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.

The Carpenter's Gift (433 words)

 

(I read this lovely story years back somewhere without the author’s name. I wish to share with you the wonderful moral contained in it. I wish we had such carpenters in today's world ridden with suspicion, strife and hatred.) 

Once upon a time, two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labour and goods as needed without a hitch.

 Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally, it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

 One morning there was a knock on my elder brother's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days’ work. Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there. Could I help you?" he said.

 "Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbour it's my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the adjoining river and now there is a creek between us. He may have done this to spite me, but I'll give him one better. See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me an 8-foot fence so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down, anyhow."

The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you."

The older brother had to go to town for an errand, so he helped the carpenter get the required materials ready and then he was off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing and nailing.

 When the farmer returned around sunset, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped.

There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge... a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work handrails and all - and the neighbour, his younger brother, was coming across, his hands outstretched. 

"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done." 

The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. 

"No, wait! Stay a few days. I have a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.

 "I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but, I have many more bridges to build."

The intruder when it rained (305 words)

 

The sky was overcast since morning but one did not expect a big rain. Suddenly there was a blinding flash followed by an ear-splitting thunder that seemed so nearby. It looked as if the sky broke open with torrential rain pounding the glass panes of the hall.

Everyone in the hall became silent for a while. The monthly kitty party of about a dozen young ladies was in full swing at Sunita's place. The silence soon gave way to a riot of laughter and light-hearted banter with the realisation that they could beat the rain to the party.

A little while later the door of the hall creaked open slowly. All eyes turned to who it could be at this hour. Sunita saw him standing at the door defiantly with legs apart and lips twisted.

Shocked she asked in an angry tone "What brought you here?"

In answer, he winked at her with a roguish smile and removed his shirt unperturbed by the shaken audience.

Even as the ladies gasped in disbelief, he traumatised them further by taking out his vest.

What a glowing complexion, well-proportioned body and charming features, they wondered.

“Stop it, I say. How dare you come here and misbehave like this? “Sunita screamed

When he put his finger nonchalantly on the zip to bring it down, the ladies stood up in dismay partially closing their eyes with fingers half in fear and half in curiosity to know what lay ahead.

They heard the cry in pain when Sunita whacked her five-year-old boy’s bum asking him to leave the hall instantly. There were peals of laughter followed by an admonition to Sunita from all at her inconsiderate reaction to the little intruder's prank..

The rain had subsided by then to a mild drizzle.

(This post was written long ago for Writer's Ezine)

The Smile (1069words)

 

I met Sudhir at a party. Strikingly handsome with a muscular body and curly hair, he caught my attention immediately as I entered the hall. He had not noticed me as he was chatting animatedly with a few young ladies. His smile was magnetic as I could see from the expressions of his listeners.  I moved closer to him to catch his eye but his twiddling thumbs were somewhat unsettling.

For the last few months, I have had no boyfriend since the last one moved away preferring someone else maybe for her money. Though I was dating someone, I had not found the right man. This guy appeared to be a good catch. He dressed well. I liked the dimple on his cheek when he smiled. As expected, he turned and his eyes fell on me. It seemed they froze on me momentarily making me uneasy till I smiled at him. He returned the smile and abruptly left his company to move towards me. Only when he came close I noticed it wasn’t a dimple but a scar. But did it matter when it added to his charm?

After the introductions, he asked courteously whether he could hold my hands for a dance. His lavish remarks on my beauty and the ease of my dancing steps, his whispers and the gentle touch and his winning smile made my legs weak aware that I had fallen for him head over heels. After a while, he took me out to the darker side of the long corridor to hug me and plant his first kiss. Cuddling close, we sat on a cold bench for a long time, expressing our wish to carry forward the friendship further through frequent meetings. A sudden cold breeze swept across and he held me tight. His hands were chilly There was some uneasy feeling when he stared at me with his smiling eyes. I didn’t know why but his darting eyes suddenly reminded me of a viper.

“Why, what happened, Savitha?” he asked anxiously.

“Nothing, the wind is chilly” I replied

“Okay, let us go inside. I will pick you up tomorrow evening from your office for our first date. Be ready” he said.

He was there sharp at 6 pm outside my office. We went to a film and then had dinner at a posh restaurant. He behaved with me very gentlemanly.” Would you mind visiting my room before I drop you at your place? We can have some drinks and some cuddling” he asked

“Why not? I do not mind so long as you behave yourself. From what I have seen you so far, you seem to be a fine gentleman. I consider myself fortunate to have become your friend” I replied

It was a well-kept place and a big day calendar on the wall showed the date prominently 7. The furniture and other things were neatly arranged showing Sudhir in bright light. I was happy and said “I am a cleanliness freak. I think we have similar tastes.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist and drew me close to kiss me. It was the same cold smile of a viper I had seen the previous day instead of feeling warmth as Sudhir’s grip tightened around my waist., I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. My instincts screamed at me to pull away. I involuntarily shuddered in fear and drew myself back.

“Why what happened, Savitha? You did this last evening also” he asked

“It is nothing,” I said

“No, I don’t believe you. You are scared not without justification. Your inner instincts have warned you correctly. I have been an evil man for one year. Have you had a boyfriend? Tell me,” he said

“Why, I did have a few but nothing clicked. I never got close to anyone. It is only you that I have fallen for and it is my wish that this stays for a long time. What evil you were talking about?” I asked

“Don’t get scared of what I am about to tell you. I love you and would not harm you. I had a girlfriend. We were in deep love with each other and were very intimate. We had plans to get married. I made all the arrangements until I saw her betraying me with another man one day.. When pressed she confessed that he was her ex-friend and had been having an affair on the sly. I lost my cool and in a fit of rage strangled her to death. Her man had a short time in prison.

This incident affected me mentally and I have lost faith in women. I befriend young women easily but cannot tolerate when they give an innocent smile to strangers or even waiters or lift operators. I am consumed by suspicion and jealousy. When alone with them, the rage in me suddenly swells up and I in a fit of madness kill them, maybe as a way to remove the bitterness in me. I think this suppressed anger has gone only after I have killed six women and possibly many of them were innocent,” he said without a trace of remorse in his voice or demeanour for his devilish deeds when I interrupted him.

Stunned by extreme fear without betraying it, I said calmly, “Can I go home now, Sudhir? You can tell me the rest later. I am feeling giddy” I said

“Savitha, do not be afraid that you will be the seventh victim. I am no psycho. I am changed. No harm will come to you. I love you very much and wish to spend the rest of my life with you” he said even as he embraced me tightly as if to assuage my fears.

It was then I felt a burning sensation on my back. I tried to free myself from his steely grip even as I saw a patch of scarlet on the floor around my feet, warm and sticky. Oh my god, what has happened to me I feared and looked at him.  He was smiling at me with the same viper-like eyes even when I felt a searing pain and weakening of my legs as I struggled in his arms in a confused state. The brightness around me dimmed quickly to darkness as I crumpled on the floor even as the number 7  on the calendar flickered before me strangely.

Peter's Defiance (730 words)

                                           (A story that will leave a smile in your face)

It was a day care for kids. With more than a dozen kids in her care, Lolita was busy daily except weekends. She had a young maid to assist her. The toddlers and children came around 8 am and were picked up by 3 pm by one of their parents.. There were many toys, dolls, building blocks, toy trains and even a play area with slides and swings. They were given materials for drawing, colouring, and picture books for reading. They could play till 11 am when they have something to eat and then sleep for two hours on the beds assigned to each. Though noisy, the kids were generally obedient and never threw any tantrums. They may sometimes resist eating or going to bed but they typically yield to gentle persuasion.

  Lolita’s neighbour Agnes came this morning with Peter and requested, " Lolita, I have to leave in a short while on some urgent work to the next town and expect to return by 5 pm. My husband is on tour. My maid has played truant today. Would it be possible for you to take care of Peter in my absence? I am sure he would not give you trouble.”

However, Peter demonstrated his unwillingness to stay with Lolita. He snuggled close to Agnes preventing her from leaving till he finally relented after she sat by his side cajoling and pampering him.

Lolita knew from his face that he had not taken kindly to her. He didn’t mingle with other children even when they exhibited interest in playing with him. He stood glum for a while as he stood uncertainly. Tears were in the corner of his eyes as he looked at the closed front door. This is perhaps the first time Agnes had left him behind.

The other children were enjoying playing games or sliding or swinging. Some were busy colouring the pages. One boy climbed up the stairs two or three steps and jumped down. Suddenly Peter jumped on the sofa standing on his legs.

“Peter, get down, dear. No standing on the sofa. They will get dirty” Lolita said, her voice gentle but firm. 

She sighed when he ignored her and bounced on the sofa like a madcap. The rest of the children stopped playing and watched curiously with subdued mirth at his disobedience. Lolita obviously could not permit this defiance in front of other toddlers. She grabbed him by his ear and brought him down. 

He went near the front door with a mournful look that showed hostility. He did not respond when the kids called him. Lolita decided she would no longer agree to keep him. She was after all doing this day care work as social service to the community.

When it was time for a food break Lolita kept some food and milk. While most children ate with relish, some did unwillingly with grim faces. But no one refused except Peter. He would not touch the food and instead turned his face towards the door expecting Agnes to return. When Lolita forced him, he scampered around and spilt the milk on the floor. Lolita turned towards the children and asked them to go to the main hall. She forced Peter to stay back.

“C’mon, Peter, I say eat the food kept for you. You are spoiling other children with your bad behaviour.” Lolita, who was normally patient with children, sighed in dismay at Peter's testing her patience to her limit.

He kept mum even after repeated cajoling. She did not get the obvious hint, that he was unhappy to be here and wanted to return to his home. There was nothing she could do to make him eat. It was time for sleep. While some children went to sleep promptly, a few pretended to sleep while watching Peter through the corners of their eyes.

It was around 2 pm the buzzer rang. Surprised who it could be so early, Lolita went to open the door with Peter following her. On seeing Agnes enter, Peter leapt into her arms, tail wagging furiously, his bark ‘bow-wow…bow-wow, echoing through the quiet daycare. Agnes knelt to rub his belly, and Lolita could only stare, her exhaustion finally giving way to a rueful smile. Lolita heaved a great sigh of relief and turned to Peter only to see the hostility had vanished and his tail wagged happily.

 

Whose writ finally prevailed (886 words)

As I was leisurely enjoying my lunch at the restaurant, I saw my ex-husband, Sunil, walk in alone, scanning the hall for a seat. I instinctively lowered my head, hoping to avoid his gaze

My thoughts drifted back to him and our time together. Sunil—well-educated, well-employed, and undeniably handsome—was the kind of man many women dreamed of marrying. Ours had been an arranged marriage, so I hadn’t had much chance to get to know him beforehand.

But once the initial excitement wore off, I began to see cracks. Beneath his charm, there was a selfishness, a sense of entitlement, and a complete disregard for others’ feelings. Being an only child, he had grown up without ever having to share or compromise. He seemed to believe that whatever he wanted should happen, unquestioned. I tried to stay optimistic, thinking things would change as we settled into marriage.

But I resisted when Sunil insisted that his word should govern all aspects of our life together. It wasn’t just about decisions affecting him—he wanted control over every detail, even dictating when I could visit my parents or speak to friends. He expected me to cook elaborate meals, no matter how late he came home or how exhausted I was. He dragged me to his friends’ dull parties, even when I made it clear, I disliked some of them. Eventually, things became so stifling that I felt like I could breathe easier without him.

The breaking point came one day when, during an argument, he declared, “In this house, my word is law. Do as I say or find somewhere else to live.” I replied that I would leave rather live under such conditions.

“Get lost then! Don’t you ever think of coming back!” he thundered with an angry scowl on his face.

I walked out that day.  He tried to reach out a month later, but I wasn’t ready to listen. The wounds were still fresh, though I must admit I missed him at times. Despite everything, I hadn’t sought out anyone else. I busied myself by learning Japanese, trying to be busy during idle hours.

I was jolted back to the present by a familiar voice. “Swapna, what a surprise! Can I sit here? I want to talk.”

I looked up and replied, “Sure, have a seat.”

He sat down and glanced at me before saying, “How are you? You look a bit wan…a little tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, though a part of me was pleased by his concern. Maybe he was remorseful, maybe he wanted to ask for forgiveness. If he genuinely apologized and showed he was willing to change, I wasn’t entirely opposed to giving our marriage another chance.

But as he sat there in silence, I prompted him. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” he began, hesitating. “I’m not sure how to say this… or how you’ll take it.”

“Since when have you ever worried about my feelings?” I shot back. “Just say what you came to say.”

He was silent for a short while and began with a sigh, “I have nothing against you. We both struggled to adjust, and we couldn’t see eye to eye on most things. You decided to leave.”

I interrupted, “That’s not how it happened. You told me to leave when I couldn’t accept your ‘my way or the highway’ attitude. I always believed marriage was a partnership between equals.”

“Maybe so,” he said, a little uncomfortably. “But we’re living apart now, and it’s time we take formal steps.”

“Then have your lawyer send the papers. Why drag this out? I have other things to do,” I replied curtly.

“There’s something else,” he continued. “You know Smitha? She’s the assistant manager in my department. We’ve been seeing each other, and she’s agreed to marry me once the divorce is finalised. But she wants to meet you first, to understand why we separated. She insists on hearing directly from you before making the final decision. You can help me get on with my life by facilitating this marriage to materialise. Will you do this favour?” he pleaded in a soft tone that was unlike him.”

I wished to scream, but I concealed my anger and kept my voice steady. “Sure, send her over. I’m leaving now.”

The next day, Smitha came to my house. I greeted her and offered her a drink.

“I know you work with Sunil. What is it you want to talk to me about?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

“Yes,” she said, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “He is my boss. He’s asked me to marry him, but I need to know why you left him after just a year. Your answer will greatly help me to decide, though I promise not to divulge anything you say.”

I looked at her calmly. “It’s simple. Why do you think a woman would leave a well-educated, good-looking, successful man so soon after marriage?”

Her face paled slightly, and she whispered, “I think I know.”

I nodded. “He couldn’t consummate the marriage. The doctors said everything was normal, but he refused to acknowledge he had a problem.”

A fortnight later, I heard Smitha had resigned and left the city.

For once, it was my word that prevailed.

The Recluse in My Class (944 words)

 In my school days, around seventh grade, there was a classmate I​faintly remember as Dandapani, ​though his face remains vivid in my memory—especially his prominent, beak-shaped nose. Slightly built, he had a soft face with a constant, puckered smile. He was quiet, rarely mingling with others, and seemed content being left to himself. He preferred solitude and didn’t participate in sports or most of the usual classroom activities. An ash mark was always visible on his forehead, and he wasn’t particularly remarkable in his studies, except for his interest in Sanskrit, History, and Moral Science. In other subjects, he barely scraped through.

I vividly recall one incident when our class teacher asked us to write an essay on what we wished to be when we grew older. Excited by the idea, we eagerly penned our dreams—some aspired to be engineers, others as teachers or businessmen,​ and a tiny few sportsmen. As we discussed our ambitions, this boy stood apart, showing no interest in the conversation. We didn’t think much of it at the time.

Later that afternoon, the teacher gently called him to the front of the class and asked him​ softly to share his dream. He hesitated, clearly embarrassed. Encouraged by the teacher’s kind words, assuring him there was nothing to feel shy about, the boy finally spoke: “I wish to be a monk, to retreat to the forest, and meditate on my God until I receive His darshan.”

There was a stunned silence. Even the teacher wiped tears from his eyes.

When the class was over, the teacher approached the boy, patting him gently on the shoulder. “I’d like to meet your parents this evening,” he said softly. “I want to pay my respects to such fortunate parents.”

But the boy quickly protested. “Please, sir, don’t mention this essay to them. They’re already unhappy with me because of my poor marks and my ways.”

The teacher, concerned, asked, “Why aren’t you studying well? What are you doing that displeases them? Shouldn’t you listen to your parents?”

The boy looked down and quietly replied, “I’m a devotee of Sri Ramachandra and Sri Anjaneya Swami. I have idols of them, and I perform puja every morning and evening. I don’t want to do anything else. But my father is against all this—he thinks it’s a waste of time and a distraction from my studies. He wants me to stop and go out to play with the other boys. He beats me when he finds me sitting in front of my idols, so I’ve hidden them on the terrace and perform my puja there, secretly.”

 The teacher remained silent. Later, he learned from the boy’s parents that everything the boy had said was true. They were disheartened and had given up hope of “reforming” him. The boy did not mix with his siblings and spent all his waking hours with his idols, dressing them and singing bhajans. The teacher, sensing that this boy was different, an uncommon soul with a clear and unwavering goal, chose not to interfere with the boy’s spiritual progress.

Years passed, and I lost touch with him after leaving school, though the memory of that essay never faded. It was decades later that I happened to meet​,​ ​opposite Dandapani's house​,​ his younger brother, who had also been in the same school. Through him, I learned that ​D​andapani had gone on to graduate in Sanskrit, remained unmarried, and became a Sanskrit pundit at a school. After his parents passed away, he lived alone, receiving food from a nearby temple. His life revolved around his spiritual ​pursuits, and he spent much of his time at the Sri Ramakrishna Mutt and Sri Gaudiya Mutt, caring for the sick and needy. He had distanced himself from his family, even giving away his share of the family property to charitable institutions.

The last, his brother heard, he had moved into an old age home in a temple town, spending his final days in the temple’s quiet presence. He discouraged contact with him, fully embracing the reclusive life he had always desired. It seemed he had found his true purpose, realising his spiritual identity and recognising the divine in everything.

 Impelled by my curiosity and wish to visit the famous temple, I went there. I chose to visit the temple first hoping he may be there. After the darshan of the presiding Deity and His consort, I went around the corridor looking sideways. As I reached the rear, I saw Dandapani sitting in a dark corner close to Anjaneyar sanctum. There was no chance of mistake in recognising him though he had become old, frail and in a faded ochre robe. His personage and sharp eyes, evoked awe and respect as I  stood before him with folded hands.

"Namaskaram, I am Partha your classmate in elementary school. I came to know about you from your brother," I said.

He did not reply and looked at me intently for a moment with an imperceptible nod before closing his eyes. I continued to stand before him till a devotee touched my shoulder and said," He is observing a strict mounam(silence). Please leave him alone."

Looking back, I am convinced he was no ordinary soul. He was an evolved being, one who belonged to this world yet was not part of it. I recall his penetrating gaze, which often seemed distant and otherworldly. Life, for him, was a journey of liquidating past karmic debts. I can only proudly tell my children and grandchildren that I had the privilege of studying alongside a karma yogi who had realized himself.

 “The winds of grace are always blowing; it is for us to raise our sails.”

 

Who is Komal's Benefactor? (1051 words)

Komal had an unusual dream early one morning. In it, Komalavalli Thayar, the consort of the presiding deity Aravamudhan (Utsava murthy)of the Sarangapani temple, appeared and asked her to visit Her shrine at 9 a.m. that day to receive a personal blessing.

When Komal woke up, she was drenched in sweat, filled with awe and excitement. The dream seemed strange, but it held significance for Komal, who prayed daily to the Goddess, hoping for a good husband. She hesitated to tell her mother, worried she would assume Komal was anxious about getting married. Additionally, she was unsure whether to visit the temple at the specified time since it would make her late for work.

Confiding in her friend Pankaja, who lived in the adjacent flat, Komal sought advice. Pankaja, sensing the importance of the dream, advised her, “Komal, don’t ignore this command. Perhaps the Goddess has a plan for you. While I, too, have my doubts about Her meeting you in person, what harm could come from visiting Her shrine, which you already do daily?”

Komal agreed and decided to go.

Komal was 27, worked in a bank, and lived with her mother. With her father having passed away years ago and no immediate family to help find her a suitable match, no efforts had been made toward her marriage. Shy by nature, Komal didn’t have the courage to search for a partner on her own.

When she arrived at Thayar’s shrine, there were only a few devotees, although the main shrine of the God was crowded. After offering her prayers, she sat down with her eyes closed, reflecting on her dream. She was startled when she heard a gentle voice say, "My dear, I am happy to see you here offering your prayers so sincerely. What is your name?"

Komal opened her eyes to see an elderly woman in a dark maroon silk sari adorned with numerous pieces of jewellery and a large bindi. The woman’s twinkling eyes and captivating smile evoked instant respect and fondness in Komal.

“Komala is my name, but friends call me Komal,” she replied.

“Ah, you share a name with the Goddess. What a happy coincidence! I’ve seen you here many times but have never spoken to you. Tell me more about yourself, your family and where you live,” the woman said in a mesmerizing tone.

After gathering all the details about Komal through light conversation, the woman moved away without revealing who she was or why she needed the information. Komal, still anticipating a divine encounter as promised in her dream, waited. But nothing unusual happened. Just as she was preparing to leave, the priest called her and handed her flowers from the feet of the Goddess. This unusual gesture filled her with joy, and she returned home content.

Later that evening, while narrating the temple events to Pankaja, tinged with slight disappointment, a large car stopped in front of their apartment. A well-dressed woman in a heavily embroidered Kanchipuram silk sari and jewellery got out, accompanied by a young man. They approached Komal’s door and asked if it was her residence.

“Yes, I am Komal. Please come in,” she said, welcoming them in with curiosity.

Komal’s mother joined them, equally surprised by the unexpected visitors.

The young man guided his mother to the sofa and made himself comfortable on a nearby chair, smiling and greeting everyone with folded hands. He was around 30, tall, and handsome, casually dressed in a T-shirt and jeans.

“You must be wondering who we are and why we’re here,” the woman began. “Even we didn’t know until we reached the temple this morning. We are originally from Kumbakonam but have been living in California for many years. We returned to visit our ancestral home and the temples, which brought back many memories.”

Komal’s mother, pleased to hear they were also from Kumbakonam, moved closer, showing more interest.

The woman continued, “Something remarkable happened this morning at the Sarangapani temple. An elderly woman, whom we had never met, approached us. She claimed to know my father and grandfather, as well as our family. We were drawn to her, perhaps because of her dignified demeanour and the warmth she exuded.”

Komal and her mother exchanged curious glances.

“She told us something surprising,” the woman added. “She suggested we visit your house and seek your daughter’s hand for my son here. She said she knows Komal well and assured us that she would be an ideal match. Since this came from such a respectable lady, we felt compelled to meet you.”

Komal was startled. How did the elderly woman know so much about her, especially since Komal had only shared her name, her job and her address not in minute detail? She exchanged a look with Pankaja, both deep in thought.

Komal’s mother, still confused, asked, “Did she mention who she was or where she stays? I don’t recall knowing such a person.”

The older woman responded, “She only said her name was Komalavalli and that she has lived in this town for a long time. We didn’t question her further, as she appeared very respectable, and we were eager to meet you. My son Chakra is an engineer, well-employed in the US, but we plan to relocate to Bangalore. We like Komal, and if you’re agreeable to the proposal, he’d like to speak with her.”

Komal’s mother, sensing fate at work, replied, “We are happy with this fortunate turn of events, whoever that old lady may be.” Then, turning to Komal, she added, “Take him to your room and get to know each other, keeping in mind the purpose of the visit.”

Chakra and Komal spent about thirty minutes talking before returning to the room, both smiling. Pankaja, observing them, grinned and said, “I think I know what Komal’s answer is, and I also have a good guess about who the old lady at the temple is. I believe Komal has figured it out too.”

Everyone turned to Komal and Pankaja, eager to learn the mysterious woman's identity. But both friends remained silent, sharing a knowing smile.

Chakra’s mother, also intrigued, added, “Whoever she is, I think we can all guess her identity—given her name, where we met her, and the dignity and compassion in her eyes.”

 

 

The Tattoo (867 words)

It was a great surprise for Ashwin to run into Vinay, his school buddy, after nearly a decade at a marketing conference in Bangalore. They had studied together for six years in Chennai and were close friends, but Vinay moved to another city after school while Ashwin remained in Chennai. Over time, they lost touch, but fate brought them together again. The morning session of the conference had just ended, and as they broke for lunch, Ashwin and Vinay sat at a corner table to catch up.

“Hey Ashwin, you haven’t changed much but look a little chubbier!” Vinay chuckled. “You were always the ‘fat boy.’ But seriously, you look great and cheerful. You must be happily married with kids by now. I see from your card that you’re in a good position. Tell me what’s been going on since we last saw each other.”

Ashwin smiled. “Yes, by God’s grace, life’s been good. I have a wonderful wife, two kids—a boy and a girl—a stable job, and an apartment. Life is smooth. My parents are still in the village. You probably know I did my MTech. But enough about me—you were always the smarter one! Now, it’s your turn. What’s been happening with you?” he said, laughing.

“Don’t flatter me!” Vinay replied. “I did my management diploma at IIM and landed a good position with a fat salary. I’m based in Mumbai but travel a lot for work. My parents are here in Bangalore. There’s not much else to say—life has become somewhat routine.”

“You haven’t mentioned your family,” Ashwin said, leaning forward. “What’s your wife doing? How many kids do you have? You travel often, so you must visit next time you’re in Chennai.”

Vinay’s face suddenly changed, his smile fading. “No, I’m not married,” he said quietly.

Ashwin was surprised. “What? You’re around 33 or 34, right? Is there any particular reason you’re still single? If I remember correctly, you only had one elder brother.”

“That’s a long story,” Vinay replied with a sigh. “When’s your flight? Do you have some time?”

“Of course, I drove here, so I can spare a couple of hours,” Ashwin said, curious. “Tell me, why are you still single? Is there someone in your life?”

“It’s noisy here. Let’s move to the garden. It’ll be quieter,” Vinay suggested.

They found a quiet spot outside with two bottles of beer. After taking a few sips, Vinay began slowly.

“Ashwin, I’m pretty unlucky when it comes to love. I was in love with a girl in college in Mumbai. She was brilliant—top of the class—and we had this healthy competition to outdo the other. She was well-mannered, and I adored her. She loved me too, but she always kept clear boundaries. We planned to marry once we were settled in our careers.” He paused and rolled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of the letter "V" in black ink.

“Her name also started with V, like mine. We both got these tattoos as part of a promise to wait for each other. She was hesitant at first, worried about raising questions, so she got a tiny ‘V’ tattooed on the back of her calf. It’s so small it could pass off as a mole unless you looked closely.”

“That’s sweet and romantic,” Ashwin said, intrigued. “But what happened? Why didn’t you two marry?”

Vinay sighed deeply. “Be patient, I’m getting there. After two years, she told her parents about us, and her father hit the roof. He couldn’t accept someone from a different caste. She tried everything—pleading, crying—but her father wouldn’t budge. I suggested she leave home, but she refused. She didn’t want to marry against her parents’ wishes. She asked me to forgive her and released me from our promise.”

Ashwin was silent momentarily, then asked softly, “What happened to her? Do you still keep in touch?”

Vinay shook his head. “No, that was the last time we spoke. She cut off all contact and begged me not to contact her. I’ll never forget her tear-filled face as she walked away. Later, I heard from a mutual friend that she had married someone her parents approved of.”

Ashwin frowned. “That’s unlucky, Vinay. She should have courageously walked away, but some people can’t. Still, there’s no point dwelling on it now. She’s probably moved on. You should too—you need to find someone.”

After returning to Chennai, Ashwin soon got caught up in his routine and Vinay’s story slipped from his mind. One weekend, he and his wife Visalakshi went to Mahabalipuram, walking along the beach and visiting the local sites. It was an exhausting but enjoyable day.

Later that night, as they lay in bed, Visalakshi winced and said, “Ashwin, my legs—especially my calf muscles—are really aching. Could you massage the calf muscle and apply Iodex balm? It’s unbearable.”

“Of course, my dear,” Ashwin said, reaching for the spray. As he lifted her nightgown and started massaging, his hand lingered for a moment longer when he noticed a tiny tattoo—a letter "V"—on the back and top of her calf, as she lay with her eyes closed.

 

A Sincere Penitence (909)words)

The body of Nataraj was laid on the floor. Rose garlands and wreaths of multi-coloured flowers adorned his inert figure. The hall was filled with many grieving friends and relatives. The priest had commenced the ceremonies for final departure. Smoke was coming out of an earthen pot from a corner. Nataraj’s only son, who was wearing wet clothes, was standing with tearful eyes and complying with instructions from the priest. Nataraj’s wife sat huddled in a corner, her sobs muffled by the soft murmurs of the women trying to console her. 

When I entered the hall I could sense the coldness in the air- the derision in the eyes, the simmering anger beneath the grief and the hate in the looks at me of the close relatives and friends of Nataraj assembled there. I was expecting this. After all, I had betrayed Nataraj most unforgivably. I still came—because today wasn’t just about Nataraj’s death alone; it was a manifestation of my deep remorse; it was about closure for both of us.

 I wish to tell you briefly about my close friendship with the deceased and how we fell apart. We weren’t just friends; we were like brothers. We worked together in low-paying jobs for years, sharing everything. It was Nataraj who had the foresight to start a business together. He was highly intelligent and all the ideas, plans, and strategies—were from his brilliant mind. I looked after only the finance and execution part. He had immense trust in me. We pooled our meagre resources and took out a loan, and soon, the business flourished beyond our expectations.

It was then the devil took over my mind. In my greed, I siphoned off each month by fudging accounts for some portion of our income to my wife’s brother. When Nataraj became aware of my treachery and deceit, he was more disappointed than worried about the loss. He decided then and there to disassociate with me forever. He quietly took his share of the small net worth then without any fight and never spoke to me again.

I repented for my mistake and sought his pardon many times only to be rebuffed. I had requested him to join again and take control of finances also. But he did not relent though he never made good in life thereafter. Life was no more luxurious for him. If my business grew to such a phenomenal size this day, it was all because of the seed sown by him and the tremendous start he gave.

The ceremony was over and the body draped in a new shroud was ready to leave for the crematorium. A few friends spoke of the nice qualities of his head and heart and particularly of his integrity and honesty in all his dealings. My guilty conscience made me feel these references were aimed at me. As I rose to speak, I became aware of the air of embarrassment and unpleasantness in the hall. The tension in the faces of Nataraj’s wife and son was clear.

Nevertheless, I spoke in slow voice.” I am aware you might be wondering why I came at all here and why I rose to speak after the bitterness in our relationship caused by me. Though we broke up, I had always considered Nataraj as my close friend and had the same regard for him as when we started working together. I made a grievous and unpardonable mistake and caused a betrayal of the immense trust he had in me but repented sincerely for it and sought his forgiveness. But he would not accept me after the incident.

 I wish to divulge on this occasion, not in extenuation for my wrongdoings, that I still considered him as a partner and as an atonement for the grievous wrong on my part, I set apart his share of money each year in a trust of which his wife and son are the sole trustees. I have no connection to it. It has grown into a sizable amount and is engaged in charitable activities.”

At this juncture, the hall was silent, the once-hostile eyes had now softened with surprise. I gathered my courage for the final words and continued,” I had hoped that our bonds of friendship would be cemented further as we had a girl and a boy. Though this is not the appropriate moment to talk about it, I feel If God wills the two families can still get together again. I would request Mrs. Nataraj to forgive me and accept me back as a family friend notwithstanding all that had happened..”

Having said that I wiped the tears from my eyes and felt that the heaviness in my heart had gone and I felt lighter than ever. Though I wasn’t certain how those present received my speech, I felt the palpable tension in the hall had lightened.

When Nataraj’s wife beckoned me to her side and said,” Do not grieve. My husband always mentioned that you were a good person and whatever you did was just an aberration. He had forgiven you long back. Do not feel sorry.”

The unexpected remark from her, like a soothing balm, brought immense relief and a deep sense of peace. Nataraj, even in death, had given me the gift of redemption. Though he was gone, the bond between us had been mended in the way he would have eventually wanted—with forgiveness and hope for the future.

Beyond the Uniform (740 words)

Mohan was driving his jeep towards the main bazaar. He was in his starched Khaki uniform with its colourful stripes. His wide leather belt carried the holster for the pistol. His cap, a neat combination of black and white, sat trim on his head. It was evening around 5 pm.

 He saw a crowd in the middle of the road with the people on the periphery craning their necks to catch a glimpse of what was happening. The air buzzed with shouts. “Kill her!” “Strip her!” “A child kidnapper” “Break her hands!” It was an unruly scene, with the mob acting on mindless rage.

When the crowd heard the shrill horn of the jeep and saw his khaki uniform, it parted and gave way. Some bystanders, sensing authority, started to disperse silently and some stood still to witness what was likely to unfold. 

Mohan saw a woman in her mid-thirties beaten blue with bruises on her eyes, lips and cheeks. Blood was oozing out. Her clothes were torn and her upper garments were stripped away save the torn blouse to cover her modesty. Even the sari had been pulled away and she was in her petticoat. It was a distressing sight with the mob driven by mad fury based only on hearsay.

 Even as Mohan stopped the jeep, some men came near the jeep on their own and started telling him “Sir, this woman is a witch and possibly a child abductor. She stole a packet of bread from the opposite shop. We were just teaching a lesson she wouldn't forget in her life. Luckily you have come in time, Sir.”

Mohan sized up the situation. Had he not come, they would have stripped her naked, harmed her bodily and even killed her. In a commanding tone full of authority, he said,” It is wrong to take law into your own hands. Leave the job to the police. Disperse immediately.” 

He asked a couple of the men to lift her and put her in the back seat of the jeep. He added “I will leave her at the police station and have the matter enquired into. If she perchance dies, I warn you people that you will all be in trouble.” This scared the few onlookers who hastily left the place

The woman was promptly put in the jeep. One or two fellows offered to come along. 

Mohan said “So you would like to be witnesses when she lodges her complaint that you all beat and stripped her. “

The men quietly withdrew allowing the jeep to proceed.

After travelling some distance, Mohan stopped the jeep and asked the sobbing woman,” Are you okay? What exactly happened to incur the wrath of the mob.”, 

“My children have been starving for the last two days. My husband has deserted me. It is true I stealthily took the bread without realizing I would be caught and the consequences that would follow. I am sorry, Ayya.”

 Mohan sighed and said,” Don’t you know it is wrong and a crime to steal? But I understand the desperate circumstances. Luckily, I was there in time as otherwise they would have put you to great shame and injured you far worse.” He reached for his pocket, gave her 200 rupees and said.” Go home. Don’t go near the bazaar for a few days.” 

The woman, overwhelmed with gratitude, thanked him profusely before stepping out of the jeep and disappearing into the dark.

Mohan proceeded towards the school where he was supposed to be sharp at 530pm. As soon as he reached the school, his wife and son who were anxiously waiting for him at the gate came rushing towards him. 

“Why so late? The function has just started. The chief guest has come already. Hurry up. You look swell in your uniform, cap and all.” 

Mohan smiled as he looked at his son, who was dressed like a politician in a kurta, pyjama, a colourful sleeveless jacket, and dark sunglasses, clutching a Pan Parag tin. His role in the fancy dress competition was to portray a politician, while Mohan’s role was to walk behind him as a security guard. 

Mohan, a software programmer by profession, had rented the police uniform and the jeep from a studio supply shop just for this evening’s event. But fate had given him a real opportunity to act the part—and save a woman's life in the process.

  

Beyond Appearances (926 words)

 

Swarna had just woken up after a heavy lunch. It was a dull Sunday afternoon with no plans to go out. She picked up the iPad from her side and aimlessly browsed the net. She was wont to spend a few minutes on the matrimonial site, not to find for her a man, but to amuse herself reading the advertisements that usually exaggerated the accomplishments of the grooms and spoke of their tall expectations from the brides.

 She was nearing 35 but remained unmarried. A senior executive in a foreign bank, she had three anthologies of poems to her credit. She had dated a few individuals but none kindled her interest She found them boring. She stopped dating but had friends with whom to socialise. Nevertheless, her curiosity in matrimonial ads continued.

She sat up with interest when she saw this particular ad. It was unusual and candid for a matrimonial site.

Tall, 38, never married, B.Tech., MS, senior executive in IT, has a Jaipur leg on the right. Needs no help or crutch and can drive. Does a lot of social work. Desires an equally qualified and understanding partner, to work or not is her choice. Would like someone interested in social work. She must consider the disability and consequent disinterest in strenuous outings before responding. Cell: xxxxxxx.

She went through the ad again and liked the straightforward listing of his plus and minus traits and expectations from his partner. She appreciated his honesty and his involvement in social work though she had no such interest. The age suited her. She became curious to know how he would be and that led to her dialling his number

“Good afternoon. Did you place an advertisement?” she asked and paused a moment before continuing” I am Swarna. I have carefully read the ad and I think I meet your requirements though I have done no social work. I like your frankness. When and where shall we meet?”

“Thank you, Swarna for calling. I am Swaroop. There is some similarity in name,” he giggled and added “Can we meet this evening? Suggest a convenient restaurant. I will be there.”

She was touched by his leaving the place of meeting to her convenience. They decided upon Banyan Tree at 6 pm that evening.

She looked elegant and simple in her cotton Chanderi brocade Patiala suit. He came to the lounge sharp on time and had no difficulty walking straight to her. Unconsciously she paid attention for a moment to his gait and found he was not limping. He was quite handsome, and dusky and reminded her of a movie star

He took her hand, led her to the appointed table and drew the chair for her before he sat opposite to her. His smile was infectious when he said “I never expected such an attractive lady. I am glad you agreed to meet me”

“The pleasure is mine," she replied coyly

“I was apprehensive that you might ignore my ad due to the Jaipur leg,” he said

“That was no reason to deter me. Your openness and concern for the disadvantaged people touched me. By the way, did you meet with any accident for you to lose your leg?” she asked.

“Would you like to see the prosthetic leg?” he asked.

“No, no. Not now anyway” she replied feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Ha ha, not now, did you say? That means later. I am so happy. Nevertheless, you must see it” he said as he pulled up his trousers to show a healthy natural leg.

When Swarna looked up in confusion and disbelief, he smiled and said “Excuse me for the small test. I wanted to make sure my wife would be compassionate towards handicapped people with whom I spend considerable time to lift their lives. I am now happy I found one in you.”

 “Thanks” she shyly said with a small giggle and continued,” I have not revealed one matter when we spoke thinking that would not be of significant importance given your broad mind and compassion for physically disadvantaged people. I was affected by polio when I was a child and my right leg was twisted below knee. It was only when I was 15 that an artificial leg was implanted and I am now completely normal with no limp or general disability.”

Swaroop’s face darkened.” You should have told me at the outset and we could have avoided this meeting,”

“I thought given your intense concern and care for physically handicapped young women and your lie about Jaipur leg, I thought it was a minor matter that could be brought out in the personal meeting. You can see for yourself my leg now,” she replied.

“No, I am not interested. You cannot expect a rich man, who is concerned with utterly poor people and helps them to come out of poverty, to marry an impoverished woman. Care and kindness for a disadvantaged woman is one thing and marrying one such is different,’ he replied coldly.

“You must still see my leg,” Swarna said firmly as she lifted her suit to show a flawless smooth right leg.

Swaroop’s face changed from shock to embarrassment “Wow, what a pleasant surprise! I did not expect it. Why did you have to lie? I am sorry for my insensitive remark. Please, don’t reject me,’ he implored.

“You are a liar and insensitive man,” she said with cold contempt and added, “I would never want to see you again,” as she stomped to the cash counter to pay for her share of the bill.