An encounter with a cannibal

A friend had asked me to write a horror story. This is an old one repeated for his reading pleasure and for the new followers.

It was late evening. I was sitting in the lounge of a hotel in an interior African city.

” Hey, new to this place? Would you like to see a cannibal?” asked a tall and big man from the adjacent sofa.

I had nothing specific to do and readily agreed curious to see something strange.

In a few minutes we drove outside the city to what seemed a forest and were face to face with a bare bodied black tribal man with shrunken face, matted hair, unkempt beard and beads on neck seated before a bonfire to ward off the cold. There were lines in white and orange on his face and body.

There was a look of surprise and his eyes glistened as he smiled showing his yellow teeth. He made no attempt to talk but made some gestures that I could hardly comprehend. A shudder passed through me as he looked at my white skin with interest.

I looked around for my companion. He was not seen. A lump arose in my throat when I heard a loud thud. My companion had hit the black man hard on his head.

“Don’t worry” he said as he plunged his sharp teeth with relish on the black man’s shoulder and added with a large grin showing his blood filled mouth, “I am lucky today. Black and white would make a great combo.”

As he slowly stood up with a vicious look and blood dripping from his flesh-filled mouth, I stood frozen still and dazed like a deer caught in the headlights.

” Trinng, trinng, trinng,” the phone came alive with the receptionist in her sweet drawl announcing, “Good morning,Sir. This is a wake up call. It is 4 am and your flight is at 6 am.” Highly relieved but still dazed, I thought of the terrible nightmare looking at my sweat drenched shirt.

A tough decision indeed (twists galore)

The inspector of police was about to leave the police station for home. A constable came in to announce that a young lady wanted to see him urgently. She came soon behind him, a young lady in her late twenties. The Inspector asked the constable to remain outside. She seemed educated and spoke flawless English. The inspector was an elderly man about to retire in a year with a daughter of her age and a son well settled.

Asked what brought her to the station, she said coolly “I have poured acid on my husband’s face when he was asleep. He is writhing in pain at my home.” The inspector could not believe what he heard till she assured him that it was a fact. The inspector asked her to wait and meanwhile sent a SI with a constable in a jeep along with keys to her home to admit the man in agony in a hospital. He simultaneously arranged an ambulance to reach her home

Once this was taken care of, he asked her to narrate the events truthfully as they happened. After a glass of water, she said” I am Swati, a post graduate in Botany and a lecturer in a college. I made the mistake of falling in love with this man whom I married later. He is an exceptionally handsome guy, with an infectious smile, slightly effeminate, suave in manners and an engaging conversationalist that would sweep any woman off her feet. He is intelligent, cunning, lazy and fond of good living, easy money and adept in handling girls.

When I fell in love with him, he told me that he was a MBA and an executive in a reputed company. I have waited before his office building in the evenings till he came out for spending the evenings. He took me around to places but took care not to take advantage of my mad love for him before marriage. This made me trust him more. I have no mother.

My father an old man who is no more had one look at him and said “Swati, he rings fake to me. Something about him warns me that he is not right, though I cannot pinpoint. Don’t be in a hurry to marry him. Have his statements verified independently before you take this important decision.”

Foolish and headstrong as I was, I ignored his suggestion and went ahead with the marriage. At the suggestion of my husband, it was a simple marriage with a very few friends of his. It was only later after a few months that I could find out, he had no job, had no MBA and was a plain loafer. It transpired later he waited in the office building to pose that he worked there. I also learnt to my utter shock that I was his fifth wife and that he had inveigled earlier many girls like me and married them, gave them children and robbed them of their money. He went each night to one of the unfortunate women.”

The kindly inspector asked “Do you have any child? Have you also parted with your jewels and belongings as I see no gold on your neck or hands?”

She replied “Yes, I have lost all. Luckily I have no child. He made me abort the one immediately after marriage telling me that it would be a hindrance for planned holidays and I was then not aware of his shenanigans. The immediate provocation for my drastic step today was his attempt to cheat a young girl into a marriage. I overheard his conversation telling her that he is an IRS officer and unmarried when he assumed I was not at home. When I confronted him that I would not tolerate any more of his cheating young women and that I would complain to police, he laughed derisively and asked me to get lost.

The inspector kept quiet thinking of a plan to resolve successfully this matter. I knew his looks were his asset and I decided to take it away from him so that no girl would ever fall a victim any more to his wily moves. I had strong acid for cleaning purposes and I decided to wait till he fell asleep on the sofa after watching TV as he usually does. I took this decision consciously and am prepared to suffer punishment for it.”

The inspector kept quiet motioning her to remain silent and thought over the matter for a few minutes. He could see in the agitated young girl before him a picture of his own daughter. He could visualize the mental torture of hers having been cheated by a riffraff. He had no sympathy for the young man who got his just desserts. What he was worried was the wrong manner in which the justice was administered to him by the young woman taking law into her own hands.

After a while he coughed slightly and told her in a quiet voice” You have taken law into your own hands. This is highly wrong, a big offence and punishable. Listen carefully, you are of my daughter’s age and I trust what all you have said. Still I will make independent inquiries to verify the veracity of your statements. If he is really a culprit as you have explained, have no worry at all. You said that you poured the acid on his face when he was asleep. He must have lost his vision by now. Give me a statement duly signed that on entering the house from the college, you found the door open, your husband writhing in pain on sofa and that someone must have assaulted him with acid out of enmity. Utter no word to anyone that you did it and stick to this no matter what. I will bring this case to a successful conclusion to the great relief of his five cheated wives and to the rescue of his potential sixth victim.”

 He stood up, patted her on her shoulders and said “Don’t worry; you have a dad in me. Policemen aren’t as bad as they are often depicted.”

The story can end here. However, for some of the readers who expect a twist at the end, please read on.

It was then the mobile in Inspector’s hand rang.” What did you say? Repeat it, is it that your brother is in hospital with acid burn? Which hospital and who gave the information? I am rushing there,” he replied to his wife.

He turned to see Swati trembling in fear. “Do not worry. Our deal stands. If the man is a cheat, he will pay the price. You may go home without fear. My only wish is that your husband is not my brother in law but a different man, though my brother in law is a wastrel with all the traits of your husband.” the inspector said as he rushed to the jeep.

For those not satisfied with the above twist being unrealistic, here is another.

On hearing is wife, the inspector looked at the trembling Swati sternly without a trace of compassion he showed earlier and walked to his desk. He took her statement from the drawer and tore it to shreds and bellowed to SI,” Take her to women’s police station and keep her in the lock up till you hear from me.”

If you desire the ultimate twist, here is one.

When the mobile rang in inspector’s hand, he asked, “Tell me quickly. I am in a hurry to go out. Did you say your wife is missing? What is her name? Okay. Please tell me,” and listened quietly and looked at Swati once or twice. Finally, he said to the person on the phone, “Yes, sir, she is here. You may come immediately. I will wait for you.”

In a few minutes, a young and handsome man got down from car and introduced himself, “I am Mohan, IRS working as Assistant Commissioner," and  gave his card and showed his ID. "This is my wife Swati. I am sorry she has inconvenienced you all. She is having some psychological problem and very occasionally gets into a bout of persecution complex and imagines all sorts of things. This is the third time. We are a happily married couple. She is under treatment under Dr. Sargunaraj. If you wish, you may talk to him."

Meanwhile Swati had snuggled close to Mohan and smiled innocently at the inspector unaware of the problem she had created a while ago.Evidently the presence and comfort of her husband's proximity had calmed her mind.

A rendezvous with ghosts

It was a large green lawn with colourful flower plants encircling it. The line of full grown trees at regular intervals on the periphery provided cool shade, though after 4 pm they made the place somewhat dark. Arogyasami enjoyed the scenic beauty daily sitting on the bench and often lost in thought on his many problems and a few happy memories, sometimes frowning and sometimes smiling. The frequent cool breeze laden with the scent of flowers made the place a happy hangout. He preferred to be alone but some days other people came to the lawn like him. Even when there were several benches, it irked him they always chose his bench to crowd together.

Today he had come earlier than usual and luckily there were none in the lawn. The sky was overcast and the place seemed darker than usual. He saw with interest a little yonder an overgrown squirrel struggling repeatedly to break a hard nut with its teeth when abruptly it dropped the nut and hurried into a bush as if it sensed danger. Wondering why it ran away, he saw to his horror a creepy figure that seemed like a bent human form flailing its arms and covered in black rushing towards the bush. It was just about 20 feet away. He crossed his chest with his fingers. Arogyasami strained his eyes hard into the darkness and saw the figure moving quickly towards him. Even as he wished to run away, his legs froze in fear and he fainted.

When he became conscious and opened his eyes, he saw three persons bent over him with their faces breaking into large smile and exclaiming, “He is alive.”

“What happened to you?” one asked and added, “You look as if you had met a devil.”

“True, I saw a ghost clad in black trying to catch a squirrel and failing in its attempt, it came after me. I could not see its face clearly but I will swear it was a wicked and violent ghost,” Arogyasami said somewhat recovered from the shock.

“All crap, why would a ghost catch a squirrel? There is no ghost here. I have been coming to this place for years and have never seen one or heard of such a thing. You must be hallucinating,” said Appadurai, a frail old man with a beak like nose.

“How could you say like this?” interrupted Rajappa, a tall and stodgy guy. I have heard that many people have committed suicide on these trees and their ghosts freely roam here, a few peaceful and most are harmful. They roam sometimes in white robes too not necessarily in black always. Many have died stricken by them or in fear. I am told nobody comes here after dark. In fact, I have myself encountered one such. It had grotesque misshapen features with hollow cheeks, toothless mouth and protruding tongue much longer than for us. It never walked on ground and caught me in a trice. I thought my heart would burst but summoning my nerve, I pleaded with it to leave me alone. It took a hard look at me and said with a weird smile that was scarier to look, “Sorry buddy, a case of mistaken identity. I am looking for one Appadurai who is responsible for my present state.”

The frail beak nosed guy turned pale and asked in shivering voice, “Did the ghost say Appadurai? I have never driven anyone to death.”

Arogyasami interrupted to say to Appadurai, “Ghosts never forget till they wreak their vengeance. I suggest you avoid this place for a few months. I have heard they have elephantine memory and haunt the place frequently. You are lucky to have escaped today.”

Gopanna, a short and stout guy, who was silent hitherto spoke at last, “I have personal experience with a ghost. I killed my neighbour who tried to misbehave with my wife when I was away. I came in the nick of time and hit him repeatedly with a hockey stick till he died. He said before he lost his consciousness,’ I will never let you go unpunished. Wherever I am, I will catch you and kill you.’ I spared my wife as she did no fault. I was let off by police. I have myself heard strange cries and noises at unearthly hours outside my house. We vacated the place. I am no more troubled.”

“You are lucky, “said Arogyasami.

It was already dark past 6pm on a wintry evening despite the dim lights on the lamp posts. It was then Appadurai screamed, “Turn behind and see. Three ghosts in white are rushing towards us. Let us run to safety,” even as the white figures closed in on them. Arogyasami fainted again. Appadurai started crying hoarsely while Gopanna tried to run. Rajappa stood still utterly confused.

When the three men in white uniform caught all the four, one of them shouted at them telling, “What are you doing here? You are all supposed to be in your cell by 6pm. Come along quietly or I will beat you blue.”

They followed the wardens meekly without demur to their cells in the mental asylum.

The slingshot

In the corner of dimly lit and smoke filled hut, Rani was struggling to boil a broth before her parents came home tired and hungry from the field. The firewood she picked in the nearby wood was damp generating more smoke than fire. Her eyes, red and burning with nose running, the young girl of 13 persisted in her efforts to ignite the flame. She felt her lungs would burst by the repeated blowing through a narrow cylindrical bamboo pipe.

“Akka (elder sister), can I help you by blowing the pipe? You look worn and tired, “asked her brother Babu of eight years. Though lean and short for his age, he was agile and his eyes shone brightly.

‘No, I don’t need your help. Open the door fully for this oppressive smoke to escape. Get me the hand fan from that corner. Amma was using it last night. Take the chimney lamp as it is dark there,” replied Rani.

Babu gave her the fan and sat by her side meddling with the slingshot in his hands. The boy and the slingshot were inseparable.

Emaciated and bony, she was tall for her age giving an impression of a young woman. Her unkempt hair that had not seen oil for long and her ill-fitting faded clothes subdued her well defined features. Her mother stopped her from school after she came of age. The school was two kilometers away in another village and the kutcha road passed through an arrack shop. There were a few incidents of harassing young women in that desolate stretch. Babu alone attended school.

The broth was almost ready. Seeing Babu aiming at a cockroach in a corner with his slingshot, Rani shouted,” Babu, you are with that wretched slingshot 24 hours of the day. Can you not put it aside for a while? You have got addicted to it.”

“Akka, unless I practice daily my aim at distant objects will not be accurate. Do you know I got the first prize in a competition held with my friends in school? Watch me aiming at the cockroach in that corner.” Taking a pebble from his pocket, he hit it on the first attempt. Clapping her hands and hugging the young boy, Rani said,” I am proud of you. But you should spend only limited time in practicing. You must study well and come up in life.”

“Akka, I will study well, help you in your chores but please do not stop me from practicing. I beg you, akka,” pleaded the urchin.

“No you can play with it in the evening from 4 to 6 pm. I am ordering that you should keep it aside after that. Otherwise I will inform dad who will break your slingshot,” she threatened the boy.

Babu made faces at her and ran away with the slingshot in hand and pebbles of assorted sizes in his trouser pockets

The 12x12 room was all the area in the hut doing the duty of living room, bed room and kitchen. There was no running water and the common well a little away served their water needs. The folks in the village relieved themselves in the open fields under the cover of bush or rock or the banks of canal. The women generally went in the evenings in groups of two or three after the sunset when it became dark but not very late while men went in the mornings. There were complaints that some men on cycles from other nearby villages making catcalls at lone woman. There was a funny incident of two men accosting a frail old woman defecating in the open around 8pm mistaking her for a young woman and ran away when the old woman yelled at them.

It was a week later on a Sunday, Rani’s dad brought from a fair in the adjacent village a large bagful of groundnuts and chikki (bars made by mixing nuts with gur) to the glee of children. Two days later Rani was having slight pain in her tummy and drank some potion in the morning made by her mom.

Seeing her lying on the floor for long, Babu asked her, “Akka, aren’t you well? Shall I go and fetch amma?”

No, no, not necessary. I will be fine tomorrow. Do not tell her anything. Both of them would be tired after a day’s hard work,” she told him.

Around 11 pm that night, she felt an urgent need to relieve herself. Not wishing to wake up her tired parents who were fast asleep, she gently rose from her mat taking care not to disturb Babu by her side. She did not go far into the fields afraid of evil men and sat by a bush. There was a slight drizzle and moon was covered by clouds. A few minutes passed when she heard a shuffle of feet behind her and before she even got up to run, a sack was put on her head that covered her up to waist and two men lifted her like a bundle. Her shriek from inside was muffled.

The two men happy they had their quarry finally in their hands for their merriment walked carrying her towards a pump shed a little yonder. Hardly they took a few steps, one of the men dropped the sack when he was hit by something hard as if a lightning had struck on the back of his head. He fell down unconscious.

The other guy, confused at this unexpected development and unable to bear the weight of sack, dropped it and looked around to see what was happening. The next moment he wailed in pain and shock as something hard hit him between the brows with blood gushing out and making him giddy as he also. fell down.

As the sack was not tied at the mouth, Rani came out wondering at the miraculous happening when she heard,” Akka, come away quickly before they get up.”

When she saw Babu with slingshot in hand, she surmised what had happened. “How did you come here? I came without making noise and making sure you were asleep.”

“Akka, sorry, when I saw you getting up, I closed my eyes pretending to sleep. I followed you and was hiding on the other side of bush. When I heard your stifled scream, I sized up the situation and chose the biggest pebbles. They were like cockroaches and the aims were perfect, akka, though from a distance and in the dark. I knew I cannot afford to miss. Come on let us hurry home,” he said as he walked along with her proudly.

It was a week later when Babu had his birthday, Rani presented him with a packet wrapped in glittering red paper. When Babu opened eagerly, he saw it was a nicely made slingshot unlike the home made one he had. Jumping in joy, he hugged her and . asked ,"Is your order that I play with this only in the evenings holds good now?"

Rani joined him in the laughter.

A faux pas

It was the corner office in the tenth floor of tall building overlooking the sea. The view was great, the spacious room was cool and yet Ratna Kumar (known as RK in short) was seen wiping his face with his kerchief. Today was his wife Sumitra’s birthday and he had booked a table for the evening at a posh restaurant. He was yet to buy her a gift and wished to leave office sharp at 6pm after this meeting. As Marketing Director of a big company, he was concerned at the dipping sales graph in one particular segment. Seated deferentially before him was one of his senior executives Rakesh Khurana (another RK) who was in charge of that particular area.

“Rakesh, how are your wife and children at Delhi? You were mentioning a couple of months back that your father-in-law had sustained back injury due to a fall. How is he? When are you bringing your family to this place? I know she is working in a Kendriya vidyalaya and trying for a transfer,” enquired RK.

“He is better, sir, but uses a walker. My family may be required to stay for a year more there. I am managing somehow.

“Good, Rakesh, I called you to discuss an important matter. The sales in your segment is very poor in comparison to others. Do not say the demand is low. All the others are doing well. The other day MD was specifically mentioning about your area. I told him that you are very hardworking and a very good material for higher responsibilities needing no supervision and that I would talk to you about the low sales.”

“Thanks, Sir, I will do my best in this quarter and show you much better results.”

“Good, leave no stone unturned to make up for the lost ground. This is in your own interest. Am I clear?

“Yes, Sir,” replied Rakesh as he stood up.

“Sit down. I am not done with you yet. There is a personal matter that I wish to speak to you in confidence. I am not sure how serious and true the information I got is and I am hesitant to broach on it. Nevertheless, since it may impinge on your performance in office and affect the company, I thought it fit to mention in private to you.”

Rakesh looked at his boss RK with apprehension not knowing what he was about to say.

“Of late I have been receiving complaints from market that sales in your area is going down and customers are unhappy for poor service, delayed deliveries and false assurances. I also hear that you are not easily available. The impression is that you have not been showing much interest in your work and frequently leave office early. I have myself received some complaints about your department from a few customers. I wondered what happened to a good executive like you,” said RK and paused.

As Rakesh kept mum with his head bent, he proceeded further. “I made some discreet enquiries and learn that you are close to your secretary Ms. Vimla and you two often go out together much earlier than office hours. It is not my intention to intrude into your private affairs outside office. They are entirely your own and are of no interest to me., But I am concerned at the poor outcome in your work as a result of this liaison that has affected the company. I am transferring that lady to a branch in the city,” he said.

Rakesh was seen uneasy and heavily perspiring. Rakesh tried to take his kerchief but pulled out from his coat inadvertently a small red coloured packet. He kept it on the table and took out the kerchief. RK took the packet in his hand and saw from the cover it was GUCCI perfume for women. There was a look of consternation in RK’s face and guilt in Rakesh’s when he mumbled sorry.

RK then grimly reminded Rakesh about his dear wife and children at Delhi and that his act of betrayal is being talked about in the office behind his back. He also reminded that ethics of the office would not permit such liaison between employees. If it did not stop, he would be compelled to take extreme steps, he warned.

Rakesh highly in remorse promised that he would mend his ways from that very moment and welcomed a new secretary in place of Vimla for him. He left the red packet on the table when leaving the room refusing to take it with him lest it tempted him.

 It was already 5.45pm and RK remembered his wife Sumitra would be waitingat the restaurant for birthday dinner. He had to hurry as the traffic was heavy around that time. He saw on the table the packet of perfume bottle and it struck him it would be an ideal gift for her. He felt no qualms in taking it as he can always reimburse the cost to Rakesh later.  He slipped the bottle that was lying on the table inside his coat pocket without even opening it as he hurriedly left.

When he reached restaurant at 6.05pm, he saw Sumitra already seated at the corner table. Mumbling sorry for being held up by traffic, he gave her a small hug and sat opposite to her in relaxed manner. Improvising Shakespeare, he said “Age cannot wither you, nor custom stale your infinite variety” and shook her hands warmly saying Happy Birthday. Sumitra watched him with amused smile, as he took out from his pocket with a flourish the red coloured packet.

Sumitra happily took the packet from him and noticed the words GUCCI written on the red cover to her great joy. RK was pleased to see the radiant face of his wife as she opened the red cover of the packet. A small piece of paper fell down to the bewilderment of RK. She curiously started reading what love message her husband had written. “To my sweetheart Vimla, with everlasting love, RK”

RK was shocked to see Sumitra abruptly and angrily getting up. Pushing the bottle towards him she cursed him, “You two timer, you have the cheek to gift me the perfume bottle you bought for your lover. Fie on you. You will go to hell. Do not ever make an attempt to contact me.” She stomped  out crying without waiting for the dinner with others in the restaurant turning their perplexed faces at them.

Dazed at the turn of events and not knowing what made her angry, he bent and took the chit to see what Rakesh had written. He sank on his chair as if hit by a sledge hammer ruing for his grievous mistake of using someone’s gift without checking fully. He knew it would take a very long time for him to explain the faux pas and pacify her.

A tryst with Tampa uncle

Narmada exploded in anger when she saw one day the following comment in her blog from someone under the name ‘Bard from Tampa’ picking several flaws in her poem.

“Writing poetry is not everyone’s cup of tea. If you still choose to write to a specific form of poem, adhere to the rules strictly. If you are not skilled in writing to form, switch over to free verse. Rhyme is desirable but should not be contrived spoiling the appeal. You do not have to throw a dictionary at the reader. Avoid alliteration like a plague. When I read your poem aloud, I felt like I was munching Jal muri with grains of sand replete. Good luck next time.”

Narmada felt the comment was very harsh and unfair. She wrote back contesting some of the points made and wished the critic were gentle in his words and encouraging in nature. He promptly apologized and admitted that he was in a cussed mood when he read the poem and that he regretted later. He had requested her to continue writing more poems in different forms. Thus started a regular exchange of mails initially and eventually ended in chat regularly.

While Narmada’s profile was known to him from her blog, she had no inkling about him except that he was in Tampa, US and perhaps elderly as he wanted her to address him as Tampa uncle. But she found his mails and chats very interesting, jovial and educative too. Being an extrovert, she gradually was drawn into discussing her likes and dislikes and even her personal problems in office and home.

Narmada, a young thing in her late twenties was working in a renowned software company after her engineering degree. A versatile woman she had varied interests.  She had a blog of her own where she regularly posted her poems, reviews of books she had read and films she saw besides her thoughts on the happenings. An extrovert she was friendly by nature and had innumerable friends.

During one of the chats, Tampa uncle asked her, “Do you like Carnatic music?”

“I play Carnatic music on violin at a reasonable level though I do it only to please my mother. Frankly I have no fancy for this type of music. But I am fond of Hindi film and pop music. My mom says I have a sweet voice and would make a name if I chose to enter that line. But I have no such interest,” she said.

“Who are your favourites in music? I have also seen in your profile that you are a movie buff. Whom do you like to watch?”

“Have you heard of Arijit Singh and Papon? Among the females, I like Shreya Ghosal and Sunithi. There are countless others coming up. Ranbir and Ranvir take the top positions in my list with Alia Bhatt and of course Deepika in my female list. I must admit I had a crush on Maddy but he has become obese these days. How about you?”

“I am fond of Carnatic music in any form and drawn to good music of other genres too. My problem is lack of time. I have no favourites. I like them all. I do not go to Hindi films much.”

What she liked about Tampa uncle was he seemed a perfect gentleman, vibing well with her youthful tastes and giving proper advice when sought for without seeming to be inquisitive. She grew to like him much for his gentle disposition and had even sent her resume to him.

Her mom was pressing her to get married but she was not keen about it. She desired to go to US for a couple of years. But her father had retired from service with just adequate pension and she had a younger sister in college. Narmada’s earnings were a great support to the family. But that did not deter her parents from advertising for a suitable groom and spreading word among relatives and friends for a prospective match. She could do little to stop them except whine to her Tampa uncle   about her plight and how unrelenting her parents were. She told him of her desire to visit US for two years on project and not marry immediately. To her dismay, he advised her to go along with her parents as they knew what is good for her.

It was then Tampa uncle asked her what were her favourite food. When she said she loved Italian pastas and Mexican and Chinese food instead of the drab South Indian fare, he gently advised in his avuncular manner to learn cooking of South and North Indian cuisine. He added that one cannot eat everyday Italian, Chinese or Mexican food.

 In a couple of months, her parents found a highly qualified professional from US through some friend. The young man was based in New York and was expected the next month. When Narmada informed Tampa uncle about the developments, he congratulated her and expressed his happiness for her. He told her that he has a plan to visit India and if the date of wedding matched with his visit he hoped to be present for her wedding. Narmada was elated at the prospect of meeting her good friend and mentor.

On the appointed day the young man Vasudevan came along with his parents to Narmada’s place for meeting her. He looked tall, handsome and a bit dusky with curly hair. Narmada too was an ideal match for him. Needless to say, it was a case of love at first sight. After the pleasantries, they went to a separate room to talk and know each other better.

Vasudevan broke the silence telling her that he had no questions to ask her and that he liked her very much. He asked Narmada to seek answers for any questions she had in mind. She smiled coyly and said she too had nothing to ask him. Vasudevan smiled at her and said he had one stipulation to make before proceeding further bringing jitters to Narmada. Being qualified he wanted her to work in US as additional income would be welcome.That is no big deal,she thought. He paused for some time before adding that she agree to his stipulation that she  remit a portion of her earnings to her parents each month.

 She was flabbergasted for a few minutes rendering her speechless and wondering how he read her mind. She involuntarily folded her hands doing a Namaste and bending to touch his feet. He lifted her and said he was fond of a typical Tamilian food though he liked very much pastas and had a weakness for Mexican enchiladas and cheese quesadillas. When a thrilled Narmada asked him about Carnatic music, he confessed his partiality towards Hindi songs by Arijit Singh and Shreya. He liked Chitras songs too.He was not sure he liked Maddy.

A doubt crossed her mind and she asked him whether he knew any elderly gentleman in Tampa. Vasudevan could  contain his laughter no more and asked her “Are you talking of Tampa uncle and his famous  girlfriend in Chennai?” 

She now knew the whole game and started hitting him fondly with both hands on his chest amidst shrieks of joy. The perplexed parents rushed in to see the blushing young couple holding their hands in laughter.

A new beginning

It was a lower middle class apartment complex built by government with thin cracks on the faded walls and with plants sprouting from the crevices. Ramaswamy Iyengar had bought this flat about twenty years back after selling his tiny share of land in the native village. Iyengar has been happily living in this comfortably situated and well connected place. Another reason for his happiness was that Kesavan Nambiar, his colleague and close friend of several years, is his neighbor in the adjacent flat.

A retired government servant Iyengar was getting a small pension. He had a son and a daughter born late in life. Govind his son had finished his MCA and joined a reputed IT company. Being bright, he was chosen by the company for long term work in US four years back. Although of marriageable age, Iyengar was waiting to finalize first his daughter Veda’s marriage. Veda after her M. Com joined a private bank earning a good salary. He was frantically searching for a suitable match for her. Traditional and conservative, always clad in Dhoti in conventional manner, he sported his caste mark prominently on his forehead and spent long hours mornings and evenings at the local Kodandaramar temple assisting in its administration.

Nambiar’s only daughter Padmini, a close friend of Veda and of same age, was an extremely good looking and tall girl. She had learnt multimedia and web designing at advanced level and was working with a big publishing company. Nambiar’s financial position was not good and the family lived mainly on the income of Padmini. Though Nambiars often claimed that his search for a good match for his daughter has not been fruitful, Iyengar confided to his wife now and then his suspicion that enough efforts were not put by them possibly due to their dependence on Padmini. The lady agreed with him lamenting at the plight of Padmini and blaming her destiny.

It was then one fine morning a rich Kerala business man with his wife and son approached Nambiars wanting Padmini’s hand for their only son. It seems they said their son was struck by the girl’s beauty when he went to the bank on some business and that they were not particular about the status or the wealth of the girl’s parents. They assured that they would take care of all the marriage expenses including jewelry, clothes, marriage hall and food. The young man looked decent and handsome. It seemed that he was assisting his father in the lucrative family business. Padmini’s parents were flabbergasted at this godsend development and readily agreed after checking with Padmini. The marriage soon over, Padmini left for her husband’s place in the same city. Nambiar shared with Iyengar under strict confidentiality that a tidy amount was given to Nambiar during the wedding as a token of gratitude by groom’s family.

 Initially for a couple of months Padmini visited her parents frequently but was not seen thereafter. It appeared that her in-laws were not letting her visit her parents and also forced her to quit her job. She was strictly told not to contact her parents. Nambiars were very much shaken and frequently shared their grief with Iyengar couple.

After three or four months, Iyengar was surprised to see Nambiar at the sanctum one morning from his office space in the temple. The latter rarely visited the temple. When Iyengar found him standing before the Presiding deity praying for long, he went near him and found his eyes closed and tears trickling down his cheeks. He stood by his side quietly waiting for him to finish.

 When he opened his eyes, Iyengar put his hands on his shoulder and asked him,” Kesava, are you alright?”

Nambiar tried to be normal and said,” Yes, I am quite fine physically.”

“I did not mean physically. You seem to be mentally tormented with some problem. I have never seen you in tears in all these years as you are a strong personality. If it is not very confidential, you can share with me. It will lighten your burden.”

Nambiar hastily wiped his eyes and said “Ramaswamy, we have been deceived. Padmini’s life is totally ruined,” and started sobbing even before completing the sentence

“Are they ill treating her because she did not bring adequate jewelry or dowry?”

“No, the matter is much more serious,” and he kept quiet without telling what the problem was.

 It took a while for Iyengar to ferret out the information that the marriage has not been consummated and that the young man was unfit for married life. It appeared that it was beyond any medical remedy.

Iyengar was shaken initially and after some deliberation said, “Kesava, there is no point in her staying there. You must bring her back immediately to your home. She is a major and can come out on her own volition. As a matter of caution, I will accompany you along with a lawyer friend of mine. He can put fear in their minds, if there is a need. Can we go in the next hour?”

When Nambiar agreed, Iyengar told him, “We will carefully think of a solution later after talking to Padmini. Whatever be the solution, staying at their place is no more acceptable.”

By afternoon, the presence of lawyer friend enabled easy release of Padmini from that hell and she was safely back at the apartment. With Veda providing company, the smile returned to Padmini’s face.

 Two days later after dinner Iyengar broached the subject to his wife. Veda was also present. His wife also sympathized with Padmini and wondered what could be done. Divorce is inevitable but what next? The fate is cruel in some cases,” she added.

 Iyengar told his wife “I have thought of a plan and wanted to know your views before expressing it to Padmini and her parents. Firstly, I am going to ask Padmini to get a divorce. This can be obtained within a short time, my lawyer friend tells me. Secondly, Govind may be willing to marry her as they know each other well. She is a good match for him. I am not going to see horoscope or bothered by any tradition or opinions. I have almost decided and just need your approval.”

Before her mom spoke out, Veda intervened and turning to her dad said exuberantly,” Appa, you are cute and an ideal father I am proud of. I can now share a secret. Though Govind and Padmini have not openly uttered, I think they are very fond of each other. How nice to have her as part of our family. Appa, please talk to Govind now itself,”

“Let me hear your mom too,” said Iyengar.

” Padmini is no doubt a very good girl. Nevertheless, I would prefer Veda’s marriage to be finalized first.”

On hearing this, Veda exploded “Do you think my marriage would be affected. I don’t care. I will find someone for me. But Govind should give a new life to Padmini immediately. It has nothing to do with my wedding.” Her mom remained silent.

Iyengar softly said, “I have already spoken to Govind. Do you know what that wily fellow said? He tells me ‘Appa, have I ever said no to you ?’”

In six months Padmini was happily married to Govind after due formalities. Veda too got a good match. 

When Iyengar went to the temple after a fortnight to resume his honorary duty, he was slightly apprehensive of how the orthodox and conservative management would react, He was pleasantly surprised to see the Trustee of the temple warmly welcoming him with extended hands and congratulating him for his  gesture. 

Kesavan Nambiar who rarely visited the temple earlier  came these days daily. 

Lofty spirit in a frail frame

We live in a small town, rather an overgrown village, about thirty kilometers away from a big city. Ours is not a modern house but an old one short in width but very long one with a porch at the entrance and a large vacant ground at the backyard. It was built during my husband’s grandfather’s time. We chose to live in this place since recently as my husband had large areas of land under cultivation here and in the adjacent villages. A lawyer by profession, my husband is not practicing much these days except to help old clients. My two sons who are in the city visit us with families during weekends off and on.

One summer night past 9 P.M when I was watching TV, I heard someone calling ’Amma’. I found an old man of about seventy five, frail and small built and certainly not looking well off from his tattered shirt and much worn out cheap chappals but had a smiling face belying his indigent circumstances. 

With a soft and pleasant voice, he said “Sorry to trouble you at this late hour. I came to this place to return some amount I had taken as a loan to someone. I wished to hand over the money personally to him. That person  came home only at 9 pm. The last bus to my place had left at 8-30 pm and the first bus is only in the early morning. I do not know anyone else here. Would you kindly allow me to sleep on the  thinnai (raised platform) in the porch for the night. My relations with that person is a bit strained and there is no question of my seeking his help.”

As my husband had not returned from the city and was expected to stay overnight with my son, I hesitated for a moment. My six-year-old granddaughter Meera who had come to stay with me for the weekend said” Grand ma, please allow this thatha(grandfather) to sleep in the porch. Where else can he sleep in the night? He also looks tired and hungry.” This clinched the issue.

I gave him a mat, a pillow and a sheet to cover as mosquitoes are a menace here. Declining to have food, he accepted a glass of buttermilk when I insisted. I could hear his talking to Meera and her peals of laughter now and then. I could see a jovial personality within this frail man depressed possibly by financial worries. When I came out after some time to take my granddaughter inside, I asked him, “Do you have children?”

“Yes, I have a married son with children. He is working in Bangalore. My daughter in law is also employed in the government,” he said.

“Oh, oh, are you then living alone here?”

“It is a different story. Yes, my wife and myself are living here.Unfortunately, while boarding the bus, she fell down some years ago and ever since is unable to walk. She needs help even to take her to bathroom. Luckily one lady in the adjacent flat is very friendly and helpful whenever I go outside. After this accident my son and his wife have become distant and aloof. He used to send some money earlier before the accident whenever I asked. After the accident, I have stopped asking. I am getting some pension that is just adequate for us. I am thankful to god for keeping me physically fit and healthy to take care of my wife and manage my affairs without imposing on others,”

A thought crossed my mind. Financially not sound, advanced in age, a crippled wife, denied the affection and care of his only son in the twilight years, he was not beaten down but yet he counted his blessings instead of crying about his disappointments. He went up in my esteem by several notches. I wished him good night and went inside with my granddaughter Meera.

When I got up in the morning and went out to the porch with a cup of hot coffee, I found he had left. The mat and the sheet were neatly folded and kept over the pillow. When I lifted them to carry inside, I found a small paper neatly folded and on opening a fifty-rupee note fell down. He had scribbled in pencil “To dear Meera, with love, Thatha.”

What a magnanimous man, I thought even as my eyes became moist. It set me thinking that  bigheartedness is not necessarily the preserve of the wealthy and that a lofty spirit can exist even with people in poor circumstances. I could not stop the tears flowing from my eyes even as his smiling face in slight frame lingered in my mind.

Teacher's recompense

Today being Teacher's day,I have posted here an old story of mine to salute the great teachers 'who inspire hope, ignite the imagination, and instill a love of learning  in their wards.'

Suneeta was asked by the principal to handle class V that year as Mrs. Alexia who was in charge of this class had resigned. Suneeta found she had one problem boy in her class. She has been in this school for years and never had seen like this child. Kartik was a shy, intelligent and well behaved student. But he paid no attention to what was being taught. She had to call his name thrice or even more whenever she had a question for him. He was always lost in thoughts. He did not mingle with other boys and girls even during play time. Always morose, no one had seen him smile. The other children understandably ignored him. He came to the school in shabby and unpressed clothes. His hair always needed a cut. He wore a much used pair of shoes that needed an immediate replacement. Naturally this disinterest in studies reflected in his performance and he stood at the bottom of the class. Her initial attempts to reprimand the boy by punishments brought no improvement except a hurt in his eyes. Suneeta was a sincere and hardworking teacher. She could not admit defeat in the case of this boy who was otherwise normal.

It was by accident that one Sunday she met Mrs. Alexia in the market. When she broached about this boy to her, Alexia’s eyes became misty as she narrated his story. Kartik was actually the brightest boy in her class, very jovial and a natural leader. He was her favourite child. It all changed when he lost his mother in class IV.  His dad whom she had seen once was a good for nothing drunkard. He took no interest in this only child of his and brought a woman to live with him. She too did not take kindly to the boy and made him work for long hours. Mrs. Alexia felt sorry that she could not help the boy as much as she wanted as she had to leave the school.

Suneeta was moved by his sad story. She changed her approach to the boy. She spoke lovingly and encouragingly to him. She could win his confidence only gradually. She shared her lunch with the boy on occasions. She spent more time with pats and praises to bring him up to the level of his class. She persuaded the school management to extend scholarship to him and out of the money bought new dresses and shoes. Her love and compassion paid dividends when he started scoring high marks and was the second in the final examination.

On the last day all children brought the teacher gifts wrapped in multi coloured papers tied with ribbons of assorted colours. Kartik too brought one in a used envelope tied loosely with a twine. She opened it first and saw a pair of cheap ear tops. He said this was his dear mom’s and had saved it from others eyes. He said he had nothing else to give her and pleaded with her to accept the same. She instantly removed the pair she was wearing and wore the one gifted by him. For the first time she saw his face wore a large smile.

Years rolled by and Kartik she learnt was in a college doing MCA. He kept in touch with her once a while always thanking her for her affection and love that filled the void created by his mom’s demise. Suneeta was happy that her efforts to give him confidence, motivation and the love he missed when he was young had worked wonders. She was thankful to god that she realized in time the power that teachers had in imaginatively moulding the lives of the wards under them

It was year later that she got a phone call from Kartik requesting her to accompany him for the University Convocation. She wore his mom’s ear tops he had presented her when he was in class V for the special occasion knowing she was filling his mom’s place. Her joy knew no bounds when he was declared University topper.

Tears started flowing from her eyes when he hugged her and cried “Miss, you had lifted me from the gloom that enveloped me. It is only your steady affection and the efforts to teach me that made a man of me. I see in you my late mom. But for you I would have been a wastrel.”

The thought occurred in Suneeta’s mind that it was only Kartik who opened her eyes to the true role of a teacher. He quietly removed from his coat pocket a jewel box containing dazzling and costly pair of ear studs and implored her to accept this token of his love and gratitude.

Vishu makes a debut

Vishu was just twelve when he lost his father. His father was a mrudangam player eking out a difficult livelihood. He was not in the top rung of percussionists that renowned musicians sought for. He had to be content playing for musicians at a lower level with lower remuneration. His dad had no doubt accompanied some of the stalwarts but such occasions were more by default than by choice when the regular player was unable to attend due to emergencies

Vishu usually went along with his father to the music concerts held mostly in temples on festive occasions or in marriage halls. As a young boy, he had a fascination for violin and used to watch keenly the violinist wielding the bow and producing sweet music. But his father taught him at home, the only skill he knew though he knew of Vishu’s fancy for the stringed instrument. Vishu had an elder sister who was learning vocal music. Both of them were studying in a government school. It was then a tragedy struck when one evening Vishu’s father suffered a massive heart attack while playing in a concert and passed away even before medical aid could reach him.

Vishu’s maternal uncle decided to take his sister and her daughter with him to his village. Learning about the boy’s interest in violin, he along with some musicians who were friendly with Vishu’s father, approached a leading violinist. The kind vidwan who knew Vishu’s father and the tragic circumstances of the family agreed to keep the boy with him and teach him. Those were days of guru kul when musicians kept disciples in their home and taught them the skill.

Years rolled by. Vishu served his master and his wife during the tutelage sincerely with devotion. He was the errand boy helping them in ever so many ways. They were impressed with his impeccable behaviour. The guru’s wife taught him initially the rudiments of the music on the violin and the boy later learnt directly from guru himself. By hard work and inherent skill, he had become an accomplished player. Though he was not allowed to play in public platforms as yet, he continued to go with his master carrying the violin box and take care of his other needs. The guru was a hard task master and did not allow any intimacy. He was stern while teaching him and on other occasions talked very less. In fact, it was guru’s wife who was very kind showering her affection on the boy and fed him well.

One day the master and his wife had gone to adjacent town to attend a marriage. They were supposed to return by night but returned early in the evening itself. As they entered the house, hearing Vishu playing the violin., the couple sat quietly on the bench in the verandah. He was essaying beautifully and leisurely kalyani raga with some nice phrases and continued with Thyagaraja kriti nithichala sugama. They were both pleased at the neat presentation of the song and impressed with his kalpana swaram. When the playing stopped the guru hugged him and mami kept running her hand over his head.

It had been more than five years since he had gone to his village to meet his mother and sister. It was then one day his uncle had written that his sister’s marriage has been fixed and asked him to be present at the village a week in advance. His uncle had also written to the boy’s guru seeking his blessings for the girl and his presence on the occasion. Vishu’s joy knew no bounds and pleaded with the master that he and mami attend his sister’s wedding. Even as the lady was agreeing to the Vishu’ssuggestion, he told Vishu that he had a concert that day at another town. He said he felt bad that he was not able to participate in the joyous function. He gave him some money to be given as his gift and permitted him to leave for the village.

It was the day of wedding. There was only one main street in the village with tiled houses on both sides leading to the temple at the end. The road was covered by a pandal. The tying of the mangalyam was to commence soon. There were many who were jostling in the hall of the house. Vishu came out and looked across the street. Some kids were running hither and thither and the Nadaswaram vidwan was playing the pipe. He was a little sullen that his guru could not make it. Someone called him inside. It was then an old Morris car drew up opposite the house. As cars rarely visit the village, a crowd gathered around it. Three elderly gentle men came out. Hearing the commotion, Vishu rushed out and was greatly surprised to see his guru along with a top musician and equally famous percussionist.

Vishu was speechless and fell at his feet till his master pulled him up to pat him. Meanwhile uncle had also joined.

“This is entirely an unscheduled visit. We missed the train and took a car to reach the town where we have the concert this evening. I remembered your sister’s wedding and made a slight detour. I expressed my desire to these great vidwans who readily agreed to grace the function.”

Vishu’s master said “We intend to sing for an hour in the pandal after the muhurtham. Can you send word to all those who would be interested to listen?”

The villagers had never heard such a soulful music from the great titans. In the middle of the concert the master made way for Vishu and told him to accompany the great musician on the violin. He said “This is memorable occasion for three reasons. This is your first Kutcheri and is being performed before the presiding deity of your village temple, secondly you are accompanying even in your first concert a very senior vidwan and equally senior mrudangam artiste and thirdly you are playing on violin at your sister’s wedding. How fortunate you are.Carry on confidently. May God bless you”

With tears filling his eyes, Vishu prostrated before all the three thinking of his master’s large heart and affection for him, before climbing the dais. He did not forget to look at his mother standing afar in a corner and bow  his head slightly.

Paid back in the same coin

It was early morning and the sun had just arisen. Deepak could not sleep due to jet lag and came out to the balcony. He saw on the road some elders on their morning walk, paper boys cycling speedily with bundles of dailies on the carrier and women pushing the carts with milk packets to deliver. An old woman with basketful of spinach of different varieties was heard shouting” keerai, keerai.” He could smell the aroma of coffee from the electric filter in the kitchen and hear his mom lighting lamp in the puja room. As he turned to go inside, he saw a young woman in her mid-twenties staring at him from the opposite balcony. What a chiseled beauty he thought even as he stopped going in to look at her. To his surprise she did not lower her face but continued to gaze at him. She was very appealing in her yellow top and jeans with a cup of coffee in her hand. Surprised at her nonchalance, he continued to stare at her with interest.

Hearing shuffle of feet behind, he turned to see his mom smiling with a cup of coffee in her hands. “Poor thing,” she mumbled as she saw the young woman and said “Come in, my cup is on the dining table. We can sit there.” He turned once again to see the young woman but she had gone inside.

As they settled down sipping coffee, he asked, “You said poor thing. What was that? Whom were you referring to?”

“I was thinking about Sharanya the young lady you saw in the opposite apartment. Do you know she is totally blind? They have come recently here. Very nice family and very talented one she is. If only she were not blind, I would have….,” she trailed off without completing the sentence.

“Was she born blind”

“Her mom told me that her vision was going down of late. Can you examine her? I have told her mom that you are a big eye surgeon in US and that you would be coming here.”

“No problem, amma. I can examine her in my friend Akshay’s eye clinic. You can tell them. You said she is talented. In what areas? asked Deepak.

“She is an expert in Carnatic and Hindustani classical music and has given public recitals. She has such a sweet voice that you can listen to her endlessly. She is a post graduate in economics. I can ask them to come. You can even talk to her.”

He was greatly surprised when around 3 pm his mom came to his room to tell,” Freshen up and come to the living room. Sharanya and her mom have come.”

“HI, I am Deepak. Nice to meet you. Amma was mentioning about you both,” he said with a smile. She looked really beautiful in close quarters in her pink top and black legging.

“Mami told me that you have come and suggested that I bring Sharanya. First time we are meeting a renowned eye surgeon informally like this,” Sharanya’s mother said.

“Ha ha, nothing renowned and all that. I obtained my doctorate and am now working in Sanfransisco. I will examine her tomorrow at 9am in my friend’s clinic. Do you know Akshay’s eye hospital in Alwarpet?” he said.

“Thank you for readily agreeing to examine,” he heard Sharanya speak in a soft voice.

“Welcome. We will talk about eye tomorrow. Amma was all praise for your talent in music. I have a great liking for Carnatic music and listen to it almost daily in the evenings. Amma was telling me you give public recitals. I hope they must be there in YouTube. Glad my Indian patient is a renowned vocalist,” he said with a loud guffaw followed by laughter from all the three before him.

Deepak’s mom got up telling that she will get coffee with Sharanya’s mom also getting up.

“I will show mami the new plants at the rear balcony. You be talking meanwhile to Sharanya,” said his mother.

He turned to Sharanya who was gawking at him with a smile in her face. Somewhat bewildered, Deepak showed two fingers and asked her how many fingers she saw. She looked at his direction for long and said “It is hazy, may be two or three.”

“Okay, we will see tomorrow. When your vision is restored to normal, what are your plans? Do you work anywhere?” he asked

She kept quiet for a while and then answered,” No, to be honest with you, I would also like to work in US after taking a doctorate in Stanford or Berkeley. Music is my hobby and not a profession.”

He was happy for no reason and said,” Good, a wise decision. We will be in the same city.”

They talked animatedly for about 30 minutes on variety of common interests when their moms entered with coffee cups in hand.

After sometime when they got up to leave and the two moms were talking, Deepak gently whispered, “I am looking forward to meeting you tomorrow,” and she replied softly “Me too,” with a giggle.

Unable to sleep he got up in the early hours of night and thoughts of Sharanya with her pleasing looks, innocent giggles and intelligent conversation lingered in his mind for long till he dozed off.

“I see nothing wrong with your eyes. I have performed several different tests and procedures to check your vision as well as the overall health of your eyes. The examination was comprehensive. Tell me Sharanya honestly what exactly is the reason for this farce,” asked Deepak in a baffling manner.

She kept quiet for long looking at him with some trepidation. When prodded, she blurted,” Don’t take me amiss. This was a set up by your mom. She wanted us to meet and know each other. Since it appears you were adamant against marriage, she employed this subterfuge. She thought you would relent after meeting me. Are you upset with me?”

“No, I do not like such sly methods even if it is by my mom. Did you agree to this drama without any protest?”

“Initially I protested but after seeing you in the balcony, I changed my mind. I am sorry,” she lowered her head and spoke somewhat shyly.

“No need to be sorry. I have also changed my mind. Allow me to scare our moms for a moment before breaking the good news. Play along with me,” he said with a chuckle.

Putting on her face a thick brown frame with glasses as thick as the bottom of soda bottle, he took her outside to the waiting moms and said solemnly, “I did not expect her condition to be so serious. There is a speedy degeneration. Lucky you brought her today. Let her wear this glass till a surgery is performed. I will arrange for surgery this week itself.”

“What are you saying? Her eyes are perfect,” both the moms screamed shattered by the unexpected development.

Sharanya’s mother started sobbing but Sharanya could not control her laughter.

“Auntie, do not worry. It is manageable if both of you agree to one thing,” said Deepak

“What is that? We will agree surely,” cried both of them in chorus.

“It is simple. Send Sharanya with me permanently. She is willing,” he said with a wink and added turning to Sharanya,” What do you say.” Turning to his mom he said ” Amma,I hope I have your approval.”

There were loud peals of laughter even as Sharanya snuggled close to Deepak.