The Dinner

Image from here

Karwachauth was on. They have never celebrated it in their ten years of togetherness. It was never important. But suddenly, it was something worth celebrating this year. Abhimanyu gave in finally. 

What could he do to make the night special? He was in no mood to stay hungry for the whole day. Both of them worked and had busy diaries that day filled with meetings. That was another reason he was against it.

“How will you manage to speak all day in meetings without even drinking water?”

“I will somehow. Let me at least try it. Let me see how much I can endure.”

“But why?”

“Because I want to. Ok?”

And that was the end of it. He finally decided to come home an hour earlier and make dinner and throw a surprise. That was the least he could do. 

Abhimanyu left the office at 5 pm and reached home earlier. He wanted to make something traditional and then decided upon Rajma Rice, Paneer Masala, naan and some wine. He took a shower and started the preparations. The Rajma went into the cooker and he got himself busy into making the masala. As he stirred the chopped onions, his eyes fell upon the pictures hanging on the dining room wall. He smiled as he scanned all of them. The last ten years have been blissful. There was a family resistance initially that manifested itself in all its ugliness. They were boycotted from both the families, thrown out of their homes. No one tried to kill them. Their families were not that savage. Abhimanyu got an onsite opportunity soon after and both of them moved to London. There was no contact from anyone for five years except for a stray call from their mothers. It was in their fourth year of togetherness that they decided to get married. There was another wave of resistance from their families as soon as they broke the news to their mothers. Until now, there was some hope but a marriage will seal their relationship. Abhimanyu’s father had a heart attack. 

Both of them got married in a court in London. 

Abhimanyu stirred the golden brown onions and added tomatoes and all the masalas as the past flashed by. The marriage did not change anything between them except that their love grew with each passing day. They sent pictures of their wedding to their families. There was no reply. The onsite opportunity kept extending and finally they were able to apply for permanent residency. There was no point in going back. Both of them loved their families but they could not be a sacrificial lamb. 

The dinner was ready by 7 pm. Abhimanyu looked at the sky. The moon would not be out before 8. He then looked at his watch. The doorbell rang. 

“Hey! How was your day?,” he said opening the door. 

“I am almost dead. There is cactus in my throat.” Both of them hugged and kissed. 

“Oh God! We can eat now. You don’t have to wait.”

“No. I want to do this. It’s just a matter of another hour. I’ll go and shower and change.”

Abhimanyu started setting up the dinner table. The plates, cutlery, napkins, wine, bowls were all placed in their respective positions for the surprise. A few minutes later, he looked out of the window again and saw the moon staring at him. 

“It’s out!” he screamed.

“Is it? So soon?” Kabir said as he came out of the bedroom. His eyes fell on the dinner table. He then looked at Abhimanyu with surprise. 

“I thought I should do something too,” Abhimanyu said as he smiled and scratched his head.

Kabir moved towards him and hugged him. “Thank you, my love.”

Both of them went to the balcony and Kabir looked at Abhimanyu through the sieve. Abhimanyu then gave him a glass of water to drink.

“Oh this is so good,” Kabir said and gulped down the water and then ran towards the jug of water on the dinner table.

“Don’t fill your empty stomach with water,” Abhimanyu said trying to take the jug away from him.

“Quiet! The jug is mine and mine alone. My precious,” Kabir said stroking the jug gently. Abhimanyu laughed.  

Both of them then sat at the dinner table and started eating. 

“I have a better idea,” Kabir said. He got up and switched off the light. The room was bathed in moonlight from the window. Then he sat down and raised his wine glass. 

“To love,” Kabir said.

“To love.”

Boiling Water – III

image from here

Read part 1 and 2 of the story here –

Boiling water – I

Boiling Water – II

                                                *           *           *

I stood in the balcony for a while. It was dark and the city felt dead. I wondered what will happen if the Sun does not rise tomorrow. Everyone will gape at the sky for a while and realize how minuscule their blip of an existence is. Then the world will mould itself around its absence. We are good at forgetting. There is so much misery in the world that it would be foolish to think otherwise.

Her chair was propped at a corner of the balcony. She always observed the world sitting on it, with a cup of tea in her hand and a storm of thoughts in her mind. She travelled sitting on it. It was her time machine. I smiled as I looked at the empty chair. After a while I got tired of standing and I lowered myself on it. It was 4.30 am and I knew that sleep will not come near me now. Like me, she too was scared of my dreams.  

Sleep was having a good time with the woman inside. Thank God for that. 

                                                *           *           * 

When Shyamli saw my one bedroom house in Chandni Chowk for the first time, she broke down. I still remember the look on her face. She had been waiting for this for so long. All I can remember of her first day in that house is her arms encircled around me while she cried like a broken dam. My shirt was completely drenched from one side by the time she stopped and went to sleep. I took off my shirt and looked at it. I touched the wetness of our past one last time and threw the shirt away.

Shyamli finally completed her school. She was the oldest student in her class. She then went to college and finished her Bachelors. I too did well at my job and was promoted many times in the next few years. We moved in a bigger house. A few months after we moved, Shyamli got a job of a school teacher in a nearby school. The day she got her first salary, she bought me a shirt. It was same as the one I threw away on her first day in the city, the one soaked in her sorrows. 

“You should get married,” she said once.

“I won’t. I have to take care of you,” I said.

“Don’t do this. I will not be able to carry this burden.”

“We left all our burdens in the village.”

It never came to me getting married. I somehow couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was scared for Shyamli. I was scared that a slight hint of aloofness would push her over the edge. It was bound to happen if I brought another relationship in the equation. I talked to her about a second marriage but she recoiled at the idea. Maybe it was the rape. Maybe it was the fear of leaving me behind. In the end, both of us found solace in each other’s company. People often mistook us for husband and wife. We laughed them off. Sometimes they looked upon us as a strange pair – a brother and sister living together. Sometimes there were hints of suspicion, hints of our relationship going beyond the limits set by the society. But over the years, we made more friends than enemies. It was a good, fulfilling life. We didn’t have any regrets. 

                                                *           *           *

I went to sleep sitting on the chair. Seconds later, a gentle touch of a hand woke me up. I opened my eyes and Shyamli was standing over me with a smile on her face.

“Shubh, it’s seven o’clock. Come I will make you some tea,” she said.

“It’s seven? I don’t remember the last time I had such a sound sleep.”

“When did you wake up?”

“It was around four.”

“There is a function at my school today. They have invited all the retired teachers.”

“I know. You told me a week back.”

“Did I? I am invited too. Would you like to come?”

“No, you go ahead and enjoy yourself. I will go over to Srini’s for a game of chess.” 

I did not go anywhere. As Shyamli left for her school, I switched on the television and watched some news and eventually dozed off. The last thought before my eyes closed was that I would tell Dr. Kapoor that I slept soundly for two and a half hours after the dream. This has never happened before. 

                                                *           *           * 

I wasn’t supposed to be there. If I had any idea that the incident would haunt me for the rest of the life, I would have jumped in the pond and hid myself in layers of water. But of course I had no idea. I was a curious three years old.

Somewhere in the nearby hut, the women were wailing, Ma one amongst them. I had no idea why. All I knew was that Ma had a swollen tummy till yesterday and she told me that a baby brother would come out of that. When I asked her why not a baby sister, she hushed me up.

There was a small gap between two of the bricks in one of the walls where all the men were huddled. I saw the nightmare unfold through the gap. Baba lowered the crying newborn into a vessel in which water boiled furiously. My eyes widened as her head went inside. She thrashed for a while as chocking sounds filled the room. I stared from the hole as Baba pulled out his dead daughter from the water. He then took the dead body outside and threw it in the hole that has been dug for her.

That night the dream haunted me for the first time. I won’t call it a dream now. It was as if life decided to play a part of my past again and again to me. It was like a number burnt on the skin of an animal. I had to live with it.

Ma was again pregnant next year. She told me that I was going to have a baby brother this time. The women went into our hut for the delivery and soon a wail rose from there. The man standing outside the adjoining hut started digging a hole. A fire was lightened to boil the water. The crying girl was brought into the hut where all the men were grouped.  

I was shivering. Sweat ran down my face mixed with tears as Baba lowered the girl towards the vessel. I got up and ran towards the door of the hut.

“Baba! Please! I want to play with her!” I shouted as I reached the door.

He stopped and looked curiously at me.

“Daughters are a burden on the family. We are poor, son,” he said still holding the crying chid over the steam.

“I will take care of her. I promise,” I said. Baba laughed and took his daughter in his arms. A few men sitting in the hut laughed.

“Don’t forget your promise Shubh,” one of them said.

“I won’t!” I said looking straight in his eyes.

Baba gave the little girl in my arms. She had stopped crying.

“What will you call her Shubh?” he asked.

“Shyamli,” I said. I kissed her and held her tight.

The women were still wailing. A man was still digging the hole. But it did not matter anymore. I had made a promise. I was going to take care of her. 

~The End~

I was completely disturbed when my father told me the story of Shyamli. Murdering a female child is not uncommon in India. We have already killed 10 million girls and haven’t stopped yet. Shyamli somehow got lucky.

The ending of the story is completely true but I have fictionalized the rest of the story a bit. I have changed the decades in which it happened. Also, in reality, Shyamli did get married again. In fact, that is the reason why I am able to share her story with you. She was my great-grandmother. 

Message in a Pen – III

Read part 1 & 2 of the story here –

Message in a Pen – I

Message in a Pen – II

Neelam came to take the exam. She was flanked by two burly cousins who did not allow any male to come near her. She had a chat with Ruchi, Sneha, Amrita and Kiran for a few moments. The girls were left shaken. Neelam’s left eye was surrounded by a black patch. There was an ugly red bump on her forehead and her lower lip was swollen. She was walking with difficulty. She took the exam and went quietly back to her home in the car. No one saw her slip a pen in Ruchi’s hands which she later gave to Saahil.

The five of us gathered in Saahil’s room as soon as we reached the hostel. He opened the pen and a paper protruded out of it. There was no refill inside it. The paper was folded multiple times and pushed in the base. Saahil pulled it out and opened it. It was a message from Neelam. He read it and passed it over to us. 

Saahil,

I might not be able to write again. They have locked me up in a room. Dad beats me up everyday. I don’t feel the pain anymore. My left hand is numb. He twisted it too much.

My love, I have agreed to marry someone else. Dad says that if we try to elope, he will dig us out and hack you to pieces in front of me. He can do that Saahil. I am not able to sleep at nights.

Sweetheart,

I want you to go and find happiness without me. Our friends were right but we were hopelessly in love. I will never regret loving you but I cannot bear the thought of seeing your dead body. I will live happily knowing that you are alive somewhere.

I know what I am asking will be unacceptable to you but time will heal everything Saahil. You will fall in love again. And me. Don’t think of me as heartless. I have to think of happiness so that I don’t go mad in these walls.

Give my love to the gang.

Neelam 

                                                *           *           * 

“You think I chickened out that day, don’t you? The day the message came in the pen?” Saahil asked.

“No, I don’t. This is not a movie,” I said. The breeze was still playing with the swings.

“You think ours was not a true love?”

I remained silent.

“I loved Neelam. The day I saw her during the exams, I was furious. I wanted to go and kill her dad. How could he do this to his own daughter? And what would it have solved?”

“It’s just that I think you and Neelam gave up too easily. It’s like…”

“It’s like Neelam and I am glad that we parted, that I do not live with a sad expression on my face, that I do not always remember my past, that I do not  make my wife realize that there was someone else in my life earlier and was snatched away from me,” Saahil completed it for me.

“I am sorry but yes, that is what comes to my mind. It is as if both of you were relieved that you got rid of each other.”

“No. We were not. You saw how I barely passed the exams, how I used to sit in the hostel room and cry all day.  You were there. Do you expect me to do that all my life? Our happiness is not confined to one person. I had to dig out my happiness again after she was gone. I had to because I was going nuts. And now I should feel bad that I tried to find love again and succeeded?”

On an impulse I looked towards my left and saw Kirti standing at the door of the house and looking at us. She was far away and could not hear us but her expression said it all. She then smiled and went inside.

“Did you talk to the others about it?”

“Of course I did. I wanted to talk to you too but you were so unapproachable. You had drawn walls around yourself. We barely talked in the last three years. Thank God you are back.”

“I was completely shaken up by the incident. I always thought our country was progressing.”

“Outsourced jobs, more money and shiny cars cannot change the mindset,” Saahil said.

“I guess you are right. I am sorry for everything. I should have talked to you earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I said after sitting silently for a dozen heartbeats.

“I cannot live my life starting every thought with a what-if. I had to forget Neelam to live. That does not mean that I did not love her and that does not mean that I love Kirti less.”

I nodded and looked up at his face. Both of us smiled and then stood up and hugged.

“Welcome back,” Saahil said. 

As we moved towards the house, I slowed my steps so that Saahil got a bit ahead of me. I took out a folded piece of paper from my pocket and tore it in two. I then crumpled it and threw it away. The wind took the pieces towards the swings. There was no need for me to preserve Neelam’s message anymore. It was time to move ahead.

“All ok?” Rajat asked as we entered.

“All ok,” I said.  

Saahil went and sat with Kirti and put his arm around her as she placed her head on his shoulder. 

                                                *           *           * 

The train entered the tunnel and a cool breeze brushed my face as I mulled over what had happened today. It came to me that the way we look at it, our definition of love is quite monochromatic. But when you go through the layers of your life, you begin to realize that our understanding of love is very similar to our understanding of the universe. Unimaginable dimensions of it will always remain unexplored and so our characterization of love will always remain elementary. It is not just the warmth that spreads through our heart; it is not just the pain that obliterate our soul. We discover it when we are not searching for it; we find it in remote inaccessible corners of our heart, when the light of hope has almost diminished, when we believe that our soul is too ravaged to mend by its touch, when we are sure that we are done with it.

[image from here]

Message in a Pen – II

Read Part 1 of the story here – Message in a Pen – I

The gang of ten was now two concentric circles – eight of us as a surreptitious circumference around Saahil and Neelam.  We savoured their melting. We were elated when their meetings multiplied, when their eyes oozed their enviable blissful future. I kept raising doubts at intervals in various octaves, sometimes guilty of vehemence because I was scared for them. Neelam and Saahil would then sit with me and pacify me. They were devastatingly optimistic. It almost broke my heart but I always smiled in the end. Sometimes the gang agreed with me that the gap between their communities was too wide to be filled up in our lifetime. Honour killing was still a rampant reality. But Saahil and Neelam were sanguine, with a thick veil of love settled on their existence. 

“If the need arise, will you contemplate running away?” I asked both of them once over a cup of coffee in the canteen. It was just the three of us.

“We haven’t thought about it but we might,” Neelam said.

“You haven’t thought about it or you are scared to think about it? Do you realize what will happen to Saahil’s family after both of you elope?” I asked. Both of them looked at each other.

Saahil had discussed the relationship with his family and his parents had no problems with the match but they made it very clear that their family getting insulted will never be a part and parcel of the deal. If Saahil had to elope or marry secretly, then he was on his own. 

The couple persisted. The courtship was now about to complete a year. It was the first time that I had seen a woman blush a beetroot red at the sight of a man. The smile won’t leave their faces as their fingers found each other’s hands. Their eyes gleamed with dreams of their future together.  

                                                *           *           * 

The lunch was eventful. The five of us talked about various lecturers and professors who taught us during the one and a half years we studied together. There were too many people we had mimicked and made fun of during that time. We lived it again, choking on our food as we laughed. Arnav clapped his hands while Kirti moved her head from one side to another and smiled. Our past danced around the dining table but the girls were not in it. It was a tacit decision to erase them. I had no idea how much Kirti knew and so I went with the flow.

I loosened up a bit by the time we finished eating. We clicked a few pictures. One of them had Rajat and Saahil sitting in front while I, Gaurav and Sumit stood behind them. It was exactly like a photograph clicked during our college farewell. The faces were not the same. Mouldings were seeping into our pictures with time.

“Arnav needs to sleep. I am going in the bedroom for a while,” Kirti said to Saahil and went inside.

“Come,” Saahil said as he held my hand and asked me to get up.

“Where are you guys going?” Rajat asked in alarm.

“We are taking a stroll in the park. The three of you can take a nap,” Saahil said.

I got up and went out of the house with Saahil as Rajat, Sumit and Gaurav gave difficult-to-comprehend expressions. 

                                                *           *           *

We had a preparatory break twenty days before our final examinations. Most of us stayed in the hostel because they were our last few days together. Neelam went home as Saahil would not let her study. She talked to him in the evening after reaching home and that was the last time any of us got a phone call from her.  

No one had any idea what had happened for almost four days when a call came on Saahil’s phone one evening. The five of us were in his room discussing what to do next when the phone rang. It was Neelam’s father on the other side. He was shouting so piercingly that all of us could plainly hear his words. Saahil tried to reason with him but his reasons were not working against death threats. Fifteen minutes and an avalanche of swearwords later, the phone was abruptly disconnected. We sat in stunned silence. It was a perfect I-told-you-so moment but I kept my mouth shut. Saahil was blinking away tears.

“I have to go home and talk to my parents,” he said as he suddenly got up and started packing.

“Tomorrow,” Gaurav said.

“No, I have to go now.”

“I said tomorrow Saahil! You are in no position to ride a bike on the highway,” Gaurav said.

Saahil threw his bag violently on the floor. The clothes tumbled out of the bag. I got up to pick them up and kept them back in the bag.

He went home the next day to convince his parents to talk to Neelam’s family. They were very clear that Neelam’s family has to spit out the anger and talk to them in a civilized manner. Saahil called up Neelam’s father to convince him for a meeting. He was told that the next time he calls, his family will not find a single piece of his body.

“Please tell me if she is alive,” he pleaded. The line went dead.

I kept calling Saahil that day but he did not pick up his mobile. Optimism was now an unrecognizable corpse buried deep within the soil of practicalities; the practicalities of staying alive. I had never thought that I would wait for Saahil in our hostel room with my heart ramming into my ribcage with a deafening ferocity. I imagined reporting him missing to the police and then identifying his body. I imagined Neelam hanging from a ceiling fan, her battered body swinging slowly. Love had turned into a blinding pain from being blind.

Saahil came to hostel the next day. His face was different now. He had woken up from the dream. 

                                                *           *           * 

We sat on a bench in the park. The weather was agreeable.

“Neelam is in America with her husband. They went to Egypt on a holiday. She loved the Pyramids,” Saahil said. I stared at his face for a while.

“Are you in..”

“No. Rajat told me. He got an e-mail from her one day. Now she writes to him sometimes to let us know that she is happy.”

“What about you?”

“What do you think?”

I silently stared at the swings moving slowly with the winds.

“You really don’t get it, do you? You saw what I went through, what Neelam went through. You saw her when she came to write her exams. After going through all that turmoil when I had no intentions of staying alive, here I am sitting with you. I am married and I have a kid. Would I be able to lead my life like this if I still loved Neelam?”

“But how can you fall out of love with a person like this Saahil? You were crazy about each other.”

“I am in love with Kirti and Arnav. Right now that is all that matters. Our life is not as one dimensional as it seems. The seasons change for a reason my friend. The pendulum swings without rest. The first few months were difficult, when she was forcefully married but there was nothing I could do. Her house had turned into a fort. I tried reaching her. You had left for Chennai. Rajat, Sumit and Gaurav were there but I knew that I had to come out of it or I would have gone crazy. Even then, when Kirti was refereed for an arranged match, I said no initially.”

“I know.”

“I told her about Neelam the first time we met. She was very understanding. She told me that she liked me but I cannot enter her life with the burden I was carrying. We started talking and said yes a month later. Neelam was already in America by then.”

“And now?”

“I am madly in love with Kirti. Don’t you see? She healed me. I was never so much in peace with my life as I am now. When I see Arnav’s face, I don’t remember any sadness that existed in my life. It was always about Kirti and me. This is where the path was destined to lead me.”

“I am happy for you,” I said as I caressed a piece of paper in my pocket. 

to be continued…

[image from here]

The Windowpane

Pinky sat inside a huge concrete pipe lying aimlessly at the side of a road. She was looking at the water which was collecting near her foot, disturbed constantly by the raindrops falling harshly from the sky. Last year when it started raining, she made paper boats and sent them on voyages. This year was poles apart. She was alone and petrified. 

She could see the chawl where she lived on the other side of the road – covered with blue plastic sheets on which rain made a rumbling noise as if trying to rouse a monster. Everyone she knew was huddled inside, placing uneven bowls at places where the huts dripped, scrapping water out as it seeped in from the doors. She then looked at the streetlamps – flickering like a dying man, mustering courage to light up the road below and failing miserably. She rested her back on the curve of the pipe and abruptly tears raced down her face, taking the dirt with them and carving two clean straight lines. My eyes are clouds, she thought. She doubted her own monsoon will ever end.

Pinky was joyful a month ago. Her mother had finally enrolled her in a nearby school run by an NGO. The sweet lady at the NGO persuaded Pinky’s mother for almost five months before she reluctantly gave in. It meant less money coming in the house and more burdens on her mother. She went to the school for five days and then that dreadful day happened, when her world turned black, just like the sky covered by dark clouds.

                                                          *

Amrita sat in the drawing room of her posh second floor apartment, staring vacantly at the raindrops as they slid down the large windowpane facing the balcony. The city beyond the window looked blurred and uncertain of its existence, but it went on. Yes, it went on irrespective of the fact that a small cog in it has stopped working. Then she looked at the raindrops as they splattered near the top of the window and lazily moved towards the bottom – sometimes meeting each other as they went down, sometimes dividing into two. She marvelled if the windowpane was a portrait of life – people met like those droplets, shared a part of their journey with each other, sometimes got separated and then walked alone. But the truth remained that there was just one eventual destination – the bottom of the window, where all the drops met, only to reach the clouds again so that the cycle could continue. She sighed and closed her eyes. She knew what kind of a raindrop she was now – the walking alone kind.

Aaryan was in high spirits when they bought this apartment. Surrounded by gardens and fountains amidst the hustle-bustle of the city, this was a dream they were waiting to come true ever since they were married three years back. When they moved in six months ago, Aaryan took her in his arms as soon as the movers and packers were out of the house. They held each other and smiled, looking around the empty space they were going to fill with their life.

“I love the balcony.” Aaryan said as they walked out greeted by a soothing wind.

As time passed, they filled the house with things they picked up after numerous deliberations, colour matching sessions and various rounds to the markets. Amrita loved to shop for small things like the wind chimes which hung in the balcony, or the Rajasthan puppets hanging from a wall in the dining area or the painting which she got for the drawing room or the rug which went under the centre table. She was creating what she always wanted to live in and there was an intoxicating satisfaction in it. Their life was perfect and Aaryan was the colour that made it more beautiful.

Amrita opened her eyes. The rain was still falling – colourless drops falling from a dark sky. There was a picture of her and Aaryan on the wall opposite to where she sat – Amrita was looking up and laughing, Aaryan was smiling and looking at the ground, his hand on her shoulder. She sat there for an eternity staring at the photo and in the end decided to come out of her misery. She could think of just one way out.

                                               *

Amrita opened the door of her apartment and let Pinky in. It took some time for Pinky to realise that this was someone’s house. For her a house was a confined space where you could hardly move. She looked at Amrita with apprehension.

“Come on.” Amrita said and held Pinky’s hand and led her in, smiling at her dust stained face. She could clearly make out the lines of tears on her face.

“This is your house?” Pinky asked.

“Yes and from today it’s yours too.” Amrita said.

Pinky looked at her with surprise.

“You will live here with me, go to school, then to college, you will make good friends, and you will get a very good job, fall in love, get married and live a very happy life.” Amrita said as she took Pinky’s face in her hands and smiled at her. Tears were welling in her eyes.

Pinky looked at her incredulously. She had seen this happen to people in movies and to people living in big houses but this was not the future of her life. She was supposed to live in a chawl wondering whether she will earn enough money for the next meal and sometimes go to sleep without eating one.

“Are you my new mother?”

“I can try.” Amrita said as she kissed Pinky’s forehead.

The wind-chimes started making ringing sounds as the wind picked up.

“It is going to rain again”. Pinky said.

“Yes, yes it will. It’s Monsoon.”

They sat there in silence as the clouds welled up, lights flashed in the sky and the downpour started.

“Can I go in the balcony?” Pinky asked suddenly.

“Yes, go ahead.” Amrita said.

She looked at Pinky as she walked into the balcony. She first touched the raindrops cautiously and then stood near the door watching them fall. She was not old enough to know the truth, Amrita thought. She had decided to wait for a few more years to tell Pinky that the car accident which killed her mother also killed Aaryan; that while trying to save her mother, Aaryan drove the car over a divider after hitting her; that he was dead before he reached the hospital. Amrita was with him in the car that day. They were laughing at a joke Aaryan was telling her. The accident left Amrita with a few scratches on her right arm and head but she was unconscious for the better part of the day.

She knew there was a little girl with the woman who died. It was raining heavily that day but she knew there were two people crossing the road when she screamed at Aaryan to stop the car. It wasn’t difficult to find Pinky. She started searching her from the chawl near the accident site and a few days later she found her, sitting inside a concrete pipe, staring at the rain.

She walked towards Pinky who was standing near the door, lost in thoughts as the rain picked up momentum and dropped in a rhythm. The raindrops have seen it all, Amrita thought. They saw the accident and they are seeing us now. The rhythm was comforting. You are not alone – the raindrops seem to be saying. She turned around and looked at the windowpane. Amidst a number of drops moving towards the bottom, she saw two drops joining together and moving down.

“I love the balcony.” Pinky said.

[[This short story won the first prize in a story writing competition and was published in the office magazine of the organization that employs me. The theme of the competition was – Monsoon. Permission has been taken from the company HR to publish the story on my blog ]]

A bag of dreams

The moment the HR executive announced Aman’s name, his eyes witnessed a temporary blackness. It happens with many of us in the moment of sheer ecstasy when we finally achieve what we have diligently strived for. He just stared at her blankly waiting for the veil of blackness to lift and waiting for her to announce his name again. He just wanted to make sure that he was not dreaming.

“Mr. Aman, you have been selected by our company. Congratulations.”, the pretty HR executive repeated and smiled.

He smiled which made the tears in his eyes shine. Yes, he was not dreaming.

                                                           *  *  *

Aman came form a middle class family. His father had always been burdened by the dreams of providing his children all that he himself could never attain. Aman and his sister got everything they wanted for a better future without any compromises. Aman’s father was a government servant and had a very limited salary while his mother was a housewife. Loans and love went hand in hand as the children grew up. In a very tender age both of them realized that their parents went through a lot of hardship so that their children can reach a point in their lives where there are no sacrifices. 
Aman was always a focused child who had his priorities right from the very beginning. He wanted his family to be happy and he wanted to live a life with them where there was no thinking twice before indulging into something. Where no one in the family have to nip a wish in the bud. 
Today, he had taken a huge step towards that dream.

                                                              *  *  *

This was his first job interview and the hard work paid off. He got through the 6 rounds of interview very easily. The salary was very good and for a second a whole collage of his dreams passed in front of his eyes. Repaying all his father’s loans, marrying off his sister(something about which his mother worried a lot), sending his parents  for a world tour, buying a car, a house. They were very ordinary dreams. Something every second human you meet on the road dreams of. But they are the crux of their existence. They live their whole life just to fulfill them. Aman was one such face in the crowd. No, the dreams were not ordinary for him. He had lived them thousands of time spending each and every moment of his life inching towards them. The smile was not leaving his face.
He called up home to break the news.
“Oh! God is merciful.”, his mother said as tears welled up in her eyes. 
“I am coming back. Don’t tell father about the job. We’ll surprise him!”, he said.
“Ok. And bring some sweets too. Oh! I am so happy!!”, his mother said as she wiped away her tears.

Aman bought the sweets and took the local bus to home.

                                                              *  *  *

It took Aman’s family a long time to identify his body. It was completely charred. The blast was so powerful that his family had to take away his body minus two limbs. They were able to identified him with the help of a half burnt bag which was found next to his body. The bag contained his burnt degree certificates, the offer letter of the company and a packet of his favorite sweets.

—————————————————————————-

When someone gets killed in such cowardly attacks, he is not just a number. Many dreams die with him and many people lose the will to live without him. 
We all know that we are worse off than animals but lets strive to equal them atleast and ask all the “various” Gods for which we are killing each other to provide us with some sanity to achieve that. 

It has been a crazy day, a nightmare full of insanity.
Lets pray for all the Amans killed today in Mumbai. 

—————————————————————————-

The Cage

I was sitting on a mat spread lazily on the lush green grass surrounding India Gate when the cage appeared for the first time. It was a sunny winter afternoon and I was in a mood to sketch. My ten months old son was sleeping in a pram besides me while I had sent my husband to bring me an ice-cream. My husband laughed as he closed his laptop and got up because he too loved to eat ice-creams in winters, although they were hard to get. As I took out my drawing pad and pencils and looked at the majestic India Gate, I saw the cage appear in front of it, hanging in mid air.

It was white and big enough to accommodate at least five men. As people noticed it, then dropped whatever they were doing and started to walk towards it, as if in a trance. I too got up when my husband suddenly appeared and took my hand to stop me. I turned and saw two ice-creams in his hand. The traffic too stopped moving after a few seconds. While the murmurs were gaining momentum, the sky suddenly turned dark. It remained pitch black for a few seconds and then all the colours of a rainbow were splashed all over it, moving like molted lava. Something very similar to the play of colors we see when we pour oil over water. And then that thunderous voice which appeared to be coming from everywhere and nowhere.

“I have placed 100 similar cages all over the world. These cages will be utilized to cleanse the Earth. I have given all of you enough chances but a few more years and I can kiss goodbye to any hopes of a better Earth. Over the next few months, the world will be in a huge turmoil but I am sure that those who will be left behind will be wise enough to find a path amongst the self inflicted human complexities. The ones, of whom the Earth would be cleansed are those who are devoid of even an iota of love and respect for the fellow Earthlings. Terrorists, rapists, molesters, poachers, murderers, drug dealers, corrupt leaders and corrupt Businessmen are the ones who would enter the cages first. All those who have even a small fraction of purity left in them and whom I consider worthy of creating a better future, will stay. All the cages will always remain on the Earth reminding you of what you all have become! As a parting shot, let me also inform you that I am removing all the weapons from the world. Goodbye.“

The skies cleared and for a second it seemed as if it was a bad dream but the cage was still there, hanging in mid air and emphasising the reality. There was such an eerie silence that it seemed as if the Earth had stopped rotating. They say that everyone on Earth heard that voice in the language they understood. I heard it in Hindi while the British tourist standing next to me heard it in English. That was the day when the world stopped and screamed afterwards.

Suddenly a man appeared from thin air inside the cage. He started screaming the moment he realised where he was. He was pleading and asking for help from the bewildered crowd staring at him. The cage started changing colours and turned to orange. Amidst shock and terror, we all realised what was happening. The cage was heating up. The man started jumping up and down to find a cool spot to stand but soon his skin started to stick to the hot base. He grabbed the bars to pull up his legs but his hands got glued to the hot bars. The cage was turning red and the man was melting sending an overpowering stench of burned flesh amidst painful screams for help. My son was wide awake by now and started crying. My husband took my hand and we moved towards our car to get out of there. We sat in the car for five hours before the traffic finally started moving. By that time, the cage at India Gate had taken 300 lives and the screams were ringing in my ears. 30000 people had vanished from the face of the Earth in those five hours. The cage was killing one person every minute. 

*  *  *  *

On the third day from the beginning of the killings, my husband confided in me. He told me that as an eminent businessman of the city, he has given and accepted bribes numerous times. I sat there and listened to what he had to say. I knew all this already but I had accepted him the way he was because I knew that he was beyond repair. 

“I am transferring everything to your name. I might be gone any second. Please bring up my son to be a good man. Not someone like me. I am sorry, sorry for everything.”, he said as tears welled up in his eyes. He cried bitterly that night. For the first time, I felt sorry for him and cried with him. All the property was transferred to my name within the next 15 days. Although I wondered about the worth of all that within a year. 

*  *  *  *

By the end of a year 52,560,000 people were dead. Many of them were notorious criminals and eminent politicians. The world was in a chaos. The stock markets crashed, armies of all the countries were now unemployed and a few countries were left completely leaderless. Some people tried to destroy the cages, while some turned into believers. Despite the chaos, there was a serenity. A tacit calm. People were good to each other. They were hopeful that despite of what they had done in the past, Gods would spare them if they behave themselves now. Fear was driving people to love each other. 

My husband vanished 14 months after the killings started. That day we were having breakfast and talking about our son’s birthday celebrations when he disappeared from his chair mid sentence. I stared at the unfinished toast and the half filled cup of tea for a long time as I didn’t had the courage to switch on the television and see him melt. Those fourteen months were the best time of our marriage. He had completely transformed and I had fallen in love with him.

*  *  *  *

It took the world 30 years to come back to order. Yes, we survived somehow. It became a beautiful place to live eventually. The generation who is running the world now is of my son’s age and they are brought up in an environment were “love” is the only word, the only possible solution. My son got married some years back and I am a grandma now. I had never believed in happily-ever-afters but I am living one now. Of course, I miss my husband at times. I still have that cup and plate in which he had his last breakfast.

And yes, the cage is still there at India Gate. Its a part of that monument now, a part of our existence. But I don’t remember if it has been used since a long time. I go to India Gate at times to have a look at it. To remember the day when the sky turned into a molten rainbow.

I love you too

First of all, my apologies to everyone for not being a very regular reader of the posts of all my buddies for quite some time now. The reason being that I have shifted base to a new place and my office is an (un)comfortable two hours drive from my home. So, I end up being in the lap of my bus for four precious hours everyday instead of being in that of my lap-top. I have to iron out my life but don’t know how.

Having said that, this post is a short story which was lying in my drafts from the past three months. Its being a while I had written one but this one popped one fine morning in my brain due to a cerebral short circuit. I started wondering on the silliness of it and then thought of bestowing the readers with it. 😛

The title of the post, of course, belongs to the short story. 😀

Here goes :

What started as a drizzle was now turning into a downpour. She was standing at the entrance of her office, forcing the umbrella to stay above her head and waiting for a cab to materialize amidst the shards of water breaking from the clouds. She saw a car approaching but it was not a cab. The black Mercedes stopped in front of her and she saw her image roll down with the window. What appeared from the other side was one of the most enchanting faces she had ever seen. He was smiling with one corner of his lips curled up and ending up in a deep dimple.

“May I help you? Can I drop you somewhere?”, he asked.

“No thanks. I will prefer going by a cab.”, she replied as her brain received a smack from her heart.

“You would be needing a boat after sometime. Don’t worry. Just hop in and I will drop you where ever you stay.”

She hesitated for a second but the dimple was at display again. She smiled back as she sat in the car and closed the door.

“Thanks.”, she said tersely.

“No trouble at all. I am Daniel.”, he shot back.

“Margaret.”, she smiled back.

He drove silently for a few minutes and then suddenly shot a glance at her.

“What?”, she asked.

“I can drop you at a place only if I know where the place is.”

“Oh!!! I am so sorry.”, she laughed back.

She told him the address and soon the car screeched at her doorstep after snaking through a few water clogged roads.

“Would you come in for a cup of coffee?”, she asked as she picked up her umbrella. She was smiling and she was not looking at him.

“Yeah sure. Its damn cold and coffee would certainly do me good.”, he said giving his dimpled smile again.

She felt a warmth in her heart. She looked at him and suddenly she couldn’t remove her eyes from his face. She just wanted to be near him. Just wanted to feel his warmth…

She unlocked the door of her apartment and asked him to come in as she switched on the lights. The apartment was spacious and very tastefully decorated with artifacts and paintings from across the globe.

“God!!! You are rich. Why don’t you have a car?”

“Thanks. I had one. I sold it last week. Got bored or it actually. I need to buy another one this weekend. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring the coffee.”, she said as she took his coat.

“Can I come in the kitchen? If you don’t mind.”, He asked when she was halfway across the hall.

“Sure.”, She looked back and smiled at him.

He sat at the small dining table in the kitchen and watched her make coffee. Soon she was staring at the droplets of rain slashing across the kitchen window, lost in thoughts, smiling. Suddenly he got up and stood behind her, with his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them lightly. Then he moved one of his hand over hers and cupped her slender fingers.

“My husband might be at home anytime.”, she said.

A lightening bolt flashed across the window as she said this. His grip loosened instantaneously. He went to the drawing room, picked his coat and left the house. She stood in the kitchen and laughed.

* * *

The bell rang a few minutes later. She opened the door.

“Hi hon. How are you doing?”. It was her husband.

“Great. How was your day?” , she said flashing one of her sparkling smiles which her husband really loved.

“I was thinking about you all day long.” He said as he took her in his arms and kissed her.

“What!!! Aren’t you tired?”, she asked knowing very well what was about to come.

“Not yet. But maybe, I will be in an hour.”, He said as he smiled and picked her in his arms and moved towards the bedroom.

* * *

When she woke up in the morning, her husband was already up, fixing breakfast in the kitchen. She showered quickly and entered the kitchen.

“Breakfast is served.”, her husband said as he presented her with scrambled eggs, fruits, juice and bread.

“Thank you so much dear. What would I do without you.”, she said kissing him.

They ate the breakfast, chatting happily and later he went to drop her at the office in his car. As she got out of the car, he caught hold of her hand.

“What?”, she said turning around and laughing.

“It was fun last night. Wasn’t it?”

“Yes it was. But come to think of it, what the hell were we doing?”, she said as she laughed out loud.

“Just remembering the first night we met. Come on, its been exactly five years yesterday. What’s wrong in being a little playful?”, he said as he entangled his fingers into hers.

“Yes, but five years ago, you didn’t turn around and leave and I was not married.”, she said and winked. He looked at her for a few moments, playing with her fingers. Then he pulled her into the car.

“You are the best wife I could have asked for. I love you, Margaret.”

“I love you too, Daniel”, she whispered slowly in his ear as she hugged him and looked at the diamond ring on her finger, which he gave her last night. There were tears of happiness in her eyes.

She waved her husband goodbye as he drove away in his black Mercedes, giving her another one of his infectious, dimpled smiles.

Sunrise

She was staring at the sun. The sun was taking its last breath before it would die in the ocean and give way to the cover of the night and then would be reborn again like the Phoenix the next morning, in another part of the world, in another ocean. The vicious loop which would snail everyone towards their end. Faintly luminous stars were visible on the other end of the sky, where the dominance of the sun was loosing its grip. She smiled as she gazed at the ball of fire about to taste water.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
The voice completely shocked her out of her wits. She was sitting on the corner of a bench at a secluded area where all she could hear was the sound of the lapping waves and the occasional gush of the soft wind from the sea. She gave out a small cry and moved her hand towards her heart.
“Oh! I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you.”, the stranger said as she stared at him.
He was around fifty. He had jet black hair with soft streaks of whites in-between. The lines at the ends of his eyes were prominently visible as he smiled. He was wearing a black overcoat, a black jeans and black shoes. His smile was infectious and so were his light grey eyes. He was sitting at the other corner of the bench.
“I am fine. Yes, it is beautiful.” She said as she faced the sun again.
They sat staring at the Sun for a few moments.
“Do you ever wonder why humans are here?”. The stranger asked her.
She turned and stared at him for a while.
“I am 20. Do you really think that I need to think about this?”
“Try.”
“Ok. hmmmm….lets see. The earth was at a perfect distance from the Sun which lead to the evolution of life form. Then human species came and took over the world as they were better equipped to survive and as the Dinosaurs were, thankfully, already extinct. That’s why they are here.”
The stranger was silent for a few seconds.
“Now let me ask you a few questions.”, the girl said.
“Ok.”
“What is the purpose of all this?”
He looked at her and gave one more of his infectious smiles.
“The purpose is to enrich the souls with the experiences on this Earth.” He said.
“Why?”
“So that the souls learn and evolve, so that they can enrich the one and only source.”
“Why?”
He stared at her and blinked twice.
“There is no why after this. It is the ultimate truth.”
“But think about it. Even if there is a source to which all the souls return, as you say, then why is that source enriching itself? What is its purpose?”
“You ask me questions which are beyond my domain, young lady.”
“Try.”
“Hmmm…maybe the source is some monster who enslaves the souls and feed on their experiences. Maybe that’s why souls never remember their previous experiences, because they are all sucked out of them by the source.”
“Now this is imagination.”, the girl said as she smiled.
“Maybe this is the truth. What we think is God, is some monster soul master.” The man whispered as he eyed the Sun.
“Ok, now try to be a little more optimistic.”, the girl said.
“Ok…maybe the source…I can’t think of an explanation. What can be the purpose of the source? I never thought about it. I never questioned it.”
They were silent for a few more moments as the Sun inched towards the ocean.
“What is your name?”, the girl asked.
“The Angel of Death.”
“oh!!! Really? Then you must be knowing all the answers to my questions. You must be close to God.” She said as she laughed.
“I am not supposed to ask questions which are beyond my duties.” The man said and gave her a wink.
“And what are your duties, my dear Angel of Death?”
“I ferry people. When the soul leaves the body, it does not remember the path to the source. I take the soul back to the source.”
She was finding it extremely amusing and laughable.
“Why are you here today?” She asked.
“Oh!!! I came here to ferry a soul. A girl is going to die on that road in a few minutes.” He said pointing at the road far off at the other end of the beach.
“I must go now. Its time.” He said as he stood up.
“Hey!!!won’t you wait for the sunset?”
“No. I must leave now. It was nice talking to you.”
“Same here. Bye, Angel of Death.”
“Bye and see you soon.” He smiled back as he waved.
The sun was halfway in water now. It has splashed its golden red colour all over the ocean and the sky as the rotating earth hid it completely from view. Sunsets always warmed her heart. She considered it as God’s best art work. The girl sighed and smiled at the sight and stood up. She started to move towards the road.
As she reached the busy road she saw the angel of death crossing the road. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the blaring horns of the bus approaching him. As the bus hit him, he was thrown high up in the sky, and died instantly as he hit the ground.

* * *

As he opened his eyes, he saw the girl standing in front of him.She was smiling at him. He felt really light and realised that he was floating in air. As he looked down, he saw his body lying in the middle of the road surrounded by strangers crying for help. The girl was wearing a long white gown now and had huge white feathers and a halo on her head.
“Who are you?” He asked her.
“The Angel of Death”. She said.
“Come, let me show you the path to reach the source. You shall find the answers to all your questions there, as you have found them a million times before and you will forget them just before you enter flesh, as you have forgotten them a million times before.” She said as she took his hand and moved up high in the sky. As they flew up, he saw the sun rise, moving away from the waters of the earth and shining with all its brilliance and might.

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Pandora’s box

I slowly opened the door of daddu’s room. It was a small dingy room with paint coming out at various places, wide blotches of water at the ceiling due to the heavy rains two days back. There was a cot at one end of the room, a small table at the other end with a dirty plastic jar and a cracked plastic glass on it. There was an almirah at the foot of the bed. The doors of the almirah were open and all that it contained once was packed in a tattered suitcase lying near the table. The sunlight was filtering through the sole open window and was bathing the Pandora’s box lying on the bed.

I had the key in my hand. I had always wanted to open it and see what was inside but today I couldn’t muster up enough courage. It was a wooden box with carvings on it. I moved towards the bed and sat on its edge. I moved my fingers over the curves of the box trying to figure out the secrets it held. Tears were welling up in my eyes as I inserted the key and opened the lock. Everything was blurred and I couldn’t see anything at first. Then I wiped my tears and took out the contents.

* * *

I was born Zahir Shirazi in the city of Kanpur. Zahir is an Arabic word which means “radiant”. The name was given by my grandfather Wahab Shirazi whom I fondly called Daddu. Daddu used to tell me that when he saw me for the first time, he found my face as radiant as the morning dew glittering in sunshine. When I was born, mother was already very weak but my father was too euphoric because of my presence to notice that. Daddu was always on her side taking care of all her needs but everything turned futile as she took her last breath two months after I was born. She was the daughter daddu never had and somehow he couldn’t get over her death for the rest of his life.

As I grew up, I sensed a constant rift between daddu and abbu. I could never understand the reasons. Abbu was a very eminant lawyer and didn’t had much time for me. Daddu used to take me to the park where we used to run till I was left breathless. Daddu was very energetic for his age and he always used to encourage me for going into sports. This was something unacceptable to my father. He wanted me to be a bada aadmi (successful man) and a career in sports was a path I could not tread.

Once when I was 9, I went into Daddu’s room and saw him sitting next to the wooden box. He was holding something in his hands and as soon as he saw me, he just dropped it back in the box and closed it hastily.

“Had your lunch?”. He asked.

“What are you hiding daddu? Show me!show me!”. I tried to take the box which he had hid behind him.

“No, Zuhu. Baba, this is the Pandora’s box. Children are not allowed to look into it.”

“Pandora’s box. What’s that?”

“Its a box which contains evil things. If it is opened, then it may unleash something which is not good for anybody. That is why it should be kept shut.”

“But you just opened it!”.

“Zuhu…Ok. We both shall make a promise to each other. Ok?”

“Ok”. I was somehow a little sceptical but consented.

“I will show you what’s inside the Pandora’s box when the time is ripe. That’s my promise. Your promise to me will be that you will always listen to your heart and do what you think is right for you. Ok?”

I stared at him for a while. He was looking in my eyes and I knew at that moment that he would definitely let me see the contents of the Pandora’s box someday.

* * *

As I grew up, I saw Daddu many times sitting with the Pandora’s box just staring at it.

“When will you show me the Pandora’s box?”. I asked him several times.

“You will see it when you need to see it.”

I was good at studies but was better at sports. I used to run like a cheetah (that’s what Daddu used to say). I won a lot of competitions at school but somehow father never used to encourage me. There were times when my trophies were smashed against the walls and I was slapped hard. Things went out of control on that fateful day when I won the Racing championship of my district. I was 14.

“This is how you will become a successful man? Running and jumping like a buffoon?”. My father said as he slapped me hard on the face.

“Your son has won….”. Daddu tried to intervene.

“You…you, just keep out of it. Thanks to you, he is neglecting his studies and winning these useless trash of trophies.”

“They are not useless…”

“Is it? Who can know this better than me?”. His eyes were blazing red and for a second he stared at Daddu. Daddu lowered his eyes and went out of the room.

A few days later when I went into Daddu’s room after coming from school, it was empty. Father promptly told me that Daddu has moved in an old age home.

“I cannot allow him to live here anymore. You can meet him once a week for one hour.”. He said as he promptly closed the door of his study.

* * *

I was devastated. Daddu was the center of my existence. I used to stare aimlessly at walls for hours and soon lost my appetite, but my father was very firm. Daddu was not coming back. I used to meet him on Sundays. He was his radiant self and used to cheer me up a lot. We used to race till the end of the park and then drop down and laugh. Oh!! how I missed him.

“Do you still race at school?”. He asked me once. I lowered my eyes.

“My poor boy!!!”. He said as he gently moved his fingers on my cheek.

We met like this for 4 years till father decided to send me to USA for further studies. Daddu came to meet me at the airport. He was very happy. Father moved away as he saw him coming. He told me that he will be back in 10 minutes. Daddu kissed me at the forehead.

“When will I see you again?”. He asked. I embraced him and started weeping like a child.

“Do you remember the Pandora’s box?”. He asked.

“Yes. But I don’t want to see whats inside. My life is dark enough without opening it…and I was not able to keep my promise.”

“You will see it someday. And don’t worry about the promise. Some things are not meant to be.”

* * *

I was in USA for the next 12 years. After completing my engineering I got a job in a good multinational company there. I fell in love with Audrey. She was half French & half English. We married against father’s wishes but I was not bothered. Soon we were blessed with a baby boy. All through this happy phase of my life, I was constantly in touch with Daddu. I tried to persuade him to come and stay with me but he always laughed at the idea. I came down to India every year with my family to meet him. He was growing old and fragile and I was worried for him. He was not ready to leave the old age home.

“This is my home. Don’t ask me to start life afreash at this stage, I don’t have the courage”. He said whenever I tried to bring up the topic of his coming with us.

Then one day, while working in office, I got a call from his Old age home. He had died peacefully in his sleep and had left a key for me.

* * *

As I pulled out the paper cuttings from the box, I saw photographs of Daddu when he was young. Daddu running on tracks, winning medals, smiling, waving hands, laughing. As I tried to look for more clippings in the box something metallic hit my fingers. I pulled out a handful of medals from inside. There were medals won in major National events and even Asian games. I could not believe what I was exposed to. Somehow the pieces of the puzzles of my last 30 years of existence were falling in place. At the bottom of the box was a letter. Daddu has scribbled a few lines for me.

Dearest Zuhu,

Your father never forgave me for following my dream and neither did your grandma. Running was my passion but it was not enough to live a luxurious life. I gave it up but somehow it was too late.

I never wanted you to see all this, as it would have fuelled your father’s anger. That’s why I called it a Pandora’s box. I was tempted to show it to you many times, when I saw that you had the same fire, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t let your life end up like mine. I couldn’t pass my curse to you.

Don’t burden your heart with too much thoughts. You are wise, successful and happy and that is all that matters.

Always be happy my child.

I will always love you.

Your Daddu.