PAIN DROPS

1.
A Prayer From Phlogiston
O'God!
May thy white bird sire,
Shielded from the fire of ire,
And make dire hearts spire
For harmony, love and care.
*******o*******

2.
Back In The Land Of Love

Dusk is closing
And fast sinks the glory,
Down the ocean of oblivion
Will rest our cryptic story.

Laid stiff in bed,
My only old-age mate,
The shriveled dreams I shed,
Vanquished by my fate.

By every tick of time,
My heart is burnt in pain.
In every breath I time,
Memories get me slain.

Those were the days . . . when . . .

Pure in heart and love unkissed,
You were in teen, a bud in bloom.
Gentle in ways and softness I missed,
You came to ease my days of gloom.

Passing that phase in joyous bliss,
We built a land of love and dream.
Filling my life with immense fizz
You reigned my world for a seam.

Then one day . . .

Back she came . . . like a dove,
Full of sorry, loss and shame,
Snapping the dreams and land of love.
And crept away cool. . . me. . . mum and lame!

Full in fury nemesis came,
Took away all . . . leaving none.
Left alone lame in the land of flame,
Here I mourn over days bygone.

But my dear, I fool my fate,
Still I keep that treasure so dear.
All the love and kisses late,
All for me and none to share!

Let me close my eyes Oh Honey,
Let me muse . . .
Let me . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

*******O*******

3.
Beauty of the Beast

Beauty and the beholder
Never would ever be,
Minus me -
The ugly.

You shun me.
You curse me.
And you,
Never would ever want me.

But . . . . .

It’s me who defines
And it’s me, who picks.
Sans me - the hideous -
Could there be any beauty?

In me . . . lies the Beauty!
And ‘I’ . . . AM the beauty!!

My tears form the streams.
My sighs make the breeze.
My sorrows snow for X'mas,
And my joy you see as stars.

Don't shun me,
And don't curse me.
Beauty is there in everything,
See . . . it's God who made'm all.

Let there be 'merry' for you,
Glory and happiness too,
For every X'mas to come,
Oh 'Bueauty', how I adore you!

*******O*******

4.
Don't Cry Ma . . .

Staring at the sinking sun,
Tears streaking down your cheeks,
Heaving bosom waving hard,
Holding back the swelling pain,
I see you mom . . . on sandyshore,
Alone . . .
The breeze blows soft . . .
Stroking your hair,
And sun downs fast . . .
To cool your thoughts.

How I wish
You could see me ma . . .
How I wish
I could hug you so . . .
And whisper . . .
Into your ailing heart
"You got ME ma . . .
To make you happy."

My soul is there
In the soothing breeze,
Wiping off
Your dismal tears.
Also there
In the stroking wave,
I'm with you. . . ma,
Your unborn son.

Don't cry ma . . .
An' don’t look back.
Those harmed you
Are but men.

Let's pray hard,
For sisters they have,
And the daughters . . . "oh God!
Save from them!"

*******O*******

5.
Ego

Thick thickets,
Playing crickets,
Croaking Frogs
And . . . slithering snakes.

Blooming buds
Honey dews
Honey hunters
And . . . Hungry eyes.

Roaming rats
Prowling cats
Hunting hounts
And . . . dirty Hyenas.

Me . . .
Myself . . .
And . . . I!
. . . . . . . . Why?!?
**********O**********

6.
Ev'ning Walk

In the wake of dusk we slowly walk
Along the dike - hand in hand,
Like jokers, in tight-rope walk,
To set down fast at the yonder end.

Awaiting this long, see our land,
Shrunken with age like our face.
Gone are greens, and streams just sand,
My heart - a dying myna in disgrace.

Do you see the soak in my eyes,
Veiled away with feeble smile?
Simple in thought and modest ways,
Happy you in kindred ties!

Flashing back to days begone,
Sweetest thing Oh! you were then,
Grown by nature all-in-one,
You set the spell of envy pen.
Now . . .

Time has played the game unfair,
Drawing streaks on your face,
One by one, your graying hair
Wrung my heart in stealing glance.

Running fast away from darts,
Missing beats, and losing moon.
Failing sight and ailing hearts!

My darling . . .

That's why men wither soon.

****************
7.
An Elegy For a Golden Lady!

Afloat in gratitude,
I sought for Him.
Where is He? There!
In the gloom I found.
And I asked . . . :
"Who is she? None to You?".
"Very special soul".
Yes. That's what He said.

"So much from life
You took away from her
Much . .Oh God
T's a pity . .but . Why?"

"Son . . don’t you see
It was to make more space for more . . .
More than she could mull.
And more than you could chaw"

Yes! That's what He said.

"God! You must be crazy!"

"You nincompoop . . .
N' brainless dolt
That's what it's all about"
He drives me crazy. ***#$%^&*****

"Seeking you . . . my Lord . . .
All in what she does . . .
She got to he happy".
Didn't I sound "God . . . I mean it?"

"She'll be fine finding me in .
The pain will bear
The fruit of joy
And she'll see the seed of bliss".

Scratching head I said "Hope so . . . "

"To Jesus Christ and Gandhiji too . . .
You did the same . . . Oh my lord
"You know my Lord, Im sorry . . .
But . . . a sadist . . . You ARE!"

God smiled pious
And I drowned in light
I felt the strength . . .
Of His touch . . .
And the Joy of His laughter
And . . .
Woke up to see
My eyes filled
And . . . hands in prayer!

"Thank you for everything !
Oh Heavenly father "

*******O*******


8.
In The Eve of Inferno. . .

"Over his shoulders,
Mesmerized by his scent,
She watched the dew clad garden-buds blossom.
And over hers
He saw the wild cat,
Grim in black,
Raving rapacity,
Licking gruesome claws."
*******O*******

9.
Living Dead

Dark are my nights.
The chimes lay me shaken.
And darker are the midnights.
At twelves I lay dead-forsaken.

From the day of the demons,
Who tore all from me,
Lost are the moons,
And stars for me.

Leaving me undead,
They rose Satan again.
All the ticks passing dead,
Oh . . . I die, on and again.

To the brim of my sanity,
Every twelve I hate.
For then, that my fate,
Took away my dignity.





Left to live like dead,
Got to live till the end . .
When death comes to my bed . . .
To hug . . . and kiss "Sweet dreams".

*******O*******

10.
Lost In Your Love

Lost in your love
I'm mad O' dove.
Oh my love, now
YOU are my world.

I miss the moon,
Which the sky held tight.
And also the stars,
Which twinkled bright.

Flowers don't smell.
For want of your smell.
In this hollow shell . . .
Life is but hell.

The touch of breeze
Lo! Fails to freeze.
Yet kindles the fire,
And blows it flare.

The only sound I'd ever love,
In this valley of silent love,
It's, my love, your warmest sigh,
I hold so dear, and to hear I die.

Come . . .
Ere I swoon,
To set me high,
Choose no lie . . .
Your cherry lip,
So deadly dope.
Whole I would sip,
The honey you slop.

All I long
For the rest of my life,
Are thy silky arms
To twine around me.
Your softness . . .
To suck me whole
Into deepest depths . . .
Of enchanting love.
Never to escape . . .
And never to return . . .

Aahaa . . .

*******O*******

11.
Tit for . . . !? (Tit also means breast)

Over the fuss and fumes
Confused . . .
Mom . . .
I'm totally confused.
Broken and desperate
And pained beyond words,
Mom, I go mad
With guilt and shame.

Oh Mother Nature,
Please don't avenge.

Yes.
We burned and charred
Your breasts.
The sweet milk that fed
The flora and fauna alike
No more flows,
With the gust it used to own.
And . . . all that we built
Crumbles unto dust.

But mother,
My heart impaled,
On thorns of sorrow,
Beg for your pardon. . .
Please . . . . . . .
Don't take her away.

My little sister,
The little angel of our home,
Cries out in thirst and hunger.
And my mom . . .
Oh my God . ..
She can't spout
The spring of life
On which we lulled on . . . ,
And which overflowed . . .
With her sweet love.

It's barren.
Now, my mom weeps.
For . . . .
The panacea for her angels robbed . . .
No elixir flows
With her peerless love .

Eye for an eye . . .?

She's . . .
Torn and tired . . .

Oh! my Mother Nature,
Please don't avenge no more.
I touch your feet
And beg . . .
Please don't take her away.
*******O*******
12.
Mommmeeee . . . Where Are You . . . .?

Mommmeeeeeee . . . . .
Where are you . . .?
Mommeee . . . . .
I need you. . .

Don't you hear my sobs
That break away from heart,
And the thudding beats
In the sick silence of night?

I'm all wet, see . . .
With gushing tears too.

Mommmeeeeee . . . . .,
Where are you . . . .?

Watching the stars
In the studded sky,
Hugging the wind
And sipping Joy,
I fell asleep
Dreaming . . .
Walking among the stars,
Hanging proud and safe
From your lovely hand.

And . . .
Mommmeeeee . . .
One star came after me
So scary, tore my heart,
With sharp spear-like head
And knify four of arms.





It hurts . . . . .
Mommeeee . . . . . .
Where are you?
Whaaaaaaaa . . . . .
Mommmeeeeeeee . . . . . . . . .. .

*******O*******

13.
Smiles

Not for "rights",
But for "Right",
Let's fight
With serene gait.

May smiles bloom
On all -
He or she,
black or white,
East or West,
Or of any faith.

Life is dear
Till we lose it.
And a smile is dear
When we wear it.

Oh God !

May all greens bloom
And all Trees fruit.
And all the faces
Of living planet
Be right, bright,
And fruit virtuous smiles.

*******O*******


14.
Orphan of the world

With guns and fire
They fought the war.
And on all the sides
It's me . . . .
Who lost the war -
For . .for ever . .
The orphaned child-
. . . . I lost my mom.

Once at play
I heard mom scream.
World shook hard
And house fell down.
Lost in rumbles
I searched for mom.
They took me away
And said - I’m orphan.

Ran up the hill
In the happy rain
To break the news
That I won the cup.
In the gorge they stood
With tears in eyes.
They stared at me-
I had lost my home.

The three bad men
Shot dad dead
And took away mom
And all they could.
Stunned and weak
I wept for days.
The neighbours sighed -
“Poor Lil’ Kid!”.

I am here and I’m there,
The orphan of the world-
I’m everywhere.
All alone . . . . . . .!

I want to eat,
And I want to play.
I beg for love,
And long for care.

Through tretcherous streets,
On my failing legs,
I roam the earth
In search of mom.

I grope in dark. . .
In search of mom. . .
Show me the way . . .
Oh Mom . . . . . . .!

*******O*******

15.
Oooh . . . Love!

Love . . . like drug . . .
. . . illusions . . . pain . . .
Crazy . . . and impaling . . .
Kills too . . . but lovely . . .

Blessed are those
Who chanced the taste,
The nectar of love,
The panacea . . .

Blessed are they
For they hold close
The memories undying.
Through shine and gloom
Till Death doth apart.
Be bold . . .
Come what may . . .
Love . . .
Love and love . . .

*******O*******

16.
Oh my child !. . . am I losing you?!

Breeze of night fanning down,
And sucking smile pouring down.
Talking to moon from granny’s arms.
Giggling along in ranchy farms.

The happy child I slept tight.
Happy dreams filling night
The smiles around - amoving sight
The bosom child I slept tight.
Growing dumb in climbing heights
Here I jump loaded guns.
Walking limb in faded sights
And loosing hope in endless runs.

Now . . . !

How I miss the sunny shine
And the moon lit silver night
As the bloom in the life of mine
Slip far away dim out of sight.

The world lay burning
Where the smiles stood churning
The fragrance of one's self
Fought chocking 'tself.

Shed shall I, now all that learned
Walk shall I, now all way back
The golden shine . . . God . give me back
The moon lit nights and Eden buds.

Give me back the unstained love,
My granny's arms and my mommy's kiss.
I want to walk in papa's grip
To the end of world where egos end.

Oh God . . . how I wish I could smile.
The smile of gold with warmth of earth.
And sleep tight in God's love
As a child . . . a joy for ever.

*****O*****

17.
O Pain . . . The Purest . . .

Like a pearl in the deepest,
And the snow on the highest,
O Pain, the purest,
I'll hold you ever, the dearest,
In the sanctum of my heart,
Till the death make us part.

In the crib, through the teen,
A shadow, you held me, tight.
Flared my laughter to be seen,
While gnawing my heart, day and night.

Fed on the cinder of love,
You grew, as I fell for the lies.
You blossomed full, by the cove
Pooled in the torrents of my eyes.

Shared all, but you,
For fear of losing the piety.
As the most cherished gem,
I hid you safe, buried in soul.

Brooding over my early grays,
You still hold me . . . tender.
I've grown wise . . .
I adore you . . . I surrender.

Now . . . eyes opened,
I see the truth . . . and truth alone,
The eternal beauty,
And the magnanimity of creation . . .
I see how petty I am . . !
I feel the love of God
And the ardor of prudence.

Charmed . . . I am,
O pain . . . the virtuous!

*******O*******

18.
SOS

From under the sheets
With sun well on bed,
Mooes my brain . . . .
"Poesy's not for you."

But . . . . .

From among the roses
Bathed in fragrant breeze
Sighs my heart . . .
"Let it flow . . . "

Oh my………………!

Stuck in the doorway
Face down and dark
I yell . . . .
"SOS".

(Poesy = Poetry)

*******O*******

19.
Miracles Still Happen

Trekking hills
And tracking lanes
Eyeing stills
And ruling planes
Ester days I roamed wild
Harry thoughts random piled.

Bit by mouse
Woke one morn
Left in house
All alone.
Stuck in web
Into night
Unto ebb
Oh! Sully sight.

Sinking deep
In squalid gloom
I prayed in weep
"Make me bloom".

Came the Angel with magic wand!
N' Master Lo! from logic land!
Granted site with full insight!
Prince I rose to blissful height.!

Orphan child I'm no more
Often mild an' guiding lore
Lead prying sinning lot
Unto gifted site n' slot.

Thank you blessed. . . Oh my Master
Thank you divine . . My guardian Angel
Thank you friends . . . may you master.
Thank you God . . . I shall not want.

Happy X'mas O' All you come
To hail mighty Stories.com.

*******O*******

20.
Tears Of The Outcast

Calling out for a glance
Of care and friendship,
For a moment of feeling
That I too walk on earth,
For years now . . .
For so long . . .
I still roam frantic . . .
All through the settlements.

Some ignore . . .
Some shun . . .
Some say 'YUK' . . .
And some turn around and run!

Why was I born . . .?
Why did I grow . . . ?
Oh God . . .
Please tell me . . .
Why did you bless me
With a form like this . . . !?
*******O*******
21.
Muse . . . O' My Heart Aflame

Like any, he, the child in me,
Haunts, still, the father in me.
Naughty, he, impertinent too,
The menace, but the sweetest too.

Wants it all 'now',
Those he fancy,
And does the don'ts wow!,
In reeling frenzy.
Taking no for none,
The phantom, he roams . . . my son.

But, he's no God,
And I . . . no angel.
Fate played cheat,
And fell him down all beat.

Hopes lie sullen,
And dreams rot fallen.
In grief he weeps,
And from heart, blood seeps.

His blood flows full,
Into mine thaw heart.
It pains, and burn through hull.
God! Please Play your part.

Till the freedom I long,
From burdened heart so long,
Sorrow'd sublime many a song,
Like fledgling wings from nests aflame;
Like charred bees from hives sublime.
Muse . . . O' my heart in blame.

*******O*******


22.
Thanks Mom

Cuddled down
In the womb of hope
I can dream . . .
Dream along . . . .
Till they come true
Or . . . .
Die away
Fall freckled,
And unto dust they melt.

I love you mom,
And will never forget.
For . . . . .
In the world of arms
Where dreams die
Like feeble flies in fierce fire,
You gave me hope . . .
And Dreams . . .
And a life
To swing on
And on . . . . . . .
And on . . .

*******O*******

23.
The Clown

Breaking surf,
Roaring drift,
Cracking wind and shaking bolt . . .
Chaos . . . !

She laughs . . .

Wake of dusk,
Grave of dreams,
Snarling teeth and smell of death.
Bleeding dry on broken heart . . .

I slump . . .

Come and gone,
You had your fun.
Loving you, love, squandered I leave . . .
Nothing to hope for n' nothing to lose.

Illusion!?

Blaring claps . . .
In the gloom of vault!
Haunting wand and alchemy lamps! . . .
The show . . . goes on . . .!


Look! A jester's face!
In the teary pool . . .
. . . . . . .
I am a clown!
*******O*******

24.
The Rich Man

In my world of gloom
Amongst the 'sleepers' around
I am the richest,
For . . . . .
I am the dreamer . . .
Dreamer of the dreamless.

With the tingle of coins,
They come to sleep,
Torn and tired,
And out I come
Gay and bright
From my castle in the air!
They feed me from heap
With smiles like a witch,
And they fan me to sleep
With tales of fat rich.

Full and fresh,
As they sleep,
Again . . . . .
Into the castle,
I melt . . .

To weave . . .
Dreams . . . . . .
Dreams . . . .
Aaah ! . . Beautiful Dreams . . .!

*******O*******

25.
"The Vanquished"

Do you have space, O' stars, among you,
For yet another soul, dark in hue?
Cut from gay and cheering world,
Vanquished, I lie like putrid dump.

Lost my X'mas and all so dear.
Nothing to hope for . . . wasted dreams.
Heart throb slow and breath so weak.
Burning throat and bleeding vents.

This pain . . . oh please! . . .
Why so slow . . . O' death so dear?
God! Have mercy . . . take me in . . .
Can't you see . . . none to care?

Take me in and put me out . . .
To be born, her 'son', again.
To earn my Mom (who failed to bear),
Her love and care, for lives to come.

*******O*******

"From India With Love"

A Collection Of Short Stories


By

Dr. R. Rajkumar






1. Snowflake In A Twister

And it appeared again, after what seemed like a pretty long a time. Still it was not capable of eliciting any special emotion other than that felt on seeing the myriad of annoying pop ups on the screen. She felt her eyebrows arching under . . .well she was not sure . . . anger? . . . hatred? . . . contempt . . .?

She stamped on the floor with her unruly shaking feeble feet and then leaned on to the shivering hand, which rested on the table by its knuckles. She wanted to strain it up and bite her nails . . .but . . . among the echoing nebulous calls in the dark halls of her senile brain, she clearly identified that voice . . . "No baby . . . no".

"Oh . . . my sweet grandma!"

Those were the days . . .! How wonderful was it to be a child! She loved her grandma so much. She spent all her free time with her. She cared for her. And grandma . . . her stories . . . she was so loving. . sooooo loving . . .

"But my grandchildren! . . . all are just MPG's and JPG's on computer screen . .. All are either couch potatoes if not mouse potatoes!"

"Granny, . . . we love you."

She hated those cold and hollow words appearing on the screen.

"Mama, are you ok?"

She has already started to hate the irritating clamour of the telephone also.

She did not want to blame anyone. All are busy in their own ways. But . . . why can't they . . . at least . . .

Love and care . . . they have become very expensive these days.

Memories bubbled out her childhood on to the surface of the turbid thoughts. All were happy then. All were together. The little games they played . . . the little fights over nothings . . . the laughter . . . the giggles . . .

Now kids are all after the computer, especially games! All look like little devils, flown far away from reality. All are lost in virtual reality!

"May god save them!"

She pulled back her hands and hid the fingers in her pocket. She shut down the computer, got away from the table, and pulled out the plugs.

"I don't need you anymore".

She opened the frozen windowpanes slightly and looked out through the narrow gap. It was still snowing. Snowflakes seemed to laugh at her. They danced in a circle. Then she found them grow into a small twister . . . and then growing bigger and bigger! She felt dizzy. Suddenly she stopped and collapsed down like a dead tree, felled by the fury of the twister. New flakes never stopped coming from above. All were fresh and gay. All dancing!

"How happy they are . . ."

"Won't you join us?"

She smiled at them.

She went downstairs, leaving the windowpane open. She did not want to shut it, for reasons unknown. She felt it OK to leave it like that. What good did it do after keeping it shut for these long years? She loved the fresh cold air on her face. She never liked the smell of the A/C room. But her children . . . they said . . .they cared!

She walked out to the lawn, leaving the doors open. She felt much relaxed now.

The sky was blue. The air was cool and fragrant. Flowers had new colours. She wondered how come the trees have so many leaves on them in this season . . .!

It's now that she noticed . . . there were no snowflakes dancing out there! But .. . she saw them through the window! "Oh . . . who cares . . .!" She opened her nose wide and took in as much air as she could.

"Aahh . . . how sweet!"

She took away her shoes and walked on the green grass slowly, with her hands holding the frills of her dress on the sides and lifting them a little. The grass nibbled at her bare feet . . . and it tickled. She loved it and giggled like a child. She felt like a schoolgirl. She wanted to run.

She sat on the fresh soft grass and started collecting the dewdrops perched on the cool leaf-blades, which sparkled like diamonds in the golden rays of sunlight seeping through the foliages above. When her cupped palm was full, she smeared the whole collection on her face. "Oooh . . . ". She stuck out her tongue and put the last drop on it. It gave her an exotic feeling. She closed her eyes and giggled like a child. Soon, she felt she was floating . . . like a snowflake. A small twister was spinning up . . . growing bigger and bigger, lifting her up. Then there was darkness. She was still floating. After a few seconds, she started getting visions . . . visions she had always wanted to have.

A strange radiant smile started to grow on her lips. She was smiling. She fell on her back and lay there still . . . smiling . . .

She felt her grandma's arms around her . . . her lips on her cheeks . . .

"Oh grandma . . . where were you? I am soooooo happy. I'm sooo happy, you are here."

Tears of joy rolled down and stuck frozen on her cheeks. The wind, the trees, the flowers, . . . all stood frozen. But the snowflakes . . . they were still dancing . . .


2. To The Other Side of the Window

There was no clock in my room to strike 12 at midnight. But the cute little red digital timepiece showed, with its green square digits, that it was 13 minutes past 12. I was in bed, wide awake, listening to the howling of the rash east wind, which trespasses into my serene village through the mountain gap, regularly, towards the death of one year and the birth of the next.

The door was already shut. I got up from the bed and walked to the window to close it, fearing that the wind would rattle away the panes. The window overlooked the street and was right in the direction of the wind.

The fluorescent tubes of the streetlights were flickering, may be due to low voltage. It gave a ghostly appearance to the buildings and trees around, which seemed to sway to the rhythm of the flickering of the light. Suddenly the whole scene was lit up by the moon, which escaped from the claws of the drowsy but grotesque dark clouds which were in slow motion. There! Another cloud caught it! Curiously, the scene made me remain at the window and stare out, enchanted.

A strange hollow sound, the sound of flapping wings, which seemed to descend from the moon, woke me up. It shook the soul out of me. I raised my eyes. Two big black birds . . . yes . . . gigantic crows . . . were dashing toward the window. Their red eyes glowed and shone out fiercely in the dark heads which merged with the background. I jumped back . . . frightened. But to my surprise, they stopped suddenly a few feet away and perched on the powerline, which ran close to the window. The birds sat there, close together, staring at me! What are they up to? I couldn't take away my eyes from them. I stood there - hypnotized. Slowly …very slowly … they opened their wings, and kept them stretched, as if to shield away something. Oh my! Through the blackness of their body, two white - glowing faces popped up, as if in a 3D projection. " Oh My !. . . Grandpa and Grandma!" There was an unearthly incorporeal smile clouding their lips. "What a way to visit your grandson"! I thought.

Suddenly their eyes lit up and their gaze passed beyond me. Did I hear a noise? Someone was there in the room, behind me! Who . . . ? Oh damn! It's dark. But before going to the window . . .yes . . . I am sure . . . I had switched the light on! What's wrong? No. I am not drunk. Then . . how . . .? I do not believe in ghosts. But still, I must admit, . . I started to shiver. Did I hear a whisper? A chuckling? No. I must be imagining things.

To my horror, the crows made some kind of short, weird and loud noise; something like a distress call. I went back to the window and looked out. My eyes popped out in astonishment. All the lines, cables, rooftops and treetops were crowned with crows! . thousands of crows! Thousands of faces. Where did they come from? And when? I do not think I heard any flapping of wings. Many were still flying, so silently, in the air, not finding a place to perch.

The east wind . . . .! I started to get gooseneck all over. There was no sign of that horrible east-wind ! Total silence. Nothing moved, except the crows in the air. The only sound I could hear was the 'dub' and 'lub' of my frightened heart. Sweat started to build up as tiny droplets then and flowed down from every pore on my body.

Where did I put the torchlight last? It has been months since there arose any need to use it. I started to search for it, groping in the darkness, in and out, in vain. For a moment I felt it amusing - there were so many items, which I could not recognize by mere touching, though they were so familiar, so I thought, in light. It's a wonder how the blind people live their whole life in such darkness, not being able to see even a single ray of light. Grandpa was blind - but there were servant boys to attend to him and take him around to the different parts of the farm. He never found it difficult to look after the whole farm. He could tell each and every thing by just feeling them and he could tell between persons by just touching them, or by their voice or even by their smell.

"Here's your torch. It's on the table, near the lamp".

"Oh. Thank you". Er . . .who . . . !!?"

I found the torch near the table-lamp. The yellow beam it produced trembled with my hands. By now, my dress was fully drenched with sweat.

Did I hear that voice? Was I imagining things? No! I heard it!!!

The kids were sleeping downstairs and my wife was away to attend a National Seminar on "Soul and Spirituality". I was a little annoyed that she didn't bother to make a call.

I lit up a candle. The door was still closed and nobody came in. But the key-chain . . .! It was swinging from the key on the door!

Outside, the moon came out again and all on a sudden the crows started to fly away, masking the moon like a huge black blanket. This time the sound of the wings was heard, like a storm, which gradually died away in the far distance.

I sat on the bed. A sigh of relief escaped from my cold nose. I switched on all the lights in the room and blew off the candle.

Why is she so late? She said she would call me from station to pick her up.

I looked out again. Lo! Grandpa and Grandma were still there . . . smiling.

"Come on sonny, it's time. She is waiting out there . . . .for you".

Now . . . Grandpa's wings were stretched . . . with the ala spuria . . . pointing upwards!!!




3. Lost In Future

It was not sure, whether I was standing, sitting, lying down, or sleeping. But it felt awfully good. It was not dark. It was darkness mixed with silvery light. But it was not moon light. It was like . . . kind of . . well, I cannot describe it. Some kind of light. And . . . I was alone. I couldn't find anyone or anything moving in the far stretched vicinity. What kind of land was that? All I can remember is . . . vast rice fields, after harvest, with dry stumps sticking out, like millions of shaving brushes strewn around. The air was quite cool, but without wind . . . silent and serene.

As I was defragmenting the thoughts and imaginations, I was shaken by an ear-splitting sound. . .like something swishing through the air at tremendous speed. Before I could lift my eyes, a huge red ball, of about my height, fell in the rice field, ploughing its way down into the soil, from the sky. A smell of burnt hay filled the air. The ball lay there half buried, like a gigantic egg. Now its colour changed into black. Pungent fumes escaped from its burnt out mysterious embodiment. What could it be? A shaped up meteorite?

I was about to take a step towards that thing when I heard a small rupturing sound coming from it. Is it hatching? A small zig-zag crack appeared on its top, which gradually opened wide downwards. Something . . . seemed to push its way out through it. Errr . . . Fingers?! Yes! Slender black fingers with thick and broad nails. Now there appeared two broad palms, which tore open the wall of . . . that . . . ball, and . . . there came a figure out of it . . . a man?! Nope. He was very thin and filmy . . . with very large bulging frogy eyes, and was all soaked in some kind of sticky fluid . . . and . . . was stark naked . . . or rather there was no cloth on it. Hands slung loose from its narrow shoulders. The skin was very wrinkled, like a starving old man in his deathbed. The fluid, which filled the ball, like the amniotic fluid, flowed out and spread all around. He . . . or the thing . . . stood there, like a praying mantis, which had just broken its cocoon and come out, taking deep breath and stretching his arms and legs, one after the other. Soon his body began to swell up and finally turned into a well-built young man, who looked like Hercules! After scanning the surroundings with his bright eyes, he started to walk around. His steps made slurpy noise, as the fluid had turned the dry field into a quagmire. A minute or two passed. He rubbed his hands together, looking skyward, and clapped in a peculiar way. It sounded so loud that the whole place seemed to reverberate with it. What was he looking at? I couldn't spot anything. No sooner has he finished clapping, more balls started to rain from the sky - hundreds of them . . . falling like meteors. Soon there was a congregation of those things there. I felt as if I were in the land of the dead.

Though all of those creatures looked almost human in shape, there was something peculiar about them. They did not talk. How did they communicate then? They all moved about as if guided by instinct or some imperceptible waves. As if knowing what the other one wanted. Like the birds in migration.

Now there was a crowd there. A crowd of dark slimy naked creatures. Male and female (made out from size, shape of the hips and the way of moving).

The 'first man' moved forward, like a giant robot, towards the border of the field, followed by the others. "What are they up to? Digging tunnels?" They were quick in digging out tunnels, like moles, using their hands. One for each of them. Once finished, the mouth of the tunnel was closed with a thin lid, made from the inner lining of the thick wall of the ball, from which they came out.

They then ripped open the wall of the ball and picked up something, which looked like seeds. They planted them around in the fields, into small holes dug out using their nails, and crept into their tunnels, closing the lids after them.

I was there, very much. But no one seemed to care.

Nobody came out for a pretty long time, what seemed to be months together. (Calculation was difficult, because there was no sun). Don't they eat?

Then they came out, almost at the same time, like drones of white ants, without wings. They were shrunk a little. They went round the field and started inspecting the growth of the seeds. Their slimy skin shone in the moonlight.

Now my instinct started to tell me that something was wrong. Their faces became grave, by and by.

The seeds did not grow.

I looked around. I was alone there. There was none of my kind around me. The land was barren. No trees . . . dried up rivers . . . no lakes or ponds. Hills leveled down into plains. There was only nothingness.!!

I felt something cold and slimy on my shoulders. I reeled around in awe to see 'Hercules' staring at me. He locked his eyes into mine. His look penetrated deep into my very soul, sending supersonic vibrations throughout my corporeal being. Anger boiling inside him he stood there like a volcano about to erupt. There was an audible rumbling inside him. I could clearly understand what he felt and what he wanted to tell me. He was blaming me, for their failure in farming . . . for the premature death of earth . . .

He 'called' me . . . well . . . it wasn't respectable anyway. He 'said' his kind had never seen any creature anywhere in this universe, as nasty as mine. Now he started to tremble with rage. I could see the hidden part of his nails also coming out from its sockets. My end was sure and near. "How do they kill? Do they drink blood?" I looked around and turned slowly . . . to run away from him, and the whole nightmaric situation. I was too slow for them. I was surrounded in a wink. No sooner I collapsed, dead with fear. To my horror, I saw his nails working down, performing autopsy on my body. He was annoyed to see the skin too tough. He ripped open my thorax with a growl and pulled out all its contents. He seemed to search for something among the well-displayed organs on the ground. He looked discontented.

I heard him shout to his fellows "I told you, they didn't have it".

Then I heard a loud noise of eruption . . . and blacked out.



4. COMPU-FUNERAL

It took some time for me to realize that it was the sweat that woke me up. What's wrong with the AC unit? I ordered the computer to check. It was about to tell me something, when I ignored it and asked the robo-cook for a cup of good coffee.

"Food stocks exhausted. No response from refrigerator."

What the heck is wrong with the fridge?

"Computer refuses net-shopping . . ."

"Hi honey ! What's new and what's wrong?"

"Good morning Mr. Roshan! Surprised to see that you do not want to renew your LifeLine Account. You ignored all the three warnings. Anyway, I appreciate your decision to terminate your functions. Hope you enjoyed your life. You've got three hours gratis to prepare for your funeral. Please go through the FAQ** before you proceed. Happy funeral."

"My GAD*"!!!!!

----------------------------------------------
*Genome Administrator Device
** Frequently Asked Questions



5. From India With Love

"Mommy, . . . You have a letter . . . Oh!!! . . .from India!. It’s from someone called . . . . mm m m . . . how do you read it? . . Lak. . sh. . . my . . .Lakshmy. Who is she?"

Kitty's voice brought me back from my free tour around the world. I was in Disney Land . . . floating in the dancing boat, passing through the dark tunnels . . .alone . . . laughing at the scary contraptions made to fool the kids . . .

It's funny. Thoughts fly faster than arrows . . . "swift winged arrows of thought" . . . who said it? Who knows . . .

"Here you are".

"C'mon honey, read it for me. How can I . . ."

"Oh I am so sorry Mom, I am in a hurry. I'll read it to you when I come back. OK?"

She kissed me and flew down the stairs.

Got to wait till she returns. What else can I do? No one else'll come home before she does. All are busy. Very very busy. It's been years since I read something. Don't even know where I put my glasses last.

The letter turned between my flimsy fingers, which ran over all its sides and finally brought it close to my dull and sunken eyes. Can't see a thing. Everything seems to be in a thick fog . . . . all a blurr . .

The letter was shivering . . .a little more amplified than that of my hand. It looked artistic - A skinny old lady in bed . . . close to a small table laden with a heap of medicines . . .an unopened letter . . . in thin shivering hands, held close to the chest, with veins and bones standing out proclaiming their dominance over the others.

What have they done with my paintings . . . !?

Now . . . can't even hold a spoon . . .

Oh the letter! What was it? . . what was the name she said? . . . It started with an L . . .and it came from India!.

Yes. It must be Lakshmy. Yes. Lakshmy. I do not know anyone else from India. Oh my God. My dearest friend. I thought she would never remember me . . but she does . . . but how come she didn't reply to my letters? When did I write to her last? Stupid senile brain . . . don't remember a thing . . . useless!

Oh I can't wait. What has she written? I feel the pulse going higher . . may be BP too. My head . . . it weighs down on me! Got to take another pill.

What's the time now? Where is she?

The letter quivered between my fingers holding back all its concealed contents. Fingers refuse to keep away from its mesmerizing proximity.

Funny . . . my mind is preparing an action plan . . . to locate and retrieve the glasses. But . . . . if I fall down . . . , I'll have to lie there till someone comes and helps me up. And if some bone is broken . . . oh God! No. no adventures please. I know how to brainwash my mind. I have done it so many times in my life. Otherwise how'd I pull on so far. Thanks to Lakshmy and her Yoga. She was so beautiful . . .with that long curled hair, which came to her knees . . . her long "saree" . . .and . . .her smile . . . and it was so sweet to hear her laugh . . .how I loved it . . .She was crazy about roses. And I kept a rose garden just to give her the flowers she wanted! Red roses looked so enchanting on her lovely and luxuriant jet-black hair.

How can someone be so nice!? So loving. . . so platonic . . .

I certainly owe my life to her. But . . .

How stupid was I to laugh at her when . . .

A smile crawled on to Diana's lips.

"Hi mom . . .did you take your medicines?"

Must have tossed off, somewhere in between the flashback. Strong medicines . . .

"What's it? My God! You are still holding that Indian letter?!"

"Please Kitty baby. Please read it. Can't wait any longer . . your mom

"OK. OK. Let me wash my face first."

"Oh Kitty . . ."

"Ok. Let me see . . ."

Why's she so slow?! Can't she even open a letter?! Why would some one need a pair of scissors to open a letter?

At last she settled on the edge of my bed.

"Here it goes . . . ".

"Hi Diana, . . . "
"Please honey . . . a little louder"

"Hope this letter finds you in the best of health and spirits.
I am not sure whether you still have the memories of that Indian woman, who lived next door, whom you called 'Packcky', and her children "Chocolate Ice Cream"?. You hated her like anything in the beginning, and, . . . after long seven years, the same you wept like a child, on her final departure back to India.
Remember me?
I am so sorry that I never wrote to you again or called you, after the first letter after my arrival here. Do not ask me why.
But I got all the letters you sent. I know you loved me so much. I still ask one question myself - who am I to you?
You were so lonely then, and arrogant, when I saw you first. The day we moved into the house next to you, I still remember the scorn in your eyes. The hatred that flashed like a knight's sword in sun. I could hear you cursing 'Indians', even above the blare of the kindergarten kids. You never wanted to look at our faces; not even of kids.

Then . . .

The day you fell and fainted near the fence and the snake . . .
When you woke up in our bedroom . . .
Everything changed . . .!

I never felt lonely then, when my husband was away on business tour. I still doubt what I would've done without you. Once, you asked me the same question!

My kids used to call you 'ammaayee'. You gave them the love they missed, after their aunt's death in the plane crash.

I do not want to tarnish the picture of the beautiful life in my place, which you always had in your mind - the life you always viewed with envy - the life in "God's own country"! Let it be like that . . .at least in your memories.
You'd never believe if I tell you that . . . I am writing this from an old-age home, dumped away by my "wonderful kids" as you've always referred to them . . . with a glow in your eyes.
Yes. They are very successful in their respective lives . . . all are rich and famous. After all, what else would any mother wish for!
I was staying with my daughter since my arrival here. I was so happy to live with my daughter, her loving husband and sweet kids. It was heaven!
You see Diana, in my place, it is . . . no . . it used to be . . . so exciting . . . to be a grandma.

But . . .

Things have changed . . . a lot.
I don't blame anyone. But my life . . .
Well . . .I am happy here . . .yes . . . I think so. . . and taken good care of . . sort of . . by greedy eyed . . . smiling machines.
There are so many others like me here. All in the same boat.
Though there are so many things to be talked about, we have decided not to talk about our families. No questions either. We all want to forget that side of our lives.
No. no. It's not because we do not like them. But . . .

Hope your daughter and kids are still with you . . . Kitty, Kathy and Kent . . . cute kids . . . they must be grown up and finished school by now . . . may God keep you happy for ever.

In our place it's considered lucky to have all the children around when one dies. . . . .
I'm glad . . . you are lucky.
And I . . ."
"C'mon Kitty . . . read it all". "What are you doing there, why are you . . . silent?"

Do I hear a sob? Poor child. Now she knows who Lakshmy is. She used to call her "Lucky aunty" when she was a kid. But for her, we'd still be separated . . .
Poor Lakshmy.

"Mom . . . "

"Yes"

"Shall we bring her here?"

Oh! That was just what I wanted say.

"OK honey, we'll think about it later. First you finish the letter."

"Oh my God!"

What's wrong? Now she is weeping . . .

"What's wrong Kitty? What is it"?

"Mom . . . the last line is written by someone else, in a different ink, and signed. It says . . . "

"This morning we found her in her bed . . .with this letter in her hands, hugged close to her bosom . . . the pen was still open . . . it seems she was not able to finish this letter . . ."

Did she stop reading? I hear no sound of her weeping . . .no sound at all . . and I feel pretty strong . . . ..and young . . . got to get up . . .
"Wow! See honey . . . I got up myself . . . " What's she . . .

"Where am I!?"

Aaahh . . . !! Sweet smell of roses . . . and there is soft music in the air!!!

What's this crowd? Which is this place? Who is that lady in white "saree"? Lakshmy?

"Hey Lakshmy . . . its me . . . over here . . . over here . . ."


6. The Fall of Dinosaurs

Dinosaurs always remind me of Narayan. Jurassic Park - III faded out from the screen and the class, in which he made the stunning discovery, zoomed in.

Nobody moved. There was no sound either. Voices from other classes fell into my ears, loud and clear. Every student was busy - thinking . . . thinking . . . thinking . . . Some nibbled the butts of their pen and pencils, lost deep in thought. Two were scratching their heads, with their eyes closed and their foreheads drawn up in a frown. A few put all their weight on their desks, faces hidden between the folded arms - thinking! And some others were scribbling something, stopping many times in between words, to look in my direction, but not really searching for me. Narayan closed his pen and put it down, with a bright face and victorious smile. He looked around to see the plight of his classmates, stretching and twisting his abnormally long thin neck, which often reminded me of a giraffe. A little bowed, he was unnecessarily tall and thin, and skinny. His broad smile was very much like cartoon figures, extending the whole area between the ears. His laugh was always accompanied by a gurgling sound, which would end in a long inward pull of air into the lungs. His round bulging eyes hid behind the thick glasses which he would try hard to keep in place, with his two thumbs. Still, he had girl friends, who'd gather around him, occasionally, for amusement. He stopped to look at me, with a confident smile fixed on his face, to declare that he has found out the solution to the intriguing problem - what led to the extinction of Dinosaurs.

Now many have put down their pen, and looked at me, with an urge to see whether they were right. I was sure Narayan would come up with something odd, and so purposefully avoided him till the end. There were so many theories, much worked out - gigantic meteors hitting earth, temperature variations at global level, drying up of water logged areas where dinosaurs visited often to cool off the excess heat, unbalanced sex ratios etc. I was very much impressed. They had put a good amount of time and energy into it. I could see Narayan's smile narrowing gradually. Finally his face became . . . too long.

"Narayan . . ."

"Sir"

I could see his face brightening up.

"Do you agree with them?"

"Well . . . actually . . . no Sir, they are not fully correct".

"Then what is your opinion about . . . "

"Actually . . . Sir . . . there is another very clear and strong reason for their extinction. As one of them has pointed out, the waterlogged areas were drying up fast, and so, they were forced to remain on dry land for longer periods. You see . . . .sir . . .they were egg-laying animals. Their eggs had shells . . . like chickens. And sir, . . they gradually grew in size also. Sir . . .as you can see the buttocks . . . of the dinosaurs will always remain high above the land. So . .. sir . .. when it pushes out the eggs, which are very heavy, sir. . . .. they would fall heavily on the dry land and . . .break, . . . leaving none to hatch."

The classroom was shaken with the standing ovation and roaring laughter as he finished. This made him blush.

"Sir, my pet dodo - the turkey, lost many eggs when I tied a splinter to her legs, and she was made to stand always . . ." He continued after pausing for a while. He had the grandeur of a scientist presenting his paper in a symposium.

He sank into his seat and started to bite his nails.

"Narayan . . .it's a brilliant imagination . . .I am impressed".

That comment lit up his face and he gave back a very broad smile.

I could clearly see all of his incisors, canines, premolars and molars, and a bit of tongue too through the gape. His glasses were sliding down and he lifted up his two thumbs.



7. The Criminal

The huge tusks of the wooly mammoths shone like swords, in the moonlight dimmed by the dark clouds in the polar sky. They were closing upon me . . . like mountains. I couldn't run . . . the snow was deep and . . . Oh God!! . . . .soon I was going up in the air . . . . . one beast had caught me and hurled skyward. From high above, I could see the monster, with its eyes glowing like fire, pointing the two needle sharp tusks upward at me. . . waiting . .to impale.

I was falling . . . aaahh . . the excruciating pain . . . of the tusks piercing through the skin, muscles, heart and bowels . . . aaahh . . .

I woke up to find myself gasping for air and sweating all over. Fortunately Hema was still in the 'REM' phase of the sleep and didn't hear me. She had been preparing for the lecture till 1.30 a.m.

While struggling to come back to reality, another thought flashed through my mind . . . Did I forget something? I slipped out of her arms gently and ran to Kittu's house . . .

My heart stopped beating for a moment. There was no light in the room or his little house! The kids moved a little when I tumbled over the toys lying around "Kittu's Villa". I opened the house and took him in my hands. Frozen with shock and agony I stood there, holding him in my shivering hands. I didn't know what to do. The lifeless body of Kittu . . . in my palms. . . .

It looked as if he was fast asleep. I prayed, and hoped he'd wake up and look at me, as often, with his shining big black round eyes, and then brush his whiskers with his hands. No. He's dead . . . and stiff. What'd Dr. Dolittle do? I wanted to pump his chest and give him artificial breath. But . . . battalions of black ants were marching out of his mouth and nose, proclaiming his clinical death. How could I tell her that her "little thumb", as she often called him, was . . . . . .

"How's he honey?"

"Err . . .he is OK. Sleeping like a log".

"Can I see him now?"

"No. No. Just don't disturb him. He's not yet in full health. And again you got to catch the train at 4.30."

A teardrop fell on Kittu, when I finished the thoughtful and well formulated answer. She is stuck with him. Well, who wouldn't? He was such a cutie. Black ants were running about on my palm, and then the whole arm, in utter confusion. More confused was I. What should I do? I held him close to my bosom. How'd I stand this helplessness? What if they held me responsible for . . . only if . . . No. I don't have to explain. I should play calm and cool. If she knew that he was dead, she'd even cancel the program, which she has been dreaming about her whole life. He was so dear to her. We all loved him so much. Nandu and Pappu had forgotten all about their school, feeding and playing with him all the while. I didn't want to intervene either. They were learning to love nature and its children through that puny little deformed squirrel. But still . . .

I didn't expect this to happen so soon. Just two days! I had tried my level best to stop them from bringing him here. Do I hate pets? No. Not at all. I didn't want to spoil the serious atmosphere of our home. That's all. Work work and work. After all what have I got? Nothing. Nothing but the constraints and bad luck all around. Our family would be nowhere if my kids do not finish their studies well. Nandu has to prepare for his public exams this year. I don't think it's unfair if I wanted my children to be well placed.

My brother, Abhay, found him in our farm in the native place, below a coconut tree, with broken legs unable to move. He must have fallen from the tree accidentally. Abhay took him home and tried all the paramedical knowledge he had acquired to make his legs OK. After a few days Kittu started to walk and became his bosom friend. He was very active and the whole house was delighted by his tricks and naughtiness. He became friend with everyone.

He had a special way of entertaining himself when carried on someone’s palm. He'd go straight into the sleeve of the shirt and after passing down, would make a complete circle around the belly. Then he'd come out through the back collar and climb over the head. If stopped, he'd slide down and find a perch on the shoulder close to the neck. Nobody could stand it when his whiskers tickled against the neck and ears.

But the joy was short lived. He started to eat less and less. Abhay could not succeed in making him feel better. Fortunately for the creature, we reached there the next day and Nandu and Pappu took over the charge. Pappu wanted to name him Pappu, but I said no. Somehow I didn't like the idea. Many names were suggested and dumped. Finally Nandu suggested the name "Kittu" and miraculously Pappu approved of it happily, which was far from usual. He would always go against whatever his elder brother said.

They were a little worried as they found that it was not easy to feed him. He just wouldn't take anything. He'd close his eyes, keep his mouth open, and stretch his neck back, as if in intense pain. And make some coughing sound. Poor thing! I could hardly stand it. It seemed to me that he had a tumor or something growing in his throat.

"Let's search the net".

Pappu, my second son, ran to the computer. After one-hour search they found some sites on pets and their care.

"Here!! Another one! Squirrel world! Basic care and Feeding of Orphaned Squirrels!"

They collected all the possible food and medicines mentioned in the sites and nursed him day and night. Their joy was boundless when Kittu started to nibble some of them, after two days. He got his life back. Now they wanted to bring him here. I tried my level best to stop them. But they got the support of their grandfather and bowled me off. Despite all my warnings they brought him home. I knew it wouldn't be an easy task to bring up such an animal in captivity. And again I felt he was suffering from some serious internal problems. The relief may be temporary. Ajay was not at all happy to part with him, but he fell for the love and "please uncle" of kids.

Poor children! They were fast asleep, close to "Kittu's Villa", which they built using a plastic bucket, some clothes, cotton and wool. The house was decorated with flowers and also lit up with a small bulb to give warmth, in the cold night. And they appointed me as a security officer, to watch over him every night. I had to wake up once in a while and see that Kittu is OK. It was my duty to keep the bulb burning, without fail.

They went to bed very late yesterday, after playing with Kittu late into midnight. They were showing him the star-studded night sky. There was no moon. Mother Nature stood still, and watched him - the poor orphan! I was so astonished to see Kittu staring at the stars, without blinking his eyes. Was he searching for his mother among the stars? With all the stars twinkling in it, the whole sky could be read from his eyes. A few drops of rain fell from the sky, like tear. Did I hear a sigh?

I had to growl and show some anger to put the kids to bed. They, now, must still be playing with Kittu . . . in their dreams.

The clock struck 4. She must catch the 4.30 train and she's still in bed. After a little curses and cries, she got up, when I sprinkled some cold water on her face. Then she stretched her arms . . . and smiled.

"What's the time now, honey?"

She's up. I must find a way to escape. I must dispose of his body before the kids woke up. Hema would be away for three days. I'll just tell them that he disappeared . . .or rather . . . ran away to see his mom, in the trees. Yes. The kids would surely believe this. One of the very few good things scooped up from the TV cartoons.

"You are already late. C'mon. Hurry up. Change your dress."

"I must take my bath".

"No. no. no. no. There's no time for that. They have booked a room for you. You may wash yourself when you reach there. Now you just brush your teeth and wash your face and by then I will get the car ready".

"How much dress should I take?"

"It's up to you. It's a three day program. Take whatever you want. But remember - less luggage more comfort, and don't go to Kittu - you're sure to miss your train."

Fortunately the train was on time. I sped back like a criminal, being chased by the invisible and invincible hero. On the way, by God's grace, I just missed running over two pedestrians, in black jackets, from hitting. Why the hell should he wear black dress during night?

I must hurry and bury Kittu's body before . . . .

"Hey . . . watch it man! Are you drunk?" Another brush with an accident and 'holy saving'!!

I left the car on the roadside, in front of the house. I felt it wouldn't be a good idea to dig a hole at this time of the night. It would cause suspicion in the neighbours. And the sound may awaken the kids too. I'd better throw him into the drainage tunnel.

Not bothering to close the door of the car, I ran into the house and dashed upstairs. The kids would wake up any moment now. I could feel the pulse in my head. Tiptoeing towards the door I gently opened it, lest the sound wake them up.

"My goodness! . . . The lights are on! . . .!!!!"

I started to sweat profusely. Again I found myself gasping for air.

My little ones were moaning the death of their dearest. Nandu and Pappu were on their knees, on the floor, with burning incense sticks in hand. With furious eyes they stared at me. The glistening of the teardrops on their cheeks blacked out my vision. It was more than I could stand. Kittu's body was laid on a red velvet cloth, in front of them, covered with white linen. They were kneeling before it and there was a little oil lamp burning near the head of the corpse. The rituals of a funeral they carried in their little hearts.

"How could you do it, Papa?"

Pappu broke down and wept. It echoed in the dreary silence before the dawn. His cute little face was all drenched in flooding tears. I couldn't face Nandu either. He was still staring at me. His chest and stomach were heaving, in unbearable sorrow. There were a hell lot of questions in his silence.

I felt a lump growing in my throat. In the utter confusion and dismay I couldn't say a word.

It may rain soon. Outside, the wind was blowing hard. The windowpanes rattled. I stood there like a criminal. . . and melted like a snowman. . .

"Hey sonny . . . ', my papa was yelling at me from somewhere deep and hollow, "Don't worry, kid, he ran away to see his mother . . ."

"No . .no . . . no . . . he won't run away . . . he didn't run away . . . you killed him . . . . you killed him . . . ".



8. Manimals

Finally he found her among thedense bushes bordering the highway, a little away from the town. She lay there, on the ground, eyes closed.

Dragging his dead tired feet, he moved softly and stood close to her. His body was drenched in sweat and dirt. More than the search for her, the ordeal that he had to pass through in that cursed hot day with the merciless scorching sun staring at him and mocking him all the way, made his condition worse.

Life had no meaning till he met her. But now . . . . .

A long sigh sublimated from his swaying body. He found her at last, sleeping safe, away from the eyes of the treacherous butchers.

Slowly, she opened her drowsy eyes, awakened by the long but soft sigh of her lost-and-found lover. She wanted her smile to be live but it spilled out lifeless, and obscure. Gathering the strength left in her, she got up and leaned on against him. She drew up a long breath, sweeping in as much body smell as she could. She kissed his neck. Again and again. Lost in their world of bliss, they stood there, ignorant to all the hustle of the world around them.

"My God, what's this?"

She found out the wound on his neck, which he was trying to hide from her eyes.

"Another fight?"

He held her closer. She understood what he meant. He never wanted her to ask any questions about him or his life. All were answered long ago, when he first met her in the darkness, under the over-bridge. In the dull light seeping in from the railway station a few yards away, he found her shivering with fright and shame. Her thin body carried nothing but soot and dust. She was shirking away from him, against the stonewall, which was burdened with the weight of the bridge above. The first scared look in her dark and wide eyes gave way to sadness and pain. Soon her eyes grew wide and bright. Somehow she got the feeling that he was her savior. Although his encounters with women were countless, he had never felt the special feeling he had then, as she looked into his eyes. She silenced him with gentle kisses, when he started pouring out a hell of a lot of questions. She didn’t want him to ask questions about her or her life. Questions and answers were out of question in their unique relationship.

She kissed him again and again. She kissed his wound. She knew the panacea for their wounds of body and soul. She started to lick it gently. He closed his eyes and mourned in ecstasy.

"This is heaven".

Slowly he stretched out on the green grass, with hopes amongst the hopelessness.

The smell and taste of his body put freshness and strength in her. She felt much younger. With new vigour, her tongue started to work down his body.

"Enjoy while you can . . ." She tickled him and giggled.

"You naughty cow. . . ". He prodded her gently and lovingly, with his long horns.

But "joy is not for ever".

They felt the tightening noose around their neck.

A sharp shining thirsty knife awaited somewhere for their blood.
And . . . merry gentlemen sat around well laid-out tables, waiting for delicacies.



9. Born by a Dream

I kept staring at that line for some time.

"You have 1 new emails in your MAILBOX."

Only one? Strange thoughts crept through my senile mind. I've never written anything like a story before I joined the Stories.com family. It's through Stories.com that I grew into a full-fledged writer. There were days when I received more than 50 mails in one single day. The very next day after uploading my favourite story, I received about 100 emails, all showering upon me appreciation and gift points.

Gone are those days . . .!
Today it is . . . !

I think it’s time to stop writing the so-called 'stories' of mine. The number of mails dwindled day by day. Am I losing my skills? In a matter of 6 months . . .!
Well, it'll get only worse. One of my friends asked me, last month, to avoid travelling alone. He is very close to me and so, he told me that he suspected me of having the initial symptoms of Alzheimer's disease.

hmmmm. . . .

In the mailbox . . . the single mail was laughing at me . . .

Curious!!! The subject is shown as . . . " Your Son ! Papa ".

Son. . . . ?!

It didn't show anything like . . . received for item or : . .

"Papa, I . . . mom wants to see you. It's urgent."

Papa . . . !? I have only one son, and he is right here, living with me!

As my strained eyes followed the lines, I felt the ground below me giving way and my weightless body floating down into the wide crevice. I looked around the study room. It's 12.00 midnight and my wife is still preparing studiously for the next day's seminar, without the slightest idea of what's going on I my mind. She doesn’t hear the thunderous waves splashing against the shores of the Dead Sea, consuming my mind. She doesn't hear the sighs escaping from the dark and empty caves of my heart.

"Mom is sinking. Though she doesn't want me to ask you to make a visit, I know she wants to see you . . . so much."

"She recognised you through your stories. You loved her so much. Didn't you? Each one of your storiesy had the bits of the silly talk you had with mom. And your public portfolio gave her your full details - your country, your state, your city, the college where you work . . . . .

She is a very brave lady and I've never seen her cry. But . . on the day she recognized you, she wept like hell. Since that day, she has changed a lot. She became gloomy and withdrawn. She took copies of all your stories and has been keeping and worshiping it like Bible."

I do not blame you. She told me everything. I do not blame her either. Things so happened."

"But . . . can you imagine what I've been going through? I never told her about my feelings. It's just unfair. and pathetic . . I do have a father and yet . . . just for once . . .Papa, I want to see you. Won't you come, Papa? She'd never let me come to India. She says if I come, you'll be in trouble. Your status, dignity and family life everything will be lost. I can't understand why. It's all above my imaginations. So, please . . . just once again come to Wageningen. Our address is . . . "

From among the lines, I was sucked into the lost part of the past . . . .

Memories flashed into my mind. Faces popped out of the mist of forgetfulness. 20 years! He must be nineteen. It's twenty years now, since I left The Netherlands - the land of windmills and tulips. The land of milk, butter and cheese. The land of stretches of flatness. The land of boulders, fighting incessantly against the madly warring sea.

Marianne . . . she was beautiful . . .

She liked yellow tulips with red streaks more than any other. She liked the blue sky without white clouds. Always clad in white, she moved about gracefully slow. There was something special about her. I never saw any friends visiting her.

And she kept a secret admiration for Indian culture and philosophy.

Who was she? Just a friend?
What else could she be, to me - a married man with a kid? I had always been faithful to my wife. A perfect Indian husband.

But . . . she . . .

"My friend Lucy wants to have a baby from you".

O Boy! She was cool. Many a time, since then, she has told me about how her friend wanted the baby and how beautiful she is. When she first proclaimed this during dinner one day, everybody laughed.

"Oh Raj! There is a queue out there! You got to eat more or else . . . . . " Aart laughed showing his decayed black teeth and made annoying sounds with his spoon and fork.

"When do you plan to start production? . ?"

We were 12 people, living in the neighbouring rooms of the ground floor of 12th Apartment of Haarweg. All others, except me were students. I liked their company. Nice kids.

I didn't have the slightest idea of what Dutch language was like. But they were always ready to help me, during shopping, cooking, . . . anything. A home away from home.

Later one day, during one of our evening walks, in the botanical garden and 'mountains', she told me - she was serious. I laughed aloud, and walked along. The silence made me look back. She was sitting below the huge iron statue of tulip bud, hiding her head between her knees, and weeping!

Crazy girl!!

"Marianne, look here . . ."
I sat close to her and tried to lift her face.

She was silent. Her fingers were ploughing through the white sand, slowly, making circular groves.

"Look, you're my best friend here. But . . . "

How can I make her understand what we Indians are like! Especially those belonging to the southern states?

We are trained to keep away from extramarital relationships. Of course, there may be exceptions. But . . .

My father, who was a teacher in a village school, was very strict. As per our religion, it's said, God would punish us, if we broke the rules of celibacy.

"I don't have a friend named Lucy".

"So, . . . you were joking. Yes?"

"No. Raj, . . I . . . I want to have your baby".

She clasped my arm firmly, and raised her eyes. I couldn't believe it. Her eyes were wet and begging!

I sat there frozen. I couldn't look at her.

I tried my level best to make her understand my dilemma.

Dilemma . . .!?

" You need not worry about the child. I have a job and I can bring him up in a decent way. I promise, I'll never come to India to make claims. And I'll never disclose your secret to my son. God Promise. God Promise. God Promise. " She started to weep.

"My God! Look Marianne, it's not that. And making a baby . . .it's not a big deal. But. . . you just think about me. How'd I live cool in my place, while my flesh and blood grow up here, not knowing who his father is, and . . . . ."

She gave back a strange look. She stared into my eyes . . . kept on . . . till I turned away.

There was still ice on the pond down far below. A flock of geese were walking towards it, whose quacks could be heard even from this height.

Marianne too was God fearing. She was decent and did not have any boy friends earlier. Even she herself was surprised to see that she was attracted to me - a five feet seven inch, chocolate coloured Indian, who couldn't claim to be handsome. And moreover, a married man with a kid.

I must leave the place at the earliest. Or else . . .

"OK Raj, don't worry . . . I won’t bother you with this anymore". She said softly, as we entered the corridor. She kissed me on my forehead and went into her room.

She seemed to have overcome her desire.
"Thank God"

Luckily, I got my fellowship extended for 6 more months. This time it was from the Leiden University. Marianne and I went along well, as good friends as ever. She never talked about that stupid wish of her any more.

But . . my "foreign son"!!! . . . how did it happen ?!

Oh! Yes. I was bedridden after the operation for removing two cysts from my armpits. I couldn't do anything on my own for one whole week. But she was there to help me. She stayed back during daytime and went for her work during night. Yes. That did it. During daytime we were alone there, all others being away for work or school. She helped me with everything - changing clothes, shaving and even taking my bath . . . !

One weak moment . . on that cursed day . . . if I remember correct, on my birthday, we lost our control, while she was helping me to change my clothes, after bath. We lost ourselves among us. The world in and around us burst into festivity. We melted into each other in the raging flames, which swallowed our body and soul. Snakes played to the tune of the song of love and hissed all around us. Then . . . at the end . . .there was light. We lay there like two liberated souls in divine bliss.

"Oh God, why don't you go to bed? You are sleeping online!"

It was a joke. My wife has finished her preparation and wants me to shut down my computer, and accompany her to bed.

"You carry on. I must send an email to my son. His mother is seriously . . ."

Oh my God!!!! What's wrong with me? What did I tell her?! If she sees the mail . . . this is going to be the end. She loves me and has trusted me her whole life, and now . . . . a son in another . . .

She won't stand it. She'd do anything . . .

My vision is blurring out. Probably my BP has gone up. In the precipitating darkness, I can hear her chuckle.

"Man . . . you're a gone case. You know something . ? Stories.com is driving you nuts".
The dream is on . . . and the dreamer is lost . . . in his dream!



10. The Morning Mist

It was not dawn yet. The mating calls of Cicadas reverberated in the chill and misty air filling the lacunae among the thicket. The stream snailed silently, and looked like a torn rag among the rocks.

Joseph . . .he was still begging. . stupid. But she didn't seem to care a bit. It was a tragic scene. He was lying close to me, on the balled out stones on the shore, in spoiled party clothes. On the other side of the stream, with both hands on hips and scorn in her rosy lips, she swayed gracefully but rudely, side to side, paying no heeds. Her bewitching beautiful eyes reflected faintly in the crystal clear water, and undulated like two little blue fishes, lying in wait for a prey. I pretended to be asleep and thought for a moment. Should I or shouldn't I? Poor guy. He loved her so much. But . . she was leaving him for another fellow, who succeeded in luring her into his trap. Joseph knew that she would never escape from his clutches. He has heard of many girls who've ended up in the red light areas in the town, through her newfound lover.

His words started to lose shape as his lips distorted in agony. Still, he didn't want anyone to know that he loved her. Still, I felt, he would go to any extent to stop her from going into that treacherous man's arms. But she was on the other side and wouldn’t listen.

I couldn't stand it anymore. Saving him would be difficult through verbal jugglery. He had a problem - he couldn’t tell between a dream and reality, when he is excited. What should I do? A slight distraction from the present predicament would give both of them time and temperament to break the final bond of their weak reciprocity.

He loved me so much and he wouldn't do anything that'd make me unhappy. And I knew the magical power of paternal touch. Stretching my right hand upward, eyes still closed; I started to groan as if in pain. My body was put into convulsions. Suddenly there bubbled a silence among the crowd in the woods. He drew closer and caught my arm. He felt so warm and gentle.

"Dad, . . . dad . . what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine now."

He held me hand closer.

"Dad . . ."

"C'mon my boy. . . be strong. Be a man"

The pause was intentional.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see her merging with the distant mist . . . gently and silently. Joseph was looking into my eyes, worried. I felt a little sad to see him like that. Everything is OK now. She is now gone and he would no longer lament for her.

"After all. . . what's there in this bloody love?!"

The stupid old boyhood days flashed once again, gnawing through the boundaries of my senile heart.

Now that she is gone, I can tell him what it was all about.

"You are so dear to me . . . you're my life!".

It was a whisper with a sigh of relief. I drew him closer and opened my eyes.

As the mist cleared, I found Henna up, who sat there . . . . with fire in her eyes!

"Sweet dream, Eh?! "

"Where is Joseph? . . . Joseph . . ! . . Jesus!!!"



The Abyss

The clay-coloured turbid water, at the bottom of the drying lake, reflected nothing. It didn't let anything escape from its sticky tongue, like a chameleon. I was watching . . . or rather staring at that monstrous remainder of the once plentiful and beautiful lake. Before my eyes . . . one by one . . ., it gulped in all of them - all the four.

"Deedi . . . Deedi . . .help . . . help . . ."

Yes. . . I remember it very well. Helpless . . . I could only run frantically around the bank . . . I couldn't save them. One by one . . . the little hands . . . that fondled my hair and caressed my cheeks . . .were sucked in . . . Oh God!!!

Maddened by their cries and struggle for life, I ran around the bank, tearing my unruly hair, unable to cry out for help. I hated the shameless tears that oozed out of my eyes. Useless . . . I'm useless . . .

"No. I cannot go home without them". What would I tell mom when she asks "where are my little 'dynamites'?" with love overflowing her eyes, face and words!

"No. I can't. I can't . . . "

"Cut it out, young lady . . .when face to face with death, all do the same thing . . . cry aloud and resist with all might . . . struggle hard . . . till they die. You would do the same, if you fall in there. See!!"

My shadow was laughing . . . like a demon. It grew larger and larger . . . reached the other end of the lake . . . and beyond!!! It tore away from me and before I could realize what was happening, it pushed me into the puddle.


I didn't want to cry or struggle. I didn't want anyone to come to my rescue. I wanted to rush and join my little brothers, in their journey, lest they would feel lonely without their Deedi. I had accompanied them wherever they went - silently like a guardian angel. Mommy also insisted I should.

"I must go with them . . . yes . . . then we'll be together in heaven . . . and mommy would be happy that I am there too, to look after them."


I was sinking . . . slowly . . .

Strange!!! It felt good. I was enjoying every moment of it! I drew down my hands, and started to search - for my little brothers. Though my eyes were filled with darkness, I was lulled by the eerie music of silence filling the depths. And the muddy water was sooo coooool!!!!

The descent seemed unending. A long journey.

"How deep is it? "

"Hi honey, where were you so long?"

"Hi mommy! Did they come here?"

"What?"

"Oh nothing"

Poor mommy. She is deaf . . . and I am dumb! Good combination!!!

In the darkness she couldn't see my gestures.

"Oh Deedi . . . we are so sorry. We'll never do it again. We ran after that golden frog
and . . . Deedi, . . . Deedi . . . "

Their little voices echoed in the abyssal world, unanswered. Their Deedi had already turned deaf, dumb and blind.

The muddy water, like a chameleon, didn't let anything to escape from its clutches.




12. The Torn Buds

In the shadow behind the old grotesque roadside tree, his nine-year old eyes shone like red coals. Abhilash stood there, looking at the charred remains of the only studio of the village, which silhouetted against the feeble light coming from the temple on the other side of the rivulet.

“He deserves it . . . devil”.

His face now wore the glow of a conqueror. He was about to move towards the tree closer to the studio when a bullock-cart entered from the side road and clattered along. He moved into the darkness and sat down to hide from the men in the bullock cart.

“Poor man, he was just picking up business”.

“Well, his time was up, that’s all”. The driver lit a 'beedi', puffed it into good burning and prodded the animals gently.

“It’s only last week that he bought a new house in the town. And he had a plan to shift the studio from this thatched house to his concrete building in the town.”

“Is he single? Have you ever seen his wife, buddy?”

“Oh yes. Nice lady. But she left him last Diwali day . . . it’s said they had a fight over some photo”.

‘Fighting over a photo? Silly woman . . .”

“What makes you think so . . .?”

Abhilash sat there frozen and shaking. His cotton shirt was soaked in sweat. He was so frightened that he could not even breathe.

The studio-man was killed?! But he saw him stepping out with Nanditha. Did he go in again? My God! Then Nanditha too . . .”

He felt his little heart crumbling inside and his vision turned yellow and then into pitch black.

“. . . Nanditha . . . “

When he entered the veranda of his house, he saw his parents smiling through the tears that just stopped. There was Nanditha's father too, waiting eagerly.

"Where is Nanditha, . . . Abhi? She is not home yet."

He was so worried. He saw her mother in the next room, seated in a chair and consoled by other women. He blacked out again.

He was impatient, waiting eagerly for the next morning, to tell Nanditha what he had done for her, on the way to school. She wouldn’t need any roses from his garden or lilies from the small pond near the studio. How happy she would have been to hear that. But . . .

“Oh God . . . forgive me . . . I didn’t want to kill . . .”.

He just wanted to punish him for what he has done to Nanditha. Just wanted to destroy all those photos. He never thought things'd end this way.

He didn’t want any other boy or girl for a friend. Nanditha was so cute. He would help with her homework and would carry her bag all the way school. In the class she would only sit next to him. And he was so proud of that. His friends made fun of him, because, she was a little taller than he was; but . . . not much, he thought.

She said she would marry only Abhi. . she loved to call him Abhi . . than Abhilash. He was shy and would only giggle.

It all started with that photograph. Her father and mother were sitting in chairs put under the old mango tree in front of their house. Nanditha was standing near her father, with her hands around his neck. Her cute little one-year-old brother was there on her mother's lap, sucking his little thumb.

“Who took this picture, Nanditha?"

“We have a new uncle here, my father's sister's husband's cousin."

"The one who bought the old studio near the temple"?

"Yes. Oh! He made a lot of changes to it. It looks so beautiful now. You know . . . he is going to give it a new name - the 'Global Photographers'. He said he would start a Ladies' Beauty Parlour next to it soon . . . mmm . . . probably next month. He is verrry rich."

"Would you like to take your picture . . Abhi?"

"No no. I don't have any money".

"No problem. He will take your picture for free. He likes me so much and would do anything for me".

"No. My father'd get mad at me. He is a very proud man. He doesn’t like any of us asking for favours from anyone outside our family".

“C’mon Abhi . . .you are supposed to be a man and . . . take care of me. Don’t be afraid”.

“Ok. then . . . but. . .”

“Mmmm . . . do you think he’ll ask for money from you . . . who is my best friend? You stupid. . .!”

“Maybe not . . . may be . . . ”.

"Let's take a 'group photo' . . . just two of us. Just for fun. OK?"

Abhilash blushed and just shook his head for yes, and that was what he had in his mind too. Her uncle was a dark stumpy fellow. He showed them the snap and handed it to Nanditha when they went to collect it after two days. But he snatched it back from Nanditha’s hands and put it back into his table at the counter, in anger, when she said there's no money and it should be given free, as a gift to her.

“But . . . .we want it”. She said, almost weeping from shame.

“Then go and get the money . . . the full fifty”.

He said, turning away and walking towards the dark curtain-covered room, where they sat close to each other on a decorated luxury chair. . . smiling, . . . and posed for their dream-photograph, two days back.

“Please uncle . . ." Nanditha broke into tears and hung to the studio-man’s hands.

“Look! I am very busy and I don’t have time for arguments.”

“Please uncle . . . we will do anything you say . . . we’ll clean the rooms and . . . “.

“Ok kids, I am not a cruel man . . . but . . .”
He looked at Nanditha with an ugly smile and held her close . . . err . . rather closer than necessary . . . he thought.

“Hey sonny, you run along and get me a cola from the shop near the post office. Tell him I’ll pay in the evening”.

“You’ll give us the picture?”

“Oh yes. You both are such nice kids. How can I say no?”

Why that shop near the Post Office? The are other shops selling cola near by. May be they sold spurious cola . . . who knows.!

She gave him the Photo, when he came back after a while, after the long walk and waiting in the queue. He forgot all about the errand and the classes they missed. He stared at the snap for a long time.

“How nice! Nanditha, you look soooo pretty!”

But Nanditha didn’t wait to hear what he said. She had already started walking. Her uncle was there in his chair at the counter with his ghostly face, and his typical ugly vile smile.

"Nanditha, wait . . . "

“He is a very bad man . . .Abhi . . .very very bad.” There were tears in her eyes. . .

“How come? See . . he gave us the picture! And didn’t ask for more money either!”

“No . . . he is . . .”

Abhilash put the photo back in the cover and handed it over to her.

“You keep it . . . I don’t want it”.

She kept on walking . . . as if in a dream . . . without caring to hold his hands.

“What’s wrong with you, Nanditha? What happened?”

She walked with dropped head and wet eyes. He noticed that she had difficulty in walking too.

“He must have scolded her . . . for asking that favour". He was totally confused.

"Why did he want cola from that far away shop, when there was one just on the other side of the road?"

“Abhi . . . we'll never talk to that man again . . . Ok? And we will return the photo too.”

She stopped near the temple, stood there, with closed eyes, and folded hands, in prayer. None of the temple doors were open then. But the temple bells swung high in the strong wind that came from nowhere.

“Oh God, please help her. She seem to suffer a lot”.

After a while, she turned towards the Banyan tree behind the temple and sat down leaning against it, among the idols of Snake Gods! She looked strange! She was no more a child.

"She was so afraid of 'nagas' . . . what has come over her . . . ?”

“Abhi, do you know what he did . . . when you were away?”

He waited . . . eagerly . . .

“He said he wanted to take another photo of mine and I followed him happily . . . because he said it’s for free and we don’t have to give him any money at all. He said he’d give us candies also.”

He waited . . . gazing at her.

He felt his muscles taut and brain buzz as she went on narrating what she had gone through.

"Why would any one take such photos!"

"He is really a bad man. Bad enough . . . "

The voice that came out of him was quite mismatching for a child of his age. It had a peculiar tone. His cute little face turned red and he started to shiver with anger. But then his eyes overflowed . . . with the intense tearing pain that drove thousands of poison thorns into his little brain.

“Why didn’t you try to escape?”

“He said . . . he’d call the police and get us arrested for not giving the money”.

“Ok Nanditha, let’s forget what’s happened. We will never go to that studio again and will never ever talk to that dirty fellow in our whole life. OK?"

His voice sounded determination and maturity.

“What’s internet, . . . Abhi? She asked after a long pause.

“I don’t know . . . why”?

“He said the whole world would see me through Internet . . . and enjoy. He took so many pictures in so many ways”.

He left her at her doorstep and went home thinking and fabricating an excuse for being late. Luckily his parents had gone to the monthly grand bazaar and returned only at dusk.

“What’s that smell in the kitchen? Abhilash . . . ”

“It’s some waste paper . . . ma . . . there were ants over it”.

He went to the backyard and blew the ash of that cursed photo all around.

Next day, they walked past the studio with utmost care . . . trying to avoid that nasty beast.

“Thank God . . . The studio is not open yet”.
“C'mon Nanditha . . . walk faster”.
He held her hands in a firm grip and pulled her along.

“What’s the hurry, young man, leave her alone. She’ll be a star soon”.

They felt dead as the studio man appeared as if from nowhere and stopped them, blocking with his old rusty bike. Before he could do anything, he grabbed Nanditha and drew her close to him.

“Don’t you want to see your pictures I took yesterday?”

He took three photos from his pocket and held them in front of her.

"No. no. I don’t want to see them”. She shrunk, cried and covered her face.

“You leave her alone. We don’t want to talk to you anymore”.

A sudden surge of power came over Abhilash and he tried to push him down and rescue her from him. But that rogue snarled and slapped him hard on his face, which made him reel like a top.

“Don’t be a fool, kid. You’ll end up in jail, if you try to come between me and my darling . . . Nanditha.”

His has his hand over her shoulders, pressing her hard against his thighs.

“And don’t ever tell anyone about our new adventures”.

He warned as he lifted her, put her on his bike, in front of him, and rode away.

Abhilash picked up her school bag and hugged. Through his tears he saw that wretched man force her into his studio. Helpless, with fear and disgust, he stared at that cursed studio. He felt his heart burst when she looked back before disappearing into that haunted studio. That pain in her eyes . . . it was more than he could take.

"Take your last snap . . . devil . . . "

When he sneaked out of his house that evening, with kerosene can in his school bag and a cigarette lighter in his pocket, he had all the antiheroes in his mind. The muscles, the guns, the fire . . .


13. Home Away

Here, in this balmy shade, I do not feel lonely. The shade is double – one by the low circular roof of the small abode of a God (unknown to me), overlooking the vast barren rice fields, and the other by the Banyan tree, hovering over the roof, like a gigantic green umbrella. Beyond this twin circle, the sun mercilessly scorched the grass and the shy, lonely, wild bushes, with their minute violet flowers in inflorescence, balanced atop long slender necks. Swinging and jerking their drooped heads in all possible directions, the bushes seemed complaining to the breeze, which now and then circled around us. A few yards to the right lay the fading marks of my dream house, unfinished and abandoned. Moss, creepers and a conglomeration of other wild weeds have claimed possession and established their community in that unearthly substratum (ecological succession!). Together they looked greener . . . and happier.

My mind - a full brimming lake . . . blue and deep - reflected the full shine of the bright sun. This must be what the learned and enlightened swamijis called ‘nirvana’. Doesn't want to take anything. No feelings at all, but for an ecstatic bliss.

Against the blue of the sky I spotted a brown eagle with a white neckband, balancing in the unseen but unsteady wind with its huge wings. The white spots on its belly were not to any pattern - strewn all over like stars in the sky. The bird dived as if in a roller coaster, and leveled close to me, its blood red eyes staring into mine.

“Hey You! . . . Still here eh? She’s waiting for you there. Run home fella.”

It kept looking into my eyes. After a short intense instant it soared up high and steadied its wings.
It looked so serious and sounded deep

"Who is he? My Granny?".

“Well . . . who am I? Why am I here?”

The path cutting the fields lay wavy, like a dead silvery snake. Where does it lead? The other end was invisible, stretched beyond the limits of my vision. Driven by an unknown and uncontrollable urge, I got up, tapped the dust from buttocks and started to walk . . . slowly. There was no hurry. I didn’t have any destination . . . to reach in time. I didn’t have anything to do. . . to be completed on time. However, I kept on walking, along the narrow path, for what seemed endless.

Drops of sweat found their way through the beard and sunken cheeks and dripped down my hollow chest. Lips dried and breath deepened. My dusty legs begged for a halt.

“Why? I do not feel tired!”

There was no shade in the vicinity. The fiery fields, all around, lay unconcerned. As far as eyes could reach there was nothing but emptiness.

A few drops of sweat rolled over my eyelashes. Darkness spilled from the heaven as my lashes closed under the weight of the salty drops. Lungs strained in vain for a sigh. Now what?

"Oh God! Show me the way! Thou are the shepherd and I shall not want".

Aah . . . I feel very comfortable now.

Back in the shade, again, I do not feel lonely or tired. The shade is double – one by the low circular roof of the small abode of a God (unknown to me), overlooking the vast barren rice fields, and the other by the Banyan tree, hovering over the roof, like a gigantic green umbrella. Beyond this twin circle, the sun mercilessly scorched the grass and the shy lonely wild bushes, with their minute violet flowers in inflorescence, balanced atop long slender necks. Swinging and jerking their drooped heads in all possible directions, the bushes seemed complaining to the breeze, which now and then circled around us. A few yards to the right lay the fading marks of my dream house, unfinished and abandoned. Moss, creepers and a conglomeration of other wild weeds have claimed possession and established their community in that unearthly substratum (ecological succession!). Together they looked greener . . . and happier.

" . . . Oh God! "
The eagle still circled in the heights, searching for me. The path cutting the fields lay wavy, like a dead silvery snake. Driven by an urge, I started to walk again, slowly. . . . . . .

*******O*******