Smoke

Cold feet, Goosebumps all over and a thin veil of smoke around me. These were the least of my worries… more important was the dread - icy cold, lead heavy dread that slowly wraps itself around my heart. Its tentacle like fingers advanced when I was absorbed elsewhere and when they had the whole pulsating thing in their grip, they gave it such a major squeeze, I never recovered from it. That cold dread had become a part of my days and the evenings and the nights. I waited for the inevitable, because I knew it was coming. Even on days when it did not come, there was no respite. It was not an end, a mere break. What solace was to be derived from the postponement of misery? Especially when you know the misery will be back the next day, stronger and more forceful. The first time he struck me, I cried for hours on end. My eyes were red and puffy the whole day afterward and I pretended conjunctivitis at work. The dark glasses hid my eyes, the pain, the hurt, the sadness in them. What they could not hide was the strain in my voice. So I spoke little – very little. Those who cared did not get to hear my voice and those who heard it did not care. I hid behind a self created smoke screen, telling myself that there will be flowers and an apology waiting for me when I get back home. I’ll be angry for a while, but give in when he professes his undying love and devotion to me.

Today, I laugh at my naivety, my optimism and my inane belief in the goodness of mankind – especially of mankind. But there’s no way I could’ve known. I was young, not worldly wise enough and ridiculously woven into ideas of romanticism. Blame a protected childhood and hordes of Mills & Boons for that. What waited for me back at home was an evil shadow monster armed with a leather belt and spiked buckle. The welts on my back stung for years – they never healed. Every evening, he’d rip open the partly healed flesh, drawing fresh beads of dark crimson blood. He stopped wearing that belt after 2 days – it stank of blood and sweat soaked leather. He hung that belt proudly in his almirah and soon his clothes began to emit that smell too. No matter how much of Brut or Axe he showered upon himself, he was always enveloped in the perfume of stale blood and rotting, decaying leather.

The beatings wore him out usually and he downed 2 cans of pepsi after them. Ironically, he was a teetotaler and a non smoker. He was a well educated, highly placed professional in a reputed MNC that I had chosen as my life partner, almost against my parents’ wishes. “No vices” was the phrase I’d used to describe him to mum. No vices indeed. He didn’t need a plural. He had but one vice – to flag his wife everyday. But that took over everything else, a thousand times over. Husbands who smoke, drink or cheat on their wives can still be forgiven. But those who derive their satanic pleasures from seeing blood dripping across their wives’ flesh are not meant to be forgiven.

It was a matter of weeks in which I began to hate everything he did, everything he touched. I would shudder every time he stood close to me. The involuntary shiver of disgust was perceived as fear and his satisfaction bolstered his confidence, fanning the flame of monstrosity. Every belief he upheld in public began to seem like a façade, every word he uttered was laced in treachery. The very language he spoke seemed repulsive. That’s when I switched to Hindi. The first time we had met, he spoke to me in English and we had continued with the language even though both of us came from primarily Hindi speaking families. My switch from English to Hindi seemed to infuriate him and he was more brutal the evening I refused to answer him in the Queen’s language. He saw my action as a taunt and a vertebra bore the brunt. That evening I ended with a broken rib. I moved through my agony, as if nothing had happened. I knew he could batter my body, but would not break it. He was careful to land his blows where the world could not see them. After all, he had a reputation to protect. And since I had most nearly walked out on my family when they opposed our marriage, returning to them was out of question. I called it a quirk of fate, this suffering I had to suffer.

I vividly remember the day he was promoted. His friends demanded a party and he promptly threw them one. He arranged for everything himself – the food, the décor and the booze. I was informed an hour before the first guest arrived. I had to rush home from work and be ready to entertain his elite visitors. I was expected to be the perfect trophy wife – reveling in her husband’s new found success. That evening I saw his old self again, the one that had charmed me. He was an embodiment of charm - his words, his actions, his glances; his touches were all just perfect. He was the perfect doting husband. But the rose tinted glasses had been ripped away from my eyes long ago. I could see the knuckled fist when he had to be polite, the flared nostril when he uttered an endearment. I could feel the pressure on my arm when he held it. His hands were itching for his belt – his ever faithful belt, hanging in his almirah and waiting for his loving caress just before it scorched my skin. After the party was over, I received a verbal lashing for not being the perfect wife, for not displaying enough affection. While one part of me covered in fright, the other spat out in disgust. How could this man expect me to partake in his gross scheme after what he did to me, was still doing to me? He gave me a look, shook his head and disappeared inside. I waited for him to come out but he did not. I was frozen to the spot and dared not move. In the two hours I spent there, I passed through every emotion from self pity to disgust to intense hatred for the man whose snores now reached my ears. When I did get up, my hand brushed a bottle and it rolled on the ground. I leapt to pick it up. My hand clamped over it and the noise stopped. I waited for the sound emanating from the bedroom. The sound of his rhythmatic breathing, his snoring, a ruffle of sheets. There was none. None of these. The sound that greeted me was the soft creek of his almirah followed by muffled footsteps as he crossed the carpeted floor. I was frozen for the second time. The footsteps stopped. I knew he was standing right behind me. I could sense him and smell his belt. I closed my eyes, bracing for it to come crashing down on my back. It didn’t. Instead, he ordered me to pick up the bottle and stand. I did. He turned me around harshly and took the bottle in his had. It was a bluish tinged bottle with a clear liquid in it. The label said Bacardi. He read it and smirked. “Bacardi Nights” he said and thrust the bottle back in my hands. “Drink”, he whispered with a devilish glint in his eye. I looked up at him, slightly confused, unsure whether I heard his command correctly. “Drink” he said once more. I raised the bottle to my lips and brought it down, merely wetting my lips. Infuriated, he grabbed the bottle with one hand and my jaw with the other. Forcing my mouth open, he poured the rum into my mouth. I tried hard to not swallow it, allowing it to fill my mouth and fall to the sides. He kept pouring. I kept resisting. Finally, he left my mouth and punched my stomach. I gulped and the liquid burned through my insides like an acid. The horrible taste made me want to throw up, but the alcohol went straight to my head. Within a minute, I felt braver. I knew he would beat me and that I couldn’t do anything about it, but the fear had flown. The blows had started and I was not even aware of it. I felt something tickle my side and laughed. He, who was jabbing his finger at sides, was maddened. I don’t recall much after that, except for the fact that I woke up the next day with a headache. I had long since stopped noticing the pain in the other parts of the body. I knew I could not live with the awareness of that pain every moment. If every breath served as a reminder of the horrors of my life, I would die. And like each organism on this planet, the will to just be alive kept me going. I still do not know the reason I did not wither and break then. That would have been easier perhaps than to endure what I did.

Alcohol became my aide after that evening. I would already be high before he returned home from work and his beating would be a lot less painful. The mornings that followed were much worse, but I was willing to pay the price. I discovered the cigarette soon after, realizing it allowed me to get through the day. Dependant that I was on booze, I never took it before evening. I knew its role in my life, and was determined to keep it that way. There were only so many things about my life that I could control, I wasn’t about to relinquish that. In the evenings, I would often smoke before I drank. Holding the cigarette in my left hand, its unburnt end touching the side of my engagement ring. It looked out of place in my long shapely fingers, adorned by the wedding ring but felt just right. It felt as if it belonged. For him, flogging me had become a routine, something he did out of habit – like brushing his teeth or shaving his overnight stubble. But try as I might, I could not look at this as a routine. Perhaps it was this one thing that kept me sane then.

Today, my nightmare is over and I can’t believe it. No, I didn’t kill him… but I didn’t save him either. Last evening was another deception party – a gathering of a few elite officials and their wives. The Wasabi restaurant at the Taj was brimming with people and our table faced the entrance. I waited for him to take a place first and then proceeded to sit on the other side, wanting to put as much distance between us as I possibly could. He had his back to the door and when the mass of the bodies parted, I had a broken view of the entrance and the gallery beyond.

I heard the noise before I saw them - the gun yielding maniacs who open fired at everyone in view. The people shouted and tried to run helter-skelter. People on our table scattered and tried to duck below the tables. He was left standing as he looked around, tried to gauge what was happening around him. I saw the gunman turn, bringing his gun back in firing position. I was less than a two feet away and could have pulled him under the safety of the table. Perhaps he could have been saved. Any other wife would have done that, but I watched with bated breath. Every fiber in my body willed the gunman to shoot and the bullet to pierce the heart of my tormentor. The gunman lowered his gun once more. Perhaps he was looking for someone and the man left standing was not him. But then, another gunman entered. His face was contorted with a rage much stronger than his partner. He looked around the room and not finding his target, roared in anger. He opened fire at every person in sight, one lucky bullet finding its way where I had wished.

I have vague recollections of running, hiding and being rescued by black uniformed men after losing all sense of time. Others called it shock, I called it ecstasy.

I am back in the flat now, perched in front of the television, watching endless debates and the political drama around what the media calls 26/11 attacks. A bottle of Bacardi sits on the table nearby and a cigarette dangles from my fingers, touching the engagement ring yet again.

The Meeting - Ep 3

"Last night, while watching a comedy show on TV" he said. "But that isn't good enough for you now. Is it?"

"No. It isn't. Whatever happened to letting yourself go and laughing?"

"Whatever happened to self control?"

"Self control? In laughing? Why should there be any? What is it about a laugh that needs someone to practice restraint?"

"It is not just about laughter"

"Then what is it about? And why is it not about laughter? We were talking about laughter. Right? That’s your problem Rishi, you go and mix issues where that is just not required" Rishi saw that Sasha's nostrils had flared up the way they always did when she was angry. Her temple was creased and her fingers trembled lightly. If she got any angrier, her voice would shake and then crack. Her BP would rise and the migraine could attack. He had seen it far too often in their short marriage, no in their short period of togetherness. So he changed his stand.

"What’s gone wrong Sasha?" he asked her softly. "We never fought when we were friends. And look where we've come to. We meet after ages and can't converse ten minutes before getting into an argument. Why did that happen?" there was pain in his eyes, his voice a mixture of sadness and regret. He was asking questions that he had dared not ask for years. Not even to himself. He had quietly accepted their separation as destiny and moved on, forcing his mind to not wander towards her, towards their relationship. It took an enormous amount of effort, but he managed to sever himself so completely, that he never bothered to learn about her whereabouts. A big thing, considering he regularly kept in touch with her parents. Rishi had fit very well into Sasha’s little family – Sasha, her parents and her granddad. He had bonded especially well with her grandfather and the two were even pen pals. After he and Sasha separated, he was hesitant of calling up her parents. They must’ve guessed it, so it was her grandfather who called him one day and chatted on like before. He gave no sign of anger, not even a resigned acceptance of his children’s fate. That’s when Rishi realised that nothing had changed between them and would not till he wanted it to. They talked about everything under the sun, but they never talked about Sasha. That’s where Rishi drew the line; perhaps grandpa guessed it and he never ventured into that ground.

 

Rishi’s soft voice seemed to have calmed Sasha as well. She lowered her gaze and then picked her cell phone from the table and started fiddling with it.  Rishi imitated her actions. Though he was glancing through the mails on his handheld, his thoughts were elsewhere. He remembered their first real fight after marriage. The blissful training was over and they were thrown into the thick of the corporate world. The trainee bunch that joined the Delhi office consisted of Rishi, Sasha and 3 others from their training batch. They were put into different within days of joining. For the first couple of weeks, they kept in touch. All 5 waited for each other and went for lunch together, even if it meant a cold lunch at 3:30. They called and IM’d each other and had the evening tea together. But then work caught up with them and one by one they began to drop out. It was easier to coordinate with a team member than 4 others from another department. To give them due credit, Sasha and Rishi and tried their best to wait for each other. It kept getting more and more difficult and then they made a pact to eat together 2 days in a week. They stuck to this for exactly 6 days. And decided there was no point being sentimental about it. After all, they ate dinner together everyday. Office was not the place to proclaim undying love to your spouse. But then, the love wasn’t undying… 

The Meeting - Ep 2

“So what else has changed?” Sasha asked.
“Well lets see… My city, my job, my field…”
“Your weight”
Rishi cringed at the last one. Years of living off the pizza and sandwiches had begun to show in now. Despite his regular jogs and walks, his girth had begun to expand. He let that one pass with a smile and asked her, “So what’s changed with you?”
“My profession”, she said with a faraway look in her eyes. “I am a business reporter with News Biz”
“News Biz?”
“That’s an upcoming news channel for business news”
“Ah, planning to eat into CNBC’s business?”
“No. We are planning to gobble it up whole”
They burst out laughing at that and the sound of it took Rishi to yet another memory tucked away in the corner of his mind.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon during the training. They were sitting in the lounge downstairs and watching reruns of Friends. A couple other colleagues were hanging out with them and suddenly Sasha declares she is so fed up of watching old season rerun. They should do something fun, like head out into the backwaters and go boating & swimming. Everyone agreed to the idea and they all left to get ready. Sasha was still sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked under her.
“Come along pup. You’ll be left behind”, Rishi tells her.
“That’s the idea”, Sasha says with a grin. “The crowd was boring me. They were making too much noise. So I shooed them away” and she burst out laughing.
Rishi looked at her, a little surprised, a little amused but absolutely glad of being alone with her. The afternoon and the rest of the day that followed were put to good use by the two of them. The next morning when they walked sleepy eyed to the training room, the crowd threw meaningful glances at them. Of course from then on, their colleagues left them to themselves quite easily – a feat that was difficult to achieve till then.

“What are you thinking Rishi?” Sasha broke into his thoughts.
“Nothing, just one of those times you’d laughed like this before”
“At the supermarket?” Sasha smiled
“No, the lounge when you sent everyone off to the backwaters” He smiled back. “But the supermarket was good too. Everyone thought we were crazy”
“Thought? No, everyone knew we were crazy!”
“Yeah, you certainly were. Demanding a ride in the trolley along the supermarket aisles”
“Oh, come on. That was fun!”
“It must’ve been considering how you kept raising your arms above your head and laughing and asking me to run faster on top of it all”
“Yeah, you did go fast and so fast that we dashed into the manager when he tried to stop us!”
“Oh yes. That fatso took two whole minutes to get up after that! And three people had to pull him. No less. And you kept laughing all that while too”
“Hey, I was not the only one. You were laughing too. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.
Sheepishly, Rishi had to admit he had. “Maybe it was the Bacardi”
“Maybe it was me. You wouldn’t have any fun if I didn’t goad you”
“That’s not true”
“Really, have you had fun after we separated? When was the last time you laughed carefree?”

The Meeting - Ep1

It lasted for just a fleeting moment. A chance meeting of two strangers’ glances. But that one fleeting moment brought on a flood of memories. Because she was not a stranger. No she wasn't. Couldn't be in at least this life. And this was something Rishi had to acknowledge. He couldn't deny it. Finding Sasha at the check-in queue ahead of him had been a shock. They had drifted apart years ago, and neither had bothered to keep in touch. They had been absolutely unaware of each others whereabouts, which is why this chance meeting shook him a bit. After all, Sasha was still his wife!

The last ten years of his life came back to him in an instant. A mind-boggling array of memories & events, big and small, insignificant and life changing. Meeting Sasha in class 11th and falling in line with her long list of admirers. Befriending her, a comfortable friendship that got uncomfortable as his feelings deepened and then finally gathering courage and proposing to her. It was the last month of college and 6 years worth of suppressed feelings found an outlet in an auditorium full of people! During the farewell party, he had gotten to the stage and proposed to her in front of all students and teachers. Even the Principal had his mouth hanging open; for he hadn’t just said, “I love you” he had proposed marriage. Sasha then had coolly walked upto him and said, “Yes, I will”.

Rishi smiled as he remembered his wedding. It was held in the very same college auditorium for the lack of any other venue, barely a month after the initial proposal! The parents thought they were rushing, but Rishi and Sasha had been adamant. Their honeymoon had been in the college library, where they spent entire days preparing for the final exams. They had both been placed in the same software company and knew that the real honeymoon would be the three month long training they would attend in Kerala. And what a honeymoon it was! Perhaps the best period in their married life. No, not perhaps. It was the best period, said Rishi. When all the people standing next to him turned to look at him, he realised that he had spoken it out loud. And perhaps too loud. He had turned all red with embarrassment when Sasha turned, looked up to him and said, “Yes it was. Wasn't it? The backwaters were beautiful”. Rishi could only gape at her as she finished the formalities of her check-in and moved aside to give him way to the counter. When Rishi handed his ticket to the counter, Sasha asked the attendant to allot him a seat next to her. “You wouldn't mind, would you?” she asked him. “No” he said, shaking his head and went on to collect his boarding pass. “Your flight is delayed by an hour sir”, declared the counter attendant as the two moved towards the airport lounge.
They walked in silence next to each other, the way they had done countless number of times. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Another life when they were younger and so full of hope for a fantastic life of togetherness. He remembered the trouble they had both undergone to be put in a single room during the training period. The guest house was a large multi-storey building with 2 bedroom apartments. Rishi and Sasha had to get their marriage registered urgently so that they could get a single flat allotted. The training in-charge had refused to accept Invitation card or pictures as the proof of marriage and demanded the legal, marriage registration certificate!

“Good afternoon sir, please make the entry for your lounge passes”. The lounge hostess' voice broke Rishi's thoughts. He fished out his gold credit card and handed it to her. She looked up at Sasha, waiting for her card perhaps. “She’s my…” he began and hesitated. “Wife”, she finished it for him. It has been a split second hesitation on his part, but she had sensed it or perhaps she had pre empted it. She had a knack for such things. “She hasn't changed at all”, thought Rishi. Neither has the way she looks. His eyes settled on hers. Still lined with kohl. It was only a little subtler than the heavy kohl lines she would wear back then, and smudge it all over his face every night. But that was not the only time Sasha's kohl smudged. He vividly remembered the dark crooked lines on her cheeks left behind by a river of tears. Remnants of their first bitter fight and perhaps the point where things started to fall apart. After merely sixteen months of togetherness.

“I’d like a coffee, black please”, Sasha was instructing the butler. “And what about you Rishi? The usual strong tea?”
“No, I’d like something cold. A lemon tea please”
“Still the invariable tea drinker?”, she had a hint of a smile now
“Yeah, only the form has changed”, he replied quietly.

to be continued

The love story that never was

If your jaw drops in surprise - Well, thats Anks for you! I got so inspired by Ricky that I completed this one today. A short story - very short by my standards - it runs to 3 word pages in font size 12 and has just about 1482 words.

The love story that never was

"See... I told you na ke iss hum tum ki jodi kabhi nahi ban sakti.... :'("

I read the message from my friend Kunj once more. I had just come out of a grueling two hour meeting and was surprised to see five missed calls and three messages. Kunj's message was the first I read, and it didn't make any Sense to me. I read the other messages. One was from Prachi and the other from Vidya. Both college friends. Both wanted me to call them. Four of the five missed calls were from them. The last call was from my boss and I promptly returned it, only to be told to rush to another meeting. It was late afternoon when I emerged from the second meeting and like before, there were calls and messages from Prachi and Vidya. I dialed Prachi and she answered before the first ring was over.

"Where have you been?" She sounded excited and loud enough to be heard even without using the phone.
"Busy in meetings yaar. Kya hua, both you and Vidi are going bonkers"
"Arre, bahut achchi news hai. Guess kar"
"Prachi, mujhe bahut bhookh lagi hai. I've been in meetings since morning and am really pissed at some people."
"Oho, madam is in one of her famous moods"
"Prachi...."
"Ok. Ok..... bataati hoon. Bhavna is getting married"
"What?"
"Yeah, shaadi fix ho gayi uski"
"Oh, kab hai?
"Kal"
"Kal?", I nearly screamed "Kal Shaadi hai?"
"No baba, shaadi 6 months ke baad hai. Kal sirf engagement hai."
"Oh", I said quietly. A feeling of shock and anger came over me. Shock at the suddenness of things and anger at getting the news so late.
"When did this happen?"
"Last week. The guy is an NRI. Came down to meet her last saturday. They met and now tomorrow is the engagement. Cool na?"
"Yeah, cool"
"What happened to you?"
"Nothing, I gotta go. Got a big campaign coming up. Haven’t had last weekend off. Will have to work tomorrow as well."
"Oh, then how will you come?"
"Where?"
"For the engagement"
"In case you haven't noticed, she didn't invite me.", my voice was seething with sarcasm, and a silent anger. An awkward silence followed, and Prachi wasn't sure what to say. I knew she wasn't at fault, and I shouldn't have snapped at her. So I apologised.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. But I am really hurt Bhavna didn't call me."
"We were trying to call you. Me and Vidya and Bhavna in a conference."
"Oh, ok. But still yaar, can't come."
"Ok, take care. we'll catch up one of these days"
"Yeah. Bye"
"Bye"

I walked into the canteen and looked around for something to eat. The food was over, all that was available was cold samosas or sandwiches. I ordered for two grilled sandwiches and sat down to eat. It was then that Vidya called me.

"Hi madam"
"Hi Vidi.... main call karne waali thi tujhe"
"Yeah yeah, I know... Prachi called me after she talked to you"
"So?"
"No, I'm not going"
"Why not?"
"Am busy this weekend. It’s not like I don't have a life of my own and am simply sitting around waiting for someone to call me at the last moment and I’ll jump up and go.”
I could see that she was angry. As angry as I was. “What about you”, she continued in the same stream “what will you say?”
And that’s Vidi for you- always presumes things and presumes them right.
“I have a pitch coming up. Can’t go even if hell breaks loose.”
We chatted for a minute about this and that, with the same question running in both our minds – Why had Bhavna not informed us?

While nibbling through the sandwiches, I thought about Kunj’s message. It made a lot of sense now, and behind the deliberate tone was a lot of hurt. I could see that. I decided to call him.

“Hello ji. Kyaa haal hai aapka?” There was a tone of false cheerfulness in his voice.
“Kunj. I just heard. Am sorr” He broke in between saying “Arre, why are you sorry re? Tu kuch kar sakti thi kya? Dekh Ami, sympathy mat dena mujhe. I am very sad for myself. But happy for her. Ladka achcha hai. Bhavna khush rahegi. That’s all I want yaar. And you are one of the three people who know my feelings for her and the only one who knows the whole story. Don’t just tell anyone. I am closing this chapter of my life”
“Kunj…”
“Arre, chill kar re”
“Yeah. Best of luck. And hope you find a girl who’s even better than Bhavna”
“Nobody can be better than Bhavna yaar. But it’s ok. I’ll be fine”
With that the call ended. I thought of the brave front Kunj was putting on and the intense disappointment in his voice when he’d said “Nobody can be better than Bhavna”

It was about six months ago when I learnt of Kunj’s feeling for Bhavna. An idle evening being whiled away on the net, resulted in a heart-to-heart with Kunj, a classmate of mine in college. I was never very close to him and knew him only through Bhavna. Bhavna, Prachi, Vidya and I were pals. And close ones at that. That’s the reason I was irked more than ever by Bhavna’s attitude towards us. For the last one year, she had broken off all contact with me and Vidi. The calls were unanswered and messages ignored. It was during this time that I had my conversation with Kunj. He wanted Bhavna’s contact number – for the one final time when he wanted to tell her of his feelings, instead of throwing about hints as he had been doing.

It wasn't love at first sight. Kunj saw Bhavna on the first day of his college. He was one of the sixty who began their college education and like the other fifty-nine, wasn't thrilled about it. Reason - he was stuck in this jail of a college. He had wanted a better college, but like thousands of students, he too had been forced to choose between a so-so college and a course of his choice and a good college and an uninteresting course. He had chosen the former and landed in St John's technical Institute, as a first year wishing to get a bachelor of Engineering degree in Computer Science. And that’s where he met Bhavna and Sarita and Pari and Neelam and Poonam and Lipi and a lot of girls who were all first years in his college. When he learned that Bhavna would be in his class, he was pleased. She was a pretty and petite girl, who had a cute smile. They got talking, and suddenly she asked him.
“Are you a gujju?”
“Yes, why?”
“I am one too”
“Oh”
“Yeah, guess it takes one to spot another”, she laughed at her little joke and Kunj joined in. From that day, they always talked in Gujrati, even when a horde of friends surrounded them.

Bhavna wasn’t mindblowing. She was a gentle girl and it was her sweet disposition and naturally caring nature that made Kunj fall for her.

“She really cared about me Ami” Kunj had told me “Always helped me with assignments and journals. Even allowed me copy in the tests. And you know what, she would also check if there were mistakes in the papers I had written. Imagine, if she cared so much about my studies, how much she would care about my life, my family?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell Kunj that she was like this with everyone. She had a natural mother goose instinct. And didn’t exactly understand his reasons for falling in love with her. Maybe he wasn’t telling all. But, I didn’t press him. I just heard him tell me of the times when he tried to tell Bhavna of his feelings for her. Long lines on the chat window – Kunj’s story in his own words.

“I really like you Bhavna” I told her one day. And she said “So do I. We should always remain friends. Don’t forget to call me for your wedding”

This to my mind was the clearest indication of Bhavna’s feelings. Kunj was a classmate, a friend. Maybe to Kunj’s mind there seemed a possibility. But then, love is blind. I’d given Kunj Bhavna’s number and mail id when he’d asked for it. I knew that he’d called her, but I don’t know what that conversation came to. Kunj didn’t tell and I didn’t ask. I’d thought of him often for I knew Bhavna and Kunj weren’t together. Prachi would’ve told me and Vidi if this was the case. And now Bhavna was getting married. A heartbroken Kunj was putting on a brave face – It’s a love story that never was.

It tastes yuck - a 55er

"Uhh, I've had this before, and this one I don't like"

"Try this M'am. Its called Raspberry delight"

"What do you think Aman? Should I take this one again?"

"Not this Jaanu. It tastes yuck"

Red-faced, she replaced in the hands of an equally embarrassed salesgirl, the tube of lipstick she was planning to buy.

the end

Desperate Measures

She was fed-up with all the nagging, tired of having her life controlled.

She desperately wanted it to end...

She was fed-up with the irresponsible nature, tired of making all decisions.

She desperately wanted it to change...

Next day's headlines - "Girl commits suicide. Suicide-note names nagging mother"

Four months later - "Nagging mother depressed. Drinks poison"

The last conversation

"...I hope you understand now" sad
"Yeah" upset"I had to..." sad
"Hmm" quiet
"I'm sorry..." apologetic
"Its ok" forgiving
"If I ever come back?" uncertain
"I'll welcome you with my arms open" excited
"But I won't. You have my number on your cell, but don't call me. I am Mrs. William Berry now." cruel

Kaya's Story

Kaya was walking home from work one evening, when she suddenly became aware of the familiar sinking sensation in her stomach. Familiar because she had experienced it numerous times in her life. It was her intuition, a forewarning of something to come. Something big. Something important. Sometimes happy, sometimes not, but each time this sinking sensation had accompanied an event that would impact her life in a major way. And this one was to be the biggest of them all.... but she didn’t know it, yet.


She continued down the busy street, winding her way forward through the throng of Diwali shoppers, the vegetable and fruit vendors, slum kids who were selling diyas and lanterns and calling out to each passer-by to attract attention to their colourful wares. On any other day she’d have loved the hustle bustle of the market, stopped by to gaze at the lovely sarees and dresses in the display windows, picked up a fruit or vegetable, admired the colourful wares of the slum kids. But today, she did none of that. The spirit of Diwali that she would have reveled in was lost out to her and the festive air failed to buoy her drowning mood. She was in a hurry to get to her place and call her aunt.


Her aunt was the only living relative she had now, and she was anxious about her safety. Her aunt’s name was Shakuntala Sharma, and she was a music teacher. Not a music teacher in a small municipal school, but a music teacher in a music village. A village built by her and her sister Sharmila, who was Kaya’s mother. The two sisters had devoted their lives to this music village, which they built on their ancestral land in Ranipur. Set admits the lush hills, a few hours away from Haridwar, this music village was as sacred to music lovers as the holy town itself. They called it Veena, after Goddess Sarawati’s favorite instrument. Veena was Kaya’s birthplace and had been her home for the first sixteen years of her life.



A month after her fourteenth birthday, Kaya felt a strange feeling in her stomach. She thought she was hungry and scampered off to her favorite guava tree in the village. She picked out a hard green one and a soft ripe one and ate them on the treetop. She looked out at the road that snaked around the hills, the guardians of Veena. Kaya loved to do this, sit on a tree with a fruit in hand, and stare at all that she could. The hillocks, the village pond, the fruit orchard, the vegetable garden, the dairy farm and the little cottages which were home to the students and faculty of the music school. She liked to look at all these places, but the one sight she loved most was that of the school building. The sprawling structure, with a large open courtyard and a number of balconies and classrooms was always reverberating with the sounds of music. A close second came the cluster of huts inhabited by the local villagers. These people took care of the village’s farms and animals, and the village trust took care of them. Kaya knew that her great grandfather had been a revered landowner in these parts, and a man of great wealth and compassion. Today, the village and a few hundred acres of farming land was all that was left with his daughters. She had once heard her parents discuss about the value of the village trust and even at that little age, she knew it was good money. She recalled that conversation as she looked at a black van approach Veena, and realized that her stomach still rumbled. This not hunger, she said to herself, this is something else. Wondering the cause, she traced her path back home. She arrived home just in time to see a solemn looking man alight from the vehicle and ask for her mother. She led them to the school building wondering who he was, and why her stomach sank lower than ever.


She had answers to all these questions before the hour had passed. The solemn looking man was a policeman, and had brought news of an accident. An accident that had taken away Kaya’s father and uncle.

Another accident a few years later was the cause of her mother’s demise.

By this time, Kaya had moved out of Veena. She had inherited her parent’s talent but not their undying love for music. She completed her education in Delhi and did a variety of jobs over the next ten years. Two years ago, she had joined a radio station as a jingle writer and moved on to host her own show. And this evening the familiar sensation was back. Though not always the bearer of bad news, it filled Kaya with dread. She tried to console herself that she had this feeling the day she topped her college, the day she got her new job and the day she became a radio jockey. But the dread would not leave her.

She reached home just in time to hear the phone ring. She picked up the phone with trembling fingers. The voice at the other end was familiar. It was Leela, her aunt’s maid. She confirmed Kaya’s worst fears. Her aunt was dead. Kaya was an orphan now.

She did not relay the details of her death, nor did Kaya ask. She was required at the village now; the village trust’s solicitor had requested a meeting with the last living member of the family. Kaya said she would leave right away. The next few hours were spent in making arrangements. She got the tickets for a late night flight to Delhi, and it was not until she was airborne, that the tears began to flow.

Kaya cried through the whole flight. Tears punctuated by muted sobs were all she remembered of the flight. She was picked up at the airport by a taxi, which would take her all the way up to Veena. She thought about the last few hours and realized her sinking sensation hadn’t left her. It had perhaps been with her all through the flight, but in her grief Kaya had felt nothing else. And now as she saw the passing countryside from her taxi window, she wondered why it was so. Is there still more to come? Leela hadn’t told her anything else about her aunt’s death. She had been healthy, so a natural death was out of question. Perhaps an illness, or another accident? Or a murder? No it couldn’t be. That was too far fetched to believe.


Kaya reached Veena in the afternoon, and headed straight to Leela’s cottage. Leela looked pale and weary, and made Kaya eat something before meeting the lawyer. But she was very quiet. All of Kaya’s attempts to learn the cause of her aunt’s death had been futile. Each time she broached the subject, she was met with nothing but a stoned silence. Exasperated, she left for the school administrative building, where she was to meet Kailash Pradhan, the lawyer.


She was intercepted on the way by the Kumar family – Paras, his wife Nalini and their son Vaibhav. They broke into loud sobs upon her sight and Nalini crushed her in a bear hug. Paras Kumar was her father’s cousin and Kaya was most surprised to see them in Veena. She had first met at her father’s funeral, and disliked them instantly. She despised their excessive show of concern and over the top affection display. She began to ask them what they were doing in Veena, when a portly man emerged from the school building. He introduced himself as Kailash Pradhan and ushered Kaya in the building for the meeting. She was thankful to be rescued, but did not miss out the scowl on the faces of the Kumars at the sight of the solicitor.

Kailash Pradhan told Kaya that he had been managing their family’s finances for 40 years now, and even though had never met Kaya in person, he knew a great deal about her. He told her that her aunt’s death was a result of an accident. She had been on the way back to Veena after meeting him at his office three days ago, when her car was crushed by a landslide in the hills. Kaya wondered why Leela would not tell her as much, and she nearly missed Kailash Pradhan’s last remark. “It seems strange indeed that each one of your family members have died in the same way” Kaya’s gaped at that remark. The possibility of foul play in the sudden death of each of her family members had never occurred to her until now. And now she began to wonder if a decade old scheme was brewing to wipe out her entire family.


Kailsh Pradhan echoed her thoughts, and said that her own life might be in danger. The villagers thought the family cursed, and that perhaps explained Leela’s behavior. They apparently did not want to associate with her, afraid that she carried the curse like a disease, and would pass it on to them. He asked if she was interested in running the school now. If not, he advised her to sell the property and live comfortably with the money. But who would but so much land? And here in this remote area? Kailash Pradhan told her that several ayurvedic spas had opened up in the area, around Haridwar and Rishikesh. Selling this property would not be very difficult. He estimated the worth of this land, and combined with the trust, he named a sum that made Kaya’s jaw drop. She had no idea how rich her family had been. And in spite of all that, they had never lived in luxury. The meeting ended with Kaya consenting to put the property on the market and moving to a hotel in Haridwar for ease of communication between Kailash Pradhan and herself. He was to make all the arrangements and send for Kaya the next morning. By then, he advised her to be careful. It was then that Kaya asked him, “ What would happen to the trust if I were to die now?”
“Your living relatives would become the direct benefactors “
“ But I have no living relatives!”

He smiled, “The Kumars”, he said and left the room. Kaya sat there; numb from all the information she had just received. Her family member’s deaths, the Kumars being in Veena, the villagers’ fear of being cursed, the large family fortune, and the selling off of her home was too much to handle at one go. She sat in the office till it was very dark outside, and the sounds of the night became prominent. She reached her aunt’s cottage and settled on the sofa. She had taken a circuitous route to avoid meeting anyone, and had succeeded. She had especially wanted to avoid the Kumars. Such hypocrisy! They were barely acquainted, yet in the afternoon Nalini had made such a spectacle of herself. There hadn’t been the barest glimpse of grief in her eyes. She was clearly putting on an act. For whose benefit? Kailash Pradhan? Could they know that they would be the direct benefactors of the trust, if anything happened to her? With these and a hundred other thoughts spinning in her head, she fell asleep on the Sofa.

Kaya woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. It was early morning and her head felt heavy. On the line was Kailash Pradhan, with the name and address of her hotel room. He had sent a car for her, and she was to leave right away. He also mentioned his having talked to a hotelier friend, who had expressed interest in the property. Kaya moved out of the cottage, and started toward Leela’s to collect her bag. She was glad for the early morning fresh air, which helped clear her brain. Veena looked so beautiful in the early morning, when the sunlight caressed the mountaintops, reflected off the shimmering pond, and cast long shadows about the trees. She looked around ruefully, a hundred happy memories of her childhood flooding to her mind. She saw the smiling faces of her parents, aunt and uncle, heard the morning ragas, that filled the air at sunrise, the early morning Aradhana was a daily ritual at Veena. Her reverie was broken by a muted scream of anguish. She looked around to discover a group of people at the other side of the pond. Kaya could hear angry, animated voices speak as she approached the group. But they fell silent as they spotted her.


A young girl was standing at the centre of the group, apparently being reprimanded by the others. Though no one said anything anymore, the tension in the air was electric.
“What is going on here?”, she demanded to know.

“Kaya beti, this is a matter of the village folk. We will handle it ourselves. God knows, you have enough problems of your own to take care of”, the speaker was an elderly man, whom Kaya recognized as the supposed chieftain of the village. She was taken aback at his words, for had her aunt asked the same question, it would have never met such a reply. She nodded at the old man and turned away.


Another tie to Veena had been severed. The people of the village did not consider her as one of their own. This should lessen the pain of leaving forever. But would it? Kaya mentioned the incident to Leela, and was again met with silence. She silently went about serving breakfast to Kaya, and then continued with her chores. Kaya’s mind went back o the happenings of the day before, and she realized with a jolt that today was Diwali. For the past seven years, she had never been home for Diwali, and each time had wondered what it would be like. She had wanted to be home for the last seven years, but something or the other had kept her from coming. This year too, she had been denied leave. But now that she was in Veena, she wished for things to be back to before.




Silently, she picked her bag and told Leela of her plan. Leela surprised her by saying that the Kumars had moved out too. Good riddance, thought Kaya, and walked to the school building where the car would arrive. As she waited up for her transportation, she realized that the sinking sensation had never left her. It was pushed to the far recesses of her conscious self, but it was always there. And that puzzled and scared her at the same time. When her pick up arrived, Kaya was more than ready to leave. With a last wistful glance at the place she called home, she sat down in the car.


Soon, the vehicle was snaking down the winding mountain road, and Kaya was apprehensive of what was to come. She wondered if her life would ever been the same again. Though she was not particularly close to Kaya, her aunt’s death had left a void that she already began to feel.

“Now I have no family, and soon I will have no place I can call home”, she tried to push this thought out of her mind, but it kept coming back to trouble her.

Suddenly the car lurched forward, and Kaya’s head banged against the dashboard. She looked up to see why the driver braked so hard, and she saw the girl standing in the middle of the road. The girl wore a forlorn look on her face, and both the girl and her expression seemed familiar to Kaya. It was a while before she recognized her as the same girl who had been the centre of attention of the group at Veena.

“What is she doing here standing in the middle of the road, so far away from home?”

The car’s driver had moved out and was screaming at her for being so careless. The girl was close to tears and seeing the expression on her face, Kaya’s heart melted. She stepped out of the car and motioned for the driver to be quiet. She then beckoned the girl and sat her down in the car.
“You are from Veena, right?”
The girl nodded.
“And you were standing near the pond in the morning?”
She nodded again.
“You ran away from there?”
A slight nod followed.
“You want to go back?”
She looked up at Kaya with moist red eyes and spoke for the first time. “ No, please no”
Her voice was tearful, and her tone pleading. Kaya asked the driver to continue to the hotel and turned her attention back to the girl. She gave her a drink of water, which the girl gladly accepted.
“Whats your name?”
“Kajri”

As the journey continued, Kaya learnt that Kajri was the granddaughter of the village vaid. Her mother had died at childbirth, and her father moved to a nearby town and re-married. After that, she had come to Veena to live with her grandparents. Now, her stepmother wanted to marry her off to a widower, and her alcoholic father did not object. Even her grandparents, and all the villagers wanted her to agree to the proposal.
“But why do they want you to marry an old man?”
“Because I told them I wanted to learn music and be a singer like Shakuntala Mausi. She has taught me ever since I came back”


Kaya was surprised to learn this. Her aunt was particularly choosy about the quality of students admitted to Veena, and teaching one of the village children was unheard of. Kajri must be really good. The very next moment her surprise turned into anger at the villager’s behavior. They wanted to ruin this girl’s life just because she wanted to learn music! Preposterous!


The remainder of their journey was covered in silence, and Kaya reflected upon the happenings of the day, especially the incidents with Kajri. She now had an idea what had been going on around the lake when she had interrupted them. She could also perhaps understand the unwillingness of the villagers to let her in on a sensitive manner such as this, but what she could simply not comprehend was Kajri’s standing in the middle of the road. What was that girl doing, so far away from the village, in the middle of a deserted mountain road? Only one possibility came to Kaya’s mind, one that chilled her, one that she didn’t want to believe, and one that she hoped was not true.


Soon, they reached Kaya’s hotel, and when the car came to a halt, Kajri looked unsure of what to do. As Kaya began to alight, she noticed Kajri clutch a piece of paper that had been lying unnoticed on the seat of the car.
“What is that? “, inquired Kaya.
“This, nothing “, was Kajri’s timid reply. Her eyes were downcast and she put up little resistance when Kaya tried to take the paper from her hand. The paper was crumpled; the writing was smudged, but legible. As she read it, Kaya realized it was a letter – a letter written by her aunt to someone called Charulata. The name sounded familiar to Kaya, but she could not place it immediately. The letter was written in a very impersonal manner, and contained a recommendation. Kaya now remembered her aunt’s friend Charulata Bhandari who lived in Benaras. She was an accomplished singer, and discovering new talent was her passion. Kaya’s aunt had included in her letter, a generous praise of Kajri’s raw talent, and hoped that she would train under herself someday. Kaya handed the letter back to Kajri and persuaded her to join her in her room.


As the two of them made their way to the hotel reception, Kaya was more than ever aware of her familiar sensation. She looked around the lobby and was surprised to find Kailash Pradhan waiting for her in the lobby. He covered the distance between them with rapid steps and asked her what kept her so long. He had been in the lobby, waiting for her arrival for almost 30 minutes. This information surprised Kaya. Kailash Pradhan had always displayed the impatience of a busy man. He had always carried himself with the air of a successful and important man. This was supported by the fact that he had in one evening lined up a prospective buyer for the village. Why he should be waiting in a hotel lobby for Kaya’s arrival was lost out to her. Kaya said that she had not been aware of any particular urgency to get to the hotel, and had taken her time leaving Veena. This reply seemed to irritate the man, and he began to usher her towards the elevator. Kaya turned and called out to Kajri, who had been standing a few feet away while the exchange between her and her lawyer took place.


Kailash Pradhan immediately looked at the slightly disheveled girl and inquired who she was. On being told so, his irritation increased, and Kaya even detected a hint of anger on his face. He demanded to know her entire story once they reached upto Kaya’s room. That had been Kaya’s intention since reading the letter, but she did not like Kailash Pradhan’s highhanded manner.


There was an uncomfortable silence in the elevator that took them to Kaya’s fourth floor room, and it prevailed even after they had entered and settled down. Kajri’s story came out in a steady stream of words, Kailash Pradhan grim all the while.
“How did you meet Kaya?”, he asked when she had finished.
“She came near the pond when everyone was…”
“No, how did you meet her afterwards?”
“I hid in a truck, and got down when the driver stopped. I hid behind some bushes till they were gone, and then waited on the road for a vehicle to come by.”
“And if none had? That is not a well-traveled road. What would you have done alone on that mountain road?”
“I… I didn’t think of that…”
“You didn’t?”, the scowl on his face deepened, and with that, Kaya’s dislike for him. It was clear that the man did not believe her story. What he wanted to imply though, was lost out to Kaya. He would have gone on in his ridicule, had Kaya not declared time for lunch. She asked Kailash Pradhan to brief her about the meeting with his friend, and how they should go about will the deal. Her trick worked, over lunch, all they discussed was business. The lawyer was still vary of Kajri, and did not reveal any names or the amount of money involved.


After lunch, he asked for a private conversation with Kaya, and outlined the specifics of the deal. Apparently, the procedure would take three days, and Kaya would be required only at the time of the actual signing of papers. As Kaya got up to leave, he said, “But, there is one thing you have to be very careful about”
“What?”
“That you do not interact with any more strangers”, the stress on the anymore was deliberate and there was no doubt that he referred to Kajri.
“Any particular reason for that advice?”, her tone was icy.
“No logical reason. Just caution. Caution arising from the fact that the death of all your family members was a potential murder”
To this Kaya had no answer. Even she had admitted the possibility of this being true. And even though Kajri was from her village, she knew nothing about her or her parents.
“I’ll be careful”
“And what do you plan to do about her?”
“Well, she wants to go to Benaras to learn music from Charulata Bhandari. I want to help her reach there.”
“Very well, I shall make the arrangements for her journey, and get in touch with Mrs Bhandari. You stay in the hotel. Don’t go about trying to make arrangements for her”, his tone was reprimanding.
“Am I supposed to be under house arrest?”
“Its for your own safety Kaya, that you remain low profile. In addition to your unseen enemy, there is also the wrath of the villages to consider”
“The wrath of the villagers?”
“Yes, they are bound to react when they learn that you will sell this place”


And it suddenly hit her. Something that she had not considered. If she were to sell the village, and a spa was to be built on the land, the villagers would be forced to move. They would have to leave their homes. The situation could turn messy. She now understood Kailash Pradhan’s intention in moving her out of Veena in such hurry, as well as his advice for a low profile. The man was only trying to shield her. It was at this moment that Kaya decided to place her complete trust in Kailash Pradhan, and do exactly as he said. But try as she might, she could not suppress the sensation in her stomach, which rose to a crescendo at this moment. Her head told her one thing, her instinct, the exact opposite.


Kaya reached her floor in a state of absolute confusion. As she approached her room, she heard voices inside. The manager of the hotel was present, along with another staff member. They were apparently talking to Kajri, who seemed hysterical. The party fell silent as Kaya entered. Kajri ran to her and declared the manager was trying to throw her out of the hotel. Kaya turned to the manager who explained that Kailash Pradhan had arranged for a separate room for Kajri. They were merely escorting her to her room. It was after ten whole minutes of coaxing that Kaya managed to convince Kajri to move to a separate room.


There was a nip in the October air, which turned into a chill as the evening came. Kaya looked out of her window and saw the streets shining with all the diyas and the sounds of prayers seemed to be emanating from every nook and corner of the holy city. The realization of her being all alone in the world hit her harder than ever, and she felt stifled. Suddenly, the room felt too small to hold her and her emotions. Kaya walked out of the room, and decided to go for a stroll in the garden. As soon as she stepped into the garden, the chilly air struck her, and she hugged herself. Living in Mumbai, she hadn’t needed any warm clothes. She only had a light travel jacket and a shawl that she had been wearing over her jeans since yesterday. During her walk, her thoughts ran to Kajri and she realized that Kajri had no warm clothes either. She was still wearing the light Salwar Kameez that Kaya had seen her in earlier that day. If the evening continued to grow colder, Kaya was sure she would fall ill. She abandoned her walk, went up to Kajri’s room and announced that they would go shopping. They had no warm clothes, and Kajri would need some decent everyday clothes as well if she were to go meet Charulata Bhandari. Kaya went to her room, collected her handbag, and they left for the market.


They shopped for clothes and laden with bags, they made there way back. The Diwali festivities were picking up all around them. People were pouring on to the streets, some to light the firecrackers and some to watch the display. Still others were making their way to the banks of the holy Ganga to pray.
Suddenly, Kaya had this urge to go to the riverside. She felt as if the river was calling out to her. She knew that the arti would begin in a few minutes. She wanted to be there and join the masses in offering prayers. She wanted to pray for peace. Peace for her deceased family’s souls, peace for her own soul. She wanted strength to go through this time. She wanted a direction to make the correct choices.
“I want to go to the river bank and join in the arti. Do you want to come?”, she asked Kajri.
“No, you go. This is the river in which my dadi drowned. I am never at peace on its banks”
“Very well”, Kaya said and turned to leave.
“Give me your packets”, she called out “I’ll take them to your room”
Kaya handed all her bags to Kajri and moved to the riverbank. The arti began almost as soon as she reached the Har ki Paudi. The prayers went on for the good part of an hour, and as soon as it ended, a magnificent display of fireworks erupted across the evening sky. In spite of herself, Kaya enjoyed watching them. Kaya sat on the riverbank for a long time, gazing at the river, as if trying to seek the answers of the questions that bothered her. She shut out all the sounds in her surroundings, and recounted the events of the last two days. She pondered over each event, thought and re-thought about every thing that bothered her. She must have sat there for hours, and would have sat through the night had the sudden noise not broken her reverie.


She snapped out of her trance when she heard it. It sounded like dozens of sirens blaring together. Turning back towards the market, Kaya saw a near pandemonium. Dozens of vehicles were blaring past – police cars, ambulances and fire engines. People were running about in all the directions. She stepped on the street, trying to make her way past the crowd, the sinking sensation greater than ever. She turned around a corner and gasped. Her feet were rooted to the ground and the sight in front of her would be stamped in her memory forever. A four-story building engulfed in towering flames. The building where Kaya would have been had she not gone to the attend the arti. The realization hit hard, and along with it came another one. Kajri was still in the building! Kaya tried to move closer to the hotel, but her progress was hampered by the enormous crowd. Every inch that she moved closer to the burning building, her feeling of dread deepened. There was chaos all around her. Finally, she managed to reach the edge of the crowd, and was as close to the building as the fire fighters allowed. A frantic activity was in progress. The fire fighters had managed to bring the fire under some control, but it still threatened to engulf the adjacent building. The residential building had been evacuated by the police, and all the residents stood by, helplessly watching the raging battle before them, hoping that the fire loses, and their homes and belongings remain safe. But the glowing beast had no intentions of losing. Slowly, but steadily, it began approaching the residential building, and before the eyes of the entire crowd, the top storey caught fire. Suddenly, a piercing wail shot through the night, audible above the noise and chaos, and it caught the attention of the crowd as well as the firefighters. The crowd because of the extreme anguish in it, and the fire fighters because of the originator. Apparently, a young woman had sneaked past the authorities and had entered gotten too close to the entrance of the building. A burning block had landed on her foot and he resulting scream had everyone’s attention. She was whisked away from the scene and the police suddenly put up ropes barricading the area. Every one of the by-standers was being driven away by the policemen, and Kaya had no choice but to leave.


Kaya moved in the general direction the crowd seemed to be moving, with her mind in a daze, she moved on and on, until she suddenly realized that the crowd surrounding her had dwindled a great deal. She looked around her, trying to guess where she was, trying to fathom her next move. She had no money, no credit cards, and no papers with her at the moment, for her purse had been taken to the hotel by Kajri. A while later she saw a dharamshala, a small neat looking structure, and a small crowd outside its door. As Kaya moved towards it, she heard the quiet murmurs and the soft sobs that came from the crowd. They all stood facing an aristocratic looking man, who somehow seemed familiar to Kaya. He stood listening to them with a sympathetic look on his face and as Kaya neared the group, he turned to talk to a short man standing next to him. The man next to Kaya said,
“Balwant Babu is so generous. He has opened the doors of his dharamshala for all the people affected by the fire today”
“Yes, at least our families have a place to spend the night. We don’t have to worry about that.”

Kaya knew she should’ve felt relieved at that, but somehow she didn’t. She was uneasy even as they were led into a dormitory. A few cots were aligned against the walls, which were filled up soon, and most of the crowd stood huddled in the centre of the hall. Kaya walked to one of the windows and looked out into the night, trying to gather her thoughts. The initial shock and panic was wearing off, and Kaya thought about her next move.
“I should get in touch with Kailash Pradhan”, she thought, “I should’ve done that, instead of drifting with the crowd and coming here”

She left the room in search of a telephone, silently thanking him for making her memorize his office and residence numbers. Outside the room, the corridor was deserted. The diyas that were perhaps lit for Diwali celebrations had extinguished and a faint smell of burnt oil lingered in the passage. The sound of an occasional firecracker could be heard in the distance. Kaya reached the end of the passage, where a large sign was hung on a wooden door. It said Balwant Pradhan. The door was shut, and Kaya turned back. Her tired feet seemed to walk on their own to the dormitory, where mattresses had been brought in and strewn about the floor. Kaya fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, but she slept fitfully. Her sleep was punctuated by strange dreams and visions, and finally she did wake up. She was surprised to learn that it was early morning; she had tossed and turned nearly the whole night. Many people had left the dormitory, and Kaya guessed they had gone to check on the fire.


She decided to call Kailash Pradhan and then go back to the site of the tragedy to get news of Kajri. She went down the same passage that she had seen the previous night. This time, the door was slightly ajar and Kaya peered inside. The room was dark, and looked like a small office. Kaya was about to leave when she caught sight of a small ray of light. It appeared to be coming from under the opposite wall. She could make out the shape of a large door, and the light was creeping out from beneath it.
“ This must be the outer office, probably the secretary’s. If someone is there in the inner office, I can probably get to use a phone.”

She moved towards the door, and as she approached it, the voice from inside the room became audible. Kaya paused, and lifted her hand to knock when the she heard her own name. Her hand stopped in mid-air and she strained to catch the words of the conversation.
“This is good news Bhaiya, the fire chief practically confirmed her death. She is now out of our path”
Kaya froze as she heard the words. Who was the she that was being referred to?
“Do not be hasty. How can the fire chief confirm Kaya’s death?”, said a cold voice. A voice that Kaya recognized immediately. A voice that Kaya had been hearing for the last two days. It belonged to Kailash Pradhan.


Kaya was so shocked to hear that voice, and specially its cold tone, that she almost missed the words that were said. Do not be hasty, how can the fire chief confirm Kaya’s death? Her death? Kailash Pradhan wanted a confirmation of her death? What was going on?
“Arre Kailash babu, they have found a body on the top floor. On that floor, only one room was occupied. And that was Kaya’s. So the body has to be hers. And it’s a female body, that much they have confimed.”, said an oily voice that again seemed familiar to Kaya.
“Aur nahi to kya? Now what more do you want, a DNA test?” , this voice was immediately recognizable. It belonged to Nalini- Nalini Kumar. And that meant the oily voice had to be her husband. Paras.


What were the Kumars doing here? And talking with Kailash Pradhan, Kaya distinctly remembered the looks on the faces of the Kumars when they saw Kailash Pradhan in Veena. And his own face had shown no pleasantness at their site. And now they were sitting her in this place, discussing her death, like partners in crime. The fact that they were indeed partners in crime was revealed to Kaya by the next words spoken by the lawyer.
“You people make unnecessary haste. What was the need for you Paras an Nalini to come to Veena. Especially since I told you not to? The fact that you are the last living relatives of Kaya would’ve escaped everyone’s mind till the trust was actually transferred to you. Why couldn’t you people remain quiet? And did you have to wail and make that show of grief in front of Kaya?”
The cold tone was gone. He now seemed agitated and the was nearly shouting.
“Kailash bhaiya, ant bhala to sab bhala!”, it was the voice that had earlier spoken about the fire chief confirming Kaya’s death “And with a brilliant scheming mind like yours, we’ve actually killed three birds with one stone. The girl gets out of our way; We get all her money and the land to build a new spa; and I get rid of my old hotel building. You are an absolute genius. Telling that girl that the accidents were probably murders, getting her out of the village, putting her on the top floor of my hotel, and then getting that good for nothing rogue Rasbihari to create the fire from the diyas. Even if there is an enquiry, it will look like an accident. An absolute foolproof plan.”

This flattery had its effect and Kailsh Pradhan seemed to mellow down.

Kaya had heard enough and she didn’t need her intuition to tell her that she could not be seen by these people. She needed to get out of this place. She crept out of the room, and fighting the urge to run, walked out of the dharamshala as fast as her feet could carry her. And all this while, one question loomed in her mind. “Whose was the body that was found on the top floor?

The most logical conclusion seemed Kajri. The fire must have started when she was in Kaya’s room, probably putting away the bags. Kaya thought about Kajri – her slightly scared expression when Kaya had first seen her, the intimidated look throughout the car journey, she had no regrets about leaving her family, her so-called home, she was full of hope for her musical future, eager to learn and train under Charulata Bhandari. Kaya recollected the brief time they had spent together, and realized that Kajri – waiting to blossom into a beautiful flower, had been nipped at the bud. She had been strangled in her cocoon just as she was ready to come out of it. Kaya felt her anger rising at the greed of the man called Kailash Pradhan. The lawyer, the liar, the cheat, the murderer. Hot tears began to flow down her cheeks, and as she put a hand in her pocket to draw out her handkerchief it brushed against a soft paper. The moment Kaya drew it out of her pocket, she realized it was her aunt’s letter addressed to Charulata Bhandari, praising the talent of the young girl called Kajri, who was coming to meet her carrying this letter. A tear fell from her eye; and Kaya moved the paper to prevent the drop falling on the writing. She must’ve folded the paper and thrust it in her jeans’ pocket while entering the hotel. And there it had remained till now, a reminder of Kajri. She put the letter back into her pocket and moved on. She arrived again at the banks of the Ganga, and looked out at the devotees having an early morning dip in the river- seeking absolution of their sins. Kaya wondered whether all sins were pardonable. If Kailash Pradhan took a dip in the Holy water, would his sins be absolved? She sat on the riverbank, her emotions raging from anger to grief. Kaya tried to figure her next step. She couldn’t hide on the streets for long, she couldn’t linger in this city for long. She had to get out. And leave the bunch of crooks to enjoy her family’s wealth.

As she sat gazing into the river, every now and then her thoughts would drift to Kajri, and her aunt’s letter would leap into her mind. Kaya felt that she was in such a filmi situation. On her radio show, she would sometimes elaborate a situation and asked her listeners to call in and tell what they would do if stuck in it. She had once asked them what they would do if they were stranded in a foreign country without any cash. A husky voiced girl had called her, in fact Kaya had felt that the caller was probably a boy, and the nature of his answer forced him to pretend otherwise. The caller had given a filmi solution to her filmi problem. But it was a fairly simple one. Sell your jewellery. Kaya considered it, and counted her jewllery pieces. A small diamond ring and matching diamond earrings, a thin gold chain about her neck and a lone silver anklet on her left foot was the jewellery that she wore. All of it together was probably worth seventeen thousand, but she had no clue how much she would get if she tried to sell it. And after taking the money, where would she go? She would get out of this city, but she couldn’t go back to Mumbai or her job. Kailash Pradhan had probably told them of her death, and if she were to go back, he would definitely come to know. And the second time, she may not be so lucky. Her despair turned into anger as she realized that she had no options. And deep in her heart, rose a desire for revenge, to leave them as helpless as they left her. Kaya could not spend the rest of her life watching her back. But, as she calmed down, her old rational self took over. Revenge was best left to movies and novels. Kaya had to get on with her life. Her life? What was left inher life? What could she go on with? And with that, she once again thought of Kajri, the girl who had been eager to get on with her life. And then, a thought entered her mind. She wouldn’t get on with her life, she would get on with Kajri’s life. Kajri had taken the death meant for Kaya, and Kaya would take the life meant for Kajri. It was an unfair barter. But, destiny had chosen it for Kaya. She would forever be grateful to Kajri for the gift of her life. But now, she had to get to Benaras.


Kaya decided to use her caller’s trick. She walked into a medium sized jewellery shop and urged to meet the owner, who turned out to be a portly middle-aged man.
“Yes madam, what would you like to see?”, his tone was doubtful, as if he knew the real purpose of Kaya’s visit. Maybe it was due to her disheveled state and distressed voice.
“Sir, I need your help”, Kaya began.
“Hmmm, a victim of the fire tragedy? “
“Yes..”, Kaya was surprised.
“Sell or mortgage?”
“What?”
“Madam, do you think you are the only one who wants to use her jewellery? I have had at least seven people in the last one hour who want money.”
“Oh, I want to sell it.”
“Are you sure? We keep the mortgaged items safe for one and a half years.”
“I am from out of town. I want to sell”
“Ok then. What have you got?”
Kaya pointed to her ears handed her ring to him. “They are a set”
“These are branded?”
“Yes” She told him the brand.
“Certificate?” He enquired, “Do you have the certificate?”
“No, it is at home.”
“Tsk tsk. Too bad. The re-sale value of this brand is high, but not without the certificate. Anything else?”
She showed him the chain. He took all the pieces from her and examined them. They completed the transaction, and Kaya walked out with ten thousand rupees in her pocket. She had to haggle a bit, and she was pleased with the negotiations.


And now she was ready to leave the city. She would get to Delhi by bus, and then catch a train to Benaras. She walked to the bus stand and enquired about a bus to Delhi. It seemed to her that there was one every half an hour. So all she had to do was buy a ticket, and get going. Kaya purchased a ticket, and while she waited for the bus, she spotted a dhaba right opposite to the bus stand. The place was quite crowded. People were constantly moving in and out of it. And as she came close to it, a variety of smells hit her nose at the same time. Poories, Pakodas, jalebis, boiling almond milk, all from the huge kadhais placed outside the dhaba. And suddenly Kaya’s stomach gave a lurch. And she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the previous day’s lunch. She entered the eatery and found herself a table at the far corner. She ordered a king’s fill and gorged on the food when it arrived. She took longer than she had intended to, and after paying her bill, rushed out of the dhaba into the busy street. She had to cross the road to get to the other side, and hurried on for the fear of missing her bus. She was about halfway across, when a speeding black car turned the corner, a few hundred meters from where Kaya stood, and rushed in her direction.


Kaya tried to leap out of its path, but there was traffic on the other side now. She frantically looked at the incoming car, and her froze at the spot. Her eyes met the eyes of the front seat passenger. The shock in them equal to the fear in her own. Kaya’s heart beat very fast, and stomach tingled with apprehension. But, her feet seemed to be rooted to the spot. She tried, but she couldn’t move her legs. Time seemed to have slowed down, and those few seconds; everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Going back would mean colliding into the traffic on the other side of the road. Moving forward would be rushing into the path of the speeding car, or walking into the hands of the very people from whom she was trying to run away. This and a thousand other thoughts passed through her brain before she could comprehend what was happening. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t realized that the car was swerving. The driver seemed to have lost control of the car. It was now heading straight towards Kaya. Just as it came within a few feet, she turned sideways. At about the same time, the driver turned the car as well. The car had spiraled totally out of his control, and the wild turn had caused it to completely block the other lane. For a fleeting moment everything seemed all right, but it was not so. A large loaded truck was coming down the road, its speed a little more than what should’ve been. The driver braked hard, and the sound of the air brakes could be heard all around, but the truck did not slow down enough. Still at a good speed, the truck driver made a frantic attempt to avoid an impact, and turned towards other side. The truck hit the side of the car, and dragged it diagonally across the road for a few meters. Suddenly, a bus turned the same corner that the car had a few seconds ago, and the car was sandwiched between the two large speeding vehicles. The sickening crunch of metal against metal filled the air.

Kaya was horrified, she had stood transfixed from the moment the car had turned, she was still in the middle of the road. She could have been hit. A few people gathered around her and ushered her to the side. As if in a trance, reached the side of the dhaba and sat on a chair outside it. The people asked her if she was fine, for she looked pale and shaken. The owner of the dhaba came out and asked one his boys to bring hot ginger tea for her her. As she sat there sipping the tea, and watching the commotion on the street, she noticed a few buses emerge from the bus stand. One of them was Kaya’s. The next few hours passed in a daze, and Kaya had a bleak memory of ambulance and the police approaching. The bus had no passengers, and both the bus and the truck driver were injured, but the passengers of the car were all dead. Five battered bodies were laid down by the side of the road, and covered with white sheets. Dark red spots began to appear on the sheets as the people tried to identify the victims. All they could determine that there were four males and one female. But only Kaya knew who they were. Kailash Pradhan, his driver, Nalini, Paras and Vaibhav. All the people in Haridwar who had seen her, who recognized her. And now they were all dead. She didn’t have to fear being discovered anymore. She was free. She was Kaya no more. She was now Kajri. With this thought in her mind, she thanked the dhaba owner and crossed the road. She went to the bus stand, and was on her way to Delhi on the next bus. She felt free, like a bird flying out of her cage, into a new shy, to scale new heights. No one would ever know who she is, and she would do what her mother had always wanted her to do. Devote her life to music.


The ten thousand rupees that she had gotten were enough for her to reach Delhi. She bought a couple of clothes, a few basic necessities, a travel bag and a ticket to Benaras. With her past behind her, she reached the house of Charulata Bhandari. Charulata Bhandari read her old friend’s letter, and looked at the cotton salwar kameez clad girl from head-to-toe. She led the girl to a large room where her students were practicing. The gentle sounds of the sitar and the melodious voices practicing ragas filled the room. The atmosphere was calm and happy, and she immediately felt at peace there.
“I would like to hear you before I can begin with your training.” Said Chaurlata Bhandari.
She looked at her and nodded. She sat down on the floor, and closed her eyes. For a moment her mind was all blank, and then a thousand memories rushed through. She was back at the village, in a tiny room, a lady sat facing her, a veena in hand, teaching her raag Bhairavi, asking her to sing along. She did, she sang with all her heart and when she opened her eyes, Charulata Bhandari stood smiling at her. She had moved from reality to memory and back. Her years of training in Veena came back to her in a flash, and her talent had shown. Charulata Bhandari sat down beside her and said
“You have a very good voice, and it will be a pleasure teaching you. Welcome to my school”
She smiled and said thanks. They both got up and Charulata Bhandari hailed one of the girls and instructed her to take the new girl to a room. She picked up her back and turned. Just as she was about to go, Charulata Bhandari called her back, looked deep into her eyes and said,
“Did anyone ever tell you?”
“What?”
“You have your mother’s eyes”

The END

Red roses

There was a boy in high school we will call Joey. One day Joey leaned over to the girl sitting next to him in class and whispered, "Red roses."

The shocked girl stood up, slapped Joey in the face and went crying to the teacher. The teacher called Joey to the desk and asked what he had said.
"Red roses" was Joey's reply, at which the teacher screamed and sent poor Joey to the rincipal's office. As Joey waited in the lobby to be called in, he pondered what was happening to him. His thoughts where cut short by the sound of the secretary saying he could go in. Joey walked into the office and was told to take a seat, which he did. After telling the story of how he had been wrongly accused and how he knew there was some mistake, the principal smiled and asked, "OK, Joey, I understand. What did you say to her?" Joey was sure the principal would be a reasonable man and responded "Red roses." you could watch as the principal turned red and shouted "YOU'RE EXPELLED! GET OUT!"

Joey asked to wait for the bus to take him home, since he lived some distance away. "NO!" Then Joey was informed that if he were caught on the premises again, he would be arrested for trespassing.

Very distraught, Joey set out on his way home. He had made it about a mile down the road when Old Man Jones, the local pig farmer, stopped and offered a ride home. Joey, being very upset, of course, accepted the ride. Not more than a mile down the road, Old Man Jones asked why Joey wasn't in school, so Joey told the story of the events that had happened that day. At the end of the story, the old man said that it sounded like Joey had quite a rough time of it "Oh, and what did you say?" Joey hesitated-- should he tell the man what he said, or not? He decided to tell him. "Red roses."

The tires squealed as the truck ground to a halt.Old Man Jones reached over and opened the door and pushed Joey out of his car. Now very angry, Joey got up, brushed himself off, and continued on his way home. Upon arriving at home, Joey's mother, Mrs. Campbell, saw
that her son wasn't looking too good, and asked why he hadn't caught the bus. Joey told her. She fixed Joey a bowl of soup and then asked, "Joey, dear, what on earth did you say to that little girl?" Joey wasn't sure what to do. He knew his mother loved him, but he didn't want her to have the same reaction everyone else had. But he told her anyway. "Red roses."

Joey waited in his room with a bruised ego and a sore bottom, wondering what would happen when his father got home. Six o'clock came around and Joey's father got home. He could hear his parents arguing outside his door and then suddenly it was quiet. Mr.. Campbell came into the room and said, "Your mother told me you had some trouble at school, but I told her you and I would figure it out. But the first thing is you have to tell me what you said." "OK, Dad, I said red roses'," was Joey's response. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU"RE NO SON OF MINE!"

The next morning, Joey decided he needed to get a job. It was awhile before he found anyone who would hire a 15-year-old who had been expelled from high school and kicked out of the house. But Joey wasn't a quitter, and he did find a job working at a gas station in a neighboring town. After a few months, Joey had managed to get settled in his new job and had even moved into the apartment over his boss' garage.

On a particularly slow day at work Joey's boss asked what had happened that caused everything that had happened to happen. Joey went into along story of emotional stress,misunderstood youth, the pain of having lost all of his friends and family in one fateful day. The tale Joey spun was so powerful; his boss was moved to tears and, out of compassion, offered to adopt Joey.

With the firstsmile to cross his lips in months, Joey accepted. On the way to the court proceedings a few days later, Joey's boss asked him, "Exactly, what did you say to her?" Without thinking, Joey replied, "Red roses." His boss grew as white as a ghost and said, "That was my niece, you little pervert!"

Once again, Joey was without a friend in the world. The next day Joey took all the money he had managed to save and bought a bus ticket to wherever the farthest place from here is. As he waited for his bus, a little old lady sat down next to him on the bench. Even though he didn't want to, she started talking, and before you knew it, she had heard almost the whole story. But she interrupted and asked what he had said. "Ma'am, I said 'red roses'."

Well, the words were just barely out of his mouth when she started beating him with her cane. In order to flee the fury of the old woman, he ran across the road, but he never made it to the other side. He was hit by a speeding Mack truck and he died.

The moral of this story is, Always look both ways before crossing the street. :)