from behind the thick bush, nursing a deep cut in his lower abdomen.

 

I scampered towards the bush, gasping with both hunger and thirst, not to mention the agonizing pain of cramp in my shoulder. Back packs hung from my paralyzed back, bruises covered the whole of my body, and worst of all, I was in the midst of nowhere on a dark Saturday night.

There was one light in the tunnel of disappointment though, I was not alone. I had Michael with me. But right then, he was not the Michael I knew. He was bruised, tired and the lines on his forehead remained crippled due to the growing sense of panic we were in.

 

I took out a towel from my back pack and placed it on Michael’s wound, which was now bleeding at the rate of knots. The cut was deep, and its impression on Michael’s face was intense too. I tried to wonder what would be our plans for survival if his injury got too fatal, but I preferred to keep my mind away from words like ‘injury’, ‘fatal’ and ‘survival’ for the time being. All I had in mind was to have Michael back on his feet and limp with me to the other end of the woods, where we could hopefully arrange for some transport assurance to the nearest town.

 

‘How did we even reach here,’ I kept asking myself.

Who would have thought a vacation to Waterbury would be scheduled to have such an unfortunate stop in the middle of no-man’s land. Few hours back in the day, all we thought of were the evening walks along the Naugatuck River and a bottle of beer in a Hotel Elton suite, but right then, the irrepressible flow of blood from Michael’s wound made the idea of an evening walk quite impossible.

 

I took out the last bottle of water from my bag and poured it gently over Michael’s bruise, afraid that the broken iron piece was still somewhere inside his exterminated flesh.

 

‘How could you not see an iron rod with a torch in your hand,’ I cursed, silently dabbing the towel over the wound.

 

‘How could I? I was too busy saving your ass from stepping on a sleeping snake,’ said Michael, sarcastically, but cheerfully.

 

I smiled at him, and saw him smiling back in the dim light of the torch.

‘How is it,’ I asked, not at all expecting a positive answer from what I could make out.

 

‘Its healing, but the cut’s quite deep. I almost felt the iron wire saying hello to my intestines,’ he said, still smiling.

‘Hey, could you a take a look around this place, see if it can be a good refuge for sometime?’

 

‘Are you planning to have a nap in here?’ I asked, flabbergasted by the tone of casualty in his voice.

 

‘Yes, or I can wait till you make me a bed out of the trees and heather, your choice,’ he said, hands resting on his head, his sly eyes waiting to condemn my panicked reply.

Michael was always the guy with a good sense of humor. He knew how to smile in every adversity. I hadn’t seen him change a bit since we first met in the games room of our school. Being best buddies with him had always been a treat, except for the very moment that brought blood gushing out of his wound after every five minutes. I took a closer look at his stomach, desperately hoping that the rusted iron piece hadn’t spread an infection.

 

‘Be right here, I’ll see if we are any closer to the stream,’ I said, throwing a jacket around me and walking towards the light from the torch.

 

I started walking, forcing my way past broken branches and dead leaves, startled every now and then by a distant hoot of an owl. The dense canopy looked denser as the night grew dark, as if filming a perfect horror scene. I had not a slight idea of our coordinates and the cell phones had become dormant due to the unavailability of a detectable network. All I could tell was that we were about 5 miles from the Highway Motel in Connecticut, the place where we left from before we had the most unfortunate car accident of our lives.

 

It all flashed in front of my eyes as I walked deeper into the woods. It had been so long since we planned this vacation, just the two of us, just like old times, times when we had plenty of moments to spare, times when all we did was to enjoy each other’s unselfish company, times when the world pointed at us to exemplify a successful friendship, times which were now long lost, but were there once.

 

I jumped over another hanging branch and landed on a heap of dry twigs with a loud screech. I kept walking.

 

I thought of the day when the telephone at my office desk rang a few days back and I heard Michael on the other end. It was so refreshing to hear his cheerful voice in the cacophony of a thousand professional orders I took everyday. After exchanging a myriad number of calls, we planned what sounded like the most awaited trip of our lives, Connecticut to Waterbury.

We did not take the trouble to invite friends or family, it just had to be me and Michael. The very next thing we did was to pack as little luggage as possible and set off in my Opel, exploring the euphoric countryside as much as we could. We were ecstatic, anything to take our screwed minds off the soporific office schedule.

 

The forest grew thicker with each step now.

 

I thought of the long and hot driving hours from Connecticut and towards the highway, the loud music of the stereo rung in my ears like it was still playing somewhere. Life was easy, with the soft breeze blowing and Michael’s hilarious jokes, not to mention the sortilege of road-trip bonding, which tied the many loose ends of our friendship. All was good until we started playing this stupid game of zilch dog. The rules went like every time you saw a dog, you had to shout ‘zilch dog’. The player with the highest score won. It was Michael’s idea, and though it sounded very stupid to me, I gave in, curious to invade the diversion of stupidity. But I didn’t know how soon I was to regret it.

 

My feet hit wet ground, engulfing some part of my shoes into it. I lifted my legs carefully, afraid not to step on a puddle of mud. The trees had started to give way, and I could already see an open space a few meters away. I kept walking.

 

Hadn’t there been an old couple with a spaniel at the sideline of the road, none of this would have ever happened. But destiny had it all planned for us.

The evening got boring with nothing else to do but keep driving. It had been an hour or two since we saw a dog and apparently, Michael had forgotten all about the game. But I hadn’t. I saw a tiny spaniel crouching underneath the skirts of an old lady, who walked along with her husband on the footpath. I shouted ‘zilch dog’ at the top of my voice, shaking Michael’s hand out of the steering wheel in excitement. He lost control and the car took a steep turn towards the left. The wheels skidded along the road and hit a stationary line-runner on the other side. The car didn’t stop till it hit the sidebars with an agonizing momentum and rolled down the slope deep into the woods. It halted after hitting the heart of a tree trunk, damaging the engine cabinet completely. Wounded and partly unconscious, I somehow managed to get Michael and the back-packs out of the wreck and slumped on the ground like a dead corpse. The sun went deeper into the horizon and the blinding darkness bigoted any and all chances of finding our way back to the highway. And there we were since then, running around in the darkness like two affrighted rabbits. The attempt of walking towards the highway had led us deeper into the woods. Waterbury was far, far away. For the moment, we only hoped to make it through the night.

 

I came out of the wide opening in the thick mesh of branches and the overlaying sight ran a tickle of hope inside me. There was a river, flowing to the other side of the thick forest. The dim light of the moon shone on the surface of water, giving it the appearance of illuminated silk. I could see very little and only hear the rush of flowing water, but my recitation told me that if we somehow managed to swim to the other end, we could probably get to the nearest village and call for help.

 

I ceaselessly wanted to slide down and have a little splash in the cool river water, but the thought of Michael whimpering in pain constrained my venture for the night. I had come too far, recollecting my memories of the evening, and the fear of consequences had started to haunt me like a phantom of doom. I needed to get back to my best friend, not because he needed me, but because I needed him to be around me, ease away the occasional scourges in my heart with a bulwark of his words.

 

I walked back through the thick plexus of branches, strictly following the straight line which I traced during my advent. It seemed like ages, walking back to the place where Michael lay, wounded and unconscious; his eyes drooping with the dizziness of abscess. I hurried the last few steps and slouched beside him, removing the towel gently to examine his wound.

 

It didn’t look good, not to me. He kept losing excessive amounts of blood; the cut was too wide to restrain the blood flow. We had run out of water and taking Michael down to the river seemed like an impossible task, with him having a dysfunctional body. I sat blank and pondered over the weird scenes I made up of having to stay in that forest forever. I desperately hoped for a Discovery Channel crew to find us during one of their nature shoots and drop us home safely, maybe after making a short documentary on or adventurous stay on the forest. Extraordinary times demanded extraordinary measures but this was one such time which engendered no possible measures of survival. I tried to shut my mind to the string of our recent disappointments and lay beside Michael, my eyes fixed to the small opening through the leaves overhead.

 

‘You took a long time to look around. For a moment, I thought you were actually gonna make me a bed out of the leaves,’ chuckled the idiot, quite unable to conceal the inevitable feeling of pain in his body.

 

‘I did, but the woodpecker destroyed its base, so I didn’t bring it along,’ I said, proud to have conjured a humorous thought in a dead hour.

 

‘Aha! Little Tommy cracks jokes now,’ said Michael, tilting his head towards me, ‘took a leaf out of my page, did you Tommy,’ he laughed, tilting his head back to where it was.

 

Yes. My name was Tom, Tom Avalon Reid. But for Michael, I had always been Tommy, or so he loved to call me. Surprisingly, it did not bother me in the least, because every time he called me by that name, it was a cut-and-dried signal from him that he wanted me to be around. It was his way of letting me know that he was depressed and hurt, trying to suppress an inexorable fear deep down in his heart. And at that moment, I could sense that he was both hurt and terrified, intimidated by the thought of not being able to hold himself up for long. I turned on my side, still looking at the blood stained towel on his stomach.

 

‘Hey buddy, you’re gonna be all right,’ I said, wondering how little comfort my words were gonna bring to him.

 

Michael turned towards me and let out a sigh. I could see the corners of his eyes shine in the moonlight as a tiny drop of tear trickled down his cheek. He was clearly in a lot of pain, and the worst part for me, was I could do nothing at all. Was he gonna die? I kept thinking. Could a deep cut be so fatal so as to take my best friend’s life? Maybe it couldn’t. But I somehow knew that if Michael lost any more blood through that pixilated cut on his stomach, I would never ever hear the name Tommy again. I wished I was not a financial broker, but a doctor by profession. At least I could’ve known what lied ahead of the night for both of us. I was all messed up in my head; Michael lost his blood, and I seemed to lose all sense of apprehension. I left it to fate and tried to make conversation. But before I could open my mouth to say something cheerful, Michael asked me the one question I always dreaded to answer.

 

‘Where were you all these days?’ he asked, with a sudden change in his tone from surmise to demand.

 

His question clutched the side of my ribs with an immutable grasp. I impetuously hoped not to encounter this topic with Michael, but here it was, beaming at me like a vexatious infant. I had been on the run since the last five years of my life, but there was no escaping now. I had to confront it, I had to answer his question.

 

‘I was busy,’ I said, trying to sound as modest as possible.

 

‘Busy making money,’ he retaliated back, his eyes purposely fixed to the sky,

 

Was I? Did I sabotage my relations with hundreds of my friends and went on to live in seclusion just to make money? Was I selfish enough to have pulled off such a surmising travail for five long years? Perhaps not. I had my reasons and to a certain point, I had my compulsions too. But it was difficult for Michael to understand them, nor that I expected him to understand my grounds either. But I had to explain them to someone. I wanted to. So many years of emotional confinement had deposited a stubborn impediment in my conscience. I had to get it out, share it with someone who would understand the intricacies of my feelings, and who else could it be, except for my best friend, whom I missed exceedingly during the years of my demise, and who was very unlikely to share the next day of my life with me. I embraced myself for the toughest confession of my life.

 

‘My parents got themselves a divorce. It’s been four years now,’ I said, keeping my eyes closed as I spoke.

 

‘And you’re telling me this now? You didn’t for a second consider reaching out to me after what happened?’ Michael asked, apparently stupefied by the content of my confession.

 

‘No, I didn’t. I spent the last five years running from every last person I was acquainted to,’ I said.

 

‘Why?’ Michael asked with the same tone of resentment in his voice.

 

‘Because I felt ashamed of having parents who could not hold a marriage together,’ I shouted, tears rolling down both my eyes.

‘Not once in the last few years did I see them sit at peace and enjoy each other’s company. How would you like it if your parents brought the whole place down with their garish voices everyday? How would you like it if you had to eat a cold supper alone at a 4-seater dining table? How would you like it if the people you love start having a clash of opinions at every single topic in the world? You won’t. And so didn’t I. All these years, I haven’t been working to make money, but to keep myself occupied, to keep myself away from the unfortunate feeling of abandonment. I could not take a single day of the melodramatic routine that my life had arrogated for me. So I ran, ran from anyone and everyone who reminded me of my how unfortunate I was. I had lost the audacity to face people; I had lost my freedom, and in the process, lost a part of myself too.’

 

I finished with a huge sigh, tears now flooding my eyes like a venial tsunami. I turned to face Michael, who sat upright, supporting his fragile body with his palms on the ground. He looked as if he was given the breaking news of dinosaur evolution in 2011, his face as expressionless as a pumpkin. Blood gushed out of his wound due to the awkward position he was in, and he was down on his back in no time, but his eyes didn’t move an inch. He probably thought that I wasn’t finished yet, or maybe he was completely taken aback by the feminine side of me. He remained quiet.

 

‘Are you expecting me to throw some more light on the distastefully atrocious life I have or are you still in doubt with my deliberately engineered plans of not being in touch with you?’ I barked, sarcasm overflowing from my voice like a teenage sex hormone.

 

Michael stared at me with an admirable sense of discernment. He was already in a lot of pain and I was afraid that I might trigger a sense of guilt in him of asking the question he wished he had never asked. He still did not speak.

 

My tears subsided in a matter of time and with them, subsided the vainglorious lump of encumbrance inside me. I wished Michael to say something, the silence was killing me. And then finally, he spoke.

 

‘I am sorry,’ he said, fumbling for bigger words.

 

‘Its fine, those times are far gone now. I haven’t seen my parents since the fall of summer in 2006 and strangely, I don’t miss them enough. They don’t deserve it anyway. And now, we are stuck in this alien land at the middle of the night with a furiously bleeding stomach, and an acute shortage of ideas!’ I said, hands on my head and eyes on Michael’s belly.

 

‘We’ll make it, I know we will,’ said Michael, arduously succeeding in forcing a smile on his face.

 

I smiled back at him and lay down again, feeling surprisingly light.

I wondered whether I was able to explain my reasons effectively; five years of dissolution from Michael had stirred the urges of a life long reunion in me. I did not want to lose him anymore, now that the loose ends were tied and all erroneous beliefs forgiven. My imagination took me a little ways down the road, to the magical days of me and Michael reviving our unparalleled bond of friendship, to a place where there were only friends and no feuds. The unremitting string of thoughts lulled me into a light slumber, with the cool night breeze ruffling up my hair gently. But my comfort was short lived; I was awakened by a detestable cry of pain from Michael, who rolled on the ground tardily, clutching the side of his stomach in a tight clasp of his hands.

 

Something was terribly wrong with him, and it took me no time to guess the cause of his sudden innervations. I rushed up to him and removed the towel from his wound, expecting to see the most devious sight of the night, and sure enough, it was as worse as it could get. I shone the torchlight on the affected part of his stomach to have a closer look and my heart sank. The wound had opened up further due to the infection and it launched an avalanche of blood through the opening, flooding the ground with the thick red fluid. Michael trembled with the sudden infliction of pain; his breaths grew irregular with each passing moment.

 

I grabbed hold of the ends of his mangled skin and tried to hold them together, but the blood knew no barriers. It kept flowing with a promise of emptying every ounce on the ground. I could tell Michael was expecting me to produce a miracle out of somewhere, but what? I was not a phoenix whose tears healed all wounds. Frustration glided over me with the interstices of vanity. I was about to see my best friend cross over to oblivion in my arms and could do nothing about it. It seemed like an eternity of flurry and regret before one of us finally spoke, and it was Michael’s voice.

 

‘Did you see the pieces of dry grass strewn near the iron bars we crossed?’ he spoke hurriedly, trying to hold his words from falling apart.

 

I tried to trace the road of our adventure in my mind, focusing hard on every detail that we came across in our way.

Yes, I remembered. I did see the broken bits of grass in the light of my torch. They must have dried up in the scorching sun for days to a perfect pale yellow semblance. But what on earth did Michael want them for?

 

‘Get them for me. Hurry!’ shouted Michael, adamant not to spare me a minute to figure out what his ingenious plan was.

 

I didn’t stop to think either. I picked up the torch and ran, as if for my own life. Luckily, I didn’t have to expedite for long to find what I was looking for. I grabbed a handful of dry grass and scampered back, carefully avoiding the rusted iron bars that stuck out of an abandoned telephone tower.

Michael had grown a shade paler when I returned to him; even the tears had dried up from his vexed eyes.

 

‘What do you want me to do to with this?’ I asked, still very surprised to take a few pieces of grass as a life saving drug.

 

‘I want you to stitch my stomach with it,’ said Michael with an unexpected air of indifference.

 

‘What?’ I exclaimed, taking in 3 gallons of air each time I opened my mouth to breathe. Either Michael had a lot of faith in me, I thought, or perhaps he was tired of the unbearable pain and preferred an early death. Either of the possibilities made me equally and pathetically nervous.

 

‘You’re not serious, are you?’ I asked again, hoping that he had a better idea than to make me a murderer.

 

‘Tie the ends of the grasses to make a long string. There’s a scissor in the left pocket of my back pack. Pierce some holes on both sides of the torn skin with the sharp edge of the scissor, and force the string through the holes. Quick!’ spoke Michael bossily, as if giving instructions to knit a fancy button on the collar of his favorite shirt.

 

I followed his instructions with a feeling of complete dismay. How was I ever gonna pull it off? I tied the grasses one by one, doubtful whether or not they had the strength to hold a human skin together. My heart raced with the fear of chagrin, my hands had already started to tremble. To attempt a live surgery on a mortal was a distant dream for a financial broker like me, at least I deserved a dead frog for a start, I thought.

 

I took the string of grass in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other and leaned down to my patient, who was all set to face the most critical medical operation of his life. I looked at the wound, all covered in a thick stratum of blood, already starting to feel giddy.

 

‘I’m waiting, and so is my death. Will you please hurry up?’ said Michael politely, looking into my eyes with a warm reflection of encouragement.

Old Michael! It was amazing how he always knew what was in my mind.

‘We’ll make it, I promise you,’ he added, forcing a weak smile on his sordid face.

 

Michael’s last words fuelled the sense of determination in me. I focused all my attention to his wound and started piercing a hole in the right side of the cut. Blood soared out of the hole as soon as the tip of the scissor hurtled into his skin. Michael’s deafening scream shook my determination like the epicenter of an earthquake. I sat there, with the blood stained scissor in my hand, staring blankly at the stream of blood gushing out of the hole I just punched into him.

 

‘Don’t listen to me, JUST DO IT!’ screamed Michael at the top of his voice. I was glad to discover his presence in the situation, but the bedlam of unbarred misapprehension stopped my hands to venture any further into his frail skin. Nevertheless, I went on.

 

I drove the scissor an inch below the first hole, allowing some more blood to flow out. It took me not more than ten minutes to punch the required number of holes in his stomach. Michael’s screams had subsided to a considerably low volume; perhaps the multiple incisions had paralyzed the intolerable feeling of pain in his body.

 

I hurriedly inserted one end of the grass string into one of the holes and tried to pass it through the adjacent hole, keeping a tight grip on the string, fearing that it might lose its strength. I glanced anxiously at Michael every now and then, ensuring that he was still conscious. He turned his head on the ground from left to right, in pain but not ready to surrender. I drove the dried grass chain carefully across the holes, pulling each end to bring the separated layers of skin together. I was doing quite well, until at the last hole, when the grass slipped out of my hand and tucked into his bare flesh. Michael led out a soft whimper, troubled by the scratchy end of the grass.

 

Only the last knot had to be tied and the flow of blood had slowed down considerably, but the grass wobbled deep inside the skin and I could not find out a way of pulling it back up. We had come a long way; I did not want to jeopardize my best friend’s life due to a careless mistake. I wondered what to do, when Michael answered my disarray, just like every other time.

 

‘Just pull the damn thing out, you moron!’ he shouted, raising his voice alarmingly.

 

I hesitated to insert my finger into the small gap in the flesh, afraid that the grass might give in to the sudden application of stress. Apparently, I had a better idea. I slid the scissor gently through the opening and used its tip to pull the grass out, causing very little damage to the already ‘stitched’ skin.

I finished tying the final knot with the two ends of the grass string as Michael felt his wound gently with his hands. It looked quite good, considering the decrepit expertise of the surgeon, except for the little gaps between the skins here and there. The pain was there, but the surgery managed to barrage the incessant flow of blood for the time being. We had just enough time to swim across the river to the other end and get Michael to a hospital. But how would Michael be able to swim a 50-meter wide river with a 5-inch deep cut in his stomach?

 

Night crawled in like a vicious serpent, as the hour hand struck 12. Michael sat upright, moving his muscles as little as possible, while I fastened our back packs on my back, stacking them on top of each other.

We had to get to the edge of the river within an hour, and then think of a way to get both of us across it.

Michael stood up slowly; he was weak, but equally delighted with the status of his wound.

 

‘Let’s go. We haven’t got much time,’ I said, lighting the torch and taking the lead.

‘Hey Tommy,’ called out Michael as I marched ahead of him. ‘You saved my life, I owe you,’ he said, his cheerful smile back on his handsome face.

 

‘We have to make it, remember?’ I said, pointing towards the way ahead, hiding a tiny drop of tear that had just fallen on my lips.

 

Michael dragged himself up to me and put an arm around my shoulder.  

‘We will make it,’ he said, nodding his head like a mettlesome infant.

 

We smiled at each other and set off to accomplish the most challenging task of our lives. I had to get Michael to the other side in one piece. Night had fallen in completely and the tide was down, if we had to do it, we had to do it then. I flung Michael’s hand over my neck and headed towards the straight path which led to the river. We could not afford a brisk pace, because Michael whined at every step we took. He cautiously kept glancing at his stomach after every few seconds, and the look on his face told me we didn’t have much time. It was not easy for me either. Two heavy bags on my shoulder rendered me almost immovable, not to mention the additional load of Michael’s body. I had the torch in one hand, and used the other to detract the occasional protrusions of branches here and there.

 

We kept walking until I could see the wide opening in the branches, which led to the river. It took us more than an hour with all the limping and bickering, before we finally saw it. Michael struggled to the bank seeing in the torchlight and dipped his head in the cold running water, as I tried to look in the distance to figure out a way of crossing the river without having to swim it. My eyes scanned the entire panorama in the dim light of the moon, hoping to construe a possible and easier way of getting across. It was very difficult to figure out the constructive details of the place in the dark, with the moonlight reflecting on the thick glass of my spectacles. I looked for a terrestrial way which would take us to the other side, so that Michael could avoid any contact with water. The grass which held his skin together had the strength to do so because of being dry. Once it got wet, we would run out of cards, and lose the game, and that night, losing the game meant losing our lives. We had to be very careful.

 

And then, just as I was about to give up my search for a suitable mode of escape, my eyes fell on the most beautiful creation of nature. There was a small cliff about a hundred meters away from where we stood, most appropriately being the starting point of a series of rocks that led to the other end. If we could somehow get to the top of that cliff, we could probably find our way through the rocks and be out of there by dawn, I thought. My eyes lit with a sudden beam of hope, my heart pumped with the sudden rush of adrenaline. I knew we had to do it, and do it right. The countdown had begun. The next one hour was going to decide our fates, and I couldn’t wait to see it.

 

I once again supported Michael on my shoulder and started walking towards the cliff. Though the road was bumpy with the comportment of a thousand irregular rocks, it didn’t take us long to reach the top of the cliff. The sudden enrichment of ideas had fuelled our energies positively. We stood on top of the cliff and calculated the amount of risks we had to take to get to our destination. It looked easy, except for one big problem standing firmly at the end of the stream. There was a slightly bigger boulder just at the edge of the river and it had an awkwardly steep slope. But if we could somehow manage to climb up the boulder, we could jump on the solid ground in the other side.

 

I looked at Michael, who also had his eyes fixed to the elusive barrier at the far end.

 

‘You think you can do it?’ I asked, with a hint of concern.

‘Absolutely,’ replied Michael, adjusting the towel over his maltreated wound.

 

‘Great, let’s go,’ I said, taking my first jump on the adjacent rock. I skidded with my landing, but managed to keep my balance intact. The constantly flowing water had deposited a thick layer of moss on the rocks, which told me it wasn’t going to be as easy as it looked from above the cliff.

 

‘Careful Michael, the surface is too slippery,’ I warned as I lent my hand to help him down. Michael slithered down the cliff and clutched on to my sleeve for support, but was up on his feet soon. So far so good.

 

We reached the middle of the stream, tumbling and fidgeting with the troubling moss on the rocks. The weight of the backpacks was killing my shoulders, and Michael’s wound was killing him slowly. The grass string had begun to give in, which meant we had very little time to get Michael to the nearest hospital. We didn’t stop.

 

I looked at my watch; it was two-thirty in the morning. Dawn hadn’t broken out yet, but I could hear the birds chirping around in a chorus. I crawled on to the next rock with the same level of precaution, Michael right behind me. We went on until we reached the last rock and stopped dead in our paths. There it was, the huge boulder, the way of whose collapse was not known to us. It seemed as if the rock stood in the way of two friends and the beautiful life they would have if they brought it down.

 

I had no time to think. Michael’s wound had started to open up again, ejecting excessive amounts of blood in every stretch of his muscles. The boulder was high, but not high enough to stop me from jumping across. The problem was Michael. There was no way he could jump a fair four meters, no matter how confident he felt about it.

 

I climbed to the top of the boulder to look for an alternative, and I did find one. There was a battered raft on the side of the river, probably abandoned by a bunch of adventure freaks. It was busted to the point of desolation, with pieces of wood sticking out of it in a haphazard pattern. But the whole raft was not what I needed. I only needed a firm wooden plank, wide enough for Michael to walk over to the bank.

 

‘Can you pull this off?’ asked Michael, scared for my life more than his.

‘Trust me,’ I said, and jumped off.

 

Beautiful scenes flashed in front of my eyes as I experienced the cool morning breeze blow past me. It seemed like time had dilated to thousand seconds in a minute, and I saw an entire album of euphoric pictures, pictures of me and Michael clicked in a good time ahead in the future, with our lovely wives and kids. Pictures where I didn’t have back packs burdening my shoulders and Michael didn’t have a towel underneath his shirt. Now that the weeds of misunderstanding were removed and the two best friends were unified, I could see an entire life of happiness, with a thousand splendid suns shining down on them everyday. All of this could be feasible if only I timed my jump well enough to hit the ground. But did I?

My feet did hit something, but it was not solid ground. I fell about an inch short and landed headlong in the water, groping for a firm pedestal with my legs underneath. The intemperate weight of the backpacks pulled me deep inside the water, but I somehow managed to grasp a protruded piece of rock on the edge. And there I was, neck-deep inside water, immovable and helpless, and a half-dead companion waiting behind, expecting me to save his life. We were screwed. It was only a matter of time before my hand lost its grip and the ravaging speed of water banged my head on a rock in its way. I lost all hope and waited for my time, when something very unusual happened.

 

Michael shouted something like a “hang on” and jumped from the boulder. I could not hear his words due to the loud splashing of water near my ears, but I could clearly see his figure moving overhead in mid air, risking his life for my rescue.

 

‘Michael, no!’ I screamed, aghast at the idea of him hitting the ground with a deadly wound.

 

Michael landed a few inches ahead of the rocky edge, rolling on the ground like a pound ball. His heavy body flipped over the rocks, until he landed on a sharp rock which stashed his torn flesh like a piece of chicken. Blood streamed out of his wound like an unleashed bull and this time, a surgery was not a possibility. But Michael did not lie dead as I expected him to be. He summoned all his strength and crawled towards me, while his face had started to lose its tinge already.

 

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up with the minimal strength he had left in him. Apparently, the force of the back packs outdid his receding potency, but I did not give up either. I somehow unstrapped the belts of our backpacks and kicked the bank, generating enough up thrust to exit the unbendable hold of water. I fell headlong on the cluster of rocks beside Michael, where he lay deplorable, forcing in the breaths with considerable difficulty. He was dying, rendering all our efforts and all our sacrifices in vain.

 

I raised Michael’s head and placed it on my lap, washing his wound desperately with the flowing water.

 

‘Why did you do that,’ I demanded, angry at the showcase of such stupidity in a crucial hour.

 

Michael smiled politely, and said as softly as only for me to hear.

‘I owed you, remember.’

 

‘Michael, hold on, please don’t go,’ I begged, unable to speak with the lump of pain in my throat.

 

‘Tommy,’ squeaked Michael, clutching my hand in a tight grip, ‘you’re a terrible jumper,’ he finished with a small hiccup.

 

I could see the white matter inside his stomach, almost dry by the immutable sledding of blood for the past four hours. He was clearly not in a state to utter his last words to me. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, he only managed to let out a shriek of pain. I was filled with a mixed sensation of loss and anguish, remembering Michael’s promise of seeing it through together. The sun had already peeped out of the horizon and I sat with a heavy heart in my chest and a heavy head on my lap, when Michael broke into my reverie.

 

‘Goodbye Tommy,’ he said, reaching out his hand to stroke my hair.

‘But you said we’ll make it!’ I yelled at the top of my voice, my words falling apart due to the waterspout of tears in my eyes.

 

Michael said nothing. Maybe he had no answer to my question or he regretted promising me the unachievable goal throughout the evening. But I wasn’t going to take silence for an answer.

‘Answer me,’ I shouted, loud enough for even a dead man to hear.

 

‘I never said we'll make it alive...." he said with a weak smile, and closed his eyes, not to open them ever again. His breaths subsided, his heart stopped beating. He departed, endowing me with the gift of tears for the rest of my life, but the ghost of his last laugh remained etched on to his face like a stoned impression. Michael was dead. He departed for the heaven which no mortal could reach, and left behind a hell which engulfed me in a wrath of eternal forlorn.  

Faith- Quoted by Martin Luther King Jr “Faith mean taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase” Be faithful in small things because it is in trust that one’s strength lies. Faith is the only thing that can make everything possible. Strong faith will at all times help you retain positivity all the way through your life. Faith can be expressed as daring a soul to go and think beyond what the eye can really perceive. It can also be articulated as walking on the unoccupied road devoid of bothering the turns but the only belief that the destination will be accomplished. A very beautiful extract saying that “If you have faith you can move mountains”. Occurrence: Having faith in whatever you do leads to success. Trusting and having faith within you will make a difference in long run. According to me the event that I am going to share For an instance I had one of my colleague who decide to start his own business other than joining his family business initially when he started there were many resistance but he was determined to start his dream business all on his own. Initial three months you can never think of profit but initial investment returns can be expected but to his fate he failed and could not even achieve the breakeven point. Being from an affluent family loss did not bother much to him. He then decided to try his luck second time at initial stage he made good amount of money but again failed this time the loss incurred was much more than the previous one. But this did not hindered his faith in an expectation of meeting his target and he had a faith and trust in God something will work. He used to say one thing which I will never forget is that “You will never understand when and where you will be paid for your hard work and faith”. His fate had already planned something different for him to his misfortune his family business incurred loss and had to seal the company. Now entire family was in pain so many debts he again tried to put in last effort made an arrangement of money but this there was no one nor his family or friend were on his side even his wife had given an ultimatum that they will separate if he plunge this time . Everything on rocks he followed his instinct and took a step and now he is not only running his own business but also helped to set his family business too. This is true instance which signify devotion and utmost faith which lies within you. Teaching: In life there can be no reverse buttons only forward which will always help you to start an overwhelming future and keeping faith will help to walk extra mile. Always remember everything that happens awful for today has something very good for future. Take every fall as a challenge stand and fight again, no matter it is for many times but the every stand is the faith of overcoming obstacles. Perform as you don’t expect anything but you give everything with a faith that there is God who is watching you and will be applauded for every good things done.

Let me see your hand and find out if it is square, plumb, stout, thin, blackish, bluish, yellowish and reddish. Tell me what is the shape of your hand? Oh ! you might me thinking as of now that this guy is crazy. Just let me tell you friends that I can make out your feelings, nature and the type of person you are by just having a mere looks on the palms of your hands. I can even tell whether you are simple, complex or confusing by nature and your overall performance in your personal as well as in your professional life. Yes! it is a fact that by just having a look at the shape and colors of  hands one can tell the behaviors and characteristics of a person. Let us find out friends what the shape of our hand says.....

** The Primary or Elementary Hand

This kind of hands were found to be with our fore fathers. The characteristics features of this kind of hands are that they were stout and fat, The fingers are marked by several knots and the palms are of spongy type. The fingers are too small.

Males-- Males with this kind of hands are very much the way they look like. Yes, their day to day activities resemble their looks. They are generally hard hearted and there is very little place for kindness in their heart. People with this type of hands have very less interest for studies. They like to pass their time by listening songs and music.

Females-- Females with this type of hands were basically given the tag of good girls. They are the greatest followers of rules and regulations throughout their lives whether in their family lives or social lives. Those who have very short, stout and fat palm seem to have selfish nature. Though they are very short tempered but they love to live an easy going lives.

Career-- They don't get much success in professional lives but they are very good at works which demand physical labors. They get success with work which are related with sales and insurance.

**  The Square Hand

The very shape of the hand including the palm and fingers are square in shape. The fingers are so untied that overall they form a square shape. This hand is smooth and the palm remains wide with fingers either long or short.

Males-- Males don't like to live in the world of dreams but like to live and lead a practical life. They give their hundred percent to the work they do and they are the owners of a good and pure heart. They are selfless by nature and love to live a simple life. Besides, they have a good sense of dressing and their behavior and manners are something to look after. They love to carry on their education with different and difficult subjects like Poetry, Literature, Politics, History etc..

Females-- They are somewhat of crazy nature and their individual ideas and views both runs on different directions or tracks. They love to work round the clock and without work life seem to them as something tasteless and boring. In brief, we can say that their emotions are very strong. They can give their life in love but if required they will not hesitate to take a life once they get angry.

Career-- They can move ahead for professional career and might get success to a certain extent but they have great interest and passion for business and they can aspect quick growth and success in it...

** The Fleshy Hand

This kind of hands are basically longer but not thinner and the fingers are marked by lesser knots and the palms are a bit fatter.

Males-- They are basically easy go going type of guys and they live and enjoy life to the fullest. It is very hard to deal with these kind of persons and one cannot exert power on them but they can exert and execute power upon others. Never a question arises about their personality but the negative thing is that they very easily get frustrated and thus they get distracted quite easily and hardly pay any attention to their work. They have the basic tendency to complete their work in haste. One can never rely on their moods for they get angry very easily but the good thing is that it subsides away very easily.

Females-- They are very moody by nature. They do and achieve successfully whatever is there in their minds. They live like a leader among the group of friends or colleagues. They are so much faithful and loyal that they don't even hesitate to give their life for the sake of true friendship. But yes, once they get angry it would be a very daunting task to bring them under control.

Career-- They can go for a career in Marine engineering, Accountants etc.

** The intellectual Hand

These are basically divided into two categories. In the first category. In the first category intellectual hands are those that are a bit longer and the fingers are marked by wider knots. The nails too are longer in the shape of partly conical and partly square. In contrast to this, in the second category are those that have a bit small fingers and the knots in the fingers are of circular shape.
In both the categories, fingers are well formed with thin, long and artistic look giving it a beautiful look altogether.

Males-- They are basically great lovers of nature but a bit miser in when it comes about spending money lavishly in worldly pleasures and hence they accumulate a huge sum of money. They believe in logical thinking and good reasoning. They are honest by nature and earn a good name for themselves in the society they live. They are far sighted and can even foretell future events in some cases. They love to think about their actions in day to day lives. Besides, they also have a keen interest in yoga and any sort of physical activities.

Females-- They like to discover and have great attraction for higher studies. They have a keen interest in social and religious matters. They are book lovers by nature and love read books on different subjects and gather knowledge. They relax by listening songs. They follow truthfulness, righteousness and ahimsa throughout their lives. Besides, they don't hesitate to spare a thought for the less fortunate and have a good analytic power and can keep secrets.

Career-- They usually go for higher studies in medical science astrology. They are usually teachers, thinkers and great leaders who on their own could bring changes in the society they live.

** Conical Hand

The fingers of this type of hand are soft and has thin furnishings and four fingers of the palm unite to form a cone. The palm is somewhat broad and large and the thumbs is also somewhat big.

Males-- They tend to think about trifle matters that occurs in day to day life and they have the ability to find a solution of about every complex matters. They are the owners of huge volume of patience and they are the oceans of new ideas. They love and enjoy sports and have a lot of fun in life.

Females-- They love to discuss and gossip and they don't hesitate to discuss about anything and about anyone throughout the day. They believe in punctuality and they want punctuality from others. They also have a huge amount of patience to deal with the ups and downs of life. They do think about themselves but they also love to think about their near and dear ones. One cannot judge them by merely having their outer looks.

Career-- They earn a big name for themselves in the fields of paintings, sculptors, music and poetry.

Artist"s Hand

Among the various kinds of hands that I spoke about so far, this kind of hand is really beautiful and the longer fingers adds to its beauty. You will find lesser number of knots in the fingers of this type of hands which makes it look even better. Moreover, the palms are fleshy and soft in nature.

Males-- They love and enjoy all the beautiful things of this world. They love to decorate the surroundings in which they dwell or exist and they are a great lover of arts and crafts. But they are not social and doesn't like to mix up with everyone and therefore people often mistake them for being selfish. They are basically of very soft nature and therefore very often they get hurt ed by the slightest of things.

Females-- It is important to mention here that females with this type of hands are also a great devotee of beauty and nature. They are so imaginative that they love to live their lives in dreams and illusions. People don't hesitate to refer them as "Love Guru". They love to make love and discuss about love. They are very often referred by others as emotional fools and because of their nature they very easily get hurted emotionally by others.

** Mixed Hand

The fingers of this kind of hands are not identical to each other. One finger might resemble with that of intellectual hand while other might resemble with that of conical hand.

Males-- They have somewhat knowledge in a wide range of subjects but they don't seem to have a specialized knowledge about a particular subject. They interfere and poke their nose in every matters. Sometimes, they are very cool and calm apart from being genius while at other times they act as mere fools. Since they have a knowledge in a wide range of subjects and they are really proud of it. But if they are poked into detail about the matter then they are almost sure to stumble upon. Besides, they have a very weak memory and tend to forget things quite often. They have hardly any value for their words but the important thing is that they can slog and adjust in any kind of surrounding on a given day.

Females-- They have enormous internal strength, will power and self belief. They can learn anything very quickly on a given period of time. But one negative thing is there that their behavior is very often not acceptable by others.

Career-- Since they have a very keen interest in a wide range of subjects they cannot specialize in any particular field or subject. They can get success in any field since they are blessed with enough will power and determination to achieve it.

Well friends, one thing I would like to add for sure that, very often, in day to day life, the male characteristics which I have mentioned above are found among females and vice-verse.

Now, I am moving a bit further, and would like to inform you that the colors of hand or palm too play an important role in determining the kind of person one is. To tell you the truth every palm has it's own color and speaks a lot about a person's personality and behavior. According to the colors, hand or palm can be classified into the five different categories as I have mentioned under:-

# Black Palm

People with blackish palm are a bit confusing altogether. They have anger on their nose and are stubborn by nature. They are very proud and moody and have a very flirty nature. But the positive thing about such individuals are that if they divert their time and energy in doing positive things then there is hardly any obstacle that could stop them from achieving their goals. Besides, they are very hard working by nature and find their own methods and ways to achieve success in life.

# Pink Palm

People with pink palms are very optimistic and hopeful towards their lives. They have a good logic and reasoning for whatever they do. They try to avoid any kind of controversy and tensions in their lives. They love to live in peace and are very bright and happy by nature. They love a life of luxury and comfort. Quite often when they pass through very hard times their sharp mind comes in rescue and helps them to get away from the worst situations of life. Overall, they remain healthy and are very lively and energetic by nature.

# Blue Palm

They are like book worms and always like to pass their time among books and hence they hardly have any time for social activities or being social in their lives. They remain detached and isolated from the real life. They are very simple and have a level head on their shoulders and very often people try to take advantage of their simple nature. Further, people who come under this category have to be very choosy when finding about their life partner otherwise any adverse thing might happen if the partner is of just the opposite nature.

# Red Palm

People having reddish palm are very simple and pure by nature and are of jolly type but it is always advisable not to take them for granted for at times they can show both anger and temper to others. The best thing about them is that they are brave and ambitious by naure. They also love adventurous life.

# Yellow Palm

They are quick workers and love to finish their work quickly and hence their work remains prone to mistakes. They are of sentimental types and quite bitter in nature and they get hurted even if someone criticizes them to a minimal extent. They have a cool and calm posture but when aroused with anger they don't left any stone unturned. They don't have much love and patience for studies but they have liking on different subjects of knowledge literature and poetry. As far as diseases are concerned, they are very prone to jaundice.

# Brown Palm

People with brownish palm remain much depressed in life and often their minds are preoccupied with many ifs and buts about real lives. They do take their insults very seriously and once they feel insulted there is a very slim chance that they would like to forgive and forget. As far as diseases are concerned, people under this category suffer from chronic diseases in the later half of their lives.

# White Palm

People with whitish palm are very lifeless in nature and are devoid of any energy towards life. Hence, they go unnoticed in social and personal lives and therefore their life is filled with sadness. They are some what selfish and show less sympathy and empathy for others. They very often suffer from ill health and weaknesses.

Position Of Hands

Finally, another thing that speaks about a person's characteristics and behavior is the position of hands. Yes, the position of hands during walking speak a lot about a particular person, his behavioral characteristics and his overall personality. If you are eager to know about it, I am surely going to tell you!!!

Mark is walking with hands in his pocket whereas Divya walks and quite often places her hands on her dresses to keep it in order. When I walk I let my hands swing in the air. But my question is not this for the main question  is why people walk with such peculiar habits. The answer to this question is not simple friends! Let me tell you the fact that a lot depends upon a person's behavior on how he or she walks. There are many studies going on this particular trait of human characteristics from a very long time ago. Some of the facts that are being available till now regarding this I am going to share with you friends.

## People who generally walks with hands in their pockets are very confusing and they have a lot of things to hide from others. They usually don't show their feelings and emotions to others. Their thoughts are very primitive and they believe in putting hands in their pockets  in a nice way to hide and avoid situations.

## There is another group of persons who walks with hands hanging on both sides of the body. They are very easy going type and are very kind by nature. They usually don't seem to have any complaints regarding anything in their heart. They also love to help others and their happiness lies in the fact of others happiness. But sometimes their very attitude towards life bring their own downfall because very often others want to take advantage of their humble nature.

## Some people walk with closed palms and they are very much curious about their aims and no body can move them away from their strong will power and determination. If they think about doing something they don't relax until they achieve their task to the maximum.

## Moreover, there are also people who walks with their hands clasped together and one needs to be very careful about them. They have a huge amount of anger and frustration in their heart. They always think about how to find a trap for others but very often then not they fall in the same trap they tend to create for others.

## Further, there is another group of person who walks erect by holding their head high and they never hesitate to get eye to eye contact with others. Basically people of this type are found to be bubbling with confidence. They are always very well behaved and they always think themselves at par with others.

## Those people who does set their hair and dresses with their hands while walking are very nervous by nature and lacks self confidence. They don't know the art of how to deal with the real situations in life.

## Finally, there is another kind of person who keep one hand at side while they use the other hand while talking. They always try to show the fact that they are different from other people in general but the fact is that they seem to have a good sense of taste when it comes about style and dress.

 

So, as of now we have discussed about the different types of hands, colors of hands and position of hands and how each of them help us to determine about a person's characteristics and behavior. It is a fact that these really helps us in giving the notion about the person we are dealing with in our day to day lives and also clears the fact in our mind that if a person has a particular trait of characteristic why it is so. It is important to mention here that the total life history and geography of an individual lies upon the structure, color and position of hands and we just need to realize it.....