About a year ago, whilst on my weekly tour of Dave and Busters in NY, I happened to see something tragic which haunts me till date at night, something that dethrones hope from being the centre stone of my very existence, something that words may just not do any justice in explaining. 

 Perched among the ravaged, long-forgotten soft toys was the effigy of the once-ever-loved, Spidey. How innocent in its comportment; and content, as if the world's hatred towards him was but a distant memory. While his masters, nay betrayers, enjoy the lap of luxury in the city with tallest buildings and work in banks reminiscent of the silicon valley. While they devour savoury delights from distant lands and yet cherish the dietary programmes, listen to exotic play lists before bedtime, revise eastern movies million times, discuss the colour or colours of the month; the story goes that Spidey lay in his demolished shack to be thrown around, hanged, burned as an outcast, a loner, a bad taste to be cleansed soon after. 

 He crawls out of his unjustly imposed banishment, some school kids then point fingers at him and laugh as if to say, "What's the use of a soft toy that doesn't serve? doesn't provide protection against forces of the netherworld? " or "Ye despicable outcome of a mama-spider" Harsh, the stinging words that hovered like merciless hawks, swooping at his time of loneliness and despair. 

 Then a good Samaritan who happens to pass by this worthless hideaway, notices a body uttering words from its dry lips, as if some one's names, - "Ne..." ; "Ra..." but the gentleman hears the garbled words as "De..." and "Ba...". Ah, the plight of humanity! Yet, the man helps Spidey up, feeds him juice and pours a bucket of water over his rotting body and takes him home. 

 The next morning, as Spidey's eyes roll open, he finds himself in a huge double room which reminds him of his short but glorious years in Van Winkle. He was lying next to middle-aged hairy man smelling of apple and Chardonnay. 

"What happened last night?", he yells covering his half-naked body with the soft plush covers. The gentleman responds, "You were in a desperate condition, and I helped you, remember me, my son?". As wild thoughts run in Spidey's mind, he prepares to defend himself, "How could you ...". The gentleman understands the situation and interjects, 

"It is not as you think it is. You were lying in the rubbish and I bathed you...". 

Spidey utters in sheer dismay, "You what? ..." 

Again the gentleman explains the events of the night and finally pacifies Spidey. "I have arranged a surprise for you, Mr.Spidey". 

'What more could be a surprise after being thrown away from my masters, ostracised by the human race, and waking up next to a man smelling of apple and Chardonnay?' sighs Spidey in his mind.'

 In the next couple of hours, Spidey finds himself on Times Square and eyes couldn't believe the words they were reading, "Dave and Busters? Why here?" 

"Why you don't remember, you uttered De and Ba last night, so I got you back to your home"

 Spidey smirks sarcastically at his own fate. 'To be brought to an amusement centre after years of public service is just befitting, isn't it?'

 Years pass and visitors still repulsed by the sight of him, walk away as if they had seen a ghost. 

 And then I see him. "Spidey, you remember me? I am their friend. We had picked you up from Orlando where you were hitch-hiking? " 

 Silence, no response. 

 

"Dead inside", I sighed and walked away. 

 

Nov 2nd, 2007, Memoirs of Ni