The Birthday Gift - Part 2

Read Part 1 of the story here.

After Tom cleaned the room, he went to take a look at the Bonsai. He was surprised to see that the torn branch was attached to the stem with a white tape. He thought, ‘Mom should’ve done it.’ He touched the part with an intention to break it again. As soon as he did that, the tree opened his eyes, shouted, ‘Don’t do it!’, and almost bit Tom’s hand. Tom jumped back with fright. The trunk of the Bonsai shriveled and expanded as it spoke. 

The Bonsai shouted, ‘You harm me. I bite you', and showed its sharp wooden teeth.

A Bonsai that speaks! Tom mumbled, ‘You can speak!’

‘You bet!’

‘Do you…do you have a name?’

‘Biter’

‘Did my uncle make you?’

Tom’s uncle was a scientist. He remembered that the last time, he visited his lab; he was working around many plants.

‘Yes, made for you. I heard you hurt plants. Made to teach lesson.’

Tom swiped the sweat off his brow. The Bonsai shouted, ‘Water, water, water me or I bite you.’

Tom ran to the kitchen to fetch water. 

His mother asked, ‘Good morning Tom. What’s the hurry?’ 

Tom gasped and said, ‘The Bonsai, it speaks. It bites. Have to go. It needs water’, and left with a jug of water.

On the radio a man’s voice boomed. He said, ‘It was a routine day. I went to the forest preserve to cut a tree. I raised my axe. The tree’s branches snatched the axe from my hand. They wrapped around my neck and tried to kill me. I wiggled away from its grip. I was lucky.’ A woman’s voice said, ‘The trees are against us. The Government has to be blamed for creating these blood-thirsty creatures, in the name of self-defending trees.’

Tom’s mother reduced the volume on the radio. Her brother designed the perfect pet for Tom. A pet that barked orders.

The End.

The Biter

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Image from google images

The Birthday Gift - Part 1

It was Tom’s birthday. His mother decorated the home with balloons. Tom turned eight years old that day. He sat in front of his cake, with a knife in his hand. It had white icing, chocolate chips and seven colorful candles. His friends poured in with gifts. Tom’s uncle came as well. He had a huge gift in his hand. Tom couldn’t wait to cut the cake and open the presents. He cut the cake as everybody sang the birthday song. The cake was devoured within minutes.

After everybody left, Tom opened his presents. He got a remote controlled car, a small slate that sang rhymes, a Lego box set, a baseball bat and ball and a few other gifts, which he realized could have been recycled from their friends’ birthday gifts. Tom tried to lift  his uncle's gift, but it was too heavy for him. The cardboard box had big holes on four sides. He tore away the cover and wondered if it was a pet. He wanted a beagle.  

Tom opened the cardboard box. He found a Bonsai inside the box. Tom was disappointed. His mother looked at the gift and said, ‘Oh look! What a pretty Bonsai your uncle gave you. Let me help you carry it to your room. Let us keep it near the window so that it gets enough light to grow.’

Tom pushed the Bonsai away from him and said, ‘I want a puppy.’

Tom’s mother replied, ‘I know it my dear. A puppy will be a lot of work for me.’

‘No, it will not! I will feed it. I will take it for walks. I will clean up after it. There is no need for you to do any extra work.’

Tom’s mother ran her hand across his blond hair, which always pointed up, and looked into his big brown eyes. She said, ‘I know how much you want it. Let’s make a deal. You keep your room clean all year and I will get you a beagle next year.’

Tom’s mother took the Bonsai to his room, and placed it near the window. Tom was angry. His uncle should have understood better. He took out his anger on the Bonsai and tore a small branch, when his mother wasn't looking. Tom went to sleep, thinking about a name for his imaginary pet beagle.

The next morning when Tom woke up, he found mud tracks in his room, as though something walked around the room with wet muddy shoes. He wondered who that could be. He followed the tracks. They went all around his bed, to his cabinet where he stored his toys. All the toys were thrown around. For a moment, Tom speculated, if it was a thief, who came in from his window. Why would the thief search in his toy cupboard? May be one of his friends’ played a prank on him. Whatever the reason, he had to clean up the room before his mother saw it; otherwise his pet would be delayed by another year.

To be continued...Part 2 tomorrow.

The Bonsai, which Tom got as his birthday gift.

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Image from google images

The Land of Endless Possibilites

This is a short story, which can be part of an unfinished novel.  This story is one of my early morning musings.

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Adam was in a huge room. The white walls extended on four sides. He paced up and down and wondered, ‘Where am I?’ The walls were so bright, that it hurt his eyes. His hands twitched. He thought, ‘How can I escape?’ He looked up and saw a small black door on the roof of the room. He thought, ‘It could be the escape door. How can I reach up there?’

Adam sat on the pristine white floor. He remembered the conversation with his sister, Malina. It was a fresh spring morning. Adam and Malina were walking together on the soft grass. Malina wore a long white dress, woven with intricate and delicate laces. She carried a white umbrella. Adam smiled and asked Malina, ‘Why do you need the umbrella? It is a beautiful sunny morning.’

Malina smiled as she stroked a red rose, and felt its smooth skin. She plucked a rose petal and replied, ‘You never know. This is a place of endless possibilities. Never forget that.’ She put the petal in her mouth. Adam thought she was childish. Malina looked up at the sky. The clouds gathered together, as though they are going to have a grand party. It grew dark and the clouds opened their bellies, bringing down big fat rain drops.

Adam wondered, ‘Is this truly a place of endless possibilities?’

Adam imagined himself to be a lizard, capable of climbing the walls and slipping past the black door on the roof. He went close to the white wall. He climbed on to it and on all fours, made his way to the top. He was not in a hurry to get out. He enjoyed climbing like a lizard. He saw the floor slipping away. He reached the black door and jerked the door open.

A gust of air touched Adam’s skin. He climbed out. He saw the green plains on one side. He stood on top of a tall rectangular white box. He thought, ‘How can I get down?’ Adam imagined himself to be a bird. He opened his arms and they were covered by translucent wings. He stepped down from the box into the air. As he fell down, he flapped his wings and soared across the sky. He flew across the blue skies until he saw Malina.

Malina sat in the garden on a white bench and sipped her tea. Adam landed close to Malina. She looked at him and smiled.

Adam said,’I made it.’

Malina replied, ‘Yes, I can see that.’

‘There are endless possibilities.’

Malina replied,’Yes, I told you so’, and winked.

                                              The End.

The Entrepreneur Mouse - Part 2

Read Part 1 of the story here. 

As Maxi flew over Aalesia, Mynee Mouse felt excited and also nervous. From above, it saw a dense forest and from the trees, hung big chunks of cheese.

Maxi dropped Mynee in the land of cheese and flew away. Mynee looked tiny in front of the gigantic trees which bore the cheese. Mynee looked up. The cheese was all the way at the top. Mynee Mouse started its trek to the top of the tree. It reached to the top of the tree by nightfall. Mynee bit into the cheese. The cheese was delicious. Mynee got hold of some cheese and started its journey down the tree.

In the midst of silent forest, Mynee heard a shrill screech. A creature which was as dark as the night swooped past Mynee. The little mouse quickly hid itself in the tree’s borrow and waited for the nocturnal visitor to leave. Mynee reached the ground after the sun came out.

Mynee met other mice in Aalesia. They told that the nocturnal visitor’s nickname was Death. It caught the fat mice when they were high above the tree tops and ate them. The creature has become a menace over the years and killed several mice.

Mynee thought long and hard about how to escape the creature. The little mouse caught a twinkle by the corner of its eye. The roots of the cheese trees were covered by transparent spindly structures which looked like tiny spears. Mynee plucked the spears and stuck them to its body using the sap from the cheese tree. Mynee reached the treetop, gathered the cheese and began its trek down. Death waited to hunt this lean mouse down. When Death swooped down to catch Mynee, it’s talons hurt, something sharp pierced it’s feet. It tried a few more times and gave up. Mynee was far too intelligent to become a prey.

Mynee gathered the cheese and came down the tree, tasting the victory of its first battle with Death. Mynee made a sheath of tree sap covered with spindles and sold it as armor to the other mice in Aalesia. The mice bought the spindle sheath and paid Mynee with the delicious cheese. Mynee Mouse never had to climb the trees after that day. The short living spindle sheaths were selling so fast the Mynee Mouse had to recruit a few other mice to help it make them. Mynee had enough cheese to pay for Maxi to bring its family to Aalesia. Mynee lived happily in Aalesia with its family. 

                                                          The End.

The Entrepreneur Mouse - Part 1

Mynee Mouse, as the name says was a mouse that lived in Fammyland. Mynee struggled from morning till night to find cheese to fill its stomach. The little mouse almost got trampled by a herd of elephants and also lost a bit of its tail to a hungry eagle, during its cheese hunts. Mynee’s quest started afresh everyday and it ended only in the night.

Fammyland’s mice sometimes had visitors from a far away land, Aalesia. Aalesia’s mice spoke about the abundant, delicious, flavorful cheese from their land, which grew on top of cheese trees. They rubbed their round tummies in satisfaction as they thought about the cheese from Aalesia. Mynee Mouse’s mouth watered every time it heard about Aalesia’s cheese.

Mynee Mouse wanted to go to the land of cheese, Aalesia. It was tired of the day to day struggle to gather the cheese in Fammyland. The little mouse had many fears. It went to the grand old and wise owl, Sier to ask for his advice.

Sier spotted Mynee Mouse from a distance and said, ‘Oh Mynee, welcome! I haven’t seen you in a long time.’

Mynee replied, ‘Yes good old friend. I was busy hunting cheese.’

‘I came to know that it has become hard to find cheese these days’

‘Yes. Even if I find it, it is not sufficient for me. Too less cheese. Too less.’

‘Mynee, why don’t you go to Aalesia? I heard that place has cheese aplenty’

‘Yes good friend. I was thinking about it. I want to go to Aalesia, but I do not have the worms to travel.’

‘Work a little bit harder every day. You can gather enough cheese to buy worms to feed Maxi. Maxi will fly you to Aalesia’. (For the reader, Maxi is the crow who flew mice to and from Aalesia)

‘I am also worried about my family. How can I leave them here and go?’

‘Once you are in Aalesia, you can gather enough cheese to pay Maxi to fly your family to Aalesia.’

‘What if Aalesia is not as rosy as it seems. There could be dangerous creatures lurking around and they can eat me up.’

‘Now, now, Mynee, I know you are a brave and clever mouse.’ Sier said that and looked at Mynee’s chopped off tail. ‘You can figure out how to escape those dangerous creatures’.

‘Good friend, what if …’

Sier interrupted Mynee and said, ‘Listen, if something is important to you, you will find a way. If not you’ll find an excuse. Make progress or make excuses.’

Mynee Mouse thanked Sier for his advice. The next few months the mouse worked hard to gather that extra cheese for its flight. Mynee exchanged the cheese for a few succulent, freshly dead worms and took those worms to Maxi. Maxi gladly obliged to take Mynee to Aalesia. Off went the little mouse to Aalesia after it bade goodbye to its family.

To be continued tomorrow  ... 

Cloud Bullying

The big fluffy white cloud was basking in the sun. It felt proud that the sun's ray's couldn't harm it, cannot make it smaller. It was too big even for the mighty Sun. The Big Cloud saw a Small Cloud scurrying by.

The Big Cloud called out, 'Hey smallie, smallie', and grinned. The Big Cloud extended it's arm and blocked the way of the Small Cloud.

The Small Cloud stopped and asked, 'What do you want?'

The Big Cloud said, 'I want you to go to the sun and tell him hello'

The Small Cloud protested. It said, 'The last time I did it, I melted. It took a long time to get back to my shape. I will not do it again.'

The Big Cloud laughed and teased the Small Cloud. It said, 'Smallie too scared to go near the sun. Should I call you smallie or scarie or both? Smallie Scarie. Scarie Smallie', and sang so for a few minutes.

The Small Cloud grew black in the face. 

The Big Cloud threw another challenge at the Small Cloud. The Big Cloud asked the Small Cloud, 'Can you be this?' and transformed itself into a house, shaped like a hut. After a couple of minutes it transformed into a tortoise. The Big Cloud gloated over it's capability to change.

The Small Cloud was too small to become anything. The Small Cloud thought for a minute. It whistled and called his friends. The Small Cloud's friends gathered around it. Just like the Small Cloud, his friends were small too.

The Small Cloud challenged the Big Cloud,'Oh! you can do only a house and a tortoise. That is so old-fashioned. I have seen my parents and grand parents do that. I will show you what we can do.'

The small clouds merged into one another and formed a car. The car said, 'vroom vroom'. 

The small clouds became an aeroplane and made a noise, 'Whooooooooosh.' 

The Big Cloud grew black in the face. It came towards the small clouds' at full force. The Big Cloud and the small clouds' pushed and punched one another and made thunderous sounds. They attacked one another with lightening bolts.

The combined strength of the small clouds' defeated the Big Cloud. It was injured. The small clouds' moved away, with their heads held high. The Big Cloud cried in pain. The tears of the Big Cloud, fell down as rain and moistened the parched earth.

After that day, the Big Cloud never bullied the Small Cloud.

Blame it on the Woman

Those were the days when lot of changes were happening in my life. I moved to Bangalore for work, got married and was setting up a home. In that a hectic schedule, Malvi's presence was like a breath of fresh air. She was my first cook in Bangalore.  

Malvi was a woman in late twenties. She had a huge red bindi on her forehead, which contrasted against her dark skin. Her only makeup was her smile. She showed me with a smile, the bruises on her hand and the injury on her leg. She complained with a smile about her eye infection and her son's leg fracture. I loved that in her, her smile, which showed that she cared less about her troubles. 

Malvi told me about her marriage. She told me about her husband, who made guest appearances at home, inaccessible most of the time. Malvi’s was a love marriage, which became unpleasant over the years. She eloped with her fiancé, when she was in 10^th standard. He was an auto driver then. He threatened her to marry him and given the innocence of her age, she did marry him. Her family did not approve of the marriage and she had to severe her relationship with most of her family, save her brother.

One quirk of Malvi’s character was that she never stepped into the apartment if I wasn't there. If my husband was at home, she used to wait for me near the elevator. That irritated the hungry me, waiting to devour dinner after a long day at work and her behavior perplexed my husband.

One fine day, she told me, ‘Madam, I will not be coming.’

I thought it was temporary break. I asked her, ‘Will you be coming after two or three days?’

She replied, ‘No Madam. I am quitting the job. I am moving to Mysore with my family.’

Malvi’s resignation was a huge blow to me. I have been enjoying all the dishes cooked by her and the extra time I got sans the cooking.

I scolded her, ‘You should have told me earlier. Where will I get a cook now at such a short notice? Why are you moving to Mysore?’

Malvi replied,”My husband is not answering my calls anymore. I came to know that he is in Mysore, at his home. He is threatening to end our marriage. My husband says that, ‘She goes to houses, who knows what nonsense she does there?’ 

I can live on my own. I have been doing so for the past three months. But my brother wants me to get back with him for the sake of the kids’. My husband wants me to stay home and not go for work anywhere. Where will I get the money to run the house and to pay for kids’ schools then? He doesn't earn any money and neither does he want me to.”

Malvi consoled me saying that, ‘I will go to him with the kids and ask him to return. If he sees the kids, maybe that will change his mind. If all goes well, I will return soon enough.’

                                                                          

I waited for Malvi for almost a month, hoping that she would return. After the initial excitement of helping me in the kitchen fizzled away, my husband entreated me to appoint another cook. A few months later, her son showed up at my doorstep and asked for her mother’s last month's salary. He told me that they moved to Mysore. I gave him the salary, without any complaints. Malvi deserved it.

I had several culinary relationships after Malvi, but none of them lasted long enough. 

The Ghosts of the Present and Future - Part 2

Read Part 1 of the story here.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and pursed her lips as though she didn’t want to let out a secret.

‘I took it from you when you were…umm…. distracted.’

‘You mean, you stole it!’, said David and turned towards her.

‘If you say so, then yes. Sylvia found it in my purse yesterday night and pushed me to meet you and return it’

‘Why?’

‘Because it belongs to you.  What do you mean why?’

‘I mean, why did you steal it?’

Rachel looked at his stubble. She thought it suited him. She didn’t want to look at his eyes. She felt that the black thick rimmed square glasses he wore magnified his condescending gaze.

‘It is a habit of mine, which I got into after I lost my mother to cancer. It started off without my knowledge. I realized I could do it without getting caught and I just continued taking stuff', said Rachel

‘I am sorry to hear about your mother. But, thanks for returning my watch.’

‘I am sorry I took it too. I am thankful that I have Sylvia now. The authorities put me up with her after I was caught in the mall, stealing a heart shaped pendant made of sterling silver. Under her watchful eye, I am getting out of my… my habit.’

‘Good to know that. Good luck.’

The wind whistled. Rachel pulled her multi-colored woolen cap over her ears. Even though the cap looked weird, she could never let go of it. It was the last purchase she made with her mother. She remembered how she argued with her that she will never wear it.

Rachel asked him, ‘Did you ever have a ghost?’

David rubbed his hands together. He gave a shy smile.

‘I did. He is liberated now.’

‘Oh wow! He must have done you a great favour.’

‘Yes he did. He got me out of my drug addiction’

‘You have deeper secrets than I do.’

David leaned on the bench and looked up at the sky. It was getting dark, stars twinkled in the twilight.

‘My ex-girlfriend introduced me to drugs. The intensity of the drugs increased after we broke up. My ghost, Michael was assigned to me after I ended up in a puddle on a street, with no consciousness of what happened. Michael lost his life to drug overdose. He was perfect for me. He understood me and was patient with me. He came to AA meetings with me. Under his companionship, I slowly gave up. I am sober for two years now. ‘

Rachel thought for a few seconds and asked, ‘David, do you think we will also end up as ghosts, being miserable ourselves, but help others out of their misery?’

‘I don’t know. I hope not. As long as we are, what do they call, law abiding citizens? My granddad told me once, ‘Back in the 2000s when we were young, we used to have something called as conscience. Now you kids have ghosts to keep you in line.’

‘I hope not too', said Rachel.

Rachel liked David. They spoke about their innermost secrets in their second meeting, which would have never happened without Sylvia. 

Rachel asked him, ‘Can we meet again?’

David winked and asked, ‘Did you steal anything from me again?’ and checked his pockets. He then looked at her and said, ‘I am just kidding. I would love to meet you again.’

‘How about tomorrow, at the same time, at ghost town bar…no wait…the same coffee shop should be good.’

‘I will see you tomorrow then.' David kissed Rachel on her cheek. He rose up from the bench and walked away.

On the jogging track, Rachel saw a jogger stop abruptly. He quivered from head to toe, in one fluid motion, as though something or someone cold passed right through him. Rachel guessed who could’ve caused it. She waved her hand and signaled Sylvia to join her.
   
                                          The End.

The Ghosts of the Present and Future - Part 1

Rachel and her ghost were sitting on a bench in Grant Park. A few feet ahead of them was the joggers’ track. The breath of the joggers’ mingled with the cold air, tried to stay alive, but died after a few seconds.

‘It is chilly today’, said Rachel, tugging her ash tweed coat close to her. Rachel hasn't gotten used to Chicago’s cold weather yet.

‘ It is good that you are all covered up’, said her ghost.

‘Do you ever feel the cold?’

‘I used to … but not anymore’

‘Hmm…’, Rachel fiddled with the  bronze buckle on her purse and looked at the jogger who passed by.

Rachel asked, ‘Do you think he will come?’

‘The way he looked at you yesterday in the pub, he is attracted to you. I think he will’

‘Did you like his ghost?’

‘He is too silent for me’

Rachel looked at her ghost. She was a young woman in her twenties. She had a translucent body, through which everything permeated. Her name when she was alive was Sylvia. At the time of her death, Sylvia was doing Masters in Anthropology at University of Illinois. On the day of her death, Sylvia was cycling to school. A cab hit her. The impact killed her instantly. The cab driver said that the brakes failed. He warned her, but her headphones blocked the cacophony on the street.

The sunset colored the sky with streaks of deep orange. Rachel rubbed her hands together.

Rachel saw a man walking towards them, covered from head to toe in black.

‘There he is! He is finally here’. Rachel was relieved that he arrived on time. The cold was getting unbearable by the minutes.

‘I don’t see his ghost with him’.

‘Yes, he isn’t there’

‘Do you want me to leave?’

‘Hmm…it is up to you, you can stay well’

‘I will leave. There are too many joggers’ today. I am planning to make their jog more interesting. Remember what we talked about. Call me when you are done’.

Rachel nodded her head. Sylvia disappeared.

David came to the bench where Rachel sat. Rachel got up. She wondered what she should do next, should she give him a hug or a kiss on the cheek. She did not do any of that. Their acquaintance was too short and her meeting with him yesterday didn't go as well as she intended. 

‘Hi’, said David and sat on the bench

‘Hi ', said Rachel and sat down too. After a moment of silence, Rachel asked, ‘Where is your ghost?’

‘Oh! You mean Andrew. He isn't my official one. He is my friend. He hangs around sometimes. Other times he is gone’

‘Oh! I thought he was yours’

‘Nope. What about your ghost? I don’t see her’. David looked around. They were surrounded by trees cloaked in white.

‘She has gone to play some mischief on the joggers’

‘I don’t know if you mind. Can I ask you a question?’, David said that and looked into Rachel’s deep blue eyes.  He was attracted to Rachel the moment he saw her eyes. Her shiny black hair fell silently on to her shoulders.

‘Of course not. What is it?’

‘Why do you have a ghost? Is this your first one?’

Rachel sighed. He deserved to know the truth, after what happened last night at Starbucks. ‘I was assigned to Sylvia. She is my first one. The reason is …’ Rachel said that and opened her purse. She took out a beautiful watch. It was a stainless steel watch with a navy blue dial.

David grabbed it out of Rachel’s hand. ‘Hey! It is mine. I thought I lost it. You know, I went to Starbucks today morning and enquired about it. How did you get this? Did I leave it on the table or something?’

To be continued ... tomorrow

Desi street foodie

I was initiated into eating street food by one of my cousin sisters. She stayed at our home during her polytechnic studies. During summer vacations, we used to travel to her hometown, Hyderabad, on a train. The focal point of the train journey was the samosas at Aler station. All through the 3.5 hours journey, we used to wait for the Aler station. It would not matter how uncomfortable we were among other passengers; drenched in sweat, fighting for the share space for our butts, or standing holding on to the seats, the samosas had to be relished.  

At Aler station, the smell of the samosas, dominated by the smell of caramelized onions, would waft into the compartment. After that, we would hear the voice of the vendor, ‘Samosa, samosa, garam, garam samosa’. Our sensory organs would perk up, expecting something delicious and unhealthy. 

 The vendor came in front of us, with his brown basket, covered with newspapers on all sides. At our call for samosas, he would place the basket on the floor, which brought into our view, the triangular shaped samosas, which were half the size of my palm. 

      My sister would ask, ‘Bhaiyya, how much is the price? Are they hot?’ 
He used to say, ‘I got them out just now. Rs. 10 for five’. 

      My sister would open her purse and buy five samosas, which the vendor gave to us wrapped in a newspaper, carrying the news of the past in black and white print. Before we devoured the samosas, the newspaper greedily drank the oil, sticking on to the samosas. Then we slowly savored the samosas, biting into the crusty bland brown skin first, before getting to the spicy interior. After that, with our tummies were satisfied and a smile on our lips, we resumed the journey. The samosas at Aler were our little secret, never to be revealed to our mothers’. Those forbidden samosas were the best that I have ever tasted in my life.

After the summer vacations of the 90’s, I did have occasional street food with friends, during my engineering days, at Gokul Chat in Koti, in the early 2000s. After a gap of 6 years, I was reinitiated into street food by my hubby. The area we live in Bangalore is infested with the street food joints, making dosas, Vada pav, samosas, bajji, momos, pani puri and what not. Yesterday, as I  bit into the Schezwan  paneer masala dosa, I thought about why it was so delicious. I saw the cook sprinkling water on to the sizzling black pan, to make another dosa. I wondered if he cleaned the pan often, and if all those remains from the previous generations of dosas, gave an additional taste to the dosas. 

The variety of street food in India is enormous, with innumerable innovations. Take for example, the Schezwan paneer masala dosa, which is a fusion of South Indian, North Indian and Chinese food. Compared to the bland crepes of Europe, our street side non-descript chefs make their own international class dosas, which taste out of the world.

 Bless the Indian street food, which brings unexpected flavors and calories into our otherwise routine lives!

The famous dosa center where I had the Schezwan paneer masala dosa

The corn selling guy was kind enough to pose for me.

Famous bajji & jalebi stall

Lots of options on this side of the street, momos, chat, fried rice, noodles, gobi manchurian  and dosas

A guy busily making the tandoori chicken 

The Vada Pav and ice cream joint

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Gifts of Summer

What does summer remind you of? There is of course the scorching heat, the constant thirst and the unstoppable sweat, but there are also a few things we relish in. For me, summer is bearable because of mangoes, watermelons and ice-apple. Imagine the sweet and tangy taste that remains in your mouth after you sink your teeth into a ripe, fleshy mango. When you eat a watermelon, it goes straight to your heated brain and cools it.  Do you remember the way we suck out the juices from translucent and soft ice-apple before eating it whole? These are the things that I love about summer.

I don't remember my first mango memory. My mother told me about it. I was a little less than two years old. She prepared a glass full of mango juice. I never tasted mango until then. She wanted me to taste a sip or two of the mango juice, so she gave the glass to me. I did have a sip or two, but when she wanted to take away the glass, I wouldn't leave it. I clenched it with my teeth when she tried to pull it out. I did not take out the glass from my mouth until I drank it clean. Well, that is the power of mango.

I do remember my first watermelon memory. It is one of my fondest memories. One of my uncles' from mom's side came to our home to visit us. It was a hot day. My mother was not at home. It was just me and my uncle. We sat at the table, cut the watermelon open. I ate one piece, my uncle ate another. This way, we ate the whole watermelon for brunch. I remember it to be a big watermelon, with a deep red color. My love for watermelon started that day. My uncle let me eat the whole watermelon. My mother would have stopped me after a few bites, she would say, 'Keep some watermelon for me and your father'. My uncle allowed me to be greedy and messy. My hands, my mouth and dress got dirty with the pulp and the juice from the watermelon. 

I loved eating the ice-apple but I hated it when I had to eat the curry of the ice-apples' skin. My mother and grandmother do not waste anything that tastes close to edible. After enjoying the ice-apple, I also had to go through the pain of eating the skin curry. 

I had thati kallu (made from juice of ice-apple) only once until now. When I was a teenager, I went to Nellore along with my cousins to spend some time with family friends. They had a fresh water prawn farm. The farm was lined with palm trees. When we were there, my aunt gave us thati kallu. I had one glass of it. As soon as I had it, I asked her, 'Am I going to become unconscious now?' My aunt laughed a lot. After we went home, she told to everybody else in the family and they laughed too. Next time, when I have thati kallu, I will not stop at one glass. I want to know how many glasses of thati kallu does it take, for me to become unconscious.

Mangoes, watermelons and ice-apples are the gifts of summer. Without them, the summer would be tough to survive. 

Image of ice-apple from google images

Happy Mother's Day

I typed the e-mail. My mouse pointer was on the send button. Should I send it? Should I save it and send it the following day, when I am not so emotional? I just wanted to let out my feelings and did not care about how the other person would feel after reading the e-mail. I took her for granted. She would always be there for me until the day she has to leave this earth. Music was blaring out of my earphones. The music subsided my thoughts which were zooming from one end of my head to the other at supersonic speed. I clicked 'send'. I was no longer listening to the the track my iphone played. I stared at my gmail account and checked the sent mail. I should not have sent that e-mail to her. Now, it was too late. She would open her e-mail account and see the e-mail from her daughter. She would read it. She would feel anger, disappointment or remorse. I would never know what her feelings would be.

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This short story is dedicated to all the mothers' who are patient enough with their offspring, who take them for granted. 

                                                         Me with my Grandmother & Mother

Saint Homibaba and his dream - Part 2

Read Part1 of the story here

Leela went to Chandraprakash and asked, ‘Who are you?’

Chandraprakash was silent. He wanted to establish his identity in the village as a spiritual person. Leela did not get any reply.

After that day, Leela visited Chandraprakash everyday. She believed that he was a powerful sadhu and started praying to him. She left him some food everyday. How else would he feed himself if he meditated all day?

Humans have the strong urge to build coincidences out of unrelated incidents. No sooner did Leela start praying the hermit, Leela came to know she was pregnant. Leela was overjoyed. She went to the village and told to everybody, ‘The Sadhu who is in the Shiva temple is very powerful. He will fulfill all your desires.’ and the rumor spread.

Slowly, the people from the village lined up to see the Sadhu and take his blessings. The Sadhu never spoke. He heard everything and nodded his head. As per his worshippers, the viboodhi which he gave made everybodys’ wishes come true. People called him Saint Homibaba.

Saint Homibaba’s fame spread to nearby villages. A few rich people from those villages got Homibaba’s blessings and rose to positions of power. Saint Homibaba’s empire spread. He got more money than he could ever dream. Everything went well, until the night of the wretched dream.

Saint Homibaba was sitting beneath a tree. That day was an unusual day. Nobody came to visit him and seek his blessings. These were void blessings, which people believed had the power to change destiny. He saw someone walking towards him. As the stranger approached, he saw a man of great valor and courage. He was bedecked in jewels and wore a tunic.

He said to Saint Homibaba, ‘I am Raja Chandrachur Singh. I built the Shiva temple which serves as your humble abode. I have waited long for someone selfless like you, to come along and relieve me of these earthly shackles. During the war with the Britishers, I hid all the jewels and thousand tonnes of gold under the temple’

Saint Homibaba’s eyes shone with excitement. The gold was the ticket for unparalleled fame and wealth. He asked Raja Chandrachur Singh,’ Where is the gold buried?’

The Raja took him inside the temple and showed him a marked spot on the ground. The Raja told him, ‘Use this gold for philanthropic activities and release me from this world.' The Raja disappeared after saying these words.

Next morning Saint Homibaba, summoned the villagers. Everybody came and stood around him. They thought, ‘Saint Homibaba has called. It must be something important’. To the surprise of the villagers Saint Homibaba spoke. He stood on a pedestal, and his saffron robes fluttered in the soft breeze. He overlooked the villagers, as though they were his children. His loud voice silenced the murmers of the villagers. ‘I saw Raja Chandrachur Singh in my dream. He told me about the hidden gold beneath the Shiva temple. All that gold is yours. Let’s dig it up’.

The villagers were elated. They came with spears and spades to dig the spot, which had the hidden gold. The clangs of the metallic rod on the stone reverberated in and around the temple. The neighboring villages came to know about it. They also arrived by the truckload to partake the gold. It was a mad frenzy. People camped day in and day out, dug and dug until their arms were worn out and the brown earth covered their body like a layer of paint. They dug the temple and also the surrounding land. The digging continued for about two weeks, but they did not find any gold. They found a few scraps of unworthy metal. The villagers were disappointed and returned to their homes. They understood that they acted foolishly based on Saint Homibaba's dream. They wanted to challenge him. Saint Homibaba was nowhere to be found. 

Two days after the villagers started digging the Shiva temple for gold, Saint Homibaba aka Chandraprakash had another dream. 

He saw Raja Chandrachur Singh. He asked Chandraprakash, 'Did you find the gold?' 

'Not yet. We should find it soon.'

'Where are you digging?'

Chandraprakash took him to a location inside the temple and showed it to him.

The Raja said, 'Oh! It is'nt here.'

'But, you told me to dig here'

'Here or there god knows where. 

I am your wife whom you left without a care

In the disguise of the king

Now hear me sing

You are a lazy young fellow

Acting graceful and mellow

Now let us hear the crowd bellow

Let the angry lot

Kick you a lot'

Raja Chandrachur Singh sang, danced, laughed and cried, all at the same time. As he did that, he transformed into Chandraprakash's wife. 

Chandraprakash woke with a start, gathered his wealth and left the village, fearing a backlash from the villagers. The past came to haunt him in inexplicable ways and ruined his present life.

                                            The Shiva temple where the digging took place

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This story is a work of fiction inspired from the gold hunt incident in Uttar Pradesh. 

Saint Homibaba and his dream - Part 1

The villagers called him Saint Homibaba. His real name was Chandraprakash Mukherjee. Before he became a saint, he was common man like you and me. How did he become a saint is an interesting story in itself. 

Chandraprakash had a pestering wife, who ranted about their poverty day in and day out.

‘Lakshmi has got a new gold chain. Her husband gave it to her. What have you given me since marriage? These dishes to wash and these old sarees’, Padma said that and banged the dented aluminium vessel on the ground. The vessel has already taken a lot of dents, what is one more dent to it?

‘People are prospering all around us. You are lazy. Why can’t you go out and do something worthwhile?’

Chandraprakash did go out that night, never to return. The night holds several secrets in its belly. It is only a matter of time, until the secrets gush out in torrents and torment the keepers of the secrets. It was a starless night. The universe has also conspired for his escape.

Chandraprakash decided to roam the length and breadth of this country. On his way to Kashmir, he met a Sadhu who initiated him into the monastic life. He stayed in a monastery, located on the banks of River Ganga. He stayed at the monastery for a few months. The disciplined life style took a toll on Chandraprakash's laziness. He escaped from the Monastery.

For several months, Chandraprakash roamed around the country. He met all kinds of people during his travels, from daily labourers to youngsters. The daily laborers stretched their sinews in the sun, struggled from day to day to make their living. The youngsters did the opposite. They splurged their money in coffee shops, restaurants and malls, without a care about future. He read people as books. He learned about human nature, the ever greedy nature that covets for instantaneous wealth.

He travelled south and went to Chandoor. He decided to stay here for a couple of years, among unknown people. There are times when strangers show us more mercy than our loved ones.

Chandoor is a quaint village, nested beneath two hills. Modernity has not consumed the village yet. It still had lush green fields and sparkling water bodies. About fifty families made Chandoor as their home. Everybody knew everyone else. A loud sneeze was enough to reveal the identity of the sneezer. 

The village also had a historic Shiva temple built by Raja Chandrachur Singh, which spread over an acre. The Raja died in the Battlefield while braving the Britishers against conquering his kingdom. The villagers heard the aarti at odd times in the night. They saw flickering diyas in front of Lord Shiva, in the absence of a living soul. Hence, the rumor started that the temple was haunted by the Raja and no one went close to that land.

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Leela was a simple woman, with simple desires. All she wanted was a son. She prayed to hundreds of Gods to no avail. Her wishes were unheard and her womb empty as always. Every morning, even before the village woke up, she went to the Shiva temple to clean it and make penance for the sins committed in her previous life.

One day, she saw Chandraprakash, sitting inside the temple in front of the linga and meditating. She saw a person whose face showed intelligence. His long matted hair and beard signified his intimacy towards spirituality. 

To be continued ...

Chandraprakash's travels took him to several beautiful places