E-Katha : Indian Short Stories & Poems

2007-08-27T00:29:00.000-07:00

Same Relations… Different Effects

2007-08-17T07:03:00.000-07:00

On my graduation day, when the merit list was announced, all the people present out there had their eyes set on Ankit. Why wouldn’t our attentions be drawn towards him? After all he was the most meritorious student in the past four years of study. Once the ceremony concluded each one of us had our degrees in our hand. I later went ahead and congratulated Ankit. He was my classmate for the past four years, but not closest among my friends.

I was always curious to talk to him, though I never had the opportunity to interact with him closely. He was silent, and would always be accompanied by three people, namely Ajay, Arjun and Aditi. This group was formed on a strange basis. Since all their names began with the alphabet ‘A’, their names in the roll call were consecutive. So for project work, practical sessions and internal assessments, they had to co-operate with each other. There was one thing in common amongst them; that was they never mingled with any person out side their group.

I knew Ajay even before he joined this college. Both of us were college mates at the junior college level. Arjun and Aditi too were each other’s college mates at the junior college level and Ankit, the cleverest amongst them was from a different city. Another observation done by me revealed that all of them were in the ‘top-ten’ category right from school days to junior college days. The same trend continued at our professional college. I was clueless regarding Ankit’s past merit. But it was easy for anyone to guess that he too would have been in the same elite category at the previous study levels. I had several such questions regarding him, which I never put across to him and were left unanswered. So for the first time in four years I decided to talk to him, this time more openly and at a more personal level.

“Hey Ankit! Congratulations! Yours has been a phenomenal achievement. Topping the class for all the four years is not easy. But may be you continued with your past habit. I guess you would have been a topper at your school and junior college too.” He humbly smiled at me and said, “I just got lucky… I never planed or worked towards it. By the way, it was at this college I stood first in the exams, almost for the first time in my life. Never before was I so lucky.” My first guess about Ankit was a wrong one. I responded, “Oh really! It is hard to believe. So how come this sudden progress. I mean what were the things you did differently to stand out here?” The response which I got for this question was a very long one. It restored my beliefs in many facts of life, which I had been overlooking for a long time in my life…

He asked me, “Do you have some time right now? I have been waiting to answer this question since a long time, but unfortunately no one asked me.” I was sure to hear some words of wisdom from a genius. So, I obviously said ‘yes’ and he narrated me few instances of his life, listening to which, my opinion regarding him went higher. He said…

I was good student at my school, but never amongst the class toppers. At my junior college, I couldn’t continue to do well. In fact I developed a fear to do well. The situation was totally different. I did my schooling, right from K.G. to 10th at Satara, before my father was transferred to Mumbai where I completed my junior college. At my school, I had many friends, whom I knew since the age of 4 years. So getting adjusted to a new city, new college and new friends was never going to be easy. But time passed on, and now I was in a gang of three people. I can never forget them, Sameer, Roger and Ashwini. All of them were from same city; in fact they were class mates for over a decade. Each of them had their individual strong subjects. Sameer was very strong in Mathematics, Roger in Physics, while Ashwini was unbeatable in Chemistry. So being with such people was beneficial to a certain extent.

It all started after our 11th standard exams, where in I topped the class. I secured more scores in all the subjects than the trio. This perhaps irritated them. They dint respond in any way until our 12th standard classes commenced. They had decided to target me. By now I had become most of the teacher’s favorite student. So while I would answer in some classes, they would imitate my style of talking, etc. Initially I dint consider this seriously, but later on it went beyond limits. This teasing had induced a kind of fear and insecurity in my mind. So I started to bunk classes and avoid studies. In the mean time, on my health front too this affected me. I was having several psychological problems due to this on going episode in the class. Just a month before my final exams, I had a nervous break down. The effect was so awe full, that I could not take up my exams. I had lost all my hopes in life. I had faced the most forgetful instance of my life. I saw myself going nowhere in the future.

The next year I had only one aim. That was to prepare well for the public exams and get admission at a good professional college. I had also made a firm decision of not having any friends for a life time. My experience in friendship was bitter and regretful. I was suffering for no real mistake of mine. As I had determined, I did fairly well and got an admission. But my performance wasn’t as good as I had prepared for.

Then, I came here. For the first few days, as decided firmly, I never spoke to any person. But I was getting good response from Arjun, Aditi and Ajay. They were very co-operative in the lab sessions and assignments. Even in my previous gang, all was fine at the beginning. Usually things are always sweet at the beginning. But with time, they become bitter. Our first year exams got over and few days later we got our results. I stood first. Ironically I never enjoyed it. My past bitter experience had similar root cause. There developed a strange fear of standing first, in my mind. I was prepared to tolerate some insults and taunts from my new friends. To my surprise, while I was attending the graduation ceremony of the then out going batch, Aditi said to me, “Ankit I really want you to be the topper for all the four years. Look at our out going senior Raghuveer, who is receiving a medallion for being a consistent rank holder. It is such an honor. I feel you fit into his shoes. Since you put in lot of efforts and have the potential, you really deserve it. Along side you, even my burden in academics reduces. Make this your aim” Ajay and Arjun too nodded their heads, signaling to me that they too shared the same feeling. My every single effort was appreciated by them. This gave me the most important self confidence, which I had lost couple of years back. On one hand there were Aswhini, Roger and Sameer, who taunted me on my right deeds and on the other hand were Aditi, Ajay and Arjun who appreciated me and encouraged me to perform better. They wanted my initial success to develop into a big success story. Today, what I have achieved is all dedicated to the three great friends of mine. These guys not only encouraged me, but also helped me restore my faith in friendship, which again I had lost from my past experience.

In the final year, I got a job in one of the leading MNC and also got the opportunity to do my internship at the same place. There a stunning incident happened which further opened me up in life. I happened to meet Ashwini, one of the most terrible people in my life. Later she found that I too had got a job at the same place where she was working for the past six months. In fact in next six months, I would be joining the same company at a better position in comparison to her. So it would be a great opportunity for me to give something back and settle the scores, was a thought which came in my mind.

Ashwini wanted to talk to me, but I clearly sensed guilt in her eyes. She somehow managed to gather all her strength and approached me. She begged for pardon a hundred times and gave various reasons for her misbehavior. She finally said that she regrets her behavior so much that if god had to grant her a wish, her only wish would have been to present her with an eraser, which would help her wipe out her past mistakes, which led to my failure then. I immediately gave up the idea of taking any sort of revenge, but said to her that, “Unfortunately there exists no eraser in this world that helps us wipe out our mistakes in past. However we can erase those thoughts which arise deliberately to harm others.” With these words I left that place. Excusing Ashwini was not an easy job. I am ultimately an ordinary person, not the great Gautama Buddha. But I was sure, she had changed. Even I had changed after that incidence. So it wasn’t hard for me to believe that. May be what she did then was out of immaturity. People commit mistakes at an amateur level, for which they can only repent, but never rectify it.

Before Ankit completed narrating this incidence, his eyes were loaded with tears. I now knew the reason for his reserved behavior in the class for four long years. What he underwent was not a desirable experience for any person. But may be without it, he wouldn’t have done as well as he did in the past four years. I’m not sure academically, but as a person, he had grown stronger and better. His thoughts were more refined now. He had acquired the ability to educate people just by sighting his life as an example. I consider myself fortunate to be the first person to learn some important lessons of life from him.

2007-04-26T05:41:00.000-07:00

A beautiful one…

2007-04-01T10:04:00.000-07:00

As a day breaks far away in mountains, over the oceans and in the woods....
a life is born…

As the thin lanes in the woods and streams flowing by the side…
Just like the streets of the destiny taking us along and sweet memories cherished forever…

At crossing opening new avenues for future…
Caring our likes and dislikes… a blessing in disguise…

As the fog that moves before us…
Times that hold our enthusiasm for what life has stored in for us the next moment…

With the flying birds in numbers and flowers blooming in bunches…
Revealing the essence of togetherness as unforgettable joy forever…

The birds singing as we pass… trying to get our eye...
Just reminding us something which cannot be not thought of….

The bright colorful flowers...
imitating the various colors of life…

The silent water flowing..
Some moments sustaining the solace and serenity in life…

With sky so far and ever spread..
No different from our dreams that are innumerable and always there…

The sights of birds and cattle together in grass…
Portraying the inexplicable joy of friendship…

Wonderful flowers with thorns underneath...
Conveying us not to be in haste… reflecting small intricacies of the life…

.. looking at these and more some say..’Nature is beautiful’ why not say…
Life is beautiful..!!!

Hard Drive

2007-03-29T04:29:00.000-07:00

‘Brute’, said my friend at the traffic signal.

‘Yes?’

I was used to being referred to by many epithets in my circle of friends and so had naturally assumed that the remark was directed to me.

‘Not you, you dunderhead.’ he corrected. ‘I was referring to that sergeant over there bullying the old beggar woman.’

And sure enough there he was, the standard Bangalore traffic sergeant with this queer hat reminiscing the past British rule, a rotund belly reflecting the current democratic rule severely censuring the ragged wrinkled beggar woman who had chosen to cross the road at the exact moment when the signal had chosen to change red. From a distance you couldn’t say that the sergeant was actually shouting at the lady. In fact he definitely was not shouting. He was choosing the choicest of epithets that the Kannada language has to offer and employing it on the lady in a poetic fashion.

‘Imagine treating a lady like that, that too an old lady. He must have no heart…’

‘Halt. Thou shalt speak no further.’

My friend attempted to heap more ignominies on the sergeant when he was stopped in this rather chevalier fashion by me.

‘I will never ever allow anybody not even the closest and dearest of kith and kin to speak bad of a sergeant, more so a sergeant who is bullying an old lady. Not after the incident that happened to me.’

‘And what may that be?’ asked my friend. ‘You might as well tell a tale while we are driving back – better than sitting behind and giving me directions on how to drive.’

‘I’m rather disappointed at your inability to make use of expert driving advice immediately available to you. However I shall magnanimously overlook this fault and proceed to entertain you for the rest of the drive. It was a bright and shining summer morning when I full of hope and fortitude…’

‘I might just change my mind you know. You have been reading too much of that Shakespeare stuff…or rather pretending that you’ve read that. I promise you that if you continue one more word in that tone, I shall drive my bike straight towards that electric post there and make sure you the inflictor and me the sufferer both shall perish immediately.’

‘Err… ok. I’ll tell you the story. It started this way…’

And this way is what you’ll read further.

‘It’s harmless.’ my friend said.

He was referring to the bike of his which I was about to borrow. The bike looked nothing like it. I swear it – I’m an honourable manager-fearing software engineer and I swear by all the meetings that I have ever attended that the bike did not look harmless. It looked like a rather rummy street cat that had lost a fight with ten other equally rummy adversaries. And it was this bike that I was to use for a drive through Bangalore. And it was this bike which was at the moment referred to as harmless. Common sense tried her very best to make me revert course and forget all about the trip to be made. Unfortunately (as is often the case with me) lunacy prevailed. I took the bike.

My objective was to take this bike make me to err… bake this mike take me to…make this tike bake me to…wait wait…concentrate, bake a deep treath…no no take a deep breath. That’s better. My objective was to make this bike take me to Malleswaram from Bommanahalli. And in the process I hoped I was in for some thriving drills…err…driving thrills.

It was pretty pleasant actually. The bike sped along like an Arabian steed across one of those fairy tale plains, almost out of a 60’s 70’s feel good musical. And I felt a bit like a knight in shining armour. In fact I was almost willing to change my opinion about the bike – it looked harmless so far…in fact quite likable I must say. I felt a great remorse at having accused it so heavily. Perhaps one should not judge by appearances… I made up my mind to go to one of those pink coloured Archie shops and get something tied up in a ribbon to apologize to this bike.

And this is exactly where I erred. In fact it was this train of thought that led to the singular chain of events that I’m to relate. Bikes as you know are creatures that toil a lot. They run through rickety roads, scream their throats out at nonchalant buffaloes that give them queer looks, literally handle a lot of crap and so on. So one cannot blame them for adopting a misanthropic view of life. They don’t like happy people. And they definitely don’t like happy people driving them. The rule of the thumb when driving a bike is if she runs smoothly, you keep saying in a loud voice ‘Oh, my God, this bike is running smoothly, surely she is going to skid right at that corner leading me to a gory death. I definitely know it…I better call up an ambulance in advance’ or something to that effect. The bike would then go on its way knowing that you are totally scared and worried.

In my sudden happy mood, I had totally forgotten this rule. So, ‘the harmless’ bike decided to teach me a lesson. It stopped.

Stopped as in not sputtered, choked and then came to an end - she just stood still right in the middle of Bangalore traffic. Let me describe traffic in Bangalore to you. Bangalore as most people know is a city filled with thin, weary eyed software engineers and rotund oily house owners. The rotund house owners have nothing to do but sit in their houses and collect rent every month from the weary eyed software engineers. The weary eyed software engineers have to rush to this dungeon called office everyday so that they get a paycheck which they give every month to the rotund house owners. And in order to rush to this dungeon called office, the weary eyed software engineers drive in hordes and hordes of monsters called cars which try to kill the weary eyed software engineers so that their insurance will pay for the car loans. In effect, this has led to the entire Bangalore city have something called roads which have been long buried underneath a pool of the monster cars.

Now, when my bike stopped, the hundred vehicles behind me started wondering why I chose this particular moment to stop my bike and give in to serious contemplation about life. And this wonder they communicated to me by a series of horns which would have put any canon shot to shame. I’m a person of strong nerves… I’ve come through watching Hollywood movies, status meetings and appraisals with my sanity completely intact. But nothing in life had prepared me for the sudden blare of a thousand horns hitting my cochlea. I frankly lost it. I began to frantically start my bike by kicking the clutch, revving the gears. After about 3.14 minutes of perfect chaos the bike decided it had had enough fun with me for now and got going.

The incident had affected my nerves badly. The bike was now overcompensating for the time lost. It now began to run like a fat lawyer who had his wife, a dozen of his customers with deadly weapons and a huge pack of hounds at his tail. It was perhaps an odd coincidence that an old woman chose to cross the road at this exact moment. Old women are a queer species on the road. They never cross a road when the signal says they can – that is like being submissive to the signal, almost autocratic. They never cross the signal when the road is free and they can reach the other end safely even if it would take them a decade to get there. No, they’ll have to wait till a young bachelor comes in his bike which is running about like a psycho killer and then…and then they jump right in the road and say ‘Boo’.

The particular old lady who jumped in front of my bike and said ‘Boo’ looked like she was from one of those badly made horror flicks. My bike was hoping for something like this to happen and promptly forgot the fact that it had something called a brake and the brake worked. The general plot that my bike had in my mind was possibly to bump the old lady a bit, smile gleefully at both her and me after which it would speed of at maniacal pace. But my bike had not expected the old lady to say ‘Boo’. This ‘Boo’ totally threw my bike off its mental balance. I was thrown off balance from the bike and before you could say ‘Boo’, the bike was on top of me panting heavily, the wheels trying to escape the consequence of what happened. My spectacles I realized were on the headlight of the bike which was trying to send out an SOS in Morse code. One of my slippers had, by some queer twist of fate (and my feet), got onto my right hand.

But all these details I noticed only later. At the given moment I was only aware of a high pitched wailing from some source nearby. I was for a moment convinced that I had died and gone to heaven where some Banshee was announcing my arrival gleefully. However this explanation was not very convincing because I was sure of my bike sitting comfortably on my thigh and I know it for a fact that dead bikes don’t go to hell. I opened my eyes and looked around. The road which about 5 seconds ago had nothing save me, my bike, the old lady who said ‘Boo’ and a completely bored buffalo was now filled with people of all shapes and sizes. It is difficult even now to believe that so many people existed in Bangalore and even if they did, they all assembled at that very moment at that very place. I was a bit unsettled, but I’m sure I counted 54 bald men, 35 old geezers with walking sticks, 65 ladies with a lunch bag and 9 and a half kids with half trousers and no shirts.

Out of this crowd, a bald man (the usual bald man who tries to help in accidents, you know the kind that I talk about – the guy with a bushy mustache, dirty shirt, oily face who tries to get you and your bike up while he’s actually trying to pick your pocket) came forward saying ‘Its all ok saar, no problem saar, just small accident saar.’ My instinct cried out loud and hard – ‘Stop this man from touching you or your bike. Stop him before he kills both of you.’ I did save my person, but my bike unfortunately could not be saved. Before I could blink he had lifted the bike and held my front brake and left indicator (or rather what was left of them) in his hands. Both of them I swear were attached to the bike even after the accident. I still can’t figure out how he managed to remove them by pressing the horn to see if it worked.

The crowd by this time decided they were not having enough fun, so they did what they usually do when old ladies try to commit suicide using young guy’s bikes. They attempt to lynch the young guy. I looked about for my pen to write my will when I had the chance. But the old lady, wile old lady let out another high pitched wail. Upon this the same old bald man suggested that I should take the old lady to a hospital. I looked upon him like he was some slimy toad run over by a heavy duty truck…in fact if he had been a slimy toad and I had a heavy duty truck, I would have gladly run him over. I conveyed to him in clear terms that I will not take this Banshee in the guise of an old lady to a hospital even if that act would make me a billionaire. I would not do it because I did not wish to harm myself, the bike or a hospital. No, I would not do it.

Then the bald guy suggested that if I did not take the old lady to a hospital, the crowd might want to lynch me. He then engaged in some rather graphic imagination of how much I would look like a slimy toad run over by a heavy duty truck after the mob had had its way. The guy would have made another Tarantino. After five minutes he had won me over by the sheer force of his argument. The old lady had seated herself very comfortably on the pillion and was wailing and howling while defaming my family and anybody connected to me remotely. I still don’t understand why she was wailing when I recall that she had not as much as a scratch on her scaly body.

So I was driving with a rather crestfallen bike retracing my route so that I can head to a hospital, get rid of this bawling witch in my pillion and get back to Malleswaram. When you travel in the reverse direction, by a law of science (something told by Newton I believe, he's the one who generally makes all these laws) your left hand becomes your right hand and your right hand becomes your left hand. But the actual places remain the same way. So, wherever you took a right turn, you need to take a left turn. If you take the right turn, it becomes a wrong turn because the right turn is the left turn which was the right turn when you were driving the in the forward direction. If reading this is confusing, imagine a man driving with this running through his mind (to say nothing of the old lady). No wonder I took the wrong turn a.k.a. the right turn. When I came to realize this, I had to take a U turn.

U turns are the most vicious things in the road. The general process involved in a U turn is this - U start off the U turn at the leftmost lane, which happens to be the wrong lane to start off with. But then, in order to preserve tradition, you don't take the right lane, which is the right lane. After having come within about 50 meters of the U turn, you realise you are in the wrong lane and then drift slowly towards the right side - if you do this in Europe, it is called the continental drift. In order to have an effective drift, you must have about 50 vehicles honking at you in fury with at least twenty-five riders making loose-ended remarks that insult everything and everybody connected to you in general. Having thus lost all sense of ego, you execute the U turn in a state of complete placidness and detachment while remembering the Gita - 'Do your duty and do not worry about the result.' If executed exactly as per procedure, you would be cruising at 40 kmph with a fat traffic policeman running behind you while the driver you pushed off balance a few seconds ago is trying to find some heavy object to stun you.

And thus having executed the U turn, I ran straight into the broad belly of a traffic sergeant. I cannot be accused for running into his belly mind you. I was already unsettled and so was my bike. So naturally both of us mistook his corporation maintained paunch for a speed breaker. And it did do well as a speed breaker. I halted with sheer terror in my mind. I panicked. The bike panicked. The old lady panicked. Everything panicked around us. This shook up the sergeant so badly that he came and began to shake the bike which shook an already shaking me. Overall, the entire world at that moment felt a bit like a glass of badly made Martini – shaken and stirred.

Did I mention a traffic sergeant? Let me digress. Traffic sergeants are very much like tigers – interesting and funny to watch from a distance when they are in a cage, but very scary when observed in close quarters. In fact National Geographic has offered an award to anybody who can get a close up photograph of a traffic constable when he is stalking his prey. The prey in this case was my bike and me. I had no camera with me.

The language of traffic constables is interesting as well. It mostly involves single words such as – ‘License?’, ‘R C Book?’, ‘Drunk?’, ‘Alive?’ (This is mostly directed at the biker who has just been run over by a truck), etc. The most interesting thing about this language is all these words and any other new words that might be added in the future all have a single meaning – ‘Pull out 100 rupees from your packet and place it in mine.’ The amount varies depending upon how many people were murdered by your vehicle, your knowledge of the native language and how much of your purse is exposed to the constable.

My friend’s bike had murdered nobody (I seriously wished it had murdered the old lady – she was stilling lamenting loudly.). My purse was nowhere within the visible range of the constable. So I should have got off easily, but that never happens with me. I failed miserably on the native language count. I knew one word in the native language and uttering that would possibly result in the constable murdering me and filing a defamation case against my ghost. So I had to shell out 100 rupees.

After having pocketed the money, the constable suddenly assumed a fatherly tone and began dishing out advice. ‘You should always carry the R C book with you sonny; even if it’s a friend’s bike (I had a good mind to carry the postmortem report of my friend with me next time). You should be more careful in the future.’ I had borne everything that had happened with a strong heart and iron will. But this really took the biscuit. Free advice by itself is obnoxious, but here I’m paying 100 rupees for free advice!!!!

I broke down and cried. Then followed an act which would have got me the Oscar, the Grammy and whatever other awards they have. In the next five minutes I crafted a heart wrenching tale of an epileptic friend admitted in hospital with severe injuries (which was not entirely false – I had exactly that in mind for my friend when I met him again.), an epileptic bike that was supposed to get me there to save his life and the epileptic traffic that was preventing me from getting there. And I added to this the villainy of the old lady who had jumped in and said ‘Boo’ to my nervous bike and was now hanging on to it like the VetAl hanging to VikramAdityan’s behind. The whole story was told in such a shaking fashion that by the time I finished it the constable himself had become epileptic.

He called me aside and said there was a hospital just fifty paces ahead which would always remain closed. He said that it gave an appearance of being open from the outside but was always closed. It was built as a sick joke by some misanthropic doctor who had no patients and lost his patience. He suggested that if I convinced the lady to get off the bike to take a look at this hospital, I might be speeding of to meet my friend. He said it was a perfectly legal and ethical thing to do with such wailing old ladies who jumped in front of bikes and say ‘Boo’. And then he did something that stunned me into silence and my bike into a start.

He pulled out fifty rupees from his pocket. ‘Fifty rupees.’ he said to accentuate the fact. And then he put that into my pocket. And then the heavens opened up and poured their joy and flowers were strewn all around in honour of this man who had done an act unheard of.

Exactly ten minutes later I was riding my bike with both me and the bike sporting a totally calm and tranquil smile over our faces. The bike had no Banshees in her pillion. I knew that there was an old lady standing in front of a hospital mouthing every possible obscenity at me and ruing her chance to swindle a software engineer out his annual salary. But the knowledge no longer affected me. I was at peace, one with my self, the bike and the universe. The traffic sergeant had led me to self-realization and my bike to self-ignition.

‘And that is why I will never ever allow anybody not even the closest and dearest of kith and kin to speak bad of a sergeant, more so a sergeant who is bullying an old lady.’ I concluded my tale.

My friend who had been listening with rapt attention all through never spoke a word after that. However I know it for a fact that at the next signal when he looked at a traffic sergeant he had a tear or two in his eyes.

Mimicry proved costly

2007-03-27T22:35:00.000-07:00

Arati a seven year old little girl was perfectly alright till yesterday. But very next day she was completely changed. What was the change in her? The little pretty girl who was speaking fluently changed and speaking with the defect of stammering. It was first noticed by the parents. When asked to her about the sudden change, she didn't reply properly. Worried parents went to ENT doctor to find out the reason for sudden change. Thorough examination was conducted and it was revealed that defect was temporary and curable after undergoing treatment.
Arati was liked by one and all, because of her soft nature, intelligent in study and her attractive appearence. It was a shocking news for the school, where she was studying and also her friends. Arati was also desperate for the unexpected development. She became dull and stopped talking with others. Her mom tried to ask her the reason behind such development and failed to get the reply.
The school management had decided to enact a drama in view of the school day. One of the teachers was made incharge of this programme. His first task was to select suitable boys and girls to act in the drama. It was really a difficult assignment for him. Because most of the students refuse to participate in the drama. Ultimately with great difficulty, he selected five boys and girls. He was unable to select a girl for an important role.
An idea flashed to the teacher for this major role. Immediately he went to the class, where Arati was studying. He suggested her to accept the role in the drama. She refused to act, because of her defect stammering. The teacher tried to convince her to accept the role. But she was firm in her view. Thereafter, the teacher went to her parents and requested them to convince the daughter to accept the role. After pursuation, they agreed to convince the daughter. Arati unwillingly accepted to act in the drama. Though her role was short, but challanging. Her dialogues were in Sanskrit. Arati took it as a challanging job. Her mom narrated the brave stories of children and their determination to reach the goal. Reharsal was commenced one month before the drama. The encouragement was received from the well wishers. Arati was in a position to byheart all the dialogues perfectly without any mistake. In the process, a miracle was happened. She regained her normal voice. The drama was successful. Everybody praised Arati for the excellant performance.
She was honoured by the school with a beautiful momento. She was given an opportunity speak on the occasion. Arati said the defect of stammering was due to imitation of other girl. I wanted to immitate the girl , who was having stammering. Therefore, everybody must learn a lesson from me the impact of imitating others.

Miracle

2007-03-27T03:14:00.000-07:00

Damini and Dinesh were in deep sorrow due to eight year old daughter Deepa's incurable disease. They were worried because of their inabilty to spend money for medical tretment. When they were discussing seriously over the matter and unable to find the solution except miracle, Deepak six year old son overheard the discussion. He was under the impression that the medicine like 'miracle' only can save his elder sister. He straight went to his room and opened the kids small savings bank box. There was some coins of different denominations stored in it. He counted the coins very carefully and made his way to a nearby medical store without informing his parents.
The pharmacist in the store was too busy to pay attention towards Deepak. He was repeatedly asking the medicine. After few minutes, the pharmacist was free and asked the little boy and astonished to know his requirement. Deepak told the pharmacist about his elder sister Deepa has something bad growing in her head and dad says only 'miracle' can save her now and enquired the cost of medicine 'miracle'.
Pharmacist's friend, who was inside the store asked Deepak whether his elder sister need strong miracle or mild miracle. Deepak was mum. He told mom says she needs operation and dad can't afford to pay for it, he decided to spend his money saved. The pharmacist friend asked the little boy how much money he was having. Rupees fifty and paise fifty, the little boy replied.
Pharmacist's friend with a smile told the boy that the required medicine he was having and the money was sufficient for the medicine. He took the money in one hand and asked the boy to take home to see sister and meet parents.
The well dressed pharmacist's friend was Dr.Abahy a famous neuro surgeon. He conducted the operation successfully with the team of surgons without any charge.Deepa was perfectly alright like other healthy girls.
When mom asked little boy the surgery cost, Deepak just smiled himself. The little boy Deepak knew exactly how much a 'miracle' cost: Rupees fifty and paise fifty only... plus the firm faith of the little six year old boy.

Who is gentleman?

2007-03-25T10:31:00.000-07:00

Harsha, Navin and Niranjan were close friends. They never met each other either personally or through communication since a long time of 15 years. During this very long period, they had undergone lot of happy and sad situations. Accidentally, Navin met his friend Harsha in his residence. Both were extremely happy to see each other. They were very much eager to know their past experiences of 15 years. Harsha wanted to narrate his story first.
Harsha after completion of post-graduation in Philosophy joined a college as a lecturer. He was married in the same year. His family members were wife, parents and a younger sister. He was happy and leading a peaceful life with the family for about two years. Thereafter, unfortunate developments happened due to the misunderstanding between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law for a silly reasons like using double meaning words at the time of conversations. Both were not keeping cordial relationship. The cause of such strained relationship was due to the behaviour of both. To get the work done, one must have patience. Mother-in-law used to tease her daughter-in-law for the domestic work such as cooking, washing of clothes etc. Harsha's wife never keep quite and gave befitting reply. Harsha tried his level best to set right the relationship and failed in his efforts. His father also warned him to take appropriate steps to stop the unwanted developments. Harsha could not tolerate, when his wife was weeping in front of all the family members. He decided to leave the house with his wife leaving his aged parents and younger sister. He even disregarded the future of parents and marriage to younger sister.
Navin's tale was something different. He was graduate and could not continue studies due to poor economic condition. His efforts to secure a job was resulted in vain. Navin was unemployed for about two years. He was desperate for this situation. Fortunately, on one day, an old man happens to be a distant relative and close friend of his father came to his house with a proposal to provide a job in his book store. Navin was happy to accept the offer. He went along with the old man and joined the duty. Initially, he was sincere and honest. The old man was very much pleased with his good behaviour. He gained full confidence of the old man. Due to Navin's efforts and excellent skill in marketing, the profits were increasing every year. After about three years, the old man became sick unable to move from the bed. As such, the old man had no alternative except to believe on Navin on everything. Navin thought to grab entire property of the old man by unfair means. He prepared a will in his name with the help of an advocate and manged to get the signature of the old man. After the demise of the old man, Navin took the possession of the entire property earned by illegal means.
Harsha and Navin were of the opinion that they did an adventurous task and complementing each other for success in their efforts. It was about 12 p.m. a telephone call received from Dr. Niranjan another close friend expressed his desire to meet Harsha next day at 10 a.m. in his residence. He also told to contact Navin and ask him to be present at the same time.
Next day all the three friends met and embraced each other to exhibit the magnitude of their close friendship. Harsha and Navin told their respective stories to Niranjan.
Niranjan was eager to narrate his story.
Niranjan did his MBBS and MD and joined as a Medical Officer in a Government Hospital. He was married to a colleague doctor. Husband and wife were leading happy life. Both got transfer to a district hospital. One day Niranjan had to treat a VIP patient with utmost care. He took special care for the patient. The patient was cured completely. That night was a memorable for Niranjan. He was discussing about the patient with another Dr.Aupama a lady doctor, who was also responsible for curing the VIP patient. Suddenly, Dr.Niranjan got giddiness and fell down. Dr.Anupama without wasting time treated him with the help of sisters on duty. Niranjan regained his consciousness and conveyed thanks to Dr.Anupama. This incident had made both to develop intimacy. Their friendship was turned into love. Their intimacy developed to the extent of marriage The lady doctor was fully aware that he was married to another lady doctor Dr.Lalitha. Dr.Niranjan had a wish of becoming a rich person. He got the information about Dr.Anupama a wealthy widow. He managed to get the divorce from Dr. Lalita and married to Dr.Anupama.
Dr. Niranjan was equally proud of his adventure.

An Enigmatic Statue

2007-03-14T05:18:00.000-07:00

An Enigmatic Statue

It was a cold October morning and we waited for our turn to get into the ferry. Everyone had to undergo the mandatory body scan before being allowed entrance into the museum. My legs were aching as I was on a whirlwind tour of NY. I had done a round of all the museums and this was my final must see on my itinerary. I was thrilled when my University had nominated me to attend a two week seminar on ‘Globalization and Gender equality’. I had a week before I had to return back to work. So I was cramming in as much of sight-seeing as I could. As my knees wobbled and groaned it’s woes of carrying on in it’s fiftieth year with an ever burgeoning girth, I sat down and exclaimed, “Ah I can’t carry on climbing up these endless steps.”
The Lady whispered “I am tired of standing too. How my legs ache! Here you complain of a pain in the knees just walking around Central Park! How I want to lie down. Ahh….!”

I was dumb founded as the guide droned on about it being a gift from France in 1776. A hundredth Independence Day gift! Today was 2006. Imagine the paranoia of the people if she ever sat down under the present circumstances. I whispered back, “The security chaps will throw us all in jail. There will be talk of some new and improved method of remotely destroying the symbols of American Civilization. And don’t ever talk of lying down. You are not like the Bamian Buddha, who were destroyed and no one cared to even protest.”
I was panicking and sounded as severe as possible.
But the Lady was adamant, ‘What if I lean a little like the Leaning Tower of Pisa?’
She was in a rebellious mood. I ignored her and joined a group of elderly tourists clicking away furiously, all enthralled by this icon of independence.

The guide droned on about her aquiline nose, large eyes and firm chin.
“Look at her beautiful flawless skin! The copper, a shield to all the environmental degradation.”
All of us noted the green patina on her. Did I see the statuesque figure raise her brows questioningly?
“How would you like to possess a green coloured skin eh?”
The aggrieved voice floated in with the chill winds.
“Oh I am open to all colours, purple, shades of violet, maroon, orange, lilac, golden…”
There was a silence for a while. I smiled at the thought of having outsmarted her. “Ouch!” I jumped out of my skin as the Statue of Liberty in silvery gown and dark glasses posed to be photographed with a gaggle of tourists. There were relieved smiles all around as I understood my mistake.
Many such Statue of Liberty’s were standing around, some fairly short to one that was quite portly.
“See I frightened you didn’t I?”
The voice from the silvery coloured Statue of Liberty look-alike was gleeful. This one sported dark sunglasses. It did make her look quirky.
I had made the mistake of standing with her to be photographed. I began walking briskly trying to shake off this fresh nuisance.
A sudden strong gust of wind nearly threw me off my feet and I toppled over and sprawled at ‘her feet.’ Staring up from my grassy patch I watched the impassive face flicker with concern for a moment. I got up or rather was helped to my feet by holding on to her comforting solidity.
Rains were lashing on hard as the sky was split asunder by a brilliant flash of lightening. I was astonished to discover that the Statue of Liberty was very nonchalantly taking off her glasses and the dripping wet silvery cloak!
She stood amazingly tall and powerful in all her copper green beauty next to me on the grassy ground below. I looked up to see the pedestal above and the silent vacuum screaming it’s absence.
I could visualize the entire US security swooping down on some hapless country or people holding them responsible for the shenanigans of the Statue.
“Please, please go back,” I was pleading holding on to her immense feet.
She wiggled her big toe, “Give me one good reason why I should?”
“For the sake of the poor. The trampled on and the large silent suffering majority who look upon you as an icon of justice and freedom.”
My teeth chattered more in fear than cold as I was sure of my photograph being splashed in all newspapers and TV for trying to escape with the Statue.
“You do not expect justice here do you?” She was certainly in a strange mood.
“How can you go in for metaphysical discussions here? Let’s find a more comfortable place,” I suggested.
As we walked in companionable silence the statue spoke up, “An icon of freedom and justice? Don’t you think I am tyrannical? Imposing my concepts and values on others? Who gave me those powers? Isn’t it because I am financially and militarily mighty?”
I made some soothing sounds, “Justice, we do not expect it anywhere. We are surprised and taken aback when it does occur. Tell me one instance in history that justice has taken place? Kings come and go, so called peoples’ democracies come in their place. But justice there is no justice madam for the poor in the world.”
She turned to retort but in the blinding rain we had walked right back to her pedestal! She stood silently nodding assent to my views as with a sigh of relief I clambered on the last ship going back to NY.

Written by Chandra Ghosh Jain © 16.11.06 Jodhpur

A Rare Friendship...

2007-03-05T01:37:00.000-08:00

There was a very beautiful garden, full of lovely flowers and wonderful creepers. A section of garden had really very sweet fragranced & beautiful flowers. Of those flowers, a few were roses of marvelous colors. One could get a feeling; each rose was competing with the other...each believing each was the best.

One of those was a yellow rose, which was very much contended and happy with its life, in spite of knowing its life was not more than a few days. It really was a wonderful flower compared to its neighbors. It never knew it was so beautiful, but always believed that world was a beautiful place to live and was happy for having lifted spirits of so many who watched it.

One day, it happened that a few butterflies, moving from a garden to other, reached this garden. Seeing so many flowers, butterflies were delighted. Of those, was a colorful butterfly, which got attracted to a yellow rose. It flew to it and was about to suck its nectar, the yellow rose pleaded not to take away its nectar as it had only blossomed only a day before. Seeing such a sweet flower, speaking in such a sweet way, the butterfly couldn’t turndown its plea. It moved to other flowers. Later it came back to yellow rose to listen to its sweet voice and enjoy its fragrance. In matter of time, they both became good friends, sharing their experiences and feelings. They happened to meet daily...for next two days, while the yellow rose was still the best in the garden. The butterfly was happy to have such a wonderful friend, so was the yellow rose. Rose also allowed the butterfly to taste its nectar a little. It really tasted exotic and butterfly was delighted. Everything went on well. The butterfly use to complete its hunger from other flowers and move to the rose and just taste its nectar a little and enjoy its company the fullest. They together set an example through their rare friendship.

The day came, when the butterflies decided to move to other garden the following day. Rose never had a thought about parting from its dear friend. It thought they would remain friends for as long as it would live. Butterfly in the beginning felt bad about parting, but it could not resist itself when it heard its friends speaking of more sweet fragranced flowers in the garden some distance away.

On the day of parting, the butterfly promised the rose of visiting it daily and spending sometime with it. Rose felt very sad about parting from its dear friend but still had the confidence and trust on butterfly and its promise. It consoled itself and was happy that it could at least meet its friend, remaining days of its life

But it turned the other way; the butterfly was busy making new friends in the other garden. It had hardly time for even thinking of its far off friend. The rose waited a day and the next day, still it could not find its friend. It started losing hope and found it difficult to be the same energizing flower. It started to dry off, its petal started dropping and sweetness in its nectar and fragrance was lost. It still had a little hope to see its friend, but that day never came. Meantime another butterfly coming from the other distant beautiful garden visited this garden. Knowing about the yellow flower and its butterfly friend, understanding the plight of the yellow rose it tried its best to lessen the pain of the rose. It spent most of its time with the rose sharing its wonderful experiences and caring for the rose’s plight. Though the rose missed its old friend, it now understood the true meaning of the friendship. Friendship doesn’t mean only sharing, but understanding. Though hardly any days were left, it tried its best to live them to the fullest. It was happy that it had found a true friend, who would stay by its side and truly understand it. It tried its best to reciprocate the same. Neither the sweetness of nectar nor the sweetness of fragrance, but it was the sweetness of their company that brought them together. Those were the most memorable moments of their lives. Each treasured its new friend and their friendship.

One sunny afternoon the yellow rose's nectar had dried completely and there was no more life in the flower. Its new friend missed it a lot, but was happy that it could make its friend happy for some time at least and lessen its plight. The gardener and the people who visited the place too felt the absence of the yellow rose. None knew whether the old friend of the rose returned anytime or not.

Everyone admired the friendship of the rose and its true friend though it could not last for long time. This became favorite story of all the forthcoming generations of the flowers of that garden. Together the yellow rose and the butterfly set the right example of the rare friendship.

A few days later, new bright and beautiful yellow roses blossomed, reminding everyone the tale of the rare friendship. Till today, yellow roses puts forth the true spirit of friendship.

A friend...is one who bothers to care, to share, to understand, to bear, to support, to love and to cheer u....

Looking for something.... that is obvious....

2007-03-05T01:24:00.000-08:00

It was a quite windy, I found myself in the dense woods, and my path was lost as was I. No path seemed to take me closer to my destination, if there was one. I was just stepping along the path, lost in past thoughts, cursing those wrong steps that brought me onto this aimless journey. Very difficult to comprehend and visualize my future, I just kept moving, in day light that was no less than a dark night, in my case.

About me, nothing much to say , one like you , just that I make my earning moving from village to village doing all sorts of job, helping shift luggage for daily wages, attending the customers for a busy dealer, so on. Nothing great as obvious. I have a family far away, whom I had promised to make a better fortune and come back, so that we could have a better living. My journey till now hasn't been great; I wasn’t expecting anything new either in the future. Just a small hope, may be I would live my dreams some time... enabled my legs to take steps...
I always thought life wasn't just being in a place, earning something for living, and remain contended with what I received. It’s not either that I was too greedy in life; just had some motivation, and liking for a better future- just to give some more comforts to my family, and also know more about life... Now I realized life isn't that simple as it spells.

Moving from one village to village, then to a town, I realized there was no limit for a person's satisfaction and there were no place that a person, said he had reached his destiny. A poor always wanted to be rich, a rich trying hard to be even richer... well... this wasn't only the only longing queue... while a person, rich or poor, who had no relations, was dying to find a true love, there were some with just optimum for survival yet lots of relations to support, but alas they were ignorant of what a relation was.. What one's support could earn other... a wealth worth more than plenty of money. I realize its importance now having stayed away from home. This had shortened my stay away from home, for only couple of more days. I decided I would start my journey back to home.. if I wouldn’t make my fortune, in the next village or town, that I enter...
These were the thoughts in my mind then.

God listens to sincere prayers, I was blessed, and I found a Noble, Generous and a caring person, as my companion. No not just a companion that was what he made me feel. He was my employer for my journey to the next town. He told me that he owned plenty of fields and I could work for him, as long as I would like to. He promised me to pay sufficient to my efforts. I knew it would be a deal similar to previous ones, my efforts wouldn't be recognized, yet I decided to move with him and work in his fields. It was Gods grace upon me, it was wisest decision I had ever taken. Going to my master’s farm, I realized I was one amongst many to work under him. I realized that my efforts would be in vein as all my work would be lost in the crowd.

My master introduced me to couple of other workers, earning their living as being farmers there. I was told my duties. I had to plough the land and also make water available for the all the crops. I was told it was the right season, I had joined, so I could earn sufficiently, as the seedlings were being sowed then and fruits would mature in the coming 3 months from then. I was also told that any small negligence would bring down the crop value. I knew I couldn't afford to cause any damage to the crops as those were the only remaining hope for my fortune. I started working in fields. I was always told by my fellow farmers that, it was just wonderful working for my Landlord, who was so considerate. I hardly gave any time to those thoughts. I only hoped I would earn enough, to pay my journey back and also allow taking some money back home.

For over two months we all were totally into the work, master too, use to join us and work with us, he always told he enjoyed his profession; a being farmer, he told about his past, how he was a small farmer, and with huge efforts, dedication and of course over coming quite a lot of hardships he had reached his present, where he himself, had people working for him. He said he had never left the hope of success, and it was his sole weapon that won him victory.

It was like spell, everyone totally, under the captives of my master’s nobility, we all started to believe the crop was ours, and we took all the more care.
The harvest season was near, so was my fortune, I now realized life is not just looking for big opportunities rather it is making big from smaller ones, that are within our reach. I was already longing for being back home,
I missed my family a lot.

Added to my concerns I came across a friend who arrived in this town from my village. I heard from him that, my family wasn’t doing that well. My father wasn't keeping good health. My master too expressed his concern over my family, not doing well. He asked me to start for home soon. As the harvest season was near, he would sell the crops and send my share of profits to my village .He handed me some money to bear any contingencies and asked me to return back home. I bid farewell to my friends and master and started my journey back home.

I reached home after day and night continuous journey for 3 days, My family was elated to see me back home. They were really worried about me, as was I about them. My father was recovering and I was told, he fell severely ill a few days back, but will be quite well, soon. I was relieved to know my father’s health would be restored soon. I was grateful to God and thanked him for taking care of my family in my absence. There was only one disappointment; I could not see the crops till they were properly paid off for. I missed the Good, humble and caring words of master; the words that energized my persuasion and spirit. I decided to do my best in my village to earn whatever I could. I put extra efforts in my small farm, which I hardly cared for before. I decided I would work hard, and become a humble person like my landlord, and keep myself contended and be helpful to others as well.

To my pleasant surprise, after a couple of weeks, I met the same villager whom I met earlier in my master’s town. He had returned from my master’s town. He handed over the money which my landlord asked him to pass on to me as my share of profits. I was truly moved, knowing that there were still people in the world who could remember someone and send their money for labor being so truthfully

Now tears rolled out from my eyes, I remembered that day when my lost journey brought me to this person, who answered all my questions. Life is not money nor just relations, its more than that; life is standing for yourself, also supporting others who attempt to stand, and caring for people beyond the family also boundaries as well.

My acquaintance with my compassionate master left me in high spirits and motivated for years to come. I stepped into my field and started working in full spirits singing these lines…..

Hearing to many biographies and tales,
I always felt there a difference between us and the great…

I use to ponder and rather wonder upon with the fact that,
Changing times seem to make the world all the more dry….

Finding ideals, has become truly idealistic, in present times…
Human values seem to be far off from its true values……

Fortunately, I did meet a few, that drove away the dark clouds around,
Clearing all mist, reaffirming the fact; its not an open eye but an open heart
that sees the beautiful world

In plain words…., only a few are blessed in this world……

whose thoughtfulness…. Leaves everyone… thinking…

whose Caring heart…. Makes everyone… feel special..

whose nobility and serenity…. distinguishes them from the others…

One who truly stands apart and… inspiring for all the coming times….!!

It’s wonderful to know such a benevolent person like you…. Thanks for all the support!

Punching Punctuality

2007-03-05T00:23:00.000-08:00

Last summer was a kind of different in comparison with those earlier summer seasons that has passed by till then. It was the time, when most of us had to separate out, coming out from college life and starting a new life in the corporate world. So most of us had this emotional pull and we wanted to make this summer, a remarkable one. What better than a trip to a hill station in the burning summer heat, was the obvious point of discussion amongst us?

I initially thought this was going to be impossible, considering our gang’s attitude. One evening of a weekend, we met and had a discussion on our trip. Surprisingly all of us agreed unanimously to go to Panchgani, for the next weekend. Everyone was excited about this. I can never pen down those feelings we had then.

Panchgani was about 8 hrs of journey from our city. The frequency of busses was about once every 30mins, after 10 pm. So, we booked five tickets for Aravind, Mark, Pranav, Raj and me, at 10pm on Friday.

Finally the most awaited Friday came and complete day was spent in buying stuffs for travel and planning. I and Aravind reached the bus terminal by 9:30pm and Mark followed us at 9:45pm. We were trying to figure out why Pranav and Raj late for the journey. Waiting for these two guys, we realized we couldn’t make it to the 10:00pm bus and postponed our reservation to 10:30pm bus, at some extra cost. Aravind was extremely disappointed and was considering of canceling the trip. At around 10:20pm Pranav and Raj were seen at the bus terminal. Aravind and Mark were very upset with Pranav and Raj. Even I wasn’t pleased by their behavior, but wasn’t so upset as Aravind and Mark.

The bus started to Panchgni at 10:35pm and we started to question Pranav and Raj for their delay. Raj started making up some stories, which we dint accept, but Pranav was honest and accepted that they were careless. By now it was about 30mins of travel and I and Mark were ready to forgive them for making late to the journey. I was particularly convinced by Raj’s question. “What will we loose if we reach Panchgani some half hour late? Or what will we gain by being on time? Now at least we should not be bound by time.” But still it was tough to convince Aravind. I thought he was being unreasonably strict. It was about 2:30am, when we slept. The next scene that I remembered was the bus terminal of Panchgani, by 7:00am.

We freshened up by 11:00am and we left to the local Nisarga water falls. It was around 30mins drive from our hotel. The tempo which we boarded dropped us at a point and the driver instructed us to take up a narrow lane to the location of water falls. He also told us that there would be few native people who guide us to the exact location of the water falls. In return we needed to pay some little money.

As per the driver’s instructions we walked through the narrow lane for about five minutes. We heard the sound of water falls, but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. We saw an old naïve person, whom we thought would guide us to the falls. We spoke to him and he agreed to guide us. The amount to which he agreed was surprisingly low. After we walked a few steps towards the water falls, he asked us for the exact time. Aravind replied, “It is exactly 11:51” The man replied, “Sir, I can accompany you people only after 12:40pm. I have some important work until then” We were taken by surprise by his gesture. But we dint have any option, other than agreeing to his words. We thought this was the best time for us to pull Aravind’s leg. So we started comparing Aravind’s punctuality with that naïve person’s behavior and making fun of our dear friend.

How ever Aravind took things lightly and suggested that instead of waiting in the midst of road why not follow the old man. We all nodded our heads and followed him. He walked for about 10mins and following him we also reached a charitable home, known as Deen Dayal Charitable Trust. We saw many people, who appeared to be very poor, waiting in a queue. We were able to figure out the reason behind such a long queue. At exactly 12:15pm, we saw food being served. By 12:25pm, the representatives of the trust stopped serving the food. Nearly 50% of the crowed returned empty handed, but our guide got lucky. We all discussed our guide’s fortune, until he returned and continued our adventurous walk towards the water falls.

On the way we asked him, why the others we deprived of the food. He said, “Sir, the trust has one rule. Only first 25 members in the queue will get the food. One has to be sharp on time to earn his/her meal. I’m very poor. If I go late, I may not get my one time meal. I have to very punctual to earn it. Other wise I may have to starve the entire day. Once I asked the representatives of the trust, why they didn’t serve meal to each and every person at their door step? They told me that they wanted to make people understand the value of each meal they have. Even though we don’t pay any money, we give them the exact time, which perhaps is more than mere currency”

At that point of time I realized how correct Aravind’s behavior was. Pranav and Raj were ashamed by their respective behavior for last night. I asked Aravind, “Now I realize the importance of punctuality. How come you have that ability of being punctual without any experience as this?” He replied, “I have met this person some time before in some other form. Keep in mind one thing, not all of us are blessed with good fortune. That doesn’t mean we should cultivate wrong habits. Practicing correct habits has no restriction”

I honestly do not remember the later part of the trip. But certainly remember those strong and correct words from my dear friend. Most of us became very punctual following that incident. This summer, I miss those lovely moments, but I can always relive them practicing punctuality.

Sasha

2007-02-04T16:00:00.000-08:00

She was sweating profusely now. Her clothes were all wet as if she had just had a swim. All she could hear was her own heart beat lub-dub-lub-dub...which occasinally skipped a beat or two. She tried to see but nothing was visible, for a while she thought she had gone blind.. but then it was so dark nobody could see anything. It was damp and cold and a shiver ran down her spine. She cuddled herself even more lightly and her limbs felt like they could tear apart. She was crouched down under those big hanging things like in that movie 'coma'. She imagined that scene and the thought made her shiver this time, not the cold. She wanted to scream but could not, it never came out of her throat. She wanted to get up and run for the door but her legs refused to cooperate, probably deep in her heart she didn't want to.

She sat there with her knees up and resting her chin on them for what seemed like an eternity. She remembered her mom, she saw her face in the dark.. what a comfort it was. her light perfume smell, she could smell it right now in there. Tears rolled down those cheeks and she sobbed quietly.. it was as if something opened inside her and on and on they came... her mom's soft skin and her touch is all she wanted right now. And then she remembered her dad. Oh how much she missed them. Her dad was her hero.. not any short of a batman or a superman. He was always there when she needed him and he tried to fulfill all her wishes how ever absurd they seemed... now the tears never seemed to be stopping.. the sobs came in quicker and louder.
Just then the door opened.. a bright light filled the room. A strong smell of raw flesh hit her nostrils.

"What's the matter with you? How many times have I told you not to come in here? Is this a place for you to play? I have been searching whole of the house for you and you little rascal sit in this closet and dream about God knows what?"

"Err...I was just playing make-believe mama," she said meekly.

"For a 6 year old you do have lot of imagination. Now come on out and help me with the chicken, your dad needs to deliver it by noon."

"Yes mama" was all she could say.

She wiped her tears and followed her mama into the kitchen. While going, she saw her dad sitting in the big chair smoking his cheap cigar and drinking beer in the living room. That all he does for most of the day.

"Send me another beer, will you?" He shouted from there.

"Don't you think it is too early in the day?" Her mom shouted back from the kitchen.

"Open the ice box and go give that beer to you papa." she said to little Sasha.

When she took the beer to her papa, he smiled and patted her on her cheek and said.."Be a good girl and help your mama, you will be a good wife too like her when you grow up."

Sasha could not understand if it was a blessing or a curse but a small ray of hope lingered in that tiny little heart that things would be different when she would grow up. Or else there is always that game of "make-believe".

DEWDROPS

2007-01-12T10:45:00.000-08:00

Dewdrops..

Have u ever felt dewdrops beneath ur naked feet
Have u ever felt sunshine smiling on u from the sky
Have u seen how strange shapes, the clouds can assume
Have u noticed how time stands still, in the countryside?

Let me tell u small story, of a girl called Nikki
She lives in a village, untouched by the city
She spends some wonderful moments, plays till dawn
She never comes home from the streets, untill called upon

She gets up in the morning with the sun shining bright
She feels the dewdrops beneath her feet and puts some on her eyes
She stands on the roof of the "pucca" house
And watch the palm trees giving way to the sunrise....

She notices how the sky changes it's colour
From grey to green to blue to turquiose...
She hears the birds chirping and playing around
She sees the beauty of the sunrise and that of a budding rose

She goes to a school where they teach her ka kha ga
Her school is under a Banyan tree and and it has a Guruji
He teaches her how to write on a slate with chalk
However she prefers to eat the chalk rather than write with it

Her meals are like that of Krishna
Makkhan and Dahi...
She sits on the Banyan tree
an relishes glucose powder in a jiffy

She has loads of relatives
Nani, Maamis, mamas and cousins
She never feels lonely
What a bliss full time it is

When it's time for a bath, it gets really cool
She heads towards the pump
which is used to water the paddy fields
But for some time it has to become her swimming pool

Slowly the dusk comes, and all the cows come home
She watches them in awe, as they leave dust behind
They wear metal bells and it tinkles all the way
She should be careful though and never come in the way

The lantern is lit by the ladies of the houses
which depicts the begining of a long night
She reaches the rooftop with her gang in tow
They put the beddings on jump on it, happiness galore

For the night brings with it, so many stars..
She tries to find her favourite one which shines very bright
She makes a lot of images with those lovely stars
and shares them with her pals almost every night..

The darkness also brings out so many fears
The ways the trees sway in the wind
The way some birds scream in the night
She's been told to keep very quiet

So she sleeps in her Nani's lap
and drifts away to dreamland
She will wake up again in the morning
to have another lovely day
to have another lovely day...

THE BURDEN OF LIFE

2006-12-26T22:09:00.000-08:00

THE BURDEN OF LIFE

BHIM SINGH FELT HIS EYES CLOSING INSPITE OF HIMSELF. HE HAD BEEN AWAKE FOR AT LEAST 12 HOURS. THE SUN HAD RISEN AND THE ONLY THING HE WISHED FOR WAS SLEEP. HE WAS THE NEWLY APPOINTED NIGHT WATCHMAN OF THE WAREHOUSE THAT HAD PLASTIC WARE STORED IN IT. SINCE THE FESTIVAL SEASON WAS APPROACHING SO EXTRA VIGIL WAS KEPT AT NIGHT. BHIM SINGH HAD ONCE AGAIN BECOME THE VICTIM OF HIS MASTER’S ECCENTRICITY WHO IN A SUDDEN FIT OF INSPIRATION APPOINTED HIM AN ADDITIONAL GUARD.

BHIM SINGH HAD ASSUMED VARIOUS ROLES IN THE TEN YEARS OF HIS PATRONAGE UNDER HIS MASTER, MAHIPAL SINGH. HE HAD BEEN HIS SERVANT, COOK, DRIVER, MUSCLE MAN, AND LATELY A NIGHT WATCHMAN IN HIS WAREHOUSE.

SUDDENLY, THE GAUDINESS OF THE DAY ENTERED HIS EYES AND BROUGHT AN END TO HIS NAP. NO IT WAS NOT SUN LIGHT, IT WAS THE FOCUSED LIGHT OF HIS MASTER’S PEN TORCH.

“ BE VIGILANT BHIM SINGH! THE NIGHT SHIFT IS NOT OVER YET,” ECHOED THE BASS VOICE OF HIS MASTER IN HIS EARS.

“ YES MAALIK!” BHIM SINGH STOOD UP FROM HIS STOOL AND SALUTED HIM IN ONE SINGLE MOTION AS IF GIVEN AN ELECTRIC SHOCK.

SLEEP VANISHED FROM HIS EYES. HE THREW THE STOOL ON WHICH HE HAD BEEN PREVIOUSLY SITTING TO THE GROUND WITH A QUICK KICK AND STARTED PACING THE BOUNDARY OF THE WAREHOUSE. WHEN HE PASSED IN FRONT OF HIS MASTER’S OFFICE THE AROMA OF GREEN LEAF TEA GAVE HIM LITTLE-BIT AGILITY AS WELL AS IGNITED THE FLOW OF MEMORY IN HIS MIND.

IT WAS A CALM OCTOBER NIGHT WHEN HE HAD COME TO THE HOUSE OF MAHIPAL SAHIB.

THE ACCOUNTANT WHO WAS THE LOYAL SERVANT OF THE SAHIB AND HIS DISTANT RELATIVE FROM THE MOTHER’S SIDE INTRODUCED HIM. SAHIB MAHIPAL ONLY LIFTED HIS HAND AND SAID, “ HMM… SO FROM TODAY YOU ARE MY DRIVER.”

IT WAS NOT ONLY HIS SKILL AT DRIVING THAT GOT MAHIPAL HIS JOB BUT ALSO THE FACT THAT HE BELONGED TO THE SAME SUB-CASTE AS HIS MASTER’S AS WELL AS HIS HAVING A ROYAL PAST. NOT TO MENTION THE REFERENCE BY THE ACCOUNTANT.

“ IT IS REALLY A TRICKY TASK TO GET A JOB THESE DAYS,” HAD MUSED BHIM AS HE DROVE THE BRAND NEW MERCEDES THROUGH THE CRISS-CROSS OF THE CONCRETE JUNGLE.

“ SO YOU HAVE A ROYAL PAST?” CAME THE LACONIC QUESTION FROM HIS MASTER.

“ YES MAALIK, MY GRAND FATHER WAS THE NAWAB OF TARAGARH WHICH IS NOW THE BIGGEST DISTRICT OF THE STATE.”

“ THEN.”

“ MAALIK YOU KNOW THE LIFESTYLE OF THE BIG PEOPLE. HE HAD A BIG HEART AND MANY MISTRESSES TOO. REST IS HISTORY.”

“ MAALIK I HAVE ABOUT 20 ACRES OF LAND AT PRESENT BUT 3 YEARS BACK THE SEA ROSE AND SINCE THEN IT HAS BEEN A SALTY WASTE LAND.”

“ LOOK AHEAD YOU IDIOT, I DID NOT ASK THAT.”

“ YES MAALIK, I AM SORRY.”

BHIM’S CHEEKS GREW RED WITH SHAME AND ANGER BUT HE HAD TO GET USED TO IT – IT WAS A MATTER OF SURVIVAL.

“ EVERYONE SALUTES THE RISING SUN AND THE SUN OF OUR SPLENDOUR HAD SET LONG BACK,” THOUGHT FRUSTRATED BHIM.

AT FIRST HE THOUGHT THAT HIS ROYAL ANCESTRY WOULD GET HIM BETTER TREATMENT BUT IT SEEMED THAT IT STOOD IN THE WAY OF HIS MASTER’S EGO. HIS MASTER FELT UNEASY IN HIS PRESENCE ESPECIALLY AFTER HE LEARNT THAT HIS ANCESTORS RULED OVER AN AREA THAT WAS ABOUT 10 TIMES GREATER THAN ANY RICH PERSON’S POSSESSION IN THE STATE. HIS MASTER WAS STILL STRIVING TO COME IN THE BRACKET OF THE SUPER RICH. IT WAS HIS SOLE AIM IN LIFE.

NEVERTHELESS BHIM SINGH HAD RESOLVED TO STICK TO THE JOB AS HE HAD TWO CHILDREN AND A WIFE TO SUPPORT. THE NEWS THAT HIS MASTER WAS A MAN OF HIS WORDS GAVE HIM FURTHER RELIEF. HIS JOB WAS NOW SECURED.

BHIM WORKED WITH FULL HONESTY AND PUNCTUALITY. HE WAS NEVER A MINUTE LATE. ON TOP OF THIS HIS GENTLE FOOT ON THE ACCELERATOR AND THE BRAKE RESULTED IN A BETTER MILEAGE. IT WAS NOT OF ANY MONETARY SIGNIFICANCE FOR HIS MASTER BUT IT DEFINITELY PROVED HIS SKILL AS A DRIVER. HE WENT ON LIKE THIS FOR A FULL YEAR AND EVEN GOT A SALARY HIKE. BHIM WAS SATISFIED WITH HIS LIFE.

HIS MASTER HAD NO REGARD FOR ANYBODY, NOT EVEN FOR HIS NEAR AND DEAR ONES, SAVE MONEY. HIS MIND WAS REDUCED TO A FUNCTIONAL ORGAN WITH THE PRIMARY FUNCTION TO ATTAIN SUPREMACY. MAHIPAL HAD FORMULATED CERTAIN RULES OF LIVING PECULIAR TO HIMSELF. AN IMPORTANT RULE BEING NOT TO BE DEPENDENT ON ANYBODY. BUT NOW BHIM SINGH WAS ENCROACHING UPON THIS RULE.

THE NEXT DAY BHIM SINGH WAS SHIFTED TO THE KITCHEN AS A DISHWASHER AND AS AN APPRENTICE UNDER THE COOK. WITH THE PASSING TIME BHIM TOOK TO MANY JOBS UNDER HIS MATER’S RULE. THE PRESENT ONE BEING OF THAT OF A WATCHMAN.

A STUMBLE FROM A STONE THAT PROTRUDED FROM THE GROUND BROUGHT HIM IN THE PRESENT. HE CONTINUED HIS VIGIL KEEPING AN OCCASIONAL EYE ON THE GROUND FOR THE FEAR THAT HE MIGHT STUMBLE AGAIN. HIS LIFE WAS GOING ON SMOOTHLY THOUGHT BHIM SINGH.

YEARS PASSED BY. STREAKS OF GREY APPEARED IN HIS HAIR AND HIS FACE DEVELOPED A FAINT LABYRINTH OF WRINKLES. THESE DAYS HE WAS A CASHIER AT ONE OF THE MANY RETAIL OUTLETS OF HIS MASTER’S COMPANY THAT HAD GROWN BY LEAPS AND BOUNDS IN THE RECENT YEARS.

“ HOW FINE DOES GOD HELP PEOPLE WITH MONEY,” BHIM SINGH OFTEN USED TO THINK.

ONE DAY WHILE HE WAS BUSY TALLYING THE ENTRIES, HE HEARD A SHRILL CRY, WHICH EVIDENTLY WAS OF A SMALL CHILD. THE CRIES CAME AGAIN AND AGAIN UNTIL THEY TRANSFORMED INTO WAILING. BHIM SINGH JUMPED FROM HIS CHAIR AND FOLLOWING THE NOISE REACHED THE BACK PORTION OF THE SHOP. HE WAS PETRIFIED ON SEEING THE PITIFUL SPECTACLE THAT CONFRONTED HIS EYES.
MAHIPAL SINGH’S YOUNGER BROTHER SUKHPAL SINGH WAS BEATING A SMALL BOY WITH THE FEROCITY OF A SAVAGE. BHIM SINGH TRIED TO INTERVENE AND PLEADED TO SUKHPAL FOR MERCY. HE GOT A TORRENT OF ABUSES IN RETURN. HE WAS INFURIATED AND THE SENSE OF HIS ERSTWHILE ROYALTY FORCED HIM TO CATCH HOLD OF THE BOY.

WHAA…T CAME THE SLAP ON HIS FACE.

WHOO… B STRUCK BACK HIS POWERFUL FIST THAT LANDED STRAIGHT ON SUKHPAL’S NOSE TURNING IT INTO A FOUNTAIN OF BLOOD. THE NEXT MOMENT UNCONSCIOUS SUKHPAL LAY SPRAWLED ON THE FLOOR WITH HIS NOSE REDDENING THE MOIST EARTH.

FINALLY, THE SENSE OF REALIZATION DAWNED ON BHIM SINGH. HIS FAMILY SWAM BEFORE HIS EYES WITH TEARS IN THEIR EYES. THE LITTLE BOY SLOWLY WALKED AWAY WITH HIS CHEEKS RED AND SALTY. BHIM SINGH’S EYES WERE STILL AS THOUGH SURVEYING THE VACUUM.

“ GO AND PROSTRATE AT THE FEET OF YOUR MASTER,” SOMETHING IN HIM TOLD HIM.

“ NO, JUST RUN AWAY FROM THIS PLACE NEVER TO BE FOUND AGAIN,” SPOKE ANOTHER VOICE.

“ ARE YOU A COWARD? JUST STAY AND FACE THE CONSEQUENCES,” HIS FOREFATHERS ECHOED IN HIS MIND.

“WHAT AM I TO DO?” MURMURED BHIM SINGH WITH A SIGH. “ IF I WERE ALONE THINGS WOULD HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT, BUT NOW … WHY EVER DOES ONE MARRY? OH MY GOD!… MY DAUGHTER, MY SON, MY WIFE… NO! NO! NO!

HE RAN STRAIGHT AWAY TO HIS HOUSE, WHICH WAS CLOSE BY.

“SHALLU, HURRY UP, LETS RUN AWAY FROM HERE!” HE YELLED AS HE CROSSED THE THRESHOLD.

“ WHAT’S THE MATTER!” HIS WIFE CAME RUNNING FROM THE KITCHEN INTO THEIR PARTITIONED BEDROOM WIPING THE DROPLETS OF PERSPIRATION FROM HER FOREHEAD WITH THE LOOSE END OF HER SAARI.

BHIM SINGH HUSHED HER UP BY KEEPING HIS FINGER ON HER LIPS AND TOLD THE WHOLE INCIDENT IN A JIFFY.

SHALLU TOOK STOCK OF THE MATTER AND MOTIONED HIM TO A CHAIR.

“ MY DEAR,” SHE SAID IN A MATTER- OF- FACT VOICE. “WE HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE. THE WORST HAS ALREADY HAPPENED.”

HE JUST STARED.

“ OUR DAUGHTER… WAS DEFILED BY SUKHPAL 3 YEARS AGO. SHE TOLD ME A FEW DAYS BACK THAT HE IS NOT AT GOOD TERMS WITH HIS ELDER BROTHER. IN FACT MAHIPAL HATES HIM.”

“ WHAA…T! YOU BITCH.” HIS HAND ROSE TO THRASH HER BUT FELL DOWN THE NEXT MOMENT. HE HAD LOST ALL HIS STRENGTH.

“ YOU SHOULD GO TO MAHIPAL AND ASK FOR SHELTER. HE SURELY WILL SAVE YOU.” CONTINUED SHALLU IN THE SAME TONE, HER FACE AN EPITOME OF HARDNESS. TEARS STARTED STREAMING DOWN HIS CHEEKS. HE LOOKED TOWARD HIS SPOUSE WITH QUESTIONING EYES.

“ YOU WERE BURNING WITH TYPHOID. IT WAS NO USE COMPLAINING. HE EVEN HAD HER PICTURES ON THE CELL PHONE.”

“ BUT SUKHPAL CAN BE A THREAT TO OUR LIFE, TO THE LIFE OF OUR SCHOOL GOING SON.”

“THAT HE CAN BE EVERYWHERE. DON’T FORGET HE IS INVOLVED IN A MURDER CASE.”

“ THEN.”

“ GO TO MAHIPAL SINGH.”

BHIM SINGH FELT HIS ROYAL ANCESTORS SPITTING AT HIM COLLECTIVELY. HE FELT HIS BODY RISE LIMPLY FROM THE CHAIR. HE STAGGERED TO HIS FEET, WENT OUT OF THE ROOM AND WALKED TOWARDS MAHIPAL’S BUNGALOW CARRYING THE BURDEN OF LIFE ON HIS BATTERED SHOULDERS.

* * *

MAALIK=MASTER
SAHIB=SIR
SAARI=INDIAN DRESS
NAWAB=BARON

Story of Aparna

2006-09-03T23:56:00.000-07:00

Everybody has a name, an identity by which they are known in this big wide world. But how many of us know the meaning of it? There is a story behind every name. Who named you or who suggested that name for you and why? Did it just strike your mom and dad or did they just dreamt it? How many numerous name books they searched for it?

My name is Aparna and there is a beautiful story behind that name, which I would love to share with you all. My mom said that she used to read lot of novels when she was carrying me and the name 'Aparna' in those days struck little modern. She thought if she had a baby girl she would name 'Aparna' which she apparently did. But she also heard another story about the name.

The real story goes some what like this. The name is one of the numerous names of Goddess Parvati, wife of Lord Shiva. Her husband Shiva was insulted by her own father Daksha. In a fit of rage, she sacrificed herself and became a sati. Lord Shiva, in agony of losing his wife, threw himself away from all worldly desires into deep meditation in the caves of Himalayas.

Reborn again to the mountain king Himavanth as Uma, Parvati always wanted to have Lord Shiva as her husband. She used to go to the icy caves where he lived and meditated and brought him food and served him. But Shiva was so preoccupied in himself that he never noticed her at all. Parvati did not know how to win his heart so she called upon the God of Love, Manmadha and his consort Rati. They transformed his cave into a pleasure garden and the God of Lust fired his arrows of desire into Shiva's heart.

Shiva was furious than lovesick and in his anger opened his third eye and burned Manmadha to ashes. Rati seeing her husband die in that manner, pleaded Parvati to bring him back. Parvati assured her that when she would marry Shiva, Manmadha would come alive. She now knew that it was more important than ever to become Shiva's wife because, without the God of Love, there would be no creation, no man no women and the world would cease to exist.

Parvati now sorted for a more stern way to win Shiva's heart. She thought doing severe penance to prove that her love for him was true might melt his stonecold heart and then he might marry her. Very determined, she went to the forest and did rigorous Tapas. She put her mind to Shiva and chanted his name. She wore nothing to protect her tender body and she never moved. Insects and creatures crawled over her skin thinking her to be a rock. She did severe fasting, eating nothing, not even a single leaf, hence the name. A - without and Parna - leaf. Aparna the leafless one.

Impressed by her determination, Lord Shiva accepts her and they both are united in one. God of Love Manmadha becomes alive and there is harmony in the world. Thus, Aparna brings back the balance to the world. Lord Shiva and Godess Parvati are perfect for each other because she calmes him down and he attains the balance of Yoga and Bhoga with her.

So What is the story of your name?

Uncle Cho's Afternoon Nap - by Soma Sanyal

2006-08-22T10:50:00.000-07:00

The summer sun blazed down in all its glory. It was the end of May, the begining of the summer vacation. The house was filled with the pungent aroma of mustard and hilsa mixed with the strong sweet smell of mangoes and jackfruit. Mornings were reserved for studies but the rest of the time the children were free to do whatever they wanted. Left to themselves, they would have liked to play outside the house all the time. But after lunch, granny shoo-ed them upstairs. "You can't go out in this heat," she said. Crestfallen, the children gathered around in one of the big cool bedrooms upstairs. They started to argue on what to play and a big fight ensued. Finally they all agreed to play circus; the big barred windows being ideal for the trapeze act. Just as they started discussing who would do the trapeze act, Uncle Cho entered the room.

"Hi kiddos," Uncle Cho greeted them with a big smile.

Immediately there was a chorus of protests. "You can't sleep here," Mitli said, "we are playing."

"Hey, I won't be disturbing you..."

"No, but you snore and occupy half the bed."

"I can tell you a nice story......"

This time the children dithered; it was true Uncle Cho could tell wonderful stories but they wondered whether it would be worth the risk. Uncle Cho had a reputation for falling asleep and once asleep he was really difficult to move. However the story part was too enticing and finally won them over.

Uncle Cho had already anticipated this and now reclined happily on the bed with all the children gathered around him.

"So what kind of story do you want?"

"A princess story,"

"no a tiger story,"

"no, no I want to listen to a ghost story,'' a cacophony of voices shouted together.

"Okay, okay.." said Uncle Cho, "I will decide on the story."

So the story began. The room was partially dark, as the big windows were closed and the only other sound was that of the overhead fan droning on. It was about a king and queen and their lovely daughter. As it progressed the listeners were lulled into a peaceful sense of contentment. Suddenly,they realised that the story had stopped and instead what they heard were gentle snores. "Uncle, uncle," they started pounding him and shoving him. At last, after a determined ten minutes effort on the children's part, Uncle Cho opened his eyes. He apologized and continued with the story. " So the fox said to the hen....."

"But Uncle you were telling us a story about the princess, where did the fox and hen come from...."

"O was I ? I am sorry I got confused, now that I have forgotten what story I was telling you, I will tell you a new one about a tiger." Well, this story hardly lasted for five minutes before it also tapered of into gentle snores.

The children were no longer interested in waking him up again so they left him sleeping peacefully and turned back to their game. Everyone wanted to be either a trapeze artist or a cyclist. It would never do to have a circus team of only trapeze artists and cyclists; they needed lion trainers, jugglers and of course a Joker! A circus without a joker was absurd. But though all of them were ready to be a lion trainer, nobody wanted to be the joker. How can you have a circus without a joker ? This just wasn't possible and they all started quarrelling again.

The now loud snores of Uncle Cho punctuated their discussions and they hit upon the grand idea of making Uncle Cho the joker. Why not,they reasoned, after all they could pretend the joker was not well and was therefore lying down on the stage. (The large bed happened to be their stage.)

"I will get mother's make-up box and we can paint his face" said Tikly. So they got to work. Soon Uncle Cho had a nice painted face.His cheeks and forehead were a stark white in contrast to his dark bushy moustache,(for Uncle Cho was proud of his moustache and took good care of it) his lips were blood red and his nose was a shocking pink. "He looks just like a circus joker now;" "yea it's a pity he is asleep otherwise he could have given some performances on stage" sighed Mitli.

Once the joker issue had been settled, everybody wanted to get on with their own performances. The lion tamer found an old leather belt which he proudly swung around while standing on the old wooden dressing table. The acrobats cartwheeled across the room and stood on their hands on the stage. Everybody was really enjoying the game when they heard granny calling from the dining hall, "Come an' have some mangos, children.'' As they all rushed downstairs, they noticed that the sun had mellowed down and they could now go outside to play. So sucking their mangos they ran out into the warm afternoon sun, to the playground behind their house while Uncle Cho went on sleeping peacefully upstairs.

Around five o'clock, while granny was cutting some betel nuts, she heard the creak of the front door. Looking up she saw Shankar and Ashish entering. Shankar and Ashish were Cho's friends. "Is Cho home ?"they asked politely, "we were supposed to meet him around 4-30 at the tea shop.." "Oh Cho !" granny sighed," he must have fallen asleep, you know his sleep! I will give him a call."

"Cho, Cho, wake up, Shankar and Ashish are here" she called loudly.

Cho's blissful sleep was interrupted when he heard granny calling. Jumping up, he looked at his watch. Goodness! five o'clock; he had overslept again. Pulling on a shirt he rushed downstairs. Seeing Shankar and Ashish, he started apologizing but stopped abruptly when he saw the look of bewilderment on their faces. Then they both exploded with laughter. "Whats the matter ? Why are you two laughing so much ?" Cho grumbled. Granny looked up from her work and exclaimed "My God, Cho what have you been doing !!". This time it was Cho who stared at all the others in bewilderment.

"I was sleeping." He said. "Well, go and look at yourself in the mirror."

Cho came down the stairs grinding his teeth, and muttering,"those vile children, I will teach them a lesson." By this time Shankar and Ashish had collapsed on the sofa, weak with laughter and granny thought it prudent to warn the children to keep out of Uncle Cho's sight for the time being.

Epilogue:

The word soon went round the neighbourhood; especially among Uncle Cho's friends, the narrative of Shankar and Ashish being especially colourful. This resulted in a moratorium on stories for the poor children. But after a fortnight Uncle Cho was persuaded by granny that the children were innocent, he forgave them and resumed his wonderful stories. Finally everything returned to normal, only Uncle Cho got into the habit of peering into a mirror before going downstairs after his afternoon naps.