Mani's Little Sister

Mani sat visualizing himself as a trim, quick-on-his-feet boy who got selected in his school cricket team for his aggressive batsmanship and extraordinary fielding skills. His happy daydreaming was punctuated by the stern call of his name by his father. He came out of his reverie and looked down at his plump self. With a shake of his head he went to the drawing room as he heard his father call him again.

“What took you so long?” the head of the house asked Mani, only to get the usual response of bowed-head silence.

“Tomorrow onwards you have to bring your sister along with you when you return home from School”

Many unfinished thoughts filled Mani’s mind as he heard this ultimatum from his father. He knew it would be futile to ask what he always thought was the most logical question to counter any uncomfortable decision – Why. He had tried asking this question on previous occasions only to receive angry glares and, once, a reply that was in no way the logical answer – ‘because I said so and I am your father’.

So he nodded in a resigned manner and ran to the kitchen to confront his mother.

“Why should I bring Aarthi with me? Let her come with Auto Anna as usual no?” Mani fumed at his mother.

She sighed and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Aarthi has come to 6^th grade now kanna. Her classes will finish at 2:30 pm and yours get over by 3:15 pm. So Appa wants to discontinue the Auto. He feels there is no point of spending on Auto when Aarthi can wait for you inside the school campus for some time and both of you can come back together”, she told.

“This is not fair”, hissed Mani.

But he knew he could do little else to change the decision or the situation. He had only one option.

*          *          *

Aarthi was leafing through her new sixth grade English textbook as she saw her brother come towards her. Aarthi adored her elder brother but if anyone asked her why, she would find it difficult to pinpoint a reason. That was the kind of relationship they had.

“Hi Anna!” chirped Aarthi as Mani came and sat beside her in the small storage room-cum-pooja room-cum-study room.

Mani was elder to Aarthi by only three years and hated it when she called her Anna.

“How many times have I told you not to call me Anna?” he snapped.

“But Appa insists that I call you so”

“Then you do so only in front of him”

“Ok Mani”, she replied with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Did they tell you about how you will be coming back from school? They are stopping your Auto”, he said, stressing on the last sentence while trying to maintain a tone of sympathy.

“Yes! Isn’t it wonderful? Now we can come together every day after school”, she replied happily.

Mani did not want to give in easily and decided to approach it from the angle of physical effort.

“You know we have to walk right? It will be hard for you”

“That’s ok. We will come together only no? It will be fine”

Now Mani started to desperately clutch at last straws.

“Aarthi. Can you do me a favour?” he asked.

“Sure Ann… I mean Mani” she replied eagerly.

“I can’t bring you from school every day. Can you please go by yourself? You are a big girl anyway” he reasoned.

Her smiling face suddenly became clouded.

“Why? Do you not like me” she asked.

“Ayyo it’s not like that! It is difficult to explain! Will you help me or not?” he asked irritably.

Aarthi had never seen her brother get this upset. He was usually the calm and silent kind. She reluctantly agreed to his request.

“And remember. Don’t tell Amma and Appa” he warned, before leaving the room.

*          *          *

Aarthi wanted to understand why Mani was behaving this way. Mani had joined her school after completing his eighth grade from a different one, since her school was more popular for giving good results in the tenth and twelfth public examinations. Ever since he joined ninth grade in the new school, there seemed to be something amiss about him. Aarthi had noticed her brother lost in thoughts or staring vacantly at nothing in particular many times. What surprised her even more was the fact that he barely showed the kind of enthusiasm he was known for when watching India’s cricket matches. While his parents did not seem to register these changes, it did not escape the keen girl. She decided to talk to him about this when he was in a better mood.

The next day was Aarthi’s first in sixth grade and it proceeded without any major surprises. Keeping her word to her brother, she walked back home once her classes ended, without waiting for him. She opened the house using the spare key under the potted plant and carefully bolted the main door from inside. She made herself a jam sandwich and waited for her brother to come.

More than an hour lapsed and the time was nearing 4 pm but Mani had not returned. Aarthi was worried, not only because her brother had not returned, but also because she had lied to her father when he had called few minutes ago by telling him that they both came together and Mani was in the toilet. Her father was expecting Mani to call back.

As she struggled thinking about what to do next, the doorbell rang. She gave a sigh of relief and ran to open the door.

“Why are you so late? Appa almost found…” she stopped her chiding abruptly as she saw her brother’s tear-streaked face. She could see that his clothes were soiled.

“What happened Anna?” She asked.

He turned his face away from her, rushed to the study room and banged the door shut.

It was only when their parents came back that he came out of the room.

“Did Mani take good care of his little sister?” Amma asked looking at Aarthi.

Aarthi glanced at her brother. He had a pleading look on his face and shook his head imperceptibly.

“Yes Amma! He took care of me very well”, she replied.

Mani’s tensed face relaxed a little as his mother patted him on the back.

The afternoons continued in a similar manner for a week and Aarthi could not get her brother to speak about who or what was giving him trouble every day after school. He just brushed her off saying it was some small scuffle which was normal in his grade. She wanted to confide in her mother about this but that would then put Mani in an uncomfortable position. She decided that she will do something about it the next day.

*          *          *

The next day as her classes got over, she decided to hide near the school gate and wait for her brother. Five minutes after the last bell of ninth grade rang, her brother walked out slowly. He was walking alone and looking nervous. He exited the school gate and started to walk towards their home. Aarthi stealthily followed him.

Mani crossed the main road and turned into the lane that led to the area where their home was situated. Aarthi could feel her brother slow down as he entered the lane. As he disappeared from her view, she resumed following him. As she entered the lane she could see her brother walking slowly with his head bowed down. There were a group of boys, seemingly seniors from their school, talking loudly and cracking jokes at the corner of the street. As one of them saw Mani, he nudged the guy near him. They all became silent.

“Oi Gundumani!” one guy called out, making fun of Mani’s rotund frame. The other boys screamed with laughter. Mani did not raise his head and hurried his steps.

The boys now started to surround him. There were five of them and the tallest guy came and stood in front of Mani, blocking his path.  

He placed both his hands on Mani’s ample stomach.

“This water bag seems to get bigger by the day”, he guffawed, to the merriment of his gang.

Mani squirmed and tried to move away. Two boys blocked him from behind.

“I guess the Fatso is going to cry today also. Such a girl!” one boy retorted nastily.

“Maybe he will go crying to his mommy!” another boy said, giving a pathetic imitation of a crying baby.

“Will you go complaining to your mommy and daddy fatso?” The tall guy asked, while slapping Mani’s stomach.

Mani shook his head without looking up.

“Guys! Doesn’t his stomach look like a football?” the tall guy asked.

There was a chorus answer in the affirmative.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s play”, he shouted.

Aarthi was shocked to see her brother being treated this way. She couldn’t hold back anymore and ran towards Mani and the gang of bullies.

As he heard the sound of someone running towards him, Mani looked up. He was terrified to see Aarthi. The gang of boys temporarily suspended their entertainment and looked amusedly at the figure of a small girl approaching them.

She came and stopped directly in front of the tall guy and glared at him.

“Why are you troubling my brother?” she asked angrily.

“Look at what fatso brought for support! His kid sister!” the tall guy snickered.

Before he could proceed with another remark, he felt a strong kick on his abdomen and a sharp slap on his cheek.

There was a look of pain mixed with shock on his face as he clutched his abdomen and fell down. Tears streamed down his face as he looked at the faces of his friends. The faces did not register anger. They registered a mix of surprise and, to an extent, embarrassment.

The group of boys were amazed to see their leader brought to his knees by a small girl. They used to be in awe of this guy. They used to look up to him and always tried to emulate the recklessness and irreverence he projected. Today when they saw him at the receiving end of a punch and slap from a girl almost half his age, the image they carried of him was shattered.

They looked on in stunned silence as Aarthi held the hand of her bewildered brother and led him towards their home.

*          *          *

The parents returned that evening to find brother and sister watching television and laughing.

The mother planted a kiss on Aarthi’s head and pulled Mani’s chubby cheek.

“Did Mani take good care of his little sister?” she asked.

Mani looked at Aarthi and smiled.

“Aarthi took good care of her brother, Amma!” he said as the little girl beamed proudly.

One Ticket to Bhayander

“How was your day?’ Sudeshna asked as her son made his way into his room.

He gave an almost imperceptible upward nod of his head to indicate nothing out of the ordinary happened, grabbed a towel and went into the washroom. Sudeshna waited carefully till she heard the bolt of the bathroom door and the sound of running water. With one eye on the bathroom door, she quickly went through his bag. She heaved a sigh of relief as she found nothing which she was afraid she would find. But that didn’t mean she would stop this routine of searching his belongings or keeping an eye on him.

She remembered the day vividly. She had just sat down after lunch to catch up on the series of Marathi soap operas on television when the landline had started to ring. The Principal of NMCC, the college where her son studied, had been on the other end of the line.

“This is regarding your son, Mrs. Kale. He seems to be permanently in a trance and least bothered about courses or exams. He already has very poor attendance and hasn’t come to the college today also, despite knowing there is a cycle test which has 30% weightage for the semester grades”, he had said.

Not knowing how to react, she had assured the principal that she would talk about this to her son and make him understand. She had been puzzled. Just as she had been about to call her son on his mobile, the landline had rang again. This time the voice on the other end was that of a stranger.

“Are you related to Mr. Pramod Kale?”

“Yes I am his mother. Who is this?”

“Sorry to say this madam. Your son attempted to kill himself by lying down on the railway track. One of our constables saw him and has brought him to the police station. Can you please come down to Parel Police Station?”

She had found out a whole new side to her Son that day. She had seen a vacant frozen look on his face that sent a chill down her spine. Her attempts at drawing him out and finding a reason for his depression were futile and she had no choice but to resort to professional medical help. She had lost count of the number of psychologists and psychiatrists she had taken Pramod to, after that day. While most of them were quick in their diagnosis of depression, none of them could give any clarity on the reason for the same.

It had been three years since that fateful day. The paranoia of checking her son’s belongings and following his movements in and out of the house had started since then and had not stopped. Pramod hardly talked to anyone anymore. Though he had scraped through college and started working in a local digital media company in the Kamla Mills compound, Sudeshna lived in constant fear. The only reason she had been fine with Pramod going to work was due to the fact that the company was situated at a walking distance from their house.  

But, over the last week or so, she had noticed an ever so slight change in her son’s demeanor. While he continued to converse in monosyllables with Sudeshna, she definitely found a positive change in him. She noticed it for the first time a week ago when he had a slight smile on his face when he had come out after a shower. Today, she was pleasantly taken aback by his off-tune whistling of the song Yad Lagle from the famous Marathi movie Sairat as he came out of the washroom. As he made his way into the hall, she went into the washroom. Nothing seemed to be out of place. Just as she turned to move out, her eyes fell on the box of detergent on the shelf. It seemed to be precariously balanced on something. She went across and lifted the box. Under it was a bunch of local train tickets. There were about eight of them, each bought over the past eight days. They were all tickets to the same destination – Bhayander.

Questions started flooding her mind. Pramod’s office was in Parel. Why were there eight tickets to Bhayander lying in the bathroom? And why were there only one way tickets and not a single return ticket to be found among them? Sudeshna was perplexed. She had been following Pramod to his office ever since he had started working there and he had always gone straight from their home to office every day, including these past eight days. Then it struck her! She raced back to the bathroom and grabbed the tickets again. Her eyes scanned the top right hand corner of each ticket – the time on all of them were between 13:10 and 13:15 – lunch hour at office.

***********************************************

The next day, Sudeshna was outside his office by12:45 pm. He came out exactly at 1:00 pm and started walking towards Lower Parel station. There was an unusual spring in his step. She followed him at a safe distance. He climbed the stairs and stood in line at the ticket counter. She stood a few feet behind him. He approached the counter and said “One ticket to Bhayander”.

She was surprised to find the sudden softness in his voice. It was as though his voice contained a smile of its own. As he took the ticket and walked back, she turned away, careful not to reveal herself. She could notice the same slight smile on his lips. As he moved towards the staircase, he started to whistle Yad lagle in his off-tuned style. As she leaned backward to get a better view, she could see him heading out of the station. The line in front of her was now non-existent and she found herself at the ticket counter. That was when she noticed the girl at the counter. She seemed to be in her early twenties, with curly hair, a pleasant smiling face and dusky complexion. The oval-shaped sandalwood bindi´ on her forehead enhanced her beauty manifold. Sudeshna noticed how crisp her salwar looked despite being old. There emanated from her a quiet sense of confidence and dignity. Sudeshna quickly got a ticket and made her way back home.

That evening she did not ask Pramod the usual question about his work. Nor, did she carry out her usual check of his bag. He finished his bath, came to the hall and sat on the sofa. She came by and sat next to him.

“You should tell her that you like her, Pramod’ she said.

Pramod did not respond. She could see that his mind was struggling to come up with questions and more importantly, reasons. She put a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you tell her when you buy the ticket tomorrow?’ she asked.

Pramod slowly looked at her. He consciously smiled for the first time in a few years.

“I saw her a few days ago when I came out of the office during lunch. I followed her and found out that she worked in the Lower parel ticket counter. But I didn’t know how to approach her. So I went and stood at the counter. When my turn came I just asked for a ticket to the first station I noticed on the map”, he blurted.

This was the most he had talked in a few years. Sudeshna could barely hide her happiness as she listened to her son elaborate on his first love.

“I have been repeating this since then. I just feel happy whenever I think of those few seconds I spend with her. Those few seconds drive the remainder of my day”, he continued.

“Then imagine if those few seconds can transform to a lifetime”, Sudeshna said.

“But how do I ask her Aaiyee?”

Sudeshna couldn’t control her tears. Pramod acknowledged her relation to him by calling her Aaiyee after so many years. It was in high school that she remembered him lovingly call her Aaiyee. She wiped her tears and looked at him.

“Take a leaf out of her book. Be simple and straight”, she said.

***********************************************

The next day as he stood at the ticket counter, he could feel his heart thumping. He smiled at her as his turn came. She recognized him and returned the smile.

“Two tickets to Bhayander”, He said.

“Oh! So you have a companion today for your travel”, she said as she punched the tickets.

“I will, if you say yes”, he said.

***********************************************

They got married three months later.

The first local train journey they took after marriage was from Lower Parel to Bhayander.

CHILD'S PLAY

Rajiv gave me a wide-eyed look which meant to say that what I had said just now sounded ridiculous. Being a boy of eleven, he didn’t have the courtesy to finish off with the look alone and proceeded to pronounce the meaning of his look emphatically.

“You want to play cricket with us??” he exclaimed, giving full vent to his tone of shock.

“Why not! I thought I would give you boys a few pointers”, I replied.

The look on his face turned from one of shock to one of hopelessness. He hung his head down and muttered ‘ok’ as I grabbed the bat and made my way out of the house.

Cousins who are almost half your age rarely see you as their equal. And the fact that you are a bespectacled, pot-bellied guy of twenty four with hairline which can be termed as invisible rather than receding doesn’t project you as the next milk swigging M.S.Dhoni. So I was not surprised by this less than welcome attitude of Rajiv. Still, I wanted to see how the rules of Street cricket had changed since my times. And I was itching to have some good old ‘gaaji’ at the expense of the little twerps.

***********

We reached a street which had houses on both sides and three stumps right at the centre. There were about twelve boys milling around, teasing one another and cracking up. It felt so refreshing to be in their midst and forget the constrained life I was forced to lead. I experienced a rush of happiness as I went to join them. Instinctively I laid a generous slap on the back of a kid who didn’t seem to have any body parts except a head and a stomach. The head turned in my direction and the laughter ceased immediately. Twelve pairs of eyes looked at me as if I were a terrorist. Though they were merely curious, I could actually visualize grinding of teeth, cracking of knuckles and hissing as they looked at me.

“Hey guys! I am Rajiv’s cousin. Can I join you fellows?” I asked, putting forth my most affable persona.

The twelve pairs of eyes shifted their focus to the actual culprit now-Rajiv. He looked sideways at me in a pleading manner. “Please don’t do this” said the look. I stood firm on my decision.

 They had no choice but to start splitting into two teams. The big question was- who would get the prized possession? In other words, me.

After much fight amongst themselves it was decided that I be in the team of the healthy looking young boy whom I had smote on the back. He let out a loud bawl when they had settled this which, I presume, must have been because of immense joy. The other team was captained by this intense looking fellow called Raghu. While most of the other kids were laughing, teasing and talking this fellow was silent and focused. He didn’t behave like an eleven year old at all which took me by surprise. But as the match proceeded my surprise was short-lived.

************

Our Yokozuna junior won the toss and we decided to bat. I decided let the kids have a go first so that I can be there as a backup in case of a sudden collapse or if we are in need of quick runs. But Yoko thought otherwise. He signaled to me.

“You go opening”, he told brusquely.

I felt very flattered by his faith in me. It was not before I took my stance to face the first ball that I got to know the real reason behind this when I heard Yoko talking to Rajiv.

“Are you mad dude? Why did you send him opening?” Rajiv asked

“Relax da! This way we can keep the important wickets intact”, Yoko replied.

If I had been their age I would have felt either very angry or very embarrassed as I listened to this atrocity. But the ‘adult me’ didn’t feel anything. I just wanted some fun time out and brushed the incident away reasoning that kids will remain kids.

The rules were pretty simple. There was only one side you could score runs- straight. You were out if you hit the ball directly into any of the houses and were granted one run if you hit the ball along the ground into any of the houses.

Raghu opened the bowling for them. He had the same fiery, intense look in his eyes. I decided to play a quiet maiden over and settle my nerves. He ran up and bowled. I plonked my foot forward to defend only to see the ball whizzing past me like a furry blur. Man, this guy was quick! I looked up at him. He gave a little smirk. I had to alter my course of action. I would henceforth adopt the stump-guarding mode of batsmanship, I decided. For the next ball I covered all three stumps and presented the full face of the bat to the straight half volley. It smacked me on my leg and pain shot through me. I never imagined that a tennis ball could cause such pain. As I bent down to rub my leg I heard Raghu shout.

“Full cover!! That is full cover. He cannot cover his stumps fully”, he exclaimed at the umpire who was from our team only. The guy nodded and asked me not to cover my stumps. This was new. I had never come across such nonsense in my playing days. Of course, the kid in me wanted to argue but the ‘adult me’ once again bottled down the rebellious ‘kid me’ and acceded to the demands of Raghu. The next ball was a fierce Yorker and of course, the most obvious thing happened.

“Yesssss! Bowled!!!” Raghu screamed. He looked at me as if to say ‘Ha! Were these the pointers you wanted to teach us?’ He gave a supercilious wave of his hand as I walked back to the side where my teammates were standing. Once again, the ‘adult me’ took charge and calmed me down. Instead of thinking ‘Wait till I get my hands on the ball and smash that little devil’s stumps into smithereens!!’ I ended up thinking ‘Wow! The little fellow does bowl well’.

The rest of our innings went pretty well. Rajiv and the kid who was umpiring while I batted stitched together a nice little partnership and Yoko came in during the final overs and muscled some hefty half-dozens. We ended up making 84 in 10 overs.

As we prepared to bowl, I decided to take up the wicketkeeper’s position, assuming that I would have less running to do. The mistake of my assumption, of course, was my gross overestimation of my keeping abilities. After letting some eight balls slip through right between my legs, missing three catches and two stumpings I was called off by Yoko.

“Please say that you are injured. We will take a substitute- my kid brother”, said Yoko, pointing to a smaller, rounder version of himself who was standing beside him sucking a lollipop. Did he really think this fellow could field or keep better than me? The ‘kid me’ wanted to put forth the question but the ‘adult me’ intervened once again.

“Sure. Go ahead”, I said.

Yoko went across to Raghu and they seemed to have a lengthy argument. He came back shaking his head. I looked over at Raghu and saw that familiar smirk on his face as our eyes met.

“He is not accepting. Ok. You take up that position near the boundary”, he said resignedly, pointing at the chalk marked line some 30 yards behind the bowling crease. I jogged up there and stood.

The match proceeded along without major hiccups from my side as I didn’t have much to do. I could call it either coincidence or luck, but the balls either sailed over my head for sixes or rolled up to me in a gentle fielder-friendly way.

 The luck lasted for nine overs.

************

Rajiv held the ball and scrutinized the field. They needed twelve runs of six balls. He started the over.

He bowled three superb balls without giving away a single run. Off the fourth ball he took a wicket. It all seemed nice and easy.

Then Raghu walked in.

He took stance and smacked the next ball straight over Rajiv’s head.

“Catch it Uncle”, someone shouted.

I was deeply offended by this. But in hindsight I shouldn’t have reacted to this ‘Uncling’ as the ball came soaring towards my head. It was at a perfectly catchable height, in between the eyes and the throat. I should have put my hands in position and held on to this sitter. Instead I ducked.

Yes, ducked.

“Sixxxxxx!!” shouted Raghu’s teammates. I could sense that smirk on Raghu’s face even at such a distance.

Yoko gave me an enraged look. Rajiv almost had tears in his eyes. I waved apologetically at them and positioned myself for the final ball.

Rajiv ran in and bowled a useless half volley. Raghu heaved at it. The ball soared once again.

“Catch it Anna”, someone shouted.

I felt a sudden surge of joy. I focused on the ball. But this time it was traveling over my head. I stretched my arms over my head and leaned back. I felt something soft and furry land on my palms and immediately closed my hands around it.

I could hear a mixture of shouts. Amidst the ‘Yesssss We won’ I could also hear ‘That is a six. He went over the line’. I looked back.

My heel was almost a centimeter outside the boundary line.

 I turned towards the raging crowd running towards me. Rajiv had a pleading look in his eyes. Yoko was all red and flushed up. Raghu was intense as usual and outran the other two. As he approached me, I looked once again at Rajiv’s pleading face.

I pulled my leg inside in as discreet a way as possible.

The crowd milled around me. Raghu looked at my position and let out a resigned sigh.

I looked at him. The ‘kid me’ toppled the ‘adult me’.

“Ha! We Won!!!” I shouted, giving my version of a smirk right back at him.

*********

As we made our way back, Rajiv went on talking excitedly about the final over. He literally made a superhero act out of my catch off the final ball.

As I raised my hand to high five his waiting one, an inadvertent smile escaped my lips.

Kids will, indeed, remain kids.

QUICKEST WAY TO BECOME A MILLIONAIRE

Disclaimer: This Short Story is a work of fiction. Characters in it are imaginary and if they resemble any personality, living or dead, it is purely coincidental.

***

“So how much did this put you back by?” I asked, turning Vivek’s ‘smart’ phone back and forth in my hand.

“Thirty five grand, dude!” he replied.

My mind went back to the time when Vivek used to clear out leftover dishes in our college canteen.

“They satisfy two of the most important criteria of outside food. One, they are not poisoned. Two, and this is the most important criteria, they are FREE!” he used to say as he licked the remains of some stranger’s Paneer Butter Masala.

Visualizing that image gave me some solace amidst the exaggerated flaunt show that he was putting on with his accessories ever since he joined a ‘big-buck’ job three months ago. I smiled in a wry manner which he mistook for appreciation of his newest gadget.

“Cool right? Wait till you see its features…” he went on as my mind wandered away.

I walked back from Vivek’s house wondering whether I will ever be able to buy a phone like that. I had wondered the same way when he had bought a ‘Pulsar’ two months ago and a Sony ‘Vaio’ a month before that. Being in a dead-end job where income and expenditure were like two openings of a vertical water pipe can do that to anyone, especially when people around you were spending their earnings as if it were their last day on earth. I cursed my job for the umpteenth time in my mind and directed a part of my frustration towards my four-digit bank balance. I turned a corner and halted at the bus stop to wait for the ‘government-appointed’ chauffeur to drive me home. My vehicle arrived and stopped a few feet away. As I made my way towards the crowded entrance, my eyes caught a flashy advertisement on the body of the bus which went like this: “Quickest way to become a Millionaire! Come, learn and earn…” There was a photograph of a suave gentleman next to this caption on the Advertising board. With horn-rimmed glasses, a pinstriped suit, long hair pulled back in a ponytail and a smile that revealed even, sparkling teeth he looked every bit a man who knew the game of finances in and out. I got into the bus and was surprised to see the same Ad on the inside as well. This time I was able to read it in full detail.

QUICKEST WAY TO BECOME A MILLIONAIRE!

Come, Learn and Earn!!

A path-breaking single session seminar on ‘The Quickest way to become a Millionaire’ by renowned Economist Miranad Raichud.

Date: 25th July

Place: Island Grounds

Entrance Fee: Rs 1000/-

An hour that could change your life!

Be there.

The frustration at the lack of luxury in my life and the abundance of the same in the lives of others around me made me ponder over this Ad. If this ‘Miranad’ fellow has the guts to charge Rs. 1000 per person and the resources to splash around such Ads then there must be something worthwhile in this seminar, I thought. Though I had never heard of any ‘Miranad Raichud’, I felt a positive vibe when I read the name and associated it with his picture. I made up my mind to attend the ‘path-breaking’ session. Even if it consists of utterly futile theories about hot stocks, innovative investments and grand business venture models I will end up losing only Rs. 1000 and not more, I thought. On the other hand, if it indeed turns out to be some miraculous ‘quick-buck’ theory then I could be ‘Iphoning’ in a month or two. This thought made me happy and, as usual, led me to a chain of fantasies which led me a further seven stops away from my actual bus stop. So What? I told myself. I am spending Rs. 1010/- instead of Rs. 1000/-, that’s all.

This time I made sure I got down at the right stop.

* * *

The crowd that had gathered at Island Grounds was quite sizeable. I had expected only the most desperate, jobless people who looked for short cuts to become rich to attend the seminar. Apparently this segment of the population was more substantial than I thought. The crowd that thronged Island grounds easily outnumbered a couple of thousands. There was a solitary counter at the entrance which issued entry passes for Rs. 1000/- (Attractive gifts to be won during the seminar, it said). By the time I followed the queue to the counter and into the grounds, it was well over the scheduled start time of 4 pm.

A huge stage had been erected but all of us were surprised to see that there were no chairs to seat ourselves. Though this was a minor discomfort, the fact that we couldn’t even find a microphone on the dais was something perplexing.

“Maybe the guy is going to use one of those wireless clip-on mikes”, a person next to me suggested. I relaxed a bit at this suggestion and surveyed the gathering once more.

It consisted mainly of people in their 20s and 30s but there were a discernable number of white haired gentlemen in the mix. One guy in front of me was talking about whether he will be able to take the last bus to Gobichettipalayam if there was any further delay in the commencement of the seminar. I didn’t even know that such a place existed. Man, this seminar is quite far-reaching, I thought.

As time drifted by we began to feel uncomfortable. Was this a hoax then? Had we lost thousand rupees for nothing? Just as there began some restless murmurs amongst the audience, a crisp voice came through. It was a well-amplified male voice and seemed to be coming from speakers, though we couldn’t locate the speakers or the speaker.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! A very good evening to all of you. When I placed the Ad for this seminar I never thought of such an overwhelming response. So, I am very thankful to the two thousand three hundred and seven people who have made themselves available for this session.

Now, in view of the sheer volume of the audience, I think I will have to shelve my earlier plans. I have decided to make this session short and crisp. So shall we begin?”

We all shouted ‘Yes’ enthusiastically, while searching the whole ground for the person speaking. He went on.

“As you all know I have collected Rs. 1000 from each of you as entrance fee for this seminar and as previously stated, more than 2000 of you are present here. So, what does this imply?”

The majority of us were clueless while there were some incoherent murmurs here and there. The voice resumed.

“It implies that I am a comfortable Millionaire now. I thank you all and request you to follow my example. Good night.”

* * *

The only silver lining after this was the fact that I had been right about losing Rs. 1000 and no more.

THE 'ORDER' OF DESTINY

Leo stared into the empty space at his eyes’ level in the drawing room. That blank portion of the wall somehow resembled the blankness in his mind. He had just heard something which turned his whole world topsy-turvy. It was worse than the harsh treatment meted out to him by the mentor the previous day. That was nothing new to him. He had witnessed it many a time. So many of his fellow members in the Order’s Asia-Pacific establishment had been given this appraisal by the mentor. When a member failed to live up to the expectations set on him, his days in the Order were numbered. No, he was not killed. Life was but an irrelevant disposition for the Order. It was meaningless. The only organ in the human body which was given importance was the mind. If a member didn’t live up to the Order’s expectations he was simply discarded. He was ostracized from the elite circle he had always felt a part of and was, in all respects, scientifically quarantined.

 Every member of the Order was a genius and not a single member could be classified as ‘Old’. Leo was the youngest of the geniuses. His path breaking research paper on the Effects of Psychochemical Behaviour Modification Drugs had sparked quite a few debates in the global scientific circles and proved to be the gate-pass for his induction into the Order. He was expected to make further headway to his initial hypotheses. They were eager to have him in the establishment. He was welcomed in a grand way and provided unlimited and unquestioned access to data and equipment. He was surprised by the fact that they could acquire such sophisticated equipments which were not even found in the USA or, for that matter, China – the hub of genetic engineering. He wanted to know who was behind all this, but didn’t dare to ask.

For the first few months he was provided with all sorts of comforts he had only dreamt of in the ‘real’ world. The Mentor, as he was called by one and all in the Order, outlined to him the motto of the Order in a single, crisp sentence – Pursuit for Intellectual Saturation. He was simply blown away.

But slowly, the potholes on the highway began to emerge. The Gleaming glass building that portrayed itself as Naqoya International Medical Center was, to the outer world, a non-profit private organization providing world class medical treatment to the common man. But to the three hundred odd brilliant minds occupying rooms hidden in the labyrinthine pathways at the far end of the center, it was a posh prison. No one was given a glimpse of the outside world. They came to know whether it was day or night only by means of a twenty four hour digital clock that hung in the recreation room. There was food; there was healthcare; there was even a shopping mall and cinema. But there was nothing that resembled the word ‘home’. In short, they existed but rarely lived.

This arrangement suited most of the inmates. They could concentrate on their research in a tranquil atmosphere. They were footsteps away from any equipment they desired for experiments and free from searching eyes and prying questions. Leo found all this very much to his liking for the first few days. Then he inadvertently heard a conversation from the mentor’s office which simply shook his faith in the Order.

“Any probing questions from our guests?”

“None till now, sir”

“How is the search going on? How many more can we expect to join us by this year?”

“At least ten thousand more, sir”

“Good. Be careful and avoid suspicions at all costs. And always remember our vision”

“Yes Sir. Intellectuals above the rest. The world at our behest”

Leo was shocked. This was something that sounded very different from what the mentor said. It didn’t sound one bit like intellectual saturation. He felt it was more on the lines of fascism where some of the best brains of the world were cohorts in an endeavour to rule the world.

He later learnt from one or two like minded scientists that this was indeed the goal of the Order. The Order’s ultimate aim was to rule the world. Not just rule, but dictate. This was where behaviour modification played an important role and that was where Leo came into picture. He learnt that there was extensive research being done on drugs which made people docile and which could be airborne. The average human being, once infested by this airborne drug would become what the members of the Order refer to as Post-Human beings.

Post-Human beings were people who would not have the capabilities to think and draw conclusions based on their own reasoning skills. They would cease to be creative, inquisitive and compassionate. In short, they would be SLAVES – people who do as they are told to do.

Leo Kaisuke was bedazed. He knew he was trapped. If he refused to carry on with his work he would, like many of his colleagues, be isolated from the rest and sent to the Rejuvenation Room; a room from which he had seldom seen people return. Having been privy to the actual mission of the Order he was sure he couldn’t carry on his work here for the wrong reasons. So he sat staring at the blank space on the wall. He looked up from the space to see the golden framed portrait of the mentor. Even the artist had captured the cold fury emanating from his eyes.

As he continued to stare, he saw the portrait shake ever so slightly. Then there was a more pronounced shake. That was when he felt his chair sway from side to side. He caught hold of the desk in front of him to balance but it was also rocking back and forth. He immediately fell on the floor, flat on his belly and covered his head. The quake continued for a minute and a half. It was the longest he had ever experienced.

He sat up and surveyed the room as the shaking stopped. Not much damage; just some toppled books, vases and artifacts. That was when he heard a low rumble. It grew louder by the second. It seemed to come from the outside. He went to the window and peered outside.

Leo Kaisuke smiled. It was neither a smile of happiness nor one of sadness. It was a smile of knowledge. The knowledge of what was going to happen.

‘Sometimes it is better for geniuses to die…’ he thought. It was his final thought.

*********************************************

Naqoya International Medical Center was a brilliant piece of architecture. The gleaming glass exteriors, plush white interiors and state of the art security systems made it a building to envy. It, in fact, had very few negatives.

That it stood majestically facing the seashore turned out to be one of them…

MIND'S EYE

Train travel always throws up incidents of interest. More often than not, you come across intriguing people, amusing arguments and healthy camaraderie when on a train journey. It was during one such journey that I met two people who shall remain etched in my memory forever.

***********************

I made my way into C 2 of the Shatabdi Express after my routine check of the reservation chart. By check I don’t mean to say that I check for my name. I actually check the names against my near immediate seat numbers for, well, various reasons. I was unlucky this time as well as I saw that Meenakshi – F 56 and Srikanth – M 24 were to be my travel mates. I got into the coach fantasizing about a possible mix up in their ages. No; they were seated there alright, their ages concurring with the chart and bringing my fantasies to an abrupt thud. I sat next to the lady as she smiled at me gently. I smiled back. The train started to pull out slowly. That’s when I heard the excited voice of Srikanth who was, apparently, her son. “Look Amma! The train is moving!” he exclaimed with excitement. She nodded and smiled. I expected her to turn to me and give an apologetic sort of look but no; her eyes were set on her 24 year old son and the happiness exuded by her smile seemed genuine rather than made up. He was smiling in a childish sort of way and the enthusiasm in his voice matched that of an eight year old kid travelling in a train for the first time. His face was literally glued to the glassed window next to his seat and his eyes widened with joy every time something new passed by the window.

The next two hours were filled with Srikanth’s continuous exclamations and incessant questions to his mother. I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable around them. I knew I should have been ashamed of myself to be squirming in my seat just because I was next to a 24 year old fellow behaving in a ‘not-so-normal’ manner. After all, people in such conditions must be empathized with rather than being shunned. But I have never been the empathizing type and though I have no intention of shunning such people I do face serious inhibitions to move with them in a casual manner. So I turned my head away from the mother-son duo. I noticed most of my co-passengers in other seats also staring at them; some with sadness and others with curiosity.

Suddenly Srikanth let out a whoop. “Wow! Amma! Look! It’s raining!” he cried. He was awestruck as little drops of rainwater hit the glass pane and rolled down gently, leaving silvery trails behind. He traced the trails with his hands and got all the more excitable as the rain transformed from a drizzle to a pelting. Suddenly, he got up from his seat. “Amma! I want to look at the rain from outside”, so saying he crossed us and hurried towards the compartment door. His mother excused herself and followed him outside. Fifty pairs of eyes, including mine, followed their movement as we craned our necks to catch a glimpse of the goings-on outside the compartment. She held him back and opened the door of the coach. He moved forward towards the door and I, being seated in the other extreme, lost sight of what he did after that. I waited for some more time for the two of them to come back to their seats. Finally, Srikanth moved away from the door and came into my sight. He made his way into one of the toilets as his mother came back to her seat.

I decided to be supportive and smiled at her in an understanding way. She returned it. I looked out to see if her son had come out of the toilet. He had not. So I decided to have a quick conversation with her.

“Why don’t you take him to a good doctor? I can recommend a very good friend of mine who is a psychologist”, I offered.

She gave a knowing smile.

“Actually we are just going back after consulting a doctor in Chennai”, she told.

      “You see, Srikanth, just yesterday, underwent an operation in Sankara Nethralaya. After twenty four 

      years of darkness, he can finally see and experience colour in his life..."

THE REBIRTH

The sound of the school bell would have been music to almost any student. But it was not the case with Ravi. The happiest hours of his day were the ones spent at school. He hated leaving school. He despised going home. He detested being anywhere near her.

Ravi was thirteen years of age. An age when everything or, in Ravi’s case, everyone around you seemed to be against you. And she was on top of his list. Ever since his father married her Ravi had stopped talking normally to him. Who was she? Why in the world should he be calling her mother?

He kicked a pebble as he ambled along the road towards his house. It was all Amma’s fault, he thought. Why did she have to die? Why couldn’t she come back to him?

 He decided to give her a piece of his mind when he talked to her before going to sleep that night. He had always thought Amma would come back to him sooner or later. He thought his wish was finally going to come true when his father had beckoned him a month back.

“So Ravi, what would you say if Appa told you that he is bringing Amma back to your life?” he had asked. Ravi had been delirious with joy then. With a smile his father had put a hand around his shoulder and led him to the drawing room. That was the first time he met her. She had smiled at him in a sickly sort of way. Unlike Amma, her smile did not radiate any warmth. He thought it was cold and evil. She had reached out to pet him and he had avoided her grasp and ran to his room. Since that day he had started dreading every moment he spent at home.

Now as he approached the front porch of his house his mind started to think up of further excuses to stay away from the place till dinner. He had spent many evenings of the past few weeks idling away at the corporation ground, three blocks away from his house, till dinner time. When his father had asked where he had been he had simply stated ‘friend’s place for homework’ and bolted to his room avoiding further interrogation. He decided to continue his habitual sojourn at the ground and started to step away from the gate when he heard his name being mentioned from inside the house.

“Of course Ravi is Vinod’s son and as good as your son. But don’t you wish to have a child of your own with Vinod?” a voice asked. From the whining nature of it Ravi recognized it as the voice of her mother or his ‘supposed’ grandmother.

“Look here Amma. I married Vinod because I love him and have been in love with him ever since I understood what love actually meant. I did not marry him to raise a family. Why should I indulge in it when we already have a family? I couldn’t have asked for anyone better than Ravi as my son. Sorry to disappoint you Amma. But Ravi is, and will remain, our only child”

There was some retort to that by her mother but Ravi’s attention had drifted away from the conversation. With loud steps he made his way to the front door and knocked on it. She opened it after a while. He trudged in and headed straight to his room without any sort of acknowledgement to her or her mother. She had become used to this behaviour of his by now. As always he closed his door with a loud bang.

Later that night as she made her way across Ravi’s room to her own, something flew from beneath the crack of his door and landed near her. She picked it up and looked it over. It was an invitation meant for the parents of all rank holders asking them to be present when their wards were to be honoured by the school during the Annual Day festivities. The event was scheduled for the next day. She made her way silently into his room. He was fast asleep. She placed the invitation in his bag and quietly slipped away.

*******************

“Next is the award for the overall topper of class eight. Can we have Ravi of VIII B on stage please?” the teacher announced.

Ravi made his way slowly onto the dais. He received the medal and the cup from his principal amidst loud applause.

 “So Ravi, are your parents here to share this special moment with you? Is Mr. Vinod here?” the teacher enquired.

 Ravi shook his head.

“What about your mother?” she went on.

He remained silent.

Sensing the lack of response to be some personal trouble, the teacher started to get back to her list of awardees when Ravi slowly looked up at the audience. His eyes scanned the rows before resting upon the corner chair of the very last row. He slowly lifted his hand and pointed at her.

Amma had come back after all…

ROOT TO HEAVEN

Note: I wanted to post this two months back. Unfortunately, it completely slipped my mind. But I didn't want to wait for 12 more months to post it, so here goes...

The rhythm of percussion carried a reverberating resplendence in Sriram’s house. Its residents had gotten used to the earthy beats for ten years now, thanks to Sriram’s 14 year old son, Krishnan.

While charting out his duties as a father, Sriram had made a mental note not to interfere in his son’s likes or interests and give him free reins towards them. On Krishnan’s third birthday, Sriram had heard rhythmic beats coming from the hall. On entering it, he saw little Krishnan squatting in the middle of the coffee table and tapping it with his tiny fingers. There was not even a trace of hesitation in those fingers…there was not even a single beat out of tune. That was the day Sriram decided to take his son’s future into his hands.

Eleven years since that day, his son was on the verge of fame. All the hard work that Krishnan had done was going to pay off. His first major Ghatam concert was scheduled for the evening. Krishnan was glad that he had chosen the Ghatam, or rather, the instrument had chosen him. Ghatam was the most difficult percussion instrument to master, due to its fragility and the subtle pressure related theories it required. There were minute adjustments one made with the opening of the Ghatam, its position with respect to the chest and the constant shuffling of the ghatam to effect the finer nuances in the thaalams or beats. The force generated by the wrist of the player was of extreme importance when playing the Ghatam. Krishnan had learnt this the hard way, breaking 4 pots before figuring out the exact magnitude required. But he felt he had now reached a stage where he can express his individuality through his instrument. The prospects of the big evening sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. After continuous persuasion, his Guru, Mr. Suresh, had managed to confirm the presence of the great Ghatam maestro, Vikku Vinayakram, for the concert. The mere thought of performing before his idol sent shivers down Krishnan’s spine.

Hurdles were never hindrances as far as Krishnan was concerned, as he had crossed many of them since his childhood. But, since morning, his whole body seemed to be weighed down by some uneasiness. It was not the usual jitter he used to have before a performance. This was something else…he was sure it was something else, but what was it?? He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for any of the happenings since morning…the ill fated breaking of his Ghatam during the practice, which had not happened for the past 5 years; the inauspicious stumble in front of the temple; the uninterrupted headache he was having. It was as if he was receiving a message, only he was finding it difficult to decipher.

He decided to put all of it behind him and focus on the job at hand. He and his father left for the concert by bike. It was a clear sunny day and the traffic was pretty sparse. That is a good sign, thought Krishnan. Just as he was beginning to ease himself off his worries, the bike came to a sudden halt. How much ever his father tried, it wouldn’t budge. Neither he nor his father had any idea as to what the problem was. As his father parked the bike in a corner of the road and hailed an auto, Krishnan gazed at the bike…what was wrong with it??

The whirring of the Auto’s engine almost blanketed the sound of the steady pattering of rain drops onto the top sheet. The pattering transformed into pelting and soon there was a storm beginning to rage. Krishnan was perplexed. What a dramatic weather change it was; moments ago was the sun smiling…and now this!! The traffic also seemed to have picked up and the auto was moving at snail’s pace in the congestion.

As Krishnan shifted his position on the seat to accommodate his Ghatam he heard a huge crash…even before he knew what was happening, he felt excruciating pain…something was crushing him…something huge…he knew he was never going to cross this final hurdle…the 20 feet tree was too big for him.

He lay on his belly with his right hand secure around his Ghatam. The last gasp of his life left through his fingers in the form of a final Jathi.

‘Trees are Earth’s endless efforts to speak to heaven’, he had read somewhere. It was absolutely true in his case…

Footnote: A tribute to the young Ghatam Vidwan, Krishnan, who died on 27^th September 2009, under the immense pressure of a carelessly planted tree...may his soul rest in peace.