Death God's Predicament (624 words)

 (I found this funny story in Tamil in my documents. It appears to have been written by me from the style though I am not sure. I have translated it into English and posting with this disclaimer)

Once, DG, the god of death, took a break from collecting souls and paid a visit to Earth. While strolling around, he saw a gorgeous woman and, to his surprise, fell head over heels in love. Though she was a mere mortal, DG was smitten. He thought, “Hey, why not live a little? Let me marry her and have some fun!” So, DG tied the knot with her and soon became a proud father to a handsome son.

Now, his wife was great—kind, caring, and all that—but DG, being the god of death, had other important things to do. Over time, he grew a little bored of domestic life. He missed the good old days of soul collection, and the nagging thought of returning to the heavens started creeping into his mind.

But there was one problem—Yaput, his son! DG just couldn’t bring himself to leave the boy behind. He loved the kid too much. Torn between his fatherly duties and his desire to run away, DG found himself in a dilemma.

One day, when Yaput was old enough, DG sat him down for a heart-to-heart chat. “Son,” DG began, “you must become the greatest doctor in the world. Not just any doctor, but someone who can save even those at death’s door.”

“Really, Dad? That’s amazing! But how?”

DG smirked and whispered, “Here’s the trick. If someone is about to die, I’ll be there. Only you will be able to see me. If you see me, don’t treat that person. Got it? Just walk away. Trust me. If you treat them and they die, you’ll ruin your reputation as a doctor. But if I’m not there, go ahead—give them the medicine. They’ll spring back to life, and everyone will hail you as a miracle worker! Your fame will skyrocket.”

With that, DG, wiping away a tear, hugged his son and made his grand exit—without saying a word to his wife, of course.

The son followed his father’s advice and became a famous doctor. People travelled from far and wide to see him. And the best part? Nobody died under his care! Every time he saw his dad chilling in the corner, he would respectfully bow, say, “Nope, not today,” and walk out. The whole town praised him, saying, “If this doctor leaves without treating, death is the only option left!”

One day, the king’s daughter fell gravely ill. The entire kingdom was in despair as no doctor could cure her. The king, desperate, called for the son. “If you save my daughter,” the king declared, “I’ll give you her hand in marriage and my entire kingdom!”

The doctor confidently strode into the princess’s room, ready to work his magic—but then he froze. Standing right there, next to the princess’s bed, was his dear old dad, DG, waiting to claim another soul.

“Uh oh,” thought the doctor. If he treated her, she would surely die. But if she lived, he’d get to marry the beautiful princess and become the king! It is a tough choice indeed.

Then, inspiration struck! With a twinkle in his eye, the doctor turned towards the door and screamed at the top of his lungs, “MOM! DAD’S IN HERE! YOU’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR HIM EVERYWHERE! HE’S RIGHT HERE!”

Suddenly, DG, the all-powerful god of death, turned pale. “Oh no, not your mother! I can’t deal with her right now!” he muttered. Muttering incomprehensibly DG bolted out of the room faster than lightning.

And just like that, the doctor cured the princess, got the girl, and won the kingdom—all thanks to his resourceful thinking and his poor dad’s fear of an angry wife! Needless to say, he brought his mom to stay with him.

Things are not what they seem (1214)

“Who is opening the curtain daily in the drawing hall? I keep it closed” said Mukund with some irritation as he drew the curtain close. He had just returned from office. He did not like the young man from flat on the same second floor of the opposite block standing in his balcony and staring at Mukund’s living room. That good-looking guy must be less than 30, tall, rugged looking with a week’s bristle on his face. Could the dislike be because Mukund was short, plump with thick glasses and a bulbous big nose?

Mohana, his wife, was busy in the kitchen and did not respond to his question.” Where is Manisha? I don’t see her” he asked her.

“Why? She has gone to meet Lavanya in the opposite block to collect some project report. She should be back any time” replied Mohana.

“Which floor is Lavanya living on?”

“I have no idea. How does it matter as there is lift as in ours?” said Mohana

Mukund did not reply and went to his room to change his dress after a wash. She peeped through the curtain to find no one looking at her complex.

When Manisha returned after a while, Mukund admonished her for keeping the French window open.” What are you talking about, Dad? The windows are meant to let in sunlight and air. Why do you insist that they be prevented from entry to the hall by closing the window by curtains?” replied Manisha, a beautiful 18-year-old girl. She had taken after her charming mom in looks.

“It is not the light or breeze; I am talking about” mumbled Mukund

“Then what?” she asked with a bemused expression.

Mohana intervened to say “Do not argue with dad. There must be a reason for his telling.”

After some silence, Mukund cleared his throat and said to his upset daughter “I see one guy always standing on the balcony of the same floor as ours in the opposite building and staring at our apartment possibly to catch a glimpse of you. That is why I wish to keep the curtains closed.”

“Dad, are you serious? When I walk in the road or in the college so many see me and some even stalk me. Do you want me to wear a burqa or live in a dark cell away from men’s eyes? You seem so outdated” she said laughing aloud. “I am not going to keep the curtains closed because some man is watching our flat and rather I will draw them open every time I see it closed” she added.

“Manisha, stop it. He is telling for your good” said Mohana and turned to Mukund and said “Do not worry. I will take care. Our girl is always in her room busy with her studies wanting to get into IIT and she does not idle away her time.”

From the next day Manisha was happy that the curtains were drawn open in the day time with living room bright till her dad returned home in the evening. She was also pleased that her mom sat more in the living room to listen to music or do some knitting. She also agreed with her mom when she said men are always suspicious by nature and Manisha should not be upset with her dad.

Manisha smiled and said “Mom, I can now understand why dad is suspicious. Even at your age of 39, you look so young and gorgeous, that makes me too jealous.”

“Silly girl, stop blabbering and drink your Horlicks before it gets cold,” said Mohana

Two weeks later, Mukund received a call around 4pm from Manisha. “Dad, please come home immediately. There is something amiss.”

“What is it about? I am busy here”

“Mom is not to be seen in the home. When there was no response to the repeated bell, the aunty at the opposite apartment opened the door and gave me the key telling that mom requested her to give the key to me as she was in a hurry to go somewhere.”

“Did she tell where she was going? Did you try her mobile/”asked Mukund

“I did, dad. The telephone was shut. I rang up our relatives to see whether she had gone there. She could not be traced. It appears she left around 11 am.”

After 30 minutes, her dad came home. He looked crest fallen and perspiring heavily. Manisha brought a glass of cool water which he drank in one gulp.

“Dad, I am worried about mom. She would not go without leaving information behind or talking to you.”

“Listen carefully. I asked the security whether he saw your mom going out. He said he saw her in a flustered manner leaving the complex towards the main road. She had a bag in her hand. When I asked the security whether anyone had accompanied her, he said the tall fellow with the stubble in the opposite block had come out in a taxi at the same time and talked to your mom for a minute before he left. I don’t know what is happening” he said with worry and anger writ large on his face.

“No, Daddy. That guy would have left for some errand on his own. Why do you connect them?”

“I also thought like that and went to the second floor of that complex. That flat was locked. I enquired at the opposite flat and learnt, he had vacated it and left the key with them around 11 am. He did not leave any address behind” sobbed Mukund.

It hit Manisha like a sledgehammer. Could mom be so treacherous, she thought? No, never can it happen, she reasoned. Tears filled her eyes as she hugged her dad consolingly.

It was 630pm and they were debating whether the help of police should be sought when they heard the doorbell. It was Mom. There was no bag in her hand.

“I am sorry I could not inform you or Manisha before I left. There was an urgent call from the nursing home where my maternal aunt is living with dementia. I thought she had died as they did not tell me anything more than my required presence for taking her to the hospital. As I came out of the complex, the tall fellow from the opposite flat who came in a car asked me if I needed to be dropped on the way. I declined his offer to help. It transpired my aunt fell and sustained a fracture. She was taken to hospital along with me. They put plaster and sent her back to the hospice. I took a few old nighties and towels for her use. I could not ring as there was no charge in my phone and I thought I would return before Manisha came from college at 4 pm. My aunt could faintly remember me and would not allow me to leave. The nurses gave her some tranquillizer and advised me to stay till she dozed off to sleep. I am sorry I got delayed. Were you both worried?”

Manisha did not say anything but hugged her mom and smothered her with kisses, even as her dad standing beside her mom, hung his head in shame for having doubted his wife.

  

The Modern-Day Bride-Meeting in group (950 words)

 This story relates to customs from a few decades ago, when marriages were finalized after the "bride-seeing" ceremony. During this event, the bride and groom met for the first time, with the bride attempting to impress the groom with her appearance and accomplishments. Much has changed since then.

 “Saro, you can go to your friend’s house today at 3 p.m. and return after 7 p.m. Some young man and his parents are coming around 4 p.m. to meet Lalitha. If she asks you to stay back, tell her you’ll be back soon, but make sure to stay out until at least 7,” Saroja’s mom said, giving her a knowing look.

Lalitha, who had just arrived to speak with her mother, paused at the door, overhearing the conversation. This was nothing new—it had happened many times before. Yet, each time it stung just the same. Why did even her mother have to hurt her with such careless words? Lalitha was slightly dusky, and a bit heavy, but her features were striking and well-defined. Saroja, on the other hand, was petite, slim, and fair, with a natural charm that drew attention effortlessly.

Lalitha was highly educated, bright, and always topped her classes. She sang beautifully and could hold deep, intelligent conversations. In contrast, Saroja, while attractive, had never quite matched her elder sister’s intellect or accomplishments. However, Saroja had also been present once during a bride-seeing event of Lalitha when the young man’s mother audaciously sought Saroja's hand. Since that day, her mom ensured that Saroja was never around during these occasions.

Despite her other successes, Lalitha loathed these bride-seeing rituals. Her parents, hopeful and traditional, allowed anyone to come without proper vetting or even exchanging photographs. They believed that photos could be deceptive and that meeting face-to-face would work better. But nothing had worked so far, not because Lalitha was unattractive, but for various other reasons, including some young men feeling intimidated by her intellect.

One evening, Lalitha’s mother received a call from Chella Mami, a family friend. Her son, Vishwa, had just returned from New York on a brief visit, intending to select a bride. Vishwa was highly accomplished, having completed his MBA from Harvard and working at the UN. He disliked the conventional bride-seeing process and requested that his parents arrange an informal gathering where all the girls they had in mind could meet him at once, along with their families. It would be a relaxed, high-tea event where Vishwa could interact casually with everyone.

Chella Mami invited Lalitha’s family and subtly hinted that they should bring both Lalitha and Saroja, though she requested they keep the real purpose of the gathering a secret from the girls.

The day of the gathering arrived, and Vishwa’s house bustled with energy, filled with about a dozen young women, each dressed in their finest, accompanied by their parents. Vishwa, wearing jeans and a stylish embroidered kurta, looked strikingly handsome. Tall, well-built, with chiselled features reminiscent of a young Sylvester Stallone, he had a charismatic presence. Outgoing and confident, he greeted everyone warmly, easing the shy girls out of their shells.

Many of the girls had brought small gifts, and Vishwa graciously accepted them, encouraging them to showcase their talents. He led the way, skilfully playing both the guitar and saxophone, which further lightened the atmosphere.

Soon, the other girls joined in, performing songs, dances, or playing instruments. As usual, Saroja stole the spotlight with her filmi music and energetic dance moves. She stayed close to Vishwa throughout, charming him with her playful banter. The atmosphere was lively, with laughter filling the air, as the girls subtly vied for Vishwa’s attention, and the parents looked on with amusement.

Lalitha, in contrast, remained quiet and subdued. She watched the event from the sidelines, smiling gently, but made no effort to compete for attention. After a while, feeling a mild headache, she slipped away to the quiet veranda, hoping for some peace. As she sat down, she reached for her phone, but it was missing. It must have slipped into the sofa cushions. Just as she bent down to search for it, Vishwa appeared by her side.

“Looking for something?” he asked with a smile.

“My phone,” Lalitha replied.

Vishwa took out his phone and dialled her number. Moments later, they heard the familiar ring from beneath the sofa. Kneeling, he retrieved it for her, handing it back with a grin.

“Thanks,” Lalitha muttered, feeling a bit shy.

“I’m Vishwa, by the way,” he said, sitting beside her. “Why are you sitting here alone? You seem quiet. Are you not feeling well?”

Lalitha smiled, briefly introducing herself. Vishwa seemed genuinely interested, and before long, they were deep in conversation. She talked about her work, her love for reading, her favourite authors, and her passion for classical music—both Carnatic and Western. Time flew, and they ended up talking for over half an hour. Lalitha found herself growing more comfortable with him, secretly hoping for something more, though she couldn’t ignore how Saroja had spent much of the evening by his side, making him laugh.

The next morning, as Lalitha, Saroja, and their parents were having their coffee, the phone rang. It was Chella Mami.

“I have some wonderful news!” she exclaimed. “Vishwa has made his decision. We’d like you to come over to discuss the next steps.”

“How can we proceed with the younger daughter’s marriage when the elder one is still here?” Lalitha’s mother asked, assuming they wanted Saroja.

Chella Mami laughed gently. “Oh, no! Vishwa has chosen Lalitha. He is captivated by your elder daughter and told us that if he were to marry anyone from yesterday, it would be her. He admires her intellect and feels she would complement him in many ways and be a perfect partner.”

Lalitha’s mother hugged her tightly, tears of joy in her eyes. Meanwhile, Saroja inwardly happy for Lalitha, quietly slipped out of the room, leaving the moment to her sister. -

 

The New Year Resolution: A Miracle Unfolds (1350 words)

                             What the New Year brings will depend a great deal on                                                                        what you bring to the New Year.”

Veda and Rangan finished their dinner early. Their son and daughter were away at a New Year party at their cousin’s place in the adjacent complex. The couple was on the TV watching some programme that failed to grab their attention.

Rangan asked "Veda, have you thought of any New Year resolution? I know you will laugh when I say I have three ready for me. Maybe I have failed in the past to adhere to them but this year it would be different.”

“Hà ha, you and your resolutions!! The ones you resolve over booze, you forget the next day. Never mind, tell me what they are for the coming year. At least they reveal your intentions," Veda said with a giggle.

 “Mark this time. I am dead serious and do not intend to give up for they are important to me. I will tell you on the condition you will tell me yours."

"Ok, I am all ears.”

"Here they go. First, I wish to go with you on a long holiday that may include a Caribbean cruise and for this, I will be careful with the money and not splurge."

“This seems like two resolutions in one. Never mind. Very ambitious, what next?" she prodded"

“The second one would be to reduce drastically eating out and have healthy food made by you at home."

"Mmm, what is the last one?”

"The last is not to lose my temper as frequently as I do now and be a little more demonstrative in my love for you," he concluded."

“Funny, your resolutions are as impossible for you as weeding out corruption in our country,” Veda said with loud laughter.

“Can you be more specific than your usual vague ramblings?" he shouted.

"I mean, you are broke and poorer than a church mouse except for the paltry pittance you get each month as salary after all the deductions towards the various loans. Where is the money for a holiday even to nearby Pondicherry when we are finding it hard to make both ends meet? What Caribbean, are you daydreaming about? As regards the second portion of your first resolution, you are already a miser. What splurge are you talking about? When did you buy for me anything worthwhile for me to show my people with pride? When did we eat out really except for the pani puri on the roadside shops and alu tikias in the market? We have never gone for ages to a good Chinese, Mexican or Italian restaurant? All you take us to are the cheap joints with dirty cutlery and dirtier China with waiters in rags," Veda said contemptuously.

 "You filthy and ungrateful woman, don’t forget your roots. You were raised in a chawl and born in a poor family going to free municipal schools. Despite my parents' reluctance, I married you because I liked your face. I have given you everything that you would have never dreamt of. What cheek you have to call me a church mouse or a miser, you brat?" Rangan shouted.

"You have proved right now that you cannot control your mind or tongue and have already failed in your third resolution. I never expected any love from you, let alone the demonstrative part. I am a drudge in this house toiling out of a sense of duty,” Veda said and went away sobbing to the bedroom.

He switched off the TV, drank a glass of water and reclined on the sofa with closed eyes for a while before following her.

"Veda, sorry, I lost my wretched temper. I didn't mean to hurt you. I promise I will try my utmost to control myself, my dear. Please excuse me” he cringed.

 “It is ok. This is nothing new to me. Shall I make a cup of hot chocolate for you?" she asked.

"No, no. Please tell me what your resolutions are. I assure you that I would not make fun of you," he pleaded.

"My resolutions are more like prayers than any effort by me. I will pray daily for landing on a treasure trove that will fetch us enough money to send our bright children to Engineering or Medicine courses. The second one will be to curb my desires and expectations in day-to-day life. Thirdly, to do some voluntary work and help find resources for the orphanage from the rich," she said.

"The last one is admirable and the second one is always desirable. Only the treasure trove part seems farfetched. No harm in praying of course," he said as he patted her cheek.

"Enough now of the demonstrative part of your third resolution,” she said with a shy smile

Though an agnostic and never believed in miracles, he bought from December onwards each month one lottery ticket for about 50 rupees from state-run lotteries like Kerala or Sikkim. Though a non-believer, he thought this might facilitate the  Gods, whom Veda prays, to answer her prayers if they wished. He did not, however, divulge this to her.

The New Year came and Rangan was as short-tempered as he was, the outings continued to be few and far between. The much-expected annual rise in April also turned out to be meagre. Life was a dull routine. Six months had passed and he  started doubting the wisdom of spending on the lottery. As if in answer, he was surprised when his ticket won Rs 10,000 as the third or fourth prize. Though not a treasure trove, Veda and Rangan were jubilant and grateful for the small blessings. In deference to Veda’s wish, the entire money was put in a fixed deposit.

Life continued uneventfully for them even after their small lottery win. Though happy, he never really believed in miracles, and the daily grind of tight finances and unfulfilled dreams weighed on them both. Veda’s quiet hope for a windfall persisted along with her intense prayer. Much to the surprise of Veda, Rangan accompanied her to the temple these days and walked around the four corridors. Veda, though inwardly happy, wisely avoided talking about this change in him. 

He on his part decided to continue to buy the ticket every month. A few months later, when there was a festive occasion when big lottery schemes were announced, he bought for the first time on an impulse, a lottery priced at 500 Rs with prizes for several crores with a dozen tickets one in each series fetching one or two crores. He did not tell Veda this time too but his son who accompanied him to the bazaar was privy to this purchase and the ticket’s number.

The festival had come and gone. Rangan was on an official tour for a week. He had either not taken the ticket number with him or forgotten about the date of the declaration of results. His alert son who was in the bazaar found the results were out. He quietly noted down the winning numbers and rushed home. Back home, he was stunned to see his father’s ticket had won One Crore Rupees. While Veda ran to the puja room in utter disbelief, her son informed his father of the life-changing news. Rangan could hardly process what he heard as he was completely overwhelmed and in a daze. He complained of diarrhoea and returned home the next day.

 Veda greeted him with quiet joy and Rangan embraced her realizing this blessing was in answer to her prayers. Though not a religious man, he felt something shift within him. This win wasn’t just about money—it felt like a sign, something beyond chance.

When he accompanied Veda to the temple, without fully comprehending the power of faith, he felt once inside a newfound respect for the mysteries of life. Sitting beside her, he quietly admitted, “Maybe there’s more in prayer and faith than my foolish ego.”

Veda smiled. “Miracles find you when you least expect them if only you have unshakable faith,” she said softly.

For the first time, Rangan believed the truth in her words. The bell in the temple tolled loudly as if in agreement.

Karthik,Kausalya and Tantric (878 words)

Ever since Karthik met Kausalya in their Japanese class, he had fallen in love with her. She was a bubbly, extroverted girl, always pleasant when they talked. They became friends easily, meeting frequently over coffee since their offices were close by. He often called, chatted, and texted her, eventually confessing his love. Kausalya, however, made it clear that she didn’t feel the same way, though she liked him as a good friend. Karthik, undeterred, believed that with time and persistence, her feelings would change

Two years passed, and every time Karthik brought up the topic of marriage, Kausalya politely rebuffed him. Yet, Karthik remained hopeful, unable to imagine loving anyone else. It was then that his friend Shankar suggested a female tantric who, he claimed, could resolve such matters easily. Intrigued and desperate, Karthik found the address.

The place was a small shop selling incense sticks, religious books, pictures of gods, and other items used for prayer. At the counter sat a young woman with a large bindi on her forehead and a string of Tulsi beads around her neck. Unsure if he was in the right place, as there was no sign indicating her as a tantric, Karthik hesitated but finally asked.

“I am the tantric,” she smiled. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Karthik hesitated again—she seemed so young and attractive, which made him uncomfortable. But when prompted, he blurted out his story: his unrequited love for Kausalya and his desire for something, anything, that could make her love him.

“Can you give me an amulet or something that will make Kausalya fall in love with me?” he asked.

The tantric laughed softly and invited him into the inner room.

“What a strange and timid man you are,” she teased, “completely unfit to handle a woman’s heart.”

The room was dimly lit, with the scent of burning incense and camphor filling the air. An oil lamp flickered before images of gods. She took out a small yellow thread from a box and, after chanting prayers with her eyes closed for what seemed like a long time, finally opened them.

“Tie this thread around her right wrist on a Friday morning, after she’s bathed,” the tantric instructed. “Make sure you tie only one knot—no more. Tomorrow is Friday, so it’s perfect. You’ll notice a change in her immediately.”

Karthik asked how much this would cost.

“Whatever you feel is appropriate. You may leave it on the plate in front of the gods,” she said.

Excited, Karthik arranged to meet Kausalya the next morning at their usual coffee shop. When they met, he told her, “I got this sacred thread from a temple. Let me tie it on your wrist; it’s supposed to bring good luck and help in your career.”

As he tied the thread around her wrist, she complained that it was too loose and asked for another knot. Remembering the tantric’s warning, Karthik hesitated but eventually gave in. Then, she insisted on a third knot, and though reluctant, he complied.

The moment the third knot was tied, Kausalya’s expression changed. Her eyes lit up, and without warning, she hugged Karthik tightly, rubbing her face against his. The amused glances from the other customers left him mortified. He pulled away, but Kausalya, filled with an overwhelming emotion, clung to him.

“Karthi, I love you! I can’t live without you. Please marry me as soon as possible!” she declared.

Stunned by the transformation, Karthik realized the potency of the tantric’s thread. He quickly escorted her out of the café. But the day took a bizarre turn. Kausalya wouldn’t leave him alone—calling, messaging, and chatting non-stop, professing her love repeatedly. When he left the office at 6 PM, she was waiting outside, and upon seeing him, ran into his arms, hugging him in front of everyone.

Embarrassed and unsure of what to do, Karthik drove her home, but not before they hugged inside his car. At her house, her parents stood at the door, stunned as Kausalya passionately embraced Karthik one last time before going inside.

Terrified by this overwhelming display of affection, Karthik rushed back to the tantric.

“Thank you for your help,” he began, “but is there any way to reduce the power of the thread? Kausalya is behaving strangely, and it’s becoming a problem in public places.”

“How many knots did you tie?” the tantric asked.

“Three,” Karthik admitted, his heart sinking.

The tantric shook her head gravely. “You’ve ignored my instructions. The spell is now irreversible. She will continue behaving this way, and soon, you both will become a laughingstock.”

“No, no!” Karthik cried out in despair.

At that moment, he felt a nudge and heard his mother’s voice.

“Karthi, wake up! Did you have a nightmare? You were screaming in your sleep—talking about yellow threads and tantric. What on earth were you dreaming about? Come on, get up and brush your teeth. I’ll get you some coffee.

Karthik sat up in bed, his heart still racing, and realized with relief that it had all been a scary dream. “Thank god,​ I did not visit the tantric as suggested by Shankar.​ I would rather wait for Kausalya to make up her mind than expose myself to such awkward situations.”

Embracing the Christmas Spirit (921 words)

Anita Sebastian sat quietly on the sofa, watching her family decorate the Christmas tree. Strings of lights were being carefully woven along the branches by her husband and children. Her daughter, Priya, sat nearby, surrounded by colourful glass baubles and delicate ornaments, waiting eagerly for her dad and brothers to ask for them. A large star and a beautiful angel lay on the floor, the family still debating which one would crown the tree. Laughter, loud cackle and mirth, filled the room as they invited Anita to join in. But she wasn’t in the mood. She gazed at them vacantly, her head aching slightly, and a heavy sense of listlessness weighed her down.

Earlier, she had made tea for everyone, along with a plateful of cookies for the children and her husband. But even the warm tea did little to lift her spirits.

The previous afternoon, Anita had visited an adjacent apartment complex. It was a smaller building, mostly occupied by elderly residents living alone in single-bedroom flats. She had gone to see Mrs. Christine, an old acquaintance from church. Anita hadn’t seen her in over a year, though they used to exchange pleasantries after Sunday services. Christine was frail, relying on a walker to move around. The pastor had recently mentioned her, expressing his concern about her lonely life and meagre pension.

Christine’s story weighed on Anita. The elderly woman owned her flat, but her only son lived abroad. In the early years, he would visit alone every two years, promising to bring his wife and children the next time. That promise was never fulfilled. For the past few years, Christine had heard nothing from him. Whether he was alive or dead, she didn’t know. In desperation, she had asked the pastor for help, but without knowing where her son lived, little could be done to contact him. Despite her failing health and poor vision, Christine clung to life with one hope—that she might see her grandchildren, just once, during Christmas.

The pastor had kindly arranged for a young maid to care for Christine, but he also urged Anita to visit. "You're so close to her," he had said. "A little compassion from someone like you could add some joy to her lonely life. The Lord would surely bless you for it."

Touched by the pastor’s words, Anita had gone to Christine's apartment. The maid led her to the old woman, who was reclining in an easy chair. Christine squinted, trying to recognize her visitor, and smiled faintly when Anita introduced herself. "Ah, you’re the lovely lady from church! I remember hearing you sing in the choir."

Anita smiled back. "Yes, Auntie. I should have come sooner, and I’ll visit often from now on. The pastor suggested that I visit you. I’ve brought some homemade cookies. My children are home for the holidays."

Christine's face lit up. "You must bring them next time! I'm waiting for my grandchildren to visit. My son promised to bring them for Christmas, and I even have gifts ready for them." She gestured to a corner of the room, where Anita noticed a pile of dusty, gift-wrapped packages,

Anita’s heart ached at the sight. Christine’s face had turned sad as she spoke of her grandchildren. Anita gently took her hand and said, "Don't worry, Auntie. I’ll pray they come this year." She didn’t believe it herself, but couldn’t bring herself to shatter the old woman’s tiny hope. After a short visit, Anita left with a promise to return soon.

That encounter stayed with her, casting a shadow over her heart. Watching her children, full of Christmas joy, setting up the tree with their father, Anita couldn’t shake the image of Christine sitting alone, waiting in vain for a family reunion that would never happen.

Sebastian, who had been stealing glances at her from across the room, finally walked over. He sat beside her, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and brushing her hair back from her forehead. "I know what's on your mind," he said softly. "Don't worry, honey. We’ll do something for Mrs. Christine. Tomorrow, let’s go to the mall and get her some nice gifts and a cake, too."

Anita’s spirits lifted at the thought, and she nodded. A little while later, she joined the children in decorating the tree, placing a cheerful Santa Claus figure at the top. Later that evening, they went to the mall together, buying gifts with Christine in mind.

On Christmas Eve, the house was aglow with warm lights, and the tree sparkled with extra ornaments—apples, pinecones, and coloured shells. The dining table was laid out with a feast of fruits, pastries, and chocolates. The children hummed Christmas carols as they waited to leave for Midnight Mass. The mood in the house was merry, but Sebastian was nowhere to be seen.

Anita was wondering where he had gone when she heard his car pull into the driveway. Opening the door, she saw him escorting a smiling Mrs Christine into the house.

"Anita," Sebastian said with a grin, "Christmas is about family, and Mrs. Christine is part of ours. She’ll be staying with us for two days, enjoying the company of grandchildren—and an affectionate daughter."

Tears welled up in Anita’s eyes as she rushed forward to embrace the old woman, who opened her arms wide, smiling brighter than Anita had ever seen. This Christmas, Christine’s wish had come true—though not with her own family, but with a new one that welcomed her with open hearts.

 May your Christmas be filled with love. laughter and magical moments!

Uma’s Faux Pas (907 words)

 

"Is this how you submit files to the GM of the company? Don’t you know this is going to the board of directors? The file covers are dog-eared, the pages aren’t numbered, and the references aren’t flagged. Do you expect them to sift through the entire thing? I won’t tolerate such shoddy work!" Uma snapped, tossing the file onto the table.

The young man, handsome and in his early thirties, stood silently. He retrieved the file and left the room without a word. Uma, 28, had recently been appointed GM of the finance department. Eager to make an impression, she was tasked with preparing a report for an important board meeting in the absence of a finance director. A rank holder with some experience, Uma wanted to stand out right away.

A short while later, the young man returned, the file now in a new folder—pages numbered, references flagged, and corrections made in pencil to both figures and grammar. Embarrassed, Uma realized she had overlooked glaring errors in her report.

Recovering quickly, she said, “Thank you for the good work, but you should’ve ensured the file was in order from the start. What’s your name?”

“Kumar,” he replied simply.

“Thank you, Kumar. I’ll finalize it now. You can go.”

The next day, Uma waited anxiously for the call to present her report. Noon had come and gone, and she was ready to impress the board with her thorough understanding of the subject. Finally, she was summoned.

Entering the boardroom, she saw several directors seated around an oval mahogany table, with other officials seated along the walls.

"Welcome, Miss Uma," said the Managing Director. "We’ve reviewed your report, but our new Director of Finance needs some clarifications. He’ll be here shortly."

Just then, the door to a side room opened, and to Uma’s shock, Kumar emerged. He took a seat next to the MD.

"How do you do, Miss Uma?" he asked, pulling the file toward him. Uma realized her mistake—she had assumed Kumar was a junior executive. She felt a surge of embarrassment.

"Please join us at the table," he said with a smile, gesturing to the chair beside him. “I must say, the analysis in your report was impressive, and the recommendations were well thought out.” With a grin, he added, “Numbered pages and flagged references made it very easy to follow.”

After asking for a few clarifications and thanking her, Kumar concluded, “I look forward to working with you.”

That evening, Uma found herself in Kumar’s office. “I owe you an apology,” she began. “I mistook you for a junior executive yesterday and spoke rudely. I’m truly sorry and seek your forgiveness.”

“Don’t worry,” Kumar said, smiling. “It’s all forgotten. I knew you had misunderstood, so I just played along.”

That night, as Uma lay in bed, Kumar’s face kept appearing in her thoughts—his calm demeanour, his willingness to help, and how he had quietly done more than she’d asked. She was intrigued by his maturity and amused by how he had played along without revealing his true identity. Fantasies of working closely with him, and perhaps even something more, swirled in her mind, though she knew workplace relationships could be tricky and frowned upon.

A few days later, Uma’s car wouldn’t start in the basement parking lot. Frustrated, she was about to call a cab when Kumar appeared.

“Need help?” he asked.

“I don’t think you can fix this. It’s probably an electrical issue,” she replied.

Undeterred, Kumar opened the car door and gave it a try. After checking under the bonnet, he managed to get the engine running.

“Wow! You’re good with cars!” Uma said, surprised. “Where’s your car?”

“I took a cab today. Mine’s in the workshop,” Kumar explained.

“Let me drop you off,” she offered. “Where do you live?”

“South Extension.”

“That’s on my way,” Uma said with a smile, though she knew she didn’t really mean it.

As they drove, Kumar broke the silence. “Do you remember the first day we met in your office? That evening, I told my mom about it. She found it amusing and said, ‘I’d love to meet that bold lady who’s going to work with you.’ She’s been asking to meet you ever since.”

There was a pause before he added, “If you don’t mind, would you come over for a few minutes? I promised my mom I’d introduce you.”

 Uma caught off guard but flattered, replied, “Sure, I’d love to meet your mother. “Uma felt, however, that there was something more than what met the eye behind this unusual request but could not ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

At Kumar’s home, they entered a large, elegant living room. A dignified elderly woman sat in a recliner, watching a TV program on Margazhi Utsav. “Amma, this is Uma, the colleague I told you about,” Kumar said with a chuckle.

As the older woman smiled warmly and beckoned Uma closer, a young woman entered the room, holding a child.

“Oh, you must be Uma!” she exclaimed. “We heard everything about you and the conversation between you and Kumar in the first meeting. Believe me, we all had a great laugh and enjoyed it. I’m Rohini, Kumar’s wife.”

Uma’s heart sank. Her imagined romance shattered in an instant. The colour drained from her face even as the room filled with laughter, but she stood there, frozen, her fantasies dissolving into reality.