The atmosphere in the village had turned volatile. A mob had gathered. Most of them were armed with sticks. Some with stones. They wanted revenge. They wanted to beat up the neighboring villagers for desecrating the statue of an erstwhile leader. Me and my friends were all out supporting the mob and wanted to witness the fight. In spite of an appeal from a few whom we referred to as cowards, the mob was now heading steadily towards the neighboring village. We were following the mob keeping a safe distance.
He had been a great leader. People looked up to him in times of difficulties and dangers. For years his statue was worshiped by all. In recent times people had forgotten about him but nonetheless the desecration had not gone down well.
As the mob approached the neighboring village we could see the enemy group approaching as well. They too were armed. There would be a real fight my friend said. The two groups were now facing each other. The leader of our village was asking the other group to apologize or face the consequences. The leader of the other group was demanding evidence.
It looked like there could not be any peaceful resolution to the problem. The two groups were about to strike when their eyes fell on the statue. There were two old man cleaning up the statue. One man from our village and the other from the neighboring village. The angry villagers had stopped in their strides. The two old man had led the bitter fighting between the villages for years. Each of them bearing the marks of the intense rivalry. But today they were cleaning the statue together. They were silently doing the cleaning act. There was a moment when I thought that they smiled at each other.
I wondered what each one might have said to the other. In a few minutes the anger had pacified. The same villagers were now providing helping hand.
We were too young to understand what had happened. Looking back in time I think after years of fighting the two had realized that violence is not a solution any problem.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Story.
Another year had gone by at school. The next year would bring a myriad of changes that we were not ready for. We were gripped with uneasiness and doubts had crippled our mind. We had a lot of discussions on coping up with the changes but did not find any satisfactory answer. As we were not making any headway, we decided to talk about it to our teacher.
He was citing examples of various other students to comfort us but it was not having the desired effect. Just then it had started drizzling. Oh! not the rain's we said. But the teacher was smiling. He asked us to sit down and started narrating a story. What is rain he asked? Drops of water falling from the sky we replied in chorus. Today I will tell you a story of rain drops falling from the sky. We were patient as there was no other choice.
One day I heard a group of rain drops talking to each other he said. They were all worried about their fate while they were falling to the ground. One said he was afraid of being torn into smaller drops by the wind The second said she was afraid of falling into the fire. Few others were afraid of falling into dustbins and all were afraid of falling into the dung. Yuck we all said.
As they were falling to the ground they withstood the forces that were trying to destroy them. They did so in their own way. A group of drops fell over the children playing happily in the garden. Another group helped quench the thirst of living beings. Yet another group gave life to trees. A few ones who managed to direct themselves against the forces managed to fall into the mouth of the oyster's to become pearls. But everyone had been successful in one way or the other. There cannot be any comparisons made between their success.
We had left fully satisfied. For a few days we also tried listening to rain drops talk without success. This story had a lasting effect on us. Years later we realized that the story had actually been an extension to a poem. That day has been etched into my memory deeply.
He was citing examples of various other students to comfort us but it was not having the desired effect. Just then it had started drizzling. Oh! not the rain's we said. But the teacher was smiling. He asked us to sit down and started narrating a story. What is rain he asked? Drops of water falling from the sky we replied in chorus. Today I will tell you a story of rain drops falling from the sky. We were patient as there was no other choice.
One day I heard a group of rain drops talking to each other he said. They were all worried about their fate while they were falling to the ground. One said he was afraid of being torn into smaller drops by the wind The second said she was afraid of falling into the fire. Few others were afraid of falling into dustbins and all were afraid of falling into the dung. Yuck we all said.
As they were falling to the ground they withstood the forces that were trying to destroy them. They did so in their own way. A group of drops fell over the children playing happily in the garden. Another group helped quench the thirst of living beings. Yet another group gave life to trees. A few ones who managed to direct themselves against the forces managed to fall into the mouth of the oyster's to become pearls. But everyone had been successful in one way or the other. There cannot be any comparisons made between their success.
We had left fully satisfied. For a few days we also tried listening to rain drops talk without success. This story had a lasting effect on us. Years later we realized that the story had actually been an extension to a poem. That day has been etched into my memory deeply.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Treasure.
A clang had been enough to excite the entire village. The news had spread like wild fire. Rumors had also been doing the rounds. Everyone was talking about it. He had struck something. Some said it might be a trunk full of gold. Some were of the opinion that it might be a bag full of diamonds. Each one of us had a spectacular view on the contents of the trunk. Me and my friends wished for some nice toys. Everyone had gathered around the site while a small metal box had been dug out.
It was an usual Saturday morning. Most of the people were working in the fields. A few were working in the pottery shop. There was a long queue outside the shop and the shop keeper was trying to meet everyone's demands in the best way he could. The fisher man had just come to the village. We were busy playing.
At that very moment we saw people flocking towards the fields keeping all their work aside. Out of curiosity we mingled with them and that's when we heard them talking about the trunk and the gold and the diamonds.
The entire village had gathered to witness the opening ceremony of the metal box. Some were happy for him. Some were jealous. A few dreaming about finding the box themselves. Some planning to dig their fields to try and find a big fortune. Some doubting the character of the man. Each group of people showing a different emotion.
All the eyes were now turned on him while he opened the box. First to come out were a few amulets of silver. Then two golden bangles. He was smiling. Every one was expecting some diamonds to appear when he held held out something that looked like a paper. There was no smile on his face anymore. He had dropped the metal box and also dropped the ornaments . As the box fell out came a few pieces of cloth. There were tears in his eyes. But he seemed to be happiest man in the world. He was smiling again with tears still flowing from his eyes. It was a photograph. He was meeting his parents after 19 years. It was the only one he had.
It was an usual Saturday morning. Most of the people were working in the fields. A few were working in the pottery shop. There was a long queue outside the shop and the shop keeper was trying to meet everyone's demands in the best way he could. The fisher man had just come to the village. We were busy playing.
At that very moment we saw people flocking towards the fields keeping all their work aside. Out of curiosity we mingled with them and that's when we heard them talking about the trunk and the gold and the diamonds.
The entire village had gathered to witness the opening ceremony of the metal box. Some were happy for him. Some were jealous. A few dreaming about finding the box themselves. Some planning to dig their fields to try and find a big fortune. Some doubting the character of the man. Each group of people showing a different emotion.
All the eyes were now turned on him while he opened the box. First to come out were a few amulets of silver. Then two golden bangles. He was smiling. Every one was expecting some diamonds to appear when he held held out something that looked like a paper. There was no smile on his face anymore. He had dropped the metal box and also dropped the ornaments . As the box fell out came a few pieces of cloth. There were tears in his eyes. But he seemed to be happiest man in the world. He was smiling again with tears still flowing from his eyes. It was a photograph. He was meeting his parents after 19 years. It was the only one he had.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Gift.
It was announced that our gift for this year was to plant twenty three trees. One each for each child in the village. We were disappointed. I had been expecting some toys and so did the others. We were unhappy to receive the news and launched a strong protest to no avail. The annual gift day in our village had been a disaster for us.
Twenty three seedlings had been bought to the village. The soil had already been prepared for planting them. For days we had wondered why the digging was going on. Now we knew why. We were angry.
We had been coaxed into coming to the site where the trees would be planted. Each one of us was given one seedling and asked to plant it. We suddenly had a feeling of responsibility. The trees had been planted. Do we get any gifts now? someone asked half-heartedly. There was no reply.
It was our responsibility to make sure that our seedlings grew well. Every day we would visit the site and water the plants. We would check for pests and weeds. Each one was excited when there was even slightest of progress. We had all cried when one seedling had died. For the first time we were together and united in what we were doing. Toys had always divided us with each one craving for the others toy. But this time it was different. This was a collective effort. We had even forgotten which seedling belonged to whom.
Today the trees we had planted and cared for have grown big. The village gets immense benefits from them. To us it taught the meaning of collective effort and unity. I was reading an article in the news paper which talked about celebrities throwing extravagant parties when my thoughts went back in time.
Twenty three seedlings had been bought to the village. The soil had already been prepared for planting them. For days we had wondered why the digging was going on. Now we knew why. We were angry.
We had been coaxed into coming to the site where the trees would be planted. Each one of us was given one seedling and asked to plant it. We suddenly had a feeling of responsibility. The trees had been planted. Do we get any gifts now? someone asked half-heartedly. There was no reply.
It was our responsibility to make sure that our seedlings grew well. Every day we would visit the site and water the plants. We would check for pests and weeds. Each one was excited when there was even slightest of progress. We had all cried when one seedling had died. For the first time we were together and united in what we were doing. Toys had always divided us with each one craving for the others toy. But this time it was different. This was a collective effort. We had even forgotten which seedling belonged to whom.
Today the trees we had planted and cared for have grown big. The village gets immense benefits from them. To us it taught the meaning of collective effort and unity. I was reading an article in the news paper which talked about celebrities throwing extravagant parties when my thoughts went back in time.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Visitor.
It was well past mid night. The wind was howling and the rains were pouring down. Me and the village elder were guarding the fields. We were sitting in a small unfurnished shed with two chairs and a lamp. From far away we could see a dim source of light approaching us. Who could it be at this hour? Would it be a person in need of help? or Would it be someone with malicious intent?
A bullock cart halted in front of the shed. An old man walked up to the shed. I wanted to go to the city in a hurry, he said. But the rains had made his progress slow. He was looking for a place to rest until the rains stopped. We walked him to the village temple and asked the old man to take a nap until the rains relent.
The two of us were walking back towards the shed. The village elder seemed unsettled. He was in a deep thought. The old man looks like a decent person. Why do you look worried? I asked. He was still immersed in a deep thought. I asked the same question again. He seemed to shrug off his thoughts. Oh nothing he said. But I could still see some doubts creeping on his face. A thought of old man being a thief had crossed my mind.
We were back in the shed and siting quietly for a hour or so. The village elder was not looking himself. He seemed lost. Doesn't the old man look too old to be driving a bullock cart at this hour? I casually mentioned intending it to be a pun. Then it had struck him. Too old. Ah! he said. Why had I not thought about it?
We were running towards the temple. I didn't have any clue as to why. But there was no bullock cart in sight. The old man had vanished. Lying on the floor was a bundle of money. The village elder looked stunned. Who was the old man? I asked.
We were in the library. In a long lost book I could see the picture of a freedom fighter who would have greatly resembled the old man if he had lived to see this day.
The entire village was working to renovate his bust that had been destroyed last year during the rains. I was taken sick for a few days but enjoyed every bit of the holiday.
A bullock cart halted in front of the shed. An old man walked up to the shed. I wanted to go to the city in a hurry, he said. But the rains had made his progress slow. He was looking for a place to rest until the rains stopped. We walked him to the village temple and asked the old man to take a nap until the rains relent.
The two of us were walking back towards the shed. The village elder seemed unsettled. He was in a deep thought. The old man looks like a decent person. Why do you look worried? I asked. He was still immersed in a deep thought. I asked the same question again. He seemed to shrug off his thoughts. Oh nothing he said. But I could still see some doubts creeping on his face. A thought of old man being a thief had crossed my mind.
We were back in the shed and siting quietly for a hour or so. The village elder was not looking himself. He seemed lost. Doesn't the old man look too old to be driving a bullock cart at this hour? I casually mentioned intending it to be a pun. Then it had struck him. Too old. Ah! he said. Why had I not thought about it?
We were running towards the temple. I didn't have any clue as to why. But there was no bullock cart in sight. The old man had vanished. Lying on the floor was a bundle of money. The village elder looked stunned. Who was the old man? I asked.
We were in the library. In a long lost book I could see the picture of a freedom fighter who would have greatly resembled the old man if he had lived to see this day.
The entire village was working to renovate his bust that had been destroyed last year during the rains. I was taken sick for a few days but enjoyed every bit of the holiday.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Hunt.
A small portion of the field was dug up and the crops were destroyed. An emergency meeting had been called to prepare for the impending danger. A war time effort was launched to secure the fields from the wild boars. Everyone in the village was working tirelessly to prevent a catastrophe. Everywhere in the village people were discussing the incident that happened three years back when a sounder had destroyed the crops single-handedly.
A force had been assembled to make a preemptive strike. They had searched the forest for the entire day but returned empty handed. Every one was worried about what the night would bring. The memoirs of past were haunting the village.
I was accompanying one of the hunting parties consisting of two persons. I was too young to be there but I had managed to convinced them. It was thrill to be with them. Walking towards the field with them in the night and then climbing the tree and sit on the machan was an exhilarating experience. In the night sitting up on the tree and overlooking the below area was a dream come true.
It was late into the night and it all hush. The initial thrill had died down and I was bored. All the dreams of a tiger turning up were shattered. In the night the only sound that could be heard was me coughing out of boredom and then the ssshhh sound from the others asking me to keep quiet. I wanted to go home but no one was willing to accompany me. So I stayed there looking at the sky and waiting for the the time to fly by. But there were no shooting stars. I was ruing my luck. And then there was a strange noise.
Out had come a wild boar. The hunter in our group had in a flash lifted the riffle and aimed at the wild boar and we were eagerly waiting for him to fire. He had the reputation of never missing any target. But the bullet would not leave the gun. And then we realized what was going through his mind. It was a lone boar with three piglets. The boar looked right into our eyes and then looked at the piglets. How could he fire the bullet? Then the boar and the piglets were gone. They did not return the next day and the day after.
The hunter had killed an enemy soldier in his younger days. They said the enemy soldier had said something to the hunter on the death bed. Perhaps this was his remorse or perhaps his reprieve.
A force had been assembled to make a preemptive strike. They had searched the forest for the entire day but returned empty handed. Every one was worried about what the night would bring. The memoirs of past were haunting the village.
I was accompanying one of the hunting parties consisting of two persons. I was too young to be there but I had managed to convinced them. It was thrill to be with them. Walking towards the field with them in the night and then climbing the tree and sit on the machan was an exhilarating experience. In the night sitting up on the tree and overlooking the below area was a dream come true.
It was late into the night and it all hush. The initial thrill had died down and I was bored. All the dreams of a tiger turning up were shattered. In the night the only sound that could be heard was me coughing out of boredom and then the ssshhh sound from the others asking me to keep quiet. I wanted to go home but no one was willing to accompany me. So I stayed there looking at the sky and waiting for the the time to fly by. But there were no shooting stars. I was ruing my luck. And then there was a strange noise.
Out had come a wild boar. The hunter in our group had in a flash lifted the riffle and aimed at the wild boar and we were eagerly waiting for him to fire. He had the reputation of never missing any target. But the bullet would not leave the gun. And then we realized what was going through his mind. It was a lone boar with three piglets. The boar looked right into our eyes and then looked at the piglets. How could he fire the bullet? Then the boar and the piglets were gone. They did not return the next day and the day after.
The hunter had killed an enemy soldier in his younger days. They said the enemy soldier had said something to the hunter on the death bed. Perhaps this was his remorse or perhaps his reprieve.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Birthday.
It was twilight and I was hurling towards the bus stop. But I must have missed the bus by a whisker. I reached the bus stop gasping for air. I could see no one apart from an old man. He too must have missed the bus I thought. Son, is everyone in the family alright? He asked. I was in no mood to answer any question. Yes, I snapped back. Why was he concerned about about my family? Are you sure? He asked. For a moment I gave him a glaring look but then realized that he was not the reason for me arriving late at the bus stop. Why do you ask I inquired. I am sorry son but such is the coincidence that I could not stop asking. Then he began to narrate an incident.
It was 28th of October about 20 years ago said the man. I was still young enough to earn my living. But I was poor. It was twilight and I was waiting at this same bus stop. From across the road I could see a young man running towards me. I was a bit afraid but ready to fight back. As he drew nearer my fear was gone. He looked like a decent fellow just like you but older. He too was gasping for air and asked me if the bus had left. I replied affirmatively. He was full of tears. What is wrong? I had asked him. He had come to a nearby pharmacy to buy some medicine for his child who was born on the same day. The child was very sick. But his car had broken down and now he had missed the last bus too.
Why not try a cab I had said. I can accompany you to the hospital. It was such an easy suggestion. But he had been overrun with too many worries. I accompanied him to the hospital. He had paid the cab driver and had given me some money as well. I was embarrassed but I accepted it thinking about my family who had nothing to eat that day. I had saved some of that money and used it in the right manner. The money had turned out to be very lucky for me. Today I have become a rich man. But I could never find the man who had made me rich. I had tried everything in vain to find him.
For last 15 years I visit this bus stop on 28th October to remind me of my past and to remind me of the person who had changed my life. Looking at you come up to me in the same way, I expected you to ask some question and when you did not I was tempted to inquire, he said. I consoled him saying that he would find the person one day.
Just then the last bus had arrived and I had hurriedly climbed in. For a while I was thinking about old man's story when I suddenly realized why I had been rude to him in the first place. It was my 20th birthday today and I was late to a party that was organized at my home. I had not even asked the old man for his name.
It was 28th of October about 20 years ago said the man. I was still young enough to earn my living. But I was poor. It was twilight and I was waiting at this same bus stop. From across the road I could see a young man running towards me. I was a bit afraid but ready to fight back. As he drew nearer my fear was gone. He looked like a decent fellow just like you but older. He too was gasping for air and asked me if the bus had left. I replied affirmatively. He was full of tears. What is wrong? I had asked him. He had come to a nearby pharmacy to buy some medicine for his child who was born on the same day. The child was very sick. But his car had broken down and now he had missed the last bus too.
Why not try a cab I had said. I can accompany you to the hospital. It was such an easy suggestion. But he had been overrun with too many worries. I accompanied him to the hospital. He had paid the cab driver and had given me some money as well. I was embarrassed but I accepted it thinking about my family who had nothing to eat that day. I had saved some of that money and used it in the right manner. The money had turned out to be very lucky for me. Today I have become a rich man. But I could never find the man who had made me rich. I had tried everything in vain to find him.
For last 15 years I visit this bus stop on 28th October to remind me of my past and to remind me of the person who had changed my life. Looking at you come up to me in the same way, I expected you to ask some question and when you did not I was tempted to inquire, he said. I consoled him saying that he would find the person one day.
Just then the last bus had arrived and I had hurriedly climbed in. For a while I was thinking about old man's story when I suddenly realized why I had been rude to him in the first place. It was my 20th birthday today and I was late to a party that was organized at my home. I had not even asked the old man for his name.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Deepavali.
Or in short Diwali is a festival of lights. It represents the victory of the good over the evil. It is celebrated every where with zest. There are different traditions associated with the celebration that vary across countries and across religions. But none of the us in our village had celebrated Diwali for last 7 years. Today was the night of Diwali and everything was dead quiet. Except for the chirping of birds and a cry emanating from the house. A cry we had heard for last 7 years. A cry that would not let us even think about celebrating Diwali.
He had been their only child. It was a Diwali day and he had gone to the city to buy crackers for the entire village. It was a custom to send best behaved child to the city to buy the fireworks. But misfortune had struck. They had met with an accident and even though all of them had survived the child had succumbed to the injuries. That was 7 years ago. The child was the darling of the village and every Diwali had reminded us of the loss of a son, loss of a friend and a loss of countless other emotions.
Then through the window I could see a man running as fast as he could to the village elder's house. What had happened this time? Did the curse of Diwali strike again? I ran outside. Then the man and the village elder were briskly moving towards the village outskirts. I began running to keep up with them but remaining out of site lest the fear of anger.
It was a site that would have a great impact on me. There he was, another child who was sitting there happily. He was lonely but was not afraid, alone but not crying. The village elder and the man were asking him questions about his identity. But he did not say anything. He just smiled. In one of his hands were stones he must have been playing with and in the other was a pack of crackers.
The parents of the deceased were called outside. Upon looking at the site the mother grabbed the child. It was as if she had recognized him. Every one in the village were looking at the scene with tears in their eyes and smiles. Then for the first time after 7 years the village heard the sound of the crackers.
They said he had the same birth mark as the deceased child. This child too had become the darling of the village.
He had been their only child. It was a Diwali day and he had gone to the city to buy crackers for the entire village. It was a custom to send best behaved child to the city to buy the fireworks. But misfortune had struck. They had met with an accident and even though all of them had survived the child had succumbed to the injuries. That was 7 years ago. The child was the darling of the village and every Diwali had reminded us of the loss of a son, loss of a friend and a loss of countless other emotions.
Then through the window I could see a man running as fast as he could to the village elder's house. What had happened this time? Did the curse of Diwali strike again? I ran outside. Then the man and the village elder were briskly moving towards the village outskirts. I began running to keep up with them but remaining out of site lest the fear of anger.
It was a site that would have a great impact on me. There he was, another child who was sitting there happily. He was lonely but was not afraid, alone but not crying. The village elder and the man were asking him questions about his identity. But he did not say anything. He just smiled. In one of his hands were stones he must have been playing with and in the other was a pack of crackers.
The parents of the deceased were called outside. Upon looking at the site the mother grabbed the child. It was as if she had recognized him. Every one in the village were looking at the scene with tears in their eyes and smiles. Then for the first time after 7 years the village heard the sound of the crackers.
They said he had the same birth mark as the deceased child. This child too had become the darling of the village.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Challenges.
I arrived at the bus stop well ahead of time. Dang I said. Luckily I could connect to the internet and follow the greatest spectacle of the decade, Anand v/s Kramnik. A fight between two of the best players of our times. A clash of two schools of thought. An enticing prospect on the whole. It would be a great challenge for the players to fight the battle. But there was a bigger one in store and it was not related to the game.
I was following the game closely trying to analyze the positions when my attention was diverted to a family with one kid and his parents. Tragedy had struck them. The kid was blind. But they had overcome this difficult situation. Today they were teaching the kid to identify an obstacle in his way. The kid was trying hard to overcome this challenge. But he was faltering every single time. He was getting frustrated with his progress but with the help of his parents he was rising again with a new hope. This was going on for around five minutes and I had completely lost the track of the spectacle I was so eager to follow just a while ago.
Then to my pleasant surprise Anand had won the match and had taken a sizable lead. Anand had overcome his challenge. At that moment I could hear a joyous cry and I was greatly relieved to see that the child had overcome his obstacle once and then several times. There would be many more challenges in his life.
Today, the challenge I had was to identify an issue customers were complaining about. I hoped I could stand up to it. Just then the bus arrived and I scrambled to pack my bag and get in.
A thought in the background made me realize that each one of us have a set of challenges. It is not easy to step into each others shoes. I could not imagine myself being in Anand's position or in the kid's shoes. I wonder what the kid and Anand would have to say about that.
I was following the game closely trying to analyze the positions when my attention was diverted to a family with one kid and his parents. Tragedy had struck them. The kid was blind. But they had overcome this difficult situation. Today they were teaching the kid to identify an obstacle in his way. The kid was trying hard to overcome this challenge. But he was faltering every single time. He was getting frustrated with his progress but with the help of his parents he was rising again with a new hope. This was going on for around five minutes and I had completely lost the track of the spectacle I was so eager to follow just a while ago.
Then to my pleasant surprise Anand had won the match and had taken a sizable lead. Anand had overcome his challenge. At that moment I could hear a joyous cry and I was greatly relieved to see that the child had overcome his obstacle once and then several times. There would be many more challenges in his life.
Today, the challenge I had was to identify an issue customers were complaining about. I hoped I could stand up to it. Just then the bus arrived and I scrambled to pack my bag and get in.
A thought in the background made me realize that each one of us have a set of challenges. It is not easy to step into each others shoes. I could not imagine myself being in Anand's position or in the kid's shoes. I wonder what the kid and Anand would have to say about that.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Scatman's world.
Scatman, fat man, black and white and brown man. Tell me 'bout the color of your soul. The lyrics hit me like a lightning bolt. The song was creating a strange effect on me. I decided to take a tea break and get my composure back. Thoughts were traveling back in time at a scorching pace. And then in an instance, it finally dawned on me.
I had been listening to the bromidic songs for a long time and was desperately trying to find something new to listen to. Then the search result displayed Scatman's world. To me its a kind of song that I can hear for a while but it fails the test of time. However, it had been a long time since I had heard it. I decided to play the song and after a while I was off for a tea break.
What was it that was nagging me? Was it colonialism? Was it the slave trade? Was it the caste system? Was it the religious wars? or Was it about the other divisions that humans had inflicted upon themselves? The lyrics were surely sounding different this time. Finally I knew I was thinking on a much bigger scale. In reality it had been an incident that had happened when I was young that was gnawing me.
There were two groups of 3 students each who were rivals in everything they did. The rivalry had been started very early and over the years it had been blown out of proportion. They were destined to fight over everything. I was a part of it as well :(.
The quarrel had started in the same fashion as it always had. Arguing over a minor statement that had nothing to do with the subject that was being discussed. It had not come to blows this time. But I had a feeling that this was different from the normal angry disputes. The fight was taking a more serious turn. Others were trying to intervene but to no avail. And then one of us said something that should not have been said. It was related to every discrimination that has divided the world for last thousands of years. Instantly all the six of us knew that this had gone too far. What had become of us? Was it worth it? We left the battle field silently. For the first time it looked as if both the armies had lost the battle.
The next day went by silently and so did the week. Then almost the start of another quarrel. But there was no steam in the fight. We were all coming to same conclusions. Now that had never happened. And then to everyone's surprise we were on talking terms. Then exchange of good words for a while and then jokes. The wind of change was blowing.
Now we were a single group of six. But we were not searching for another group of six to fight. It seemed like we had seen the color of our souls. Today we talk once in a while and celebrate the day when we had fought our greatest war and lost.
Dedicated to putting an end to discrimination and the violence arising out of it. How can someone win if winning means that someone loses.
I had been listening to the bromidic songs for a long time and was desperately trying to find something new to listen to. Then the search result displayed Scatman's world. To me its a kind of song that I can hear for a while but it fails the test of time. However, it had been a long time since I had heard it. I decided to play the song and after a while I was off for a tea break.
What was it that was nagging me? Was it colonialism? Was it the slave trade? Was it the caste system? Was it the religious wars? or Was it about the other divisions that humans had inflicted upon themselves? The lyrics were surely sounding different this time. Finally I knew I was thinking on a much bigger scale. In reality it had been an incident that had happened when I was young that was gnawing me.
There were two groups of 3 students each who were rivals in everything they did. The rivalry had been started very early and over the years it had been blown out of proportion. They were destined to fight over everything. I was a part of it as well :(.
The quarrel had started in the same fashion as it always had. Arguing over a minor statement that had nothing to do with the subject that was being discussed. It had not come to blows this time. But I had a feeling that this was different from the normal angry disputes. The fight was taking a more serious turn. Others were trying to intervene but to no avail. And then one of us said something that should not have been said. It was related to every discrimination that has divided the world for last thousands of years. Instantly all the six of us knew that this had gone too far. What had become of us? Was it worth it? We left the battle field silently. For the first time it looked as if both the armies had lost the battle.
The next day went by silently and so did the week. Then almost the start of another quarrel. But there was no steam in the fight. We were all coming to same conclusions. Now that had never happened. And then to everyone's surprise we were on talking terms. Then exchange of good words for a while and then jokes. The wind of change was blowing.
Now we were a single group of six. But we were not searching for another group of six to fight. It seemed like we had seen the color of our souls. Today we talk once in a while and celebrate the day when we had fought our greatest war and lost.
Dedicated to putting an end to discrimination and the violence arising out of it. How can someone win if winning means that someone loses.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Road.
A political representative was paying a visit to our village. The mood was upbeat. Preparations had been underway to welcome him. Elders and children had been preparing for this visit in different ways. Me and my friends were planning a coup to cajole the representative into providing a better play ground to our village.
He was greeted with a lot of cheers. There was a small platform setup on which he and the village elder's were sitting. We had to scramble to bring the chairs at the last moment. All the villagers were sitting on the ground. Me and my friends were looking for an opportunity to talk to the representative.
The village elder was the first to speak. He gave a hearty welcome to the representative and made us aware of all the achievements of the representative. He then spoke about how our village had improved since the last year and finally spoke about the shortcomings of the village. He then asked the representative to address us. I was disappointed that the village elder had not spoken about the need for a playground. The representative spoke eloquently about all the initiatives he had taken in the entire state with a small mention of our village as well.
As the representative was about to finish his impressive talk, me and my friends were fast walking towards the platform. But we had to stop as a young child beat us in the race to climb the stage. She went straight to the representative and displayed the injury she had sustained while walking on the village road. Can't you do something about the village road she said? Me and my friends had made a silent retreat. After another 6 months the tar road had been constructed.
Besides an article that encompassed the entire page of the daily describing a film star, there was a small section that read "A teacher makes difference to the village. For the first time two kids from that village had cracked a competitive exam held in our state.".
He was greeted with a lot of cheers. There was a small platform setup on which he and the village elder's were sitting. We had to scramble to bring the chairs at the last moment. All the villagers were sitting on the ground. Me and my friends were looking for an opportunity to talk to the representative.
The village elder was the first to speak. He gave a hearty welcome to the representative and made us aware of all the achievements of the representative. He then spoke about how our village had improved since the last year and finally spoke about the shortcomings of the village. He then asked the representative to address us. I was disappointed that the village elder had not spoken about the need for a playground. The representative spoke eloquently about all the initiatives he had taken in the entire state with a small mention of our village as well.
As the representative was about to finish his impressive talk, me and my friends were fast walking towards the platform. But we had to stop as a young child beat us in the race to climb the stage. She went straight to the representative and displayed the injury she had sustained while walking on the village road. Can't you do something about the village road she said? Me and my friends had made a silent retreat. After another 6 months the tar road had been constructed.
Besides an article that encompassed the entire page of the daily describing a film star, there was a small section that read "A teacher makes difference to the village. For the first time two kids from that village had cracked a competitive exam held in our state.".
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Flood.
The torrential rains had battered the village. The water level had steadily risen over the past few days and finally crossed the menacing limit. There was water everywhere. Everyone was trying to protect and recover whatever they could. Overall the mood was gloomy. People were depressed to see their entire year's toil going kaput. Our lives had been affected in more than one way.
They had been the best of friends since very long. Nobody in the village remembered the day they had become friends. Probably the two had forgotten the day as well. They had built their houses opposite to each other. Both were known to help the villagers in times of difficulties. People would ask for their advice in situations that required good reasoning. Both were respected a lot in the village. But that was before the last year.
It had started with a petty argument over their religion each one trying to prove how his religion was greater than the others. After a while the debate had become a minor altercation and finally it had come to blows. Timely intervention by some villagers had averted the situation. Since then they were at loggerheads. They were no longer on speaking terms. This fight had led to the beginning of a split among the village community as far as their advice was concerned. The village elders had been concerned about it. They had tried to fix a compromise but neither would budge.
The flood water was still rising. Suddenly there was a gush of water. A child was about to drown. Then one man without caring about anything had jumped in. He had caught hold of the child. For a moment there was a smile on everyone’s face after a long time. But the next moment there were tears. The man was losing his control. He would not hold for long. Then we saw another man jump into action and throw in support for the other man and the child.
People were smiling. The child was in shock. The two men were in tears and hugged each other. They were friends again. One had saved the others child and the other had provided the much needed support.
There was no longer any feeling of uneasiness in the village. It had once again become normal. But two questions had been imprinted on my mind. I have never successfully answered them.
1. Did the two friends fight because of the concept of religion? Or was it because of the basic instinct in the every living creature?
2. Did they risk their lives because of the qualities imbibed in them by their religion? Or was it because of their friendship?
PS: Dedicated to putting an end to communal violence.
They had been the best of friends since very long. Nobody in the village remembered the day they had become friends. Probably the two had forgotten the day as well. They had built their houses opposite to each other. Both were known to help the villagers in times of difficulties. People would ask for their advice in situations that required good reasoning. Both were respected a lot in the village. But that was before the last year.
It had started with a petty argument over their religion each one trying to prove how his religion was greater than the others. After a while the debate had become a minor altercation and finally it had come to blows. Timely intervention by some villagers had averted the situation. Since then they were at loggerheads. They were no longer on speaking terms. This fight had led to the beginning of a split among the village community as far as their advice was concerned. The village elders had been concerned about it. They had tried to fix a compromise but neither would budge.
The flood water was still rising. Suddenly there was a gush of water. A child was about to drown. Then one man without caring about anything had jumped in. He had caught hold of the child. For a moment there was a smile on everyone’s face after a long time. But the next moment there were tears. The man was losing his control. He would not hold for long. Then we saw another man jump into action and throw in support for the other man and the child.
People were smiling. The child was in shock. The two men were in tears and hugged each other. They were friends again. One had saved the others child and the other had provided the much needed support.
There was no longer any feeling of uneasiness in the village. It had once again become normal. But two questions had been imprinted on my mind. I have never successfully answered them.
1. Did the two friends fight because of the concept of religion? Or was it because of the basic instinct in the every living creature?
2. Did they risk their lives because of the qualities imbibed in them by their religion? Or was it because of their friendship?
PS: Dedicated to putting an end to communal violence.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Freedom.
We had been asked to complete an assignment. All we had to do was speak a few lines on a single question. "What is freedom?". But I could not think of any good answer. I entered the class room hoping I would somehow get a reprieve. But no sooner the class had begun I was the first to be asked to speak on the topic. I was silent. Freedom is ... those were the only two words that I could say.
Our teacher was the most respected in the entire school. It was his way of ensuring that the students do not study only for the purpose of it. He wanted each of his student to really understand what he was saying. He would never bring any book in the class nor ask us to open one. He would enter the class and start discussing the topic for the day. At the end of the class he would ask us to find at least one real world example on the same topic and speak a few lines.
Looking at my plight he smiled encouragingly and asked me to take my seat. The look on his face always comforted the other person. Although I was embarrassed I did not feel bad.
The discussion was now moving ahead. Our village was liberated from the clutch of the bandits said one. Building on the same another said our country gained freedom from the colonial powers. Yet another mentioned about the great revolutions that took place across the world. Some one pitched in about the world wars. But we were simply discussing about how freedom was attained. We were speaking about the events that led to the attainment of freedom. We were also talking about the cause of the events and about the great leaders involved. But the main question had remained unanswered. What is freedom? The answer was no where in sight. One student mentioned he had announced at his home that he could play at any time he wanted to as he was a free citizen much to our amusement. We were ready to do the same as well.
Our teacher was about to explain the meaning of freedom when one student hesitantly raised his hand to answer the question. He had been silent for a long time and had not contributed to the discussion at all. Our teacher always gave great importance to every students opinion. It did not matter if it was good or bad. He would always relate the students answer to the topic in one way or the other. It was his way to make the students feel wanted in the class.
Every one was silent. The boy was stuttering. Sir, I do not know if I had acted right or wrong but after your class yesterday I went home as fast as I could. We had a bird in our house and it was caged. I loved the bird very much. I waited until no one was around and then I opened the cage door and allowed it to fly. Our teacher was very happy. In an instance every one in the class knew what freedom was. It was such a simple and an elegant answer. Other students followed their leader's advice and freed the birds at their home. From that day we would not have any cages in our village.
I had met our leader on that day after 15 long years. He had dedicated his life to work for an organization that looked after the welfare of the special children.
Our teacher was the most respected in the entire school. It was his way of ensuring that the students do not study only for the purpose of it. He wanted each of his student to really understand what he was saying. He would never bring any book in the class nor ask us to open one. He would enter the class and start discussing the topic for the day. At the end of the class he would ask us to find at least one real world example on the same topic and speak a few lines.
Looking at my plight he smiled encouragingly and asked me to take my seat. The look on his face always comforted the other person. Although I was embarrassed I did not feel bad.
The discussion was now moving ahead. Our village was liberated from the clutch of the bandits said one. Building on the same another said our country gained freedom from the colonial powers. Yet another mentioned about the great revolutions that took place across the world. Some one pitched in about the world wars. But we were simply discussing about how freedom was attained. We were speaking about the events that led to the attainment of freedom. We were also talking about the cause of the events and about the great leaders involved. But the main question had remained unanswered. What is freedom? The answer was no where in sight. One student mentioned he had announced at his home that he could play at any time he wanted to as he was a free citizen much to our amusement. We were ready to do the same as well.
Our teacher was about to explain the meaning of freedom when one student hesitantly raised his hand to answer the question. He had been silent for a long time and had not contributed to the discussion at all. Our teacher always gave great importance to every students opinion. It did not matter if it was good or bad. He would always relate the students answer to the topic in one way or the other. It was his way to make the students feel wanted in the class.
Every one was silent. The boy was stuttering. Sir, I do not know if I had acted right or wrong but after your class yesterday I went home as fast as I could. We had a bird in our house and it was caged. I loved the bird very much. I waited until no one was around and then I opened the cage door and allowed it to fly. Our teacher was very happy. In an instance every one in the class knew what freedom was. It was such a simple and an elegant answer. Other students followed their leader's advice and freed the birds at their home. From that day we would not have any cages in our village.
I had met our leader on that day after 15 long years. He had dedicated his life to work for an organization that looked after the welfare of the special children.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Thief.
In the wee hours of that morning I happened to be a spectator at the emergency village meeting. The watchman had caught a man trying to steal an old cow from the cowshed maintained by the village elders. The man was pleading his innocence. The watch man asserted that he had caught the man red handed. The watch man was known to be a honest person. The thief was from another village but he too looked a decent human being. The village elders calmed every one and the proceedings began.
The loud knock on the door had woken me up. A man was yelling at the top of his voice. Thief! Thief!. I was quick to follow outside. I had imagined the thief to be a cruel looking person with scars over his face and looking cunning. But the man I saw looked destitute but very much like others in the village. I trusted the watch man fully. He had caught two notorious thieves in the village. There was no iota of doubt in my mind about what the watchmen had said. But the thief looked innocent as well although I had seen him for the first time.
The watchmen spoke first. He had been patrolling the area when he saw the man conspicuously roaming about the shed. He kept a close eye on the man. The man then entered the cowshed, untied the cow and was trying to steal it when he had pounced on the man and caught him red handed. There had been a struggle and the man had tried to flee. But he had not allowed that to happen although sustaining injuries. Open and shut case was his opinion.
The village elders once again had to stop an angry group from worsening the matter by attacking the thief. The thief was asked to put forth his case. Amidst protests he started by being grateful to the village elders for the chance he was given. He was also pleased with the village elders for
not abandoning his old cow. This did not seem like a thief talking. Now the people were listening carefully to what the man was saying.
The cow had helped him raise his family for a long time. Now it had become old. Three months earlier he had to sell the cow. He had been forced in this act as he did not have enough money to support himself. He had felt guilty that he was deserting the cow at the time when his support was much needed but there was nothing that he could do. A month ago he had seen the helper in the shed steal the fodder and sell it. He knew that his cow was not doing well and if nothing was done it would die soon. Last night he had been in the shed and promised the cow to get some fodder. He had bought a bundle of fodder by spending all his earnings for the day. His family would fast that day. He pleaded that he was merely taking the cow to feed it. He would then tie it back in the shed. He had tried to flee the scene as he was afraid nobody would believe him.
A man was sent to look for the bundle of the fodder. It was immediately found. Every one was stunned. I stood agape with wonder.
The man had been immediately appointed as the new custodian of the cowshed. The watchman and the custodian became very good friends. No animal in the cowshed would suffer anymore. The custodian moved in to live in our village with his family. He and his family had come a long way from days of hardships.
Today was the first sans the custodian. Everyone was mourning including the ones in the cowshed. I felt a sudden burst of emotion.
The loud knock on the door had woken me up. A man was yelling at the top of his voice. Thief! Thief!. I was quick to follow outside. I had imagined the thief to be a cruel looking person with scars over his face and looking cunning. But the man I saw looked destitute but very much like others in the village. I trusted the watch man fully. He had caught two notorious thieves in the village. There was no iota of doubt in my mind about what the watchmen had said. But the thief looked innocent as well although I had seen him for the first time.
The watchmen spoke first. He had been patrolling the area when he saw the man conspicuously roaming about the shed. He kept a close eye on the man. The man then entered the cowshed, untied the cow and was trying to steal it when he had pounced on the man and caught him red handed. There had been a struggle and the man had tried to flee. But he had not allowed that to happen although sustaining injuries. Open and shut case was his opinion.
The village elders once again had to stop an angry group from worsening the matter by attacking the thief. The thief was asked to put forth his case. Amidst protests he started by being grateful to the village elders for the chance he was given. He was also pleased with the village elders for
not abandoning his old cow. This did not seem like a thief talking. Now the people were listening carefully to what the man was saying.
The cow had helped him raise his family for a long time. Now it had become old. Three months earlier he had to sell the cow. He had been forced in this act as he did not have enough money to support himself. He had felt guilty that he was deserting the cow at the time when his support was much needed but there was nothing that he could do. A month ago he had seen the helper in the shed steal the fodder and sell it. He knew that his cow was not doing well and if nothing was done it would die soon. Last night he had been in the shed and promised the cow to get some fodder. He had bought a bundle of fodder by spending all his earnings for the day. His family would fast that day. He pleaded that he was merely taking the cow to feed it. He would then tie it back in the shed. He had tried to flee the scene as he was afraid nobody would believe him.
A man was sent to look for the bundle of the fodder. It was immediately found. Every one was stunned. I stood agape with wonder.
The man had been immediately appointed as the new custodian of the cowshed. The watchman and the custodian became very good friends. No animal in the cowshed would suffer anymore. The custodian moved in to live in our village with his family. He and his family had come a long way from days of hardships.
Today was the first sans the custodian. Everyone was mourning including the ones in the cowshed. I felt a sudden burst of emotion.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Jigsaw.
I was sifting through the news paper archives of our school library when I stumbled upon 23 pieces of paper. What were they doing here? The librarian is not doing a good job. I collected the pieces and was about to throw them in the dustbin when an unknown inkling forced me to take them to the reading table. I was trying to put the pieces together tediously. Looking at the first few ones I had put together, I was now frantically trying to crack the puzzle.
He was the son of our favorite school teacher and had come back to the village after 3 years. He was driving a luxurious car and had brought gifts to every one in the village. He had presented me with a beautiful toy which I loved very much. He had become the most successful person of the village.
He stayed in the village for a week. The day he was leaving he addressed all the villagers and told them about the hardships he had faced in the city and how he had overcome them. We were very much impressed with his talk. Every one admired him. We had found our new idol.
A week later our school teacher had suddenly expired. But he had died a peaceful death very happy that his son was doing well in life. However, his son did not arrive for the funeral. It had been three years since and he had still not visited the village. Over the time people had forgotten
about him and were busy with their everyday lives.
The pieces had finally been put in place. It had been the pieces of a single article which had been cut into 23 pieces. Now the events were starting to fit in chronologically. I had always wondered about the strange things that happened in the week after he had left. Sometimes I feel I should never have found those pieces or like so many others I should not have been able to solve this puzzle.
The day he had left the village I had seen a police man enter the house of the village elder. The police man wanted to search the house of our school teacher. Our school teacher was a respected man and had served the school and the village for 40 years. The police man was seeking the advise of the village elder as to how he should approach the matter. I overheard their vague talk. But it seemed to me that the village elder had convinced the police man that our school teacher was innocent. How dare the police man blame our teacher? The next day a dead body had been brought to our village. The school teacher had been asked to light the pyre saying he was a student who had died in an accident. The only television set in the village had been sent to the repair shop and there was no news paper in the village for a week. I had seen a bunch of news papers in the village elder's cupboard. The village elder lit the pyre of the school teacher without giving much time for his son to arrive.
The article read. ..., a notorious gangster had been killed in a police encounter not far from our village.... I couldn't say his name. May be that day he was trying to tell the villagers the right way to overcome all the hardships that come our way.
My respect for the village elder had increased immensely.
He was the son of our favorite school teacher and had come back to the village after 3 years. He was driving a luxurious car and had brought gifts to every one in the village. He had presented me with a beautiful toy which I loved very much. He had become the most successful person of the village.
He stayed in the village for a week. The day he was leaving he addressed all the villagers and told them about the hardships he had faced in the city and how he had overcome them. We were very much impressed with his talk. Every one admired him. We had found our new idol.
A week later our school teacher had suddenly expired. But he had died a peaceful death very happy that his son was doing well in life. However, his son did not arrive for the funeral. It had been three years since and he had still not visited the village. Over the time people had forgotten
about him and were busy with their everyday lives.
The pieces had finally been put in place. It had been the pieces of a single article which had been cut into 23 pieces. Now the events were starting to fit in chronologically. I had always wondered about the strange things that happened in the week after he had left. Sometimes I feel I should never have found those pieces or like so many others I should not have been able to solve this puzzle.
The day he had left the village I had seen a police man enter the house of the village elder. The police man wanted to search the house of our school teacher. Our school teacher was a respected man and had served the school and the village for 40 years. The police man was seeking the advise of the village elder as to how he should approach the matter. I overheard their vague talk. But it seemed to me that the village elder had convinced the police man that our school teacher was innocent. How dare the police man blame our teacher? The next day a dead body had been brought to our village. The school teacher had been asked to light the pyre saying he was a student who had died in an accident. The only television set in the village had been sent to the repair shop and there was no news paper in the village for a week. I had seen a bunch of news papers in the village elder's cupboard. The village elder lit the pyre of the school teacher without giving much time for his son to arrive.
The article read. ..., a notorious gangster had been killed in a police encounter not far from our village.... I couldn't say his name. May be that day he was trying to tell the villagers the right way to overcome all the hardships that come our way.
My respect for the village elder had increased immensely.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Outcast.
Get out of here you darn kids, he said giving us a nasty look. He must have been in his late fifties though he looked much older. How could he say that to us? But the rules had been set. He was an outcast. The villagers would not speak with him and he would not let any villager near his house.
But we did not care about the rules. We had to teach him a lesson or so we thought.
He was not a native of the village. It had been six years since he had arrived. But the rules were set from the very first day. Some said he was a dacoit others said he was a petty thief. Imagination ran wild in our village. One day he was a terrorist the next day he would be a mad scientist and the next he would become a dark magician. He was the reason for everything bad that happened in the village. He was the chart buster topic for gossip across the village.
It was late night and we had crept out of our beds. Four of us met by the side of the temple. We decided to throw some stones and break the window panes of his house. That should teach the old git a lesson. Ironically we were planning to take his house apart by the side of a temple. The only risk was what if he had a gun? He would be fast asleep at this hour. What if he was a real magician? But we did not think much about that as we did not have any answer.
In the bright moon light we crept silently towards his house. We were lucky not to be seen by a drunkard. We reached the gates of his house. Then through the barb wires we entered his garden. There were a lot of trees, flowers and vegetables that he had planted. It looked impressive. But we did not have time to admire its beauty. We were here on a mission. Why not uproot some of the plants? One suggested. Yes, we all agreed. Uproot some trees, then break the
window glasses and finally run to the temple became our mission objectives.
As we were about to uproot a tree we noticed something moving in the garden. Then it was louder. Oh! God we were doomed. It was a wild boar charging at us. All of us shouted in chorus for help. Then we saw the boar falter in its strand. Just an instance later we heard the first shot and then another three. The boar had fallen to the ground. The front door of the house opened and we saw the old man come out with a gun. Would he take a shot at us?
Are you alright? He inquired. What? We were looking at each others face unable to comprehend what he was saying. The first thought was he was awake and he had a gun. The second thought was what if he had not killed the boar? The third was who would save us now? Are you doing fine he demanded. We could only give him a mute consent. What were you doing here tonight? We were planning to uproot your trees and break your window panes. One of us said.
Why did you want to do that? You were not good to us this morning. Now we were ready to get shot. But he simply smiled.
The gun shots had pierced through the silent night. We could see a crowd heading toward us led by the village elder. The village elder looked angrily at us. We mutely pleaded for forgiveness. What were you up...? The village elder was about to shout at the old man when his eyes fell on
the wild boar. He was confused. What had happened? He demanded an answer from the old man. But the old man did not speak. The mob was getting angry. They wanted to punish the old man. Then four of us told them about the entire incident. There was a pin drop silence while we spoke. Overnight the old man had become a hero in the village. We were let off due to his request.
The old man lived the rest of his life in the village as a hero and not as an outcast. We used to visit him at least once a week and even on his death bed he was grateful of that fateful night. The village school is named after him.
But we did not care about the rules. We had to teach him a lesson or so we thought.
He was not a native of the village. It had been six years since he had arrived. But the rules were set from the very first day. Some said he was a dacoit others said he was a petty thief. Imagination ran wild in our village. One day he was a terrorist the next day he would be a mad scientist and the next he would become a dark magician. He was the reason for everything bad that happened in the village. He was the chart buster topic for gossip across the village.
It was late night and we had crept out of our beds. Four of us met by the side of the temple. We decided to throw some stones and break the window panes of his house. That should teach the old git a lesson. Ironically we were planning to take his house apart by the side of a temple. The only risk was what if he had a gun? He would be fast asleep at this hour. What if he was a real magician? But we did not think much about that as we did not have any answer.
In the bright moon light we crept silently towards his house. We were lucky not to be seen by a drunkard. We reached the gates of his house. Then through the barb wires we entered his garden. There were a lot of trees, flowers and vegetables that he had planted. It looked impressive. But we did not have time to admire its beauty. We were here on a mission. Why not uproot some of the plants? One suggested. Yes, we all agreed. Uproot some trees, then break the
window glasses and finally run to the temple became our mission objectives.
As we were about to uproot a tree we noticed something moving in the garden. Then it was louder. Oh! God we were doomed. It was a wild boar charging at us. All of us shouted in chorus for help. Then we saw the boar falter in its strand. Just an instance later we heard the first shot and then another three. The boar had fallen to the ground. The front door of the house opened and we saw the old man come out with a gun. Would he take a shot at us?
Are you alright? He inquired. What? We were looking at each others face unable to comprehend what he was saying. The first thought was he was awake and he had a gun. The second thought was what if he had not killed the boar? The third was who would save us now? Are you doing fine he demanded. We could only give him a mute consent. What were you doing here tonight? We were planning to uproot your trees and break your window panes. One of us said.
Why did you want to do that? You were not good to us this morning. Now we were ready to get shot. But he simply smiled.
The gun shots had pierced through the silent night. We could see a crowd heading toward us led by the village elder. The village elder looked angrily at us. We mutely pleaded for forgiveness. What were you up...? The village elder was about to shout at the old man when his eyes fell on
the wild boar. He was confused. What had happened? He demanded an answer from the old man. But the old man did not speak. The mob was getting angry. They wanted to punish the old man. Then four of us told them about the entire incident. There was a pin drop silence while we spoke. Overnight the old man had become a hero in the village. We were let off due to his request.
The old man lived the rest of his life in the village as a hero and not as an outcast. We used to visit him at least once a week and even on his death bed he was grateful of that fateful night. The village school is named after him.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
A Wish.
A hockey stick was smacked in my face. I was bleeding. The end of the blissful day was turning into a nightmare. While cleaning the wound I managed to touch something live and got an electric shock. Damn!. After settling down for a bit we had a wonderful dinner and were leaving for home. I had believed that the difficult part of the day was long gone.
We were visiting a family friend's house. It was great meeting them in person after about three years. The day went very well with elders getting to talk a lot about what had happened in the past three years while we kids were playing about and me visiting some more of my friends nearby. We were having a great time playing when accidentally I got hit with a hockey stick. It was a full blooded blow. I was bleeding and had a swollen chin. We headed towards the elders and then while cleaning the wound I could not remember what had happened but I felt the shock and then it was gone. I was recapping the day as it went by, thoughts running at a blistering pace.
The car was moving fast. I was enjoying the nice music. Some potholes on the road were distracting me a little bit. I was looking at the beautiful night sky wondering what lay beyond it. The dim orange street lights were adding to the beauty of the surroundings. I was also pleased to see our car go past several others. We then overtook a goods truck and finally there was no other vehicle ahead of us. That diverted my attention from the speed with which we were traveling. I now noticed that there were no street lights on this part of the road. I was waywardly thinking of several things when it happened.
There was a loud screeching noise. The car was behaving erratically. It was moving wayward. He could not control it. But fortunately we had reached an elevation. He braked hard again and finally the car came to a screeching halt. Those 10 seconds felt like eternity. The noise had disturbed the birds and I could hear the flap of their wings. We had not yet realised what had happened. We got out from the car and began investigating with the help of a torch light. Everything seemed normal but the car looked drastically tilted on one of its corners.
We headed towards that corner and were shocked. The wheel was gone. It had somehow got unbolted. We moved the torch light around the car and to our shock the car had stopped on the right edge of the road without a barricade. It was a mixed feeling. Afraid of the accident but happy that no major incident had taken place. But one thing we all knew was that it was a touch and go moment. We were lucky to be given a new life.
We were waiting there for around 10 minutes and then we saw the goods truck come by. It stopped, inquiring as to what had happened. The driver of the truck was dumbfounded. He was very happy that a greater force was acting on our behalf. He offered to take us to our house. There was no other option at night. We accepted the offer and climbed in. That was one of the happiest moment of my life. For years I had wished about being seated on the front seat of a goods carrying truck. The heavy vehicle intimidating all the others. A vehicle that could move in any way it liked and nobody could do anything about it. My first dream had always been to become a goods truck driver. Before getting down from the truck the driver offered me to hold
the steering wheel. I was grateful to him. I thanked him whole heatedly for the entire travel. The next morning we found the wheel of the car about 150 meters from the accident site. We were relieved to know that no one was hurt on its account.
I still have the nightmare of traveling in a car without a wheel. But then I always see the truck and once again fall asleep silently. Some wishes do get answered in strange ways.
We were visiting a family friend's house. It was great meeting them in person after about three years. The day went very well with elders getting to talk a lot about what had happened in the past three years while we kids were playing about and me visiting some more of my friends nearby. We were having a great time playing when accidentally I got hit with a hockey stick. It was a full blooded blow. I was bleeding and had a swollen chin. We headed towards the elders and then while cleaning the wound I could not remember what had happened but I felt the shock and then it was gone. I was recapping the day as it went by, thoughts running at a blistering pace.
The car was moving fast. I was enjoying the nice music. Some potholes on the road were distracting me a little bit. I was looking at the beautiful night sky wondering what lay beyond it. The dim orange street lights were adding to the beauty of the surroundings. I was also pleased to see our car go past several others. We then overtook a goods truck and finally there was no other vehicle ahead of us. That diverted my attention from the speed with which we were traveling. I now noticed that there were no street lights on this part of the road. I was waywardly thinking of several things when it happened.
There was a loud screeching noise. The car was behaving erratically. It was moving wayward. He could not control it. But fortunately we had reached an elevation. He braked hard again and finally the car came to a screeching halt. Those 10 seconds felt like eternity. The noise had disturbed the birds and I could hear the flap of their wings. We had not yet realised what had happened. We got out from the car and began investigating with the help of a torch light. Everything seemed normal but the car looked drastically tilted on one of its corners.
We headed towards that corner and were shocked. The wheel was gone. It had somehow got unbolted. We moved the torch light around the car and to our shock the car had stopped on the right edge of the road without a barricade. It was a mixed feeling. Afraid of the accident but happy that no major incident had taken place. But one thing we all knew was that it was a touch and go moment. We were lucky to be given a new life.
We were waiting there for around 10 minutes and then we saw the goods truck come by. It stopped, inquiring as to what had happened. The driver of the truck was dumbfounded. He was very happy that a greater force was acting on our behalf. He offered to take us to our house. There was no other option at night. We accepted the offer and climbed in. That was one of the happiest moment of my life. For years I had wished about being seated on the front seat of a goods carrying truck. The heavy vehicle intimidating all the others. A vehicle that could move in any way it liked and nobody could do anything about it. My first dream had always been to become a goods truck driver. Before getting down from the truck the driver offered me to hold
the steering wheel. I was grateful to him. I thanked him whole heatedly for the entire travel. The next morning we found the wheel of the car about 150 meters from the accident site. We were relieved to know that no one was hurt on its account.
I still have the nightmare of traveling in a car without a wheel. But then I always see the truck and once again fall asleep silently. Some wishes do get answered in strange ways.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Eerie house.
The doctor had left giving his grim verdict. Bhoo, our pet dog would not live for more than a week. Bhoo looked very tired hardly moving around even for food. I decided to take him for a stroll a last time. I gave him a call and reluctantly he staggered up on his feet ready to come with me. We had made thousands of such trips but this one might be the last. I was cold. I was not willing to come to terms with it.
Together we were once again walking on one of the same paths we had trodden for several years. But today we were slow. It seemed like he was looking at everything in his path very carefully perhaps bidding a final farewell. No he was tired and unable to move fast. And then we were following a trail where I had never taken him back lest the fear of losing him. But we continued. May be it would end at the same place it began.
Every village has a haunted house. There was one such on the outskirts of our village. The elders had found an innovative way to keep the young off the limits. Nobody would dare to go near the house. Every body would be back home before twilight.
It was twilight and I was lost, still searching my way home. I had no clue where I was heading towards and then to my horror I reached the very gates of the haunted house which I had feared more than anything else. It's towering presence having strange effects on me. Oh the
ghost must have seen me and would take me away. I did not know what to do. Do I run? Where do I run? But I could only find myself standing still with my eyes closed in the hope that the ghost would not see me. And then I heard a strange sound. Why was the ghost barking in such a
soft and a faint voice? Very slowly I opened my eyes knowing that I would be far off in the town of ghosts. But to my surprise I was still at the same place. I checked around and there was nobody besides me. I could still hear the faint sound. Without much thought I was heading in that direction opening the gates of the house. There in between two huge stones I saw Bhoo as a puppy. There was no one with him. He was lost in the same way I was. I went near him
and offered him a biscuit. He ate it in a flash. He must have been hungry. I offered him some more. Fear once again grappled me. It was not easy to shrug off the presence of the house and I was in its grip now. I started running away from the house with Bhoo following me.
Then he had taken the lead and I was following him. Finally we had made it out. This was 11 years ago.
I was staring at the same house again. This time my fear had increased ten fold. No the reason was not the haunted house. It was the fear of losing Bhoo. I wondered if Bhoo would have remembered about the incident and then in a flash he ran towards the two stones now a bit eroded, jumped up upon them and looked straight into my eyes. He was barking softly. But this time I did not have anything to offer to him. I was the one who had forgotten about the incident. From that day there was a sudden change in him. The week passed by. I did count the last minutes of the doctor's curse to go by.
Bhoo would live for another three and half years. We would visit the haunted house everyday. The new elders of the village would get irritated with me for a few days and would have to find a new way to keep the kids in control.
Together we were once again walking on one of the same paths we had trodden for several years. But today we were slow. It seemed like he was looking at everything in his path very carefully perhaps bidding a final farewell. No he was tired and unable to move fast. And then we were following a trail where I had never taken him back lest the fear of losing him. But we continued. May be it would end at the same place it began.
Every village has a haunted house. There was one such on the outskirts of our village. The elders had found an innovative way to keep the young off the limits. Nobody would dare to go near the house. Every body would be back home before twilight.
It was twilight and I was lost, still searching my way home. I had no clue where I was heading towards and then to my horror I reached the very gates of the haunted house which I had feared more than anything else. It's towering presence having strange effects on me. Oh the
ghost must have seen me and would take me away. I did not know what to do. Do I run? Where do I run? But I could only find myself standing still with my eyes closed in the hope that the ghost would not see me. And then I heard a strange sound. Why was the ghost barking in such a
soft and a faint voice? Very slowly I opened my eyes knowing that I would be far off in the town of ghosts. But to my surprise I was still at the same place. I checked around and there was nobody besides me. I could still hear the faint sound. Without much thought I was heading in that direction opening the gates of the house. There in between two huge stones I saw Bhoo as a puppy. There was no one with him. He was lost in the same way I was. I went near him
and offered him a biscuit. He ate it in a flash. He must have been hungry. I offered him some more. Fear once again grappled me. It was not easy to shrug off the presence of the house and I was in its grip now. I started running away from the house with Bhoo following me.
Then he had taken the lead and I was following him. Finally we had made it out. This was 11 years ago.
I was staring at the same house again. This time my fear had increased ten fold. No the reason was not the haunted house. It was the fear of losing Bhoo. I wondered if Bhoo would have remembered about the incident and then in a flash he ran towards the two stones now a bit eroded, jumped up upon them and looked straight into my eyes. He was barking softly. But this time I did not have anything to offer to him. I was the one who had forgotten about the incident. From that day there was a sudden change in him. The week passed by. I did count the last minutes of the doctor's curse to go by.
Bhoo would live for another three and half years. We would visit the haunted house everyday. The new elders of the village would get irritated with me for a few days and would have to find a new way to keep the kids in control.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Mirror Mirror.
Every child craves for summer holidays. You don't have to wake up early, go to school and listen attentively to a teacher. No detentions and no disappointments for short recess times. No home work and only play is our motto. I would learn more than that during that fateful summer.
It was well past noon. I was eagerly waiting for the ice cream man and a little annoyed that he was late. But no sooner did I hear him come I was sprinting towards him. I paid him quarter of a rupee and bought my favorite one. As the ice cream man was leaving on his bicycle, I noticed
a quarter drop from his pocket. It was a big decision to make. Tell the ice cream man about the quarter or keep the quarter for another ice cream the next day. The later got better of me. The ice cream man would never hear my voice I thought. I looked around but there was no one to see me. I quickly pocketed the quarter.
I was looking at the mirror. For the first time throughout the day there was a question. What had I done? The ice cream man would surely have heard my voice. No he would not have. Yes he would have. Yes he would have. You were not honest. Honesty is the best policy is what all had said and yet I chose to proceed on the opposite path. And now something was pricking me. Ice cream man must be searching for his lost quarter and I am responsible for all his troubles. I was worried. During the course of the dinner I was very quiet.
At such times somehow you know that your grand parents are much more experienced in handling such matters. You can put your trust in them. Fear works strange things. I decided to confide in my grand mother about the matter. For a moment after my confession every thing was quiet. I did not know how she would react. Would she tell every one about it? Would she punish me? What would I have to do? Too many questions. But she always had unexpected
answers.
I was waiting for the ice cream man to come. What if he never arrived? Did he know I had stolen the quarter he had dropped? Would he call the police? Would I have to go to a jail? There were too many doubts in my mind when I heard him come. What ice cream would you like today? He asked smiling at me. I kept quiet. He asked again this time looking concerned. I handed him the quarter, apologized to him and immediately ran away into the house. I did not wait to hear what he was saying. I was embarrassed.
After a while I came out into the living room. The ice cream man was still sitting there. He must have told my family as to what had happened. But unlike other times all seemed well. Every one in the room was smiling. The ice cream man offered another ice cream which I accepted after getting a mute consent from all in the room. Then he left. Nobody spoke to me about that incident. They knew I had learnt my lesson.
I still have the mirror in my house.
It was well past noon. I was eagerly waiting for the ice cream man and a little annoyed that he was late. But no sooner did I hear him come I was sprinting towards him. I paid him quarter of a rupee and bought my favorite one. As the ice cream man was leaving on his bicycle, I noticed
a quarter drop from his pocket. It was a big decision to make. Tell the ice cream man about the quarter or keep the quarter for another ice cream the next day. The later got better of me. The ice cream man would never hear my voice I thought. I looked around but there was no one to see me. I quickly pocketed the quarter.
I was looking at the mirror. For the first time throughout the day there was a question. What had I done? The ice cream man would surely have heard my voice. No he would not have. Yes he would have. Yes he would have. You were not honest. Honesty is the best policy is what all had said and yet I chose to proceed on the opposite path. And now something was pricking me. Ice cream man must be searching for his lost quarter and I am responsible for all his troubles. I was worried. During the course of the dinner I was very quiet.
At such times somehow you know that your grand parents are much more experienced in handling such matters. You can put your trust in them. Fear works strange things. I decided to confide in my grand mother about the matter. For a moment after my confession every thing was quiet. I did not know how she would react. Would she tell every one about it? Would she punish me? What would I have to do? Too many questions. But she always had unexpected
answers.
I was waiting for the ice cream man to come. What if he never arrived? Did he know I had stolen the quarter he had dropped? Would he call the police? Would I have to go to a jail? There were too many doubts in my mind when I heard him come. What ice cream would you like today? He asked smiling at me. I kept quiet. He asked again this time looking concerned. I handed him the quarter, apologized to him and immediately ran away into the house. I did not wait to hear what he was saying. I was embarrassed.
After a while I came out into the living room. The ice cream man was still sitting there. He must have told my family as to what had happened. But unlike other times all seemed well. Every one in the room was smiling. The ice cream man offered another ice cream which I accepted after getting a mute consent from all in the room. Then he left. Nobody spoke to me about that incident. They knew I had learnt my lesson.
I still have the mirror in my house.
Friday, September 19, 2008
A Talking Tree
It was well past mid night but he was awake thinking about his ever blink future. He had worked hard but age had caught up with him. He could no longer earn his daily bread. There was no food tonight but he had got used to it. As he looked out of the window in the faint moon light he could
see the leaves of the mango tree sway about. Strange, he thought. The other trees were calm and standing still. Then a rustle. Who could it be at this hour?
He lit a lamp and hurried outside. It must be some one from the village trying to play a trick on me. But he could not see a thing for miles apart. May be its the age that was playing the trick. Just as he was about to go inside he heard the rustle again. Who is it he demanded? But there was no answer. He walked in the direction of the sound straight to the Mango tree.
It was the same tree he had planted along with his father when he was a child. He had taken good care of it providing water, manure and protecting it from the domestic animals. He remembered the times when he used to talk to the tree and sing to it. He would stand in the shade of the tree after he was tired playing for hours in the hot burning sun. In his childhood he had been the parent of the tree. Over the years as time passed by he was working hard to earn his living. The tree had out grown him and was now self sufficient. Not self sufficient in all respects. He had manged to convince people not to cut down the tree that they perceived as useless. In times of happiness or sadness he had always found a faithful friend in the tree. Even yesterday he had talked to the tree about how difficult his life had turned out.
He was walking around the tree when a glitter startled him. Besides the big root of the tree, mud had slid and there beneath was lying a pot with gold coins. There was the swaying of the leaves once more. He was full of tears. He had spoken to the tree so many times. Telling it everything
about his life. Both sad and happy moments. Happy moments were hard to come by. He had always wished that the tree would talk back to him. But that had never happened. Not even when the tree could not bear a fruit or when people were about to cut it. He had often wondered whether the tree could understand what he was saying. But now he knew that the tree had finally answered him. He thought how self centered he was only talking about his life with the tree and never trying patiently to hear what the tree wanted to say. He was sobbing.
He was now doing well if not great. There were short-lived rumors about how he had become well to do. But they were soon forgotten due to the good work he was carrying out in the village. That summer the tree bore fruit for the first time.
see the leaves of the mango tree sway about. Strange, he thought. The other trees were calm and standing still. Then a rustle. Who could it be at this hour?
He lit a lamp and hurried outside. It must be some one from the village trying to play a trick on me. But he could not see a thing for miles apart. May be its the age that was playing the trick. Just as he was about to go inside he heard the rustle again. Who is it he demanded? But there was no answer. He walked in the direction of the sound straight to the Mango tree.
It was the same tree he had planted along with his father when he was a child. He had taken good care of it providing water, manure and protecting it from the domestic animals. He remembered the times when he used to talk to the tree and sing to it. He would stand in the shade of the tree after he was tired playing for hours in the hot burning sun. In his childhood he had been the parent of the tree. Over the years as time passed by he was working hard to earn his living. The tree had out grown him and was now self sufficient. Not self sufficient in all respects. He had manged to convince people not to cut down the tree that they perceived as useless. In times of happiness or sadness he had always found a faithful friend in the tree. Even yesterday he had talked to the tree about how difficult his life had turned out.
He was walking around the tree when a glitter startled him. Besides the big root of the tree, mud had slid and there beneath was lying a pot with gold coins. There was the swaying of the leaves once more. He was full of tears. He had spoken to the tree so many times. Telling it everything
about his life. Both sad and happy moments. Happy moments were hard to come by. He had always wished that the tree would talk back to him. But that had never happened. Not even when the tree could not bear a fruit or when people were about to cut it. He had often wondered whether the tree could understand what he was saying. But now he knew that the tree had finally answered him. He thought how self centered he was only talking about his life with the tree and never trying patiently to hear what the tree wanted to say. He was sobbing.
He was now doing well if not great. There were short-lived rumors about how he had become well to do. But they were soon forgotten due to the good work he was carrying out in the village. That summer the tree bore fruit for the first time.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
The comet.
This was no Sozin's comet. It was just another one that happened to be visiting after 20 years. But it would be the first one I would actually see. I was excited about it and was running about the neighborhood telling every one about the arrival of a comet. Adults did not seem to be much interested and the kids had never seen one. I was 8 years old then.
The much awaited night did arrive albeit slowly. But it brought with itself a beautiful snowy object with a head and a long tail. Over the years I was getting bored to look at the same seemingly stationary spherical objects in the sky. So it was a welcome change. But after a while I was disappointed. The comet did not show any signs of movement. I had been expecting it to move around in the sky and it was not doing a thing. Few old folks were talking of some imminent disaster which caught on my attention and instilled fear in me.
The next morning our pet was nowhere to be found. Oh! The comet I thought. In the process of trying to search it I reached late to school.Oh! That comet? I was punished and was asked to write about not being late a 50 times. That silly comet. The next class started and I was again punished for distracting the class with the story of our missing pet and the comet. Oh that damn comet. Although the rest of the day went by without much ado, by the end of the last class for the day I was convinced that the comet was the reason for all the bad things happening to me and that the imminent disaster would soon happen. My idea of a disaster was getting punished everyday, no games and no ice creams. I was worried.
I reached home after school and to my surprise found our pet sleeping calmly. I did check that it was alive with a brave heart. Then my parents told me how lucky we were that we had found it. But I would still not forgive the comet. In the evening my teacher visited my house asking why I was behaving erratically in the class. Once he came to know about the missing pet and how much I liked it he apologized and vowed not to punish me again. But I did not hear his disclaimers. Now how many teachers would do that? But those were the yester year teachers in our small village who cared about each of their student. The teacher had also brought my grades and I had stood first in my class.
I feasted on a big ice cream and by the time I had finished eating it I was once again staring at the odd object in the sky admiring its beauty and the luck that it had brought me that day. For the next few days I would be switching my opinion about the comet almost everyday until I was sad to see it disappear one day. It was as if I had lost a friend who was playing a part in my daily life. My parents consoled me saying it would return the next year and for about a month I did count the number of days left for my friend to return.
Those were the young days.
The much awaited night did arrive albeit slowly. But it brought with itself a beautiful snowy object with a head and a long tail. Over the years I was getting bored to look at the same seemingly stationary spherical objects in the sky. So it was a welcome change. But after a while I was disappointed. The comet did not show any signs of movement. I had been expecting it to move around in the sky and it was not doing a thing. Few old folks were talking of some imminent disaster which caught on my attention and instilled fear in me.
The next morning our pet was nowhere to be found. Oh! The comet I thought. In the process of trying to search it I reached late to school.Oh! That comet? I was punished and was asked to write about not being late a 50 times. That silly comet. The next class started and I was again punished for distracting the class with the story of our missing pet and the comet. Oh that damn comet. Although the rest of the day went by without much ado, by the end of the last class for the day I was convinced that the comet was the reason for all the bad things happening to me and that the imminent disaster would soon happen. My idea of a disaster was getting punished everyday, no games and no ice creams. I was worried.
I reached home after school and to my surprise found our pet sleeping calmly. I did check that it was alive with a brave heart. Then my parents told me how lucky we were that we had found it. But I would still not forgive the comet. In the evening my teacher visited my house asking why I was behaving erratically in the class. Once he came to know about the missing pet and how much I liked it he apologized and vowed not to punish me again. But I did not hear his disclaimers. Now how many teachers would do that? But those were the yester year teachers in our small village who cared about each of their student. The teacher had also brought my grades and I had stood first in my class.
I feasted on a big ice cream and by the time I had finished eating it I was once again staring at the odd object in the sky admiring its beauty and the luck that it had brought me that day. For the next few days I would be switching my opinion about the comet almost everyday until I was sad to see it disappear one day. It was as if I had lost a friend who was playing a part in my daily life. My parents consoled me saying it would return the next year and for about a month I did count the number of days left for my friend to return.
Those were the young days.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Black and White
Five of us, trying to catch the evasive sight of the other amidst a sea of traffic and pedestrians. Me, one in a black van, one in a white van, one dead and one starting a new life. And a silent conversation that continues to give me the goose bumps to this day.
It had been a wonderful day and while the sun was going down the horizon, we packed our bags to leave the town. I was sitting in the open cargo area of a pick up van. The van was moving in a sluggish manner due to congested traffic. And then it stopped. I never bothered about what had happened as my eyes fell on two vehicles behind us. One towards our left and the other to the right. One a black van and the other a white.
How black came to be associated with something bad I would not know then. Yes, the black one was a hearse van and the decorated white one would be carrying a happy family is what I instantly realized.
I casually peeked into the white van and saw a middle-aged man sitting on the front seat. He smiled. He looked content and a happy man. But no big fuss about the wonderful occasion in the family. Out of the corner of my eye I dared to look inside the black van and saw another middle-aged man full of distress. Tears rolling down his eyes shinning under the bright street lights. He recognized my presence with watery eyes and I gave a nod perhaps trying to be a part of his distraught moment. And then the two men looked at each other. One trying to console the other and the other rubbing of his tears to give a half-hearted yet a completely honest smile to the other. Its great to see how human beings console and accept the other in such times while at other times they just cannot stand each other.
And then I looked up on the black van. A silhouette, I assumed to be of the person who had left the family prematurely. Happy to part away from the material world but sad to leave the family. The man looking at the silhouette and praying with the last gasp of hope to see the dead return. The other man looking at the silhouette but oblivious to the fact that it is the dead person.
Out of curiosity I looked up on the white van. Another figure happy to start a new life. The man looking at the figure and perhaps praying not to leave him till his end. And then I saw a tear in his eyes. The other man looking at this figure and wondering what was it was doing. And then the two outlines looking to each other. I would never know what they said to each other.
And then our vehicle started and slowly the others diminished in presence and I came to my senses. It has been seven years since the incident happened. But it still haunts me in a way.
Did the two men know each other?
Who had died?
Was it his wife or child or a parent?
Under what circumstance had the person died and what would be the impact on the ones left behind?
Why was the other man praying?
Why was there a tear in his eyes?
What was the other figure?
What did the two silhouette's say to each other?
More than anything else I still wonder why would I have to be a part of it?
It had been a wonderful day and while the sun was going down the horizon, we packed our bags to leave the town. I was sitting in the open cargo area of a pick up van. The van was moving in a sluggish manner due to congested traffic. And then it stopped. I never bothered about what had happened as my eyes fell on two vehicles behind us. One towards our left and the other to the right. One a black van and the other a white.
How black came to be associated with something bad I would not know then. Yes, the black one was a hearse van and the decorated white one would be carrying a happy family is what I instantly realized.
I casually peeked into the white van and saw a middle-aged man sitting on the front seat. He smiled. He looked content and a happy man. But no big fuss about the wonderful occasion in the family. Out of the corner of my eye I dared to look inside the black van and saw another middle-aged man full of distress. Tears rolling down his eyes shinning under the bright street lights. He recognized my presence with watery eyes and I gave a nod perhaps trying to be a part of his distraught moment. And then the two men looked at each other. One trying to console the other and the other rubbing of his tears to give a half-hearted yet a completely honest smile to the other. Its great to see how human beings console and accept the other in such times while at other times they just cannot stand each other.
And then I looked up on the black van. A silhouette, I assumed to be of the person who had left the family prematurely. Happy to part away from the material world but sad to leave the family. The man looking at the silhouette and praying with the last gasp of hope to see the dead return. The other man looking at the silhouette but oblivious to the fact that it is the dead person.
Out of curiosity I looked up on the white van. Another figure happy to start a new life. The man looking at the figure and perhaps praying not to leave him till his end. And then I saw a tear in his eyes. The other man looking at this figure and wondering what was it was doing. And then the two outlines looking to each other. I would never know what they said to each other.
And then our vehicle started and slowly the others diminished in presence and I came to my senses. It has been seven years since the incident happened. But it still haunts me in a way.
Did the two men know each other?
Who had died?
Was it his wife or child or a parent?
Under what circumstance had the person died and what would be the impact on the ones left behind?
Why was the other man praying?
Why was there a tear in his eyes?
What was the other figure?
What did the two silhouette's say to each other?
More than anything else I still wonder why would I have to be a part of it?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
United we stand during this grave hour of Operation BAD
Operation BAD, an extravagant name given to the series of blasts that have rocked India in the recent months. Reality is India seems to have become the punching bag used by the terrorists to hone their skills, improve their confidence and convince the venture capitalists funding terrorism that they still have the fire power in them. This is a story of the events that happened during one such blast that rocked the capital of the country.
Let us now go back in time. (If only we could actually go back and avert the tragedy)
13 September 2008 6:02 PM, 5 minutes before the blasts:
Time will come when the reason for the blasts will be fully analyzed to the minute details. The only thing is now is not the right time.
15 September 2008 This time we have not forgotten the blasts :
United we stand.
[PS: This story is my inference of what happens after a blast occurs. It is based on the news that I look at and the articles that I read.]
Let us now go back in time. (If only we could actually go back and avert the tragedy)
13 September 2008 6:02 PM, 5 minutes before the blasts:
- The central government is basking in the glory of the nuclear deal.
- The central opposition parties are still crying foul over the manner in which the nuclear deal was signed.
- The state government is preparing for the week end and are happy that not many issues were raised by the opposition.
- The state opposition are happy that they have shown the people that they are still in the equation.
- The news agencies are busy looking at Bollywood releases, fashion events, sports. Some are studying the stock market and Singur issues.
- Security agencies and police are happy that the Ahemdabad case is nailed down. Good work indeed. Some of them are still on alert but with no good leads.
- People accompanied with children have gone to malls and markets. While others are gearing up for the Saturday matinee film, soap's and news. Some children have just returned home after playing.
- Most astrologers and numerologists are predicting a good future for India while others are predicting the end of the world.
- Overall India has moved over the tumultuous period in the recent months.
- There is a gloom in the air. Mother nature seems to know that something bad is going to happen.
- There are still some seconds to go. But the warning is too late.
- The chain of events has been perfectly set. It is now inevitable.
- A 11 year boy has seen something suspicious. But his age cannot fathom the difference between demons in the form of humans and humans.
- The clock will now strike 6:07 PM.
- The first blast occurs.
- People are killed, injured. It looks like chaos might take over.
- But the remaining majority jumps in to calm the situation down and help take the injured to the hospitals.
- Police present at the site also jump in and maintain order.
- It is amazing to see how a set of unrelated people come together as a team and alleviate the situation.
- Other actors in the story are still unaware as to what has happened.
- Some people who have been looking at the scene from far away rush in to help.
- Medics and more police arrive and start helping.
- News agencies are still confused about the cause of the blast.
- People switch to the news channels and are shocked to see the terrible scenes. How could some one do this to innocent people?
- Reports are now sent to the state / central government / opposition parties.
- Investigation agencies / police now take up the task of finding the culprits. Its more difficult after the incident has happened as it has already given others a chance to put an easy remark of irresponsibility on the concerned departments.
- Few intelligent people of the government / opposition appeal for the calm and unity.
- Although divisions start erupting across the country, people present at the blast site set up an exemplary performance. It is this unity that has saved the situation.
- Police manage to diffuse bombs there by avoiding more tragedy.
- It starts with an astrologer claiming that the planetary positions always showed that India was in grave danger.
- A numerologist claims that he had suggested to the government that the name India should be changed to Indea.
- The state chief minister, prime minister and the president open up an age old speech to condemn the attacks like a chore job.
- The home minister and the defense minister impromptu blame some organization and the international help given to them.
- Other ministers of the center blame the state government for not being in a state of alert.
- The opposition party now starts screaming at the state and central government for security lapse.
- The opposition party leader comments that the prime minister is a failure.
- News channels claim that the blast situation was not handled correctly.
- Security agencies are now trying to plug in the holes. This must be done.
- Operation name is suggested as BAD and not JBAD. We have completely forgotten about Jaipur blasts.
- Reporters are now harassing the injured with ill thought questions. The typical "How does it feel...".
- Some people want to punish the entire community to which the terrorists belong.
- Why o Why does this has happen for every crisis situation?
- Why do our security agencies never receive an email long before the blasts occur?
- Why is there no unity between all the political parties at this critical juncture?
- Is this the right time to fight and play blame games?
- Why is no stern action being taken by the prime minister instead of shallow excuses and promises?
- Why do the reporters harass people?
- Why do news channels talk more about the terrorist master minds to eulogize them and not even mention the great work people and police put together on the blast site? Why not give them a courage awards?
- How do the majority of Indian public remain indifferent to the killing of the innocent people? What if someone from their family becomes a victim?
- How do we forget about the blasts in just few days?
Time will come when the reason for the blasts will be fully analyzed to the minute details. The only thing is now is not the right time.
15 September 2008 This time we have not forgotten the blasts :
United we stand.
[PS: This story is my inference of what happens after a blast occurs. It is based on the news that I look at and the articles that I read.]
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