Fostering moral courage (952)

 

(An interesting story with a moral and not read by many of my current readers.)

Decades back when I was a young boy studying in class 6, there was a heavily built bully. Being the son of the class teacher, he ran amuck doing things that pleased him with none bold enough to question or complain against him. He stole lunch boxes and took away from school bags of others whatever he desired. He beat the weak boys and frequently pushed a polio-affected boy without any provocation. The poor teacher was not aware of the misdeeds of this bully as none informed him.

 It was a hot summer. There was a big earthen pot kept in the corner of the classroom. The water boy filled the pot with water each morning before the classes commenced. There was a brass tumbler kept by the side of the pot. The boys slaked their thirst in between the two classes. It so happened one day the bully commanded one boy to fetch him the water in the tumbler. The boy strangely ignored him and after drinking the water returned to his seat.

 The bully roared” How dare you disobey me? If you do not get me water within the next minute, I will make you pay for it.”

 The boy did not budge. All the other boys watched anxiously suppressing their glee at his defiance. The bully got up in anger and thrashed the boy. He took the blackboard wiper and hit the pot breaking it into pieces with all the water spilling out. It was a little later the class teacher entered and saw the damage. He took the cane and asked generally who broke the pot. There was a deafening silence.

The bully stood up and said pointing out the boy who refused to give him the water” Sir, he broke the pot in anger as others were drinking water and he did not get the tumbler when he wanted.”

The good teacher unusually lost his temper and beat the boy once when there was a sudden shriek “Stop it, Sir”.

 Everyone turned towards the direction of the voice. It was the polio-affected boy who stood up. and said “Sir, the pot was broken by your son in anger as that boy refused to bring him water when commanded by your son. He thrashed the boy mercilessly and pushed him down. He is tormenting us daily in several ways.”

The teacher looked at the class and asked the boys “Is it true? You do not have to fear him or me. Please raise your hands if what the boy said is true.”

All the boys, except the bully and a couple of his buddies raised their hands, and shouted” Yes, sir” in chorus

The teacher full of remorse for his rash behaviour rubbed softly the arm of the boy and said “I was rash and should have asked others. I am sorry. Please go to your seat and sit down.”

He called the polio-affected boy to his side and affectionately put his arm around him and said “I appreciate your boldly speaking out the truth. I do not know why all the others did not have the courage you showed. I am thankful to you and proud of you as my student.

 He called his son near him and caned him thrice saying that he was ashamed of his despicable behaviour.

The point of this story is that most of us lack the moral courage to stand up against injustice wherever we see it. While the soldiers who fight the war, the firemen who fight the raging fires and the policemen controlling a violent mob are all courageous in the course of their duty, ordinary people remain mute witnesses to the atrocities out of fear. The daring few whistle-blowers pay a heavy price for their courage in this unethical system.

 While individually we cannot fight the corrupt politicians, the greedy mafia, the defrauding traders, we should collectively raise our voices of protest at the appropriate times. I have read that ‘moral courage is not just an intellectual exercise. Having the strength to do what is right when faced with difficult decisions is the key to being an ethical leader.”

If the ration shop or a petrol bunk deals with adulterated goods, we must have the courage to appeal to the consumer protection organization. If the auto driver fleeces you, you must stand up for your rights and take a public bus rather than succumb to his unreasonable demand. It is difficult and inconvenient no doubt but we must at some stage learn lessons from great leaders like Mahatma Gandhi or Nelson Mandela. The latter had said "I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."

We should teach our children by personal example in ordinary daily transactions about the values of integrity and moral character. Even in the sphere of games, how many players have the willingness to walk without waiting for the umpire’s ruling when they know they are out? We must develop the strength to stand up for what we believe. Our actions should be based on our ethical values and willingness to undergo hardships and even face some risks. We should not be willing accessories to manipulative bosses in office, cunning politicians during elections and corrupt bureaucrats in our dealings.

It is high time that schools set apart an hour for moral instruction to children even from the small classes to build a nation of high moral fibre.

 

The Stolen Smooches (425 words)

With no prompting from me, she frequently came to my room on the first floor often of her own accord. Most of her visits were for fleeting glances except once or twice a day she lingered close to me for a long time. The joy on her face was evident when she was with me. I just reciprocated her warmth in equal measure to her great glee.

She was a beautiful young woman with large eyes that fluttered for no reason in my presence. She was playful by nature revelling in making faces at me, sometimes narrowing her eyes or winking, occasionally twisting her nose, frequently pouting her wet rosy lips and mostly smiling at me. I just watched her antics with interest whenever she showed off her beautiful figure, but never responded overtly to her overtures. But she was the type who never gave up.

She came to this house only six months back after marrying into the family. Her husband left for the office early only to return late in the night. She had not taken up any job and after finishing the morning chores, she had nothing much to do. Leaving her aged in-laws, who could not climb in the ground floor, she rushed to my room on the first floor at the earliest opportunity. This has been going on uninterrupted till yesterday

It was 4 pm. She seemed to be happy and in a great mood. She was dressed in style and wore matching jewellery. Maybe she was attending some function and possibly expecting to return only late at night. She came to me seeking my confirmation that she looked extremely attractive. When I remained silent, on an impulse she kissed me hard leaving a prominent mark of lipstick on my face. When she saw me looking at her in utter credulity, like a crazy woman she pressed her lips repeatedly on me leaving red marks all over my face.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the door opened and her husband walked in silently. Even as she was busy smooching me, he came behind her and wound his arms tightly around her.

”Hey, have you gone nuts? What are you doing?” he asked her. As she froze in embarrassment, he taunted her “You have never been so generous with me like this.”

Even as she, a bit ashamed, started wiping hurriedly the smudges from my face, he laughingly said “I am extremely jealous. Beware, I might just break your mirror one day”

I felt he spoke in jest and meant no real harm to me.

Happy Birthday (630 words)

 

Mathew, Mat for short, went to the confectioners to collect a large birthday cake. He saw a nine-year-old boy staring at the shelves inside through the glass door. As he came out after collecting the cake, he saw the boy still there watching inside.

"Hey, what are you looking at for quite some time?"

"Nothing, Sir" he replied

"Come on, tell me. You won't be looking at nothing for such a long time"

The boy hesitated for a while and then said “I was wondering whether I can get a bar of chocolate for my mom. It is her birthday and chocolates are her favourites. But I have only a five-rupee coin."

"It is ok. I will get you a bar and also a small cake to celebrate her birthday" Mat said and bought a few bars of chocolates and a medium-sized cake. "Where do you live? You may drop these packets down. I will drop you in my car. Hop in"

The car stopped before a small tenement. "Won't you step in for a few minutes, Sir, to see my mom? It is a special day for her made brighter by you" the boy said.

To keep the boy in good humour, he readily agreed and entered the darkish room. The boy switched on the light and there was no one there. It was a single-room tenement.

Suspecting the boy had played a ruse on him, Mat asked him “Where is your mom? I don't see anyone here"

“One minute, Sir”. He went to the other side of the room, stood up on a stool and lit a small candle. There was a picture of a young woman. He rubbed the glass with his shirt.” This is my mom. Today is her birthday. Can we open the packets before her and light a candle and sing a birthday song?” he innocently asked.

Mat could not stop his eyes from becoming moist.” Surely, who else is there? What about your dad? Any brother or sister?” he asked

“Dad is gone years even before Mom. Mom died a few months before. There is no one else”

“Are you staying alone then? Where do you eat?” he asked with concern

“My dad’s brother lives with his family in the adjacent tenement. But they did not like my mom. I work in the cycle repair shop and the master gives me food in the afternoon and some snacks in the evening.’

Mat opened the box and lit the candle on the cake. They both sang Happy Birthday song. He put the cake in the boy’s mouth.

“Now, will you come with me to celebrate another birthday at my house and I will drop you back”

The car sped along to a big house. The door was opened by a young lady. "I have brought a young guest for your birthday,” he said as he ushered the boy into the hall.

“What is your name, young chap?’ she asked smilingly.

“Bruce”

“Hahaha, Bruce Lee? Show me your muscles” she asked

As the boy folded his hand to show a small bulge, she hugged him and kissed him on his head.

“Hey Bruce, you be here watching the fish in the tank. We will be in a minute. You must help me set the cake and candles” Mat said

As they went to the room, Mat told her “This boy is an orphan. I met him accidentally. He looks charming and well-behaved. If you like, we can bring him up as our own. Mind you, only if you like. He will provide us meaning and purpose to our lives.”

Bruce in high spirits danced and sang to the glee of the couple as they celebrated both his Mom's and Mat's wife's birthday on the same day.

 

The Bit Role (500 words)

There was an office drama to be performed on New Year's Eve. Vijay did not wish to take part but was compelled by peer pressure to accept a bit role. He relented for a part that had no dialogue. As a passer-by on the road, he was to faint and fall on the platform abruptly. That called for no histrionic skill but only the ability to fall naturally. With regular practice, he accomplished it with finesse in the day’s rehearsal during lunch interval.

He suddenly remembered that he was to withdraw 50 thousand rupees and rushed to the bank nearby. It was moderately crowded. As he was writing the cheque on the tall desk, he observed one lanky guy with a Hitler moustache watching him from a corner. Neither did he like the man’s creepy look nor his slouching figure with a cigarette in hand in a NO SMOKING area.

 He turned his face away from him and was waiting for his number to be called. The guy came surreptitiously and sat in the adjacent chair. There were a few people near the teller. As Vijay approached the teller on his number appearing on the board, he saw the man also following him. But he ignored him till he felt a metallic thing press his hip after he pocketed the money he received. The ruffian whispered in his ears, “Walk normally towards the gate if you don’t wish to get hurt”

Vijay glanced around and saw people minding their own business, filling forms, depositing money, receiving cash or just waiting for numbers to appear. The crook nudged him asking him to move forward quickly. He seemed ruthless with a scar across his cheek confirming his criminal past but nobody seemed to watch Vijay being herded by the crook.

He started perspiring heavily as the nudge became a shove. Suddenly the idea hit him- the rehearsal. The next moment he crumbled like a pie by fainting on the floor with a resounding thud. Everyone turned towards him and rushed around him forming a circle, feeling him and gently nudging him. Someone sprinkled water on his face from a bottle. The crook moved away sensing the inopportune situation. The anxious people heaved a sigh of relief when Vijay opened his eyes. He looked around to find the crook no more in the vicinity.

He sat up and said” Thank you all. I think it was a sudden blackout. I am fit to go. Can a couple of you kindly escort me to my vehicle?”

As he sat at the wheel, he told the kind-hearted gentlemen, “Do not worry. I am fully fit and can drive safely. Thanks a bunch for the support.’

As he drove away, Vijay couldn’t help but chuckle. Who knew his bit role in the office drama would turn out to be such a lifesaver? He felt a surge of gratitude for his realistic act and, for once, didn’t mind the peer pressure that had pushed him into it.

 

 

Valli's Grandpa (1000 words)

Valli hardly 23 was sitting with her beloved grandma Kamalam in the well-maintained lawn with its various green plants and their colourful flowers and vibrant leaves. She cherished such moments with her when she shared all her thoughts and worries with her more freely than with her mom. Grandma was nearing eighty but was in good health.

“Grandma, Valli began, with her brows furrowing in curiosity, "there is one intriguing thing that is bothering me. Why does my mom look so different from the rest of her sisters? My mom is fair with an aquiline nose while all my aunties are dusky with stub noses. It looks as if my mom doesn’t belong to the family” asked Valli.

Kamalam smiled and said, “All fingers are not alike, isn’t it?”

“No, that is evasive and not the right answer. I am not convinced, Grandma”

Smiling again, Kamalam whispered,” I don’t mind letting you into secret if you promise to keep it to yourself. You are 23 and I see no harm in sharing it with you at this stage of my life. You are more of a friend than just a granddaughter.”

Valli snuggled closer and became attentive as Grandma took a deep breath and started narrating with a sigh.

“When I was your age, I loved a handsome man named Dandapani. We were going steady and were careless when we decided to get married. When he learnt that I was pregnant, he developed cold feet and abandoned me. His parents were very rich and soon found a girl for him from an equally rich background. I was shocked and trembled about how to break the news to my parents. But to my great surprise and relief, they were very supportive. I didn’t want to abort the child as it was delayed. Your mom Sundari was born,” said Kamalam.

Valli's eyes widened in disbelief and said “I can never believe, Grandma, that you were such a bold and passionate person in your younger days falling in love with someone and getting into a problem,” 

Nodding her head with a poignant expression, she replied “True, I was foolish. Luckily my dad soon found a very good man in Gunasekar who knew about my past and was willing to marry me. He regarded Sundari as his own daughter. No one knew except my parents, Gunasekar, Sundari and now you.”

“Did you or my mom ever contact the other man? asked Valli.

“No, I did not meet him again. I cut him off from my mind forever. But your mom when she was around 18 or so wanted to meet her bio dad. He was a very big man in business then. She was rebuffed and ridiculed when she met him at his office and she came back heartbroken and crying. That was the last we ever had anything to do with him. Luckily, she had the warmth and total affection of Gunasekar without a trace of any difference from your aunties”

“OK grandma, the secret is safe with me. This has also answered my question but I have decided to confront my bio granddad once and give him a bit of my mind” Valli said

Her face became serious, “Banish such thoughts. He is a heartless and rough man. He may refuse to meet you or throw you out. Don’t ever do such a foolish thing. Your mom also may not like it,” warned Kamalam.

Valli was adamant and got an appointment with Dandapani the next day. Except for grandma, she didn’t tell others.

“Who are you? What is it you wanted to discuss with me in private and urgently on a matter of importance according to you” asked Dandapani in a surly tone from his tall richly upholstered red chair.

” Sir, this is somewhat personal. You must relax and be calm” said Valli.

“Tut, tut, I have no time for small talk. Tell me whatever you wish to say quickly and get lost” roared Dandapani.

“Cool down, Grandpa. I happen to be Kamalam’s granddaughter and you happen to be my bio granddad” said Valli coolly in a soft voice.

For a moment he was flabbergasted at the nerve of this young and bewitchingly beautiful girl. He recovered immediately and said “I neither know any Kamalam nor would like to know about her. I am a happily married man with my own family. Your time is up. Leave.”

Valli made no sign of getting up from her chair. She said,” How can you be so cruel and heartless to disown your daughter Sundari? What was her mistake in your misadventure with Grandma? I have come here to point out, not at the behest of anyone, but of my own volition. your insensitiveness,”

He stood up pressing the bell and a messenger entered the room.” Take this woman out and see she is not allowed to enter the office anymore,” he said brusquely.

Valli could not suppress her tears at his callous and unfeeling manner and came out crying to the lounge even as many eyes stared at her. She felt then an arm entwining her gently and drawing her close to him. 

She turned to see her grandpa Gunasekar caressing her hair and saying in a loving tone “Valli darling, if you had asked me, I would have forbidden you from coming here. Kamalam told me just in time for me to be here. Why do you look to strangers when I am there for you as grandpa? Am I not giving you my total affection?”  The tears of anger and disappointment in Valli gave way to tears of immense joy.

“One minute, Grandpa,” she said as she ran to a spittoon and spat with all her force.” Let us celebrate this moment in Nirula’s with ice cream. You are the world's best grandpa. You have opened my eyes to what true love and affection are. I am proud to be your granddaughter, “even as she hugged her frail and bent grandpa.

 

 

The Perilous Walk (746 words)

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The weather in this East Coast city is always pleasant and ideal for a walk at any time of the day. The well-kept pathways wind through undulating roads. Despite the salubrious climate, there were not many who walked regularly, save an occasional old lady with her dog or a stray young couple jogging along.

 I always took the pathway that ran along the main road. In my usual route, there was one place where the pathway forked with one of them taking the walkers through a heavy thicket almost forest-like on both sides. The semi-circular path eventually joined the main road. Once you are on that narrow path you never know what lies beyond the bushes and how far the forest extends.

My grandson used to scare me that coyotes are generally seen though a big bear had appeared once from the forest on the main road. I therefore avoided going through that usually deserted way though the young boy would plead with me to take that route and even succeeded once in taking me along with him on this trail. Despite being longer and rugged, it was cool and quiet except for the chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of flowing water possibly through some creek inside the greenery.

It was one fateful weekday when I cast aside the usual caution and in a fit of bravado ventured alone  into that route. Everything went fine till I went deep into that narrow pathway that was partially hidden from sunlight. Suddenly, there appeared, a little away, two rattlesnakes intertwined in the middle of the path. I knew they were venomous from the rattling sound that emanated from their tails. I stopped abruptly wanting to turn back and rush to the open space. Though the vipers did not slither towards me, they were watching my every move. I stood still almost petrified afraid of provoking them to attack me. A few minutes passed by and they showed no inclination to disappear into the shrub but remained where they were watching me through their sharp glistening eyes.

Just then I heard the shuffling of feet behind me. Wondering whether it could be some joggers, I turned to see to my great horror a large bear with stocky legs, dark and shaggy hair and a dirty wet snout, ambling towards me. With danger from both sides and with no exit sideways, I was paralysed with fear. My throat went dry, my limbs numb, and the sweat drenched my clothes. It was my bad luck I had left my cell phone on the dining table. The bear was closing in and its angry snorts made no secret of its violent intentions.

As I stood frozen in fear, something pulled me inside the shrubbery away from the road. Strangely I could see no one around making me confused. It was scary but the thought that I had escaped from the poisonous snakes and the terrifying bear gave me a momentary relief.

 I had a glimpse of the stream with gurgling water for a moment before I noticed to my utter shock two crocodiles slowly crawling towards me. I moved backwards with my body coming into contact with the thick foliage when I felt a hand press my shoulders. Slightly relieved I turned to see again to my great horror a pair of bony hands clasping my neck. There was an eerie laughter that sent a chill in my spine and the last I remember was the scream I let out before fainting.

I heard indistinct voices and several hands gently shaking me when I opened my eyes in the large lounge of the North Shore Mall. There were anxious eyes on me and I was blinking awkwardly. It was then my grandson and daughter came running from the nearby Apple store and asked me with great worry “What happened, Appa? Are you ok? You declined to come with us preferring the lounge to watch the jungle picture on the TV. Why did you scream?”

When I kept quiet, someone who was sitting by my side said “He was uttering something about snakes, crocodiles and bears. Maybe he dozed away while seeing the jungle picture”

There were peals of laughter to the chagrin of my grandson and the embarrassment of my daughter. On our way back home in the car, my grandson said emphatically to my daughter “Mom, I will no longer accompany Grandpa to the mall”

(I visited North Shore Mall recently and remembered this old and scary story written more than a decade back. It may be new for many of my current readers and a repeat thrill to the long-time patrons)

 

An unexpected visitor (666 words)

 

"Deepa’s parents had been busy since morning, preparing the house for a visit. The maid had spruced up the place, changing curtains and sofa covers, vacuuming the carpet, and wiping the photo frames. Her dad brought fresh flowers, while her mom bustled in the kitchen making sweets and snacks. They had also bought some Bengali sweets from a nearby stall. One of the prospective bridegroom’s parents had informed them they would arrive after 3 PM to see Deepa.

"Deepa took the day off work, starting her morning with a relaxing facial at the beauty parlour. After a refreshing shower, she carefully draped herself in a delicate, saffron silk sari, adorning herself with matching jewellery, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

"When it was nearing three, her dad sprayed lavender air freshener in the hall. The aroma of a sandalwood incense stick wafted from the puja room, mingling with the fragrance of jasmine in the air.

There was a short, hesitant buzz at the door. Her dad rushed to open it and found a young man in a blue-striped shirt and charcoal grey pants. He looked tall, handsome, and muscular. He smiled and asked, “Is this Deepa’s place?”

“Yes, yes, please come in and be seated. We were actually waiting for you. Has no one else come with you?” The hall was cool with the air conditioner humming.

“No, it is enough if I meet her. I should have come half an hour earlier but was held up in a meeting,” he said with a smile. Deepa, peeping through a small opening in a window from the adjacent room, noticed his well-aligned sparkling teeth. A cute-looking guy, she thought with some satisfaction.

“I hope you had no difficulty locating the house,” asked Deepa’s dad.

“Not at all. It took just 30 minutes to drive from my office. The ambiance here is good. A bright but cool home you have in sylvan surroundings,” he said.

“Yes, I bought it ten years back,” he replied as Deepa’s mom brought a plate full of snacks and sweets.

“Why all these? Where is Deepa?” the young man asked.

“It is customary. Please have some,” Deepa’s dad said, turning to his wife. “Where is Deepa? Ask her to come. You also come here.”

Deepa came demurely, accompanied by her mother. The young man stood up and folded his hands in greeting to both of them.

When they were seated, he said with a large smile, “Glad I could come today. In fact, I have wanted to see you ever since I heard about you. I could find time only today.”

After some pleasantries, Deepa’s dad stood up and said, “I will leave you alone so you can discuss matters of mutual interest.”

"Just then, Deepa’s dad heard a car pull up outside, the gate creaking open. He rushed to see an elderly couple in traditional attire stepping out, accompanied by a young man with a basket of fruits and flowers. Confusion and alarm crossed his face as he realized another young man was already inside, speaking with Deepa."

He rushed back in, where Deepa and the young man were warming up to each other, and asked, “Who are you, Sir? What brought you here? Why did you want to meet Deepa? I think there has been a mistake.”

“Yes, Sir, I was also wondering at the warm reception. I had a lead that Deepa was planning to take an insurance cover. I had come to meet Deepa regarding that. I am an officer in a multinational insurance company,” he said.

Meanwhile, the elderly couple entered the hall, accompanied by a short man with a pronounced paunch and a peculiar face.

"As Deepa hurriedly started leaving the hall, her face a mix of disappointment and bewilderment, the young man handed her his card with a charming smile. 'Please call me when you’re free, and we can discuss your needs,' he said, adding with a wink, 'Maybe over coffee?'".

"Surely," she said with a smile.

 

 

The stranger’s twitch at the park (600 words))

The park was a pleasant escape, but the stranger on the bench beside me brought an air of unease that I couldn't ignore. The sun was setting and it was slowly getting dark. I was watching a few children play, their laughter mingling with the noise of the traffic on the road, when I noticed him staring at me.

"Sir, if you can spare me some time, I wish to clear a matter of doubt," he said, his grin somewhat unsettling. "I will not take much of your time."

As I had nothing pressing to do, I nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

"Don’t I look like a normal person? People, however, look at me as if I am slightly insane. Even at my office, they terminated my services without any reason. They told my wife the job was open when I became 'normal' again. But I am normal. Can a normal person become normal again, looks funny, isn’t it, Sir?"

His story trickled out, disjointed initially and strange. He was dressed well and spoke fluently, yet his words painted a different picture.

"My wife is beautiful," he continued. "When we walk in the park, everyone stares at her. After they overtake us, the men turn their heads to catch a glimpse of her again. It makes me uneasy and I stare at them or make faces. She says I'm being paranoid, but I'm only protecting her. Am I wrong to get upset if someone looks at her with bad intentions?"

He paused, eyes boring into me, waiting for my response. I nodded for him to continue, feeling a growing unease.

"There were two incidents recently, I must tell you There's a dog in our colony that barks at me always. Strangely it does not bark at others even vendors, delivery boys and strangers. The other day, it wouldn’t stop barking at me, so I threw a stone at it. The stone possibly hit it on the head and the dog died. The neighbours were furious and swearing to complain to the authorities. My wife cried all night. In retrospect, I also felt bad but I could not contain my anger then. This was, however, a small matter compared to what happened today. Are you listening?" he asked with some doubt.

His voice grew softer when I nodded, eyes darting around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Today, I saw the colony treasurer, my neighbour, talking to my wife in the drawing room. She was laughing, but when I entered, both stopped. I could guess he was interested in her. I felt something take over me. My wife says my left eye twitches when it happens. I blocked his way and accused him of lustful intentions. When he vehemently protested, I hit him with a stool. He escaped with a minor injury. The neighbours were angry and overpowered me, and now they want me out of the colony. My wife was crying again. I became calm again and came here."

He looked at me expectantly and asked “Am I not normal and react like what others would in similar circumstances?"

It was getting dark, and the park was nearly empty. I felt a chill as his left eye began to twitch rather frequently. "I think you are normal nevertheless you should see a doctor soon," I said, standing up quickly.

As his twitching intensified and he looked around for something, I backed away. Fear gripped me, and I ran as fast as possible with the man approaching fast behind me. The disquieting encounter lingered in my mind long after I reached my apartment.

( Readers who post anonymously may leave their names under the comment)

A chance encounter (740 words)

I turned off the TV and looked out of the window. The city beckoned with its crowded streets, speeding cars, and neon-lit buildings. The marquee on the front of the bar and restaurant glittered in changing colours. I saw smartly dressed couples entering the restaurant, chilling out, shaking their legs, and enjoying a sumptuous dinner.

It was cold outside, so I changed into a jacket, dabbed some perfume, took my small computer bag, and stepped out toward the garage. It was an exhilarating feeling to be in the bustling street lined with tall buildings and electronic billboards.

After parking the car, I entered the restaurant and ordered a drink. The place was almost full except for my table. As I sipped the drink slowly, my eyes half-closed, I heard a rustle around me and smelled a gentle fragrance. She was a beauty, tall and lissome, with her long hair falling insouciantly on her beautiful face. A strand of oyster pearls stood out prominently on her long neck.

She seemed hesitant initially, but when I smiled and drew a chair for her, she sat down with a happy smile. When I ordered her an extra drink, she did not protest.

“I am Vivek Sharma and I live in this city. Glad I could meet you. Care to join me for dinner?” I asked.

“I am Subhasree, I was looking for an empty table. Thank you for sharing the table. I am also happy to meet you. I live in the suburbs but work here and frequent this restaurant on weekends.”

We exchanged pleasantries and drank leisurely, watching young couples dance on the floor to the brisk music. When I looked at her meaningfully, she nodded in agreement. I took out my bulging wallet from the back of my pants and put it in the bag before taking her hand to dance. The proximity of the charming lady gave me a strange feeling. We danced as if we had known each other for a long time.

“It is nice dancing with you,” she whispered in my ear, her hair brushing my nose and tickling it.

“Sure, it is. We should make it a habit every weekend. Lucky, I met you,” I said.

We returned to our table and had spring pasta with blistered cherry tomatoes. We rejoiced in our newfound friendship. I gave her my card. She promised to give me a ring when she was free.

"Can you wait for a couple of minutes? I'll drop you wherever you wish to go. Keep an eye on the bag. I'll be back in a jiffy," I said as I rushed to the restroom. There were many waiting ahead of me.

When I returned in a triumphant mood after a slight delay, I was shocked to find the table empty. The woman was nowhere to be seen. Maybe, I wondered, she had also gone to the restroom. How careless of her to leave behind my things. As I turned to check, I saw my jacket on the chair, but the computer bag was missing. I waited a few minutes before calling the waiter to learn she had left.

The bill had not been settled, and the jacket was stripped empty. It then struck me that she had not given her card or details of her whereabouts. The waiter returned to place the folding pad containing the bill.​What a sucker I was to trust an unknown woman and leave the bag with my wallet.

When the Restaurant Manager heard about my predicament corroborated by the waiter, he graciously agreed to my paying the amount the next day even when I offered to return with the money before the restaurant closed.

 I gave up hope of recovering my bag​ and as I ​lay brooding​ over my foolishness, my phone buzzed with an unknown number. Hesitant but curious, I answered.

“Hello?”

“Vivek, it's Subhasree. I’m sorry I had to​ ​​rush urgently ​​to the hospital to see my mother who had developed complications. I ​kept the bag with me to keep it safe​ and left the jacket behind for obvious reasons.  Can we meet at the restaurant at the same time over dinner tomorrow?"

Relief washed over me, as I ​​saw her waiting with the bag at the same table and hopes surging high in me of a romantic turn. Needless to say, the wallet was in the bag.

"Love and hope are twins"- Maria Gowen Brooks

 

The last ride of the day (808 words)

Biren leaned against his yellow Ambassador cab at Howrah station, waiting for the last train from Delhi, which was running late. It was past 11 PM, and he hadn’t had a good day. Most rides were short and didn’t fetch him much. As a principle, he never overcharged, considering it a form of begging. Scrupulously honest, he never tampered with the meter. He had his rules: always take pregnant women, however short or long the distance, avoid drunk men and shady groups, and hope for a foreign tourist or a rich man, though the latter rarely needed a cab.

That morning, his wife Tara reminded him there was no stock of materials to cook, and the children would go hungry the next day without money to buy groceries. Their youngest daughter had fever for two days and needed a doctor. His elder son mentioned the school fee was overdue by ten days. The nights were chill these days and his mom’s request for a blanket remained unmet for a month. His immediate concern was, however, to earn enough to buy groceries.

He wiped his old car clean, lit a joss stick in front of Ma Kali’s picture on the dashboard, and said a quick prayer. He saw movement among other drivers as the train hooted. The prepaid taxi counter closed by 10 PM, and drivers scrambled for passengers. Biren stood apart, worried as the arriving passengers dwindled, and thoughts of his starving family came to mind.

Just then, an elderly gentleman looking tired with a bag on his shoulder and a suitcase approached. 

“Baba, let me take your box and bag. I will take you wherever you want to go. Please, come with me and get into the car,” requested Biren

As he started the car, he asked, “Where to?”

“Lake Market. Once you reach there, I’ll direct you. I’ve never seen anyone take a passenger without asking first for the destination. You seem like a good person.”

“Thanks, Baba. I don’t usually ask. Today, wherever you wished to go, I would have taken you.”

“What’s special today?”

“Since morning, I’ve had only a few rides, mostly minimum fare. My wife asked me not to come home without enough money for groceries.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you two hundred rupees more than the fare. Tomorrow is a festive day, and I have no family or children. Are you in the Lake Market area?”

“No, Baba. Pay me the due fare. I don’t wish to take more.”

“You seem a strange but good type. I’m not feeling well. Let me rest for a while.” He dropped a five hundred rupee note on the front seat telling Biren, “Keep this with you. Return the balance after taking the extra two hundred rupees,” and reclined in the back seat.

“Why now? What’s the hurry?” Biren protested mildly, but the man rested with closed eyes. He seemed asleep as they passed Victoria Memorial. Nearing Kalighat and Lake Market, Biren called, “Baba, we’re almost there. Wake up for directions.”

There was no reply. Worried, he asked again in vain and stopped the vehicle near the tram depot and nudged him. The man fell to his side to his shock. Biren quickly turned the car towards the adjacent Ramakrishna Mission Hospital. The doctors found him in highly critical condition and decided to rush him to ICU.

As the ward boys started pushing the stretcher to the ICU, Biren inserted Rs.150 in the passenger’s pocket instead of Rs.140 which was due to him. He explained to the staff the happenings and left the man’s belongings with the hospital and gave his contact details.

After a week, Biren got a surprise call from the hospital informing him that the patient had recovered thanks to the treatment at the nick of time and that the patient desired to meet him.

Later that day, when Biren met the patient, he introduced himself as Mr. Rao, and said with tears,” I learned from the attending doctors that you have literally saved me from the jaws of death by bringing me to a hospital without the slightest delay. I am under immense debt of gratitude to you. I got my box and belongings including the balance fare of Rs,150 meticulously inserted in my pocket. Frankly, I have never come across such a kind and honest person in my life.”

For the curious readers who may like to know how Mr. Rao repaid his debt, I can confide, on conditions of anonymity, that Biren got a brand-new vehicle of the latest model for a taxi, an undisclosed tidy sum for improving his living conditions and an assurance of full assistance till graduation for his two children.

 “Real integrity is doing the right thing, knowing that nobody’s going to know whether you did it or not”-Oprah Winfrey

 

 

Haunted Milk Booth (1090 words)

Please note this story is not for fickle hearts😆

Inspector Palani stood to attention. "What is the matter, Palani?" asked the Superintendent of Police.

"A strange thing, Sir. People and even vehicles have avoided using the main road beyond the district hospital after dusk since a month or two.. They use instead the narrow road in the residential area that runs parallel to it. There is often a bottleneck as two cars cannot travel on that narrow road side by side. There is no platform for pedestrians either. It is a mess, Sir."

"Why are they not using the main road? Make the narrow road one-way," said the Superintendent.

"It is haunted, Sir, near the Avin milk booth. It seems the ghost there is violent."

"What nonsense are you blabbering? Aren't you a man in uniform? Post two constables with patrol cars this evening on duty for the night. We can convince people tomorrow and tell them it is safe, and that policemen would be there daily at night."

"I did ask two constables. They refuse to go out of fear," said the inspector.

"What crap? Issue them written orders. I want them there tonight. Report to me tomorrow morning" roared the Superintendent.

The next morning, the Superintendent got a call at 7 am. "I am Palani here. An untoward thing has happened, Sir. Both the policemen were found dead near the Avin booth. There was a big crowd there. I had the two men checked by a local doctor. It seems they died of heart attacks."

"My God! Send them immediately to the hospital for postmortem. Inform the families. I will mention this to the Commissioner. Meanwhile, I will ask for two armed commandos to be put there tonight to unravel the mystery," ordered the Superintendent.

At 6 am the next day, the Superintendent got another call. "Palani again, Sir. Something strange and malevolent has occurred. Both commandos were found dead, shot at close range. Some people nearby heard gunshots and rushed there in a group. There were none seen in the vicinity. Even the cigarettes the commandos were smoking were still burning by the side of the chairs they were sitting on, Sir."

"What are you telling, man? This is unbelievable. People will laugh at us. Call the Homicide branch and ask them to have the place thoroughly examined. Have the place cordoned off. I will inform the Commissioner."

The evening newspapers screamed:

Ghost on rampage. 

Stunned two policemen to a heart attack. 

Last night two commandos were spurred presumably to shoot at each other.

 Police clueless.

In the evening, the Superintendent told Palani, "I could not talk to the Commissioner as he is out of station. I have decided to go myself and investigate. I do not wish to send others."

"Sir, can I go with a couple of policemen?" asked Palani.

"No, I do not want to risk sending or taking anyone without personally checking. Do not fear. I don't believe in ghosts and can unravel the mystery. I will have a CCTV camera fixed there tomorrow."

At 4 am the next morning, Palani’s mobile rang. It was the Superintendent’s wife. "Mr. Palani, my husband went out in the evening and is not answering my calls to his mobile after midnight. Can you please check immediately and tell me? I am very much worried."

Palani rushed to the spot. He found the road deserted. It was past 4:30 am. When he reached the Avin booth, he was shocked to see the Superintendent squatting on the ground in bare body, tearing his shirt, filling his cap with mud, and laughing hysterically like a madman.

"Sir, please get up. What are you doing? Why have you removed your shirt? Are you OK, Sir?" Palani said with concern and shock as he gently lifted him.

"He he he, I have arrested the ghost. The Commissioner will be happy," he said, looking in no particular direction even as he jumped up and down in frenzied laughter.

Palani looked nervously at the mental wreck before him. It dawned on him that the problem had assumed ominous proportions. Maybe, it falls in the domain of a tantric, he thought.

He realised he needed an ambulance or a vehicle with two men to move the Superintendent to a hospital. He turned and rushed to his motorbike. As he was about to start the bike, he heard a shuffling noise from behind the milk booth. Startled, he looked intently at the dark area, trembling in fear with his heart pounding feverishly and a cold tingle passing through his entire body. Lo! It seemed like a dark and strange figure ambling towards him in an unusual gait. It was still dark. He switched on the light of the bike to see that the figure had mysteriously vanished.

Gaining composure, Palani decided to arrange for an ambulance and a couple of policemen. As he drove, he saw after a mile an old man sitting outside his hut. Stopping the vehicle, Palani asked him, "How come you are sitting here fearlessly  when people say the area near Avin milk booth is haunted and the ghost is ferocious?"

"Yes, the ghost menace started after the light in the lamppost opposite the booth got fused. They have not changed the bulb and the ghost is running amuck, threatening people who pass through that patch when it is dark," said the old man.

"Is it only a recent problem after the fuse of the bulb?" asked Palani.

"Don’t you know ghosts avoid light and bright areas? Are you not aware the milk booth operates nowadays only during the daytime? You seem to be a policeman. Get the bulb replaced immediately and have some additional lamp posts in this short stretch. There would be no further problem," he answered.

"Surely, it will be done today itself. Thank you," replied Palani.

Wondering how such a simple solution from the illiterate man evaded the police, he proceeded to get the Superintendent removed to a hospital after informing his wife. He instructed the electricity authorities to do the needful the same day without fail.

Palani's wife, who was pacing in the hall at her home from early morning, heaved a sigh of relief when she heard the motorbike stop outside her house.

A couple of days later, there was a short report in the newspapers,

The menace of ghosts has been busted successfully!

Thanks to the adroitness of Inspector Palani

As a titbit, readers would be happy to know that the old man at the hut received from an unknown source an undisclosed sum as a token of appreciation for the help in the resolution of the problem.

 

The Hidden Sacrifice (505 words)

“Usha, can you drop by today? It’s urgent,” said Divya’s mom.

“Sure, Aunty. Is something wrong? I haven’t spoken to Divya in days,” I replied.

“It’s about Divya. She’s not herself. She barely eats, isolates herself in her room, and hasn’t gone to work for three days. We’re worried. Can you visit around lunchtime, casually?” Aunty pleaded.

Divya and I had been close friends since school. Our paths diverged—me becoming a doctor, and she a management graduate—but we stayed in touch. I work with my husband at a military hospital. Divya had been in love with Vikas, an army officer, for over three years, and they planned to marry. He was transferred north about a year ago.

When I reached Divya’s place, her mom whispered that she was in her room upstairs and asked me to find out what was wrong discreetly. “Don’t worry, Aunty. I’ll find out.”

I knocked on Divya’s door gently. No response. Louder. Still nothing. “Usha here. Open up,” I shouted through the keyhole.

The door creaked open, revealing Divya’s swollen, red eyes. “Usha? What are you doing here? Did mom call you?”

“I called your office yesterday. They said you were on leave. I was passing by and thought I’d check on you,” I replied.

“Come in. Let me wash my face,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom.

When she returned, I asked, “Why were you crying? I heard you haven’t been to work for days and you’ve been isolating yourself. Are you in touch with Vikas? Don’t hide anything.”

She handed me a letter from Vikas, dated two weeks ago.

Dear Divya,

Brace yourself. I narrowly escaped death at the border. My friend Pandey saved me, sacrificing his life. His last wish was for me to care for his sister, who is now alone. She has no parents, no skills, and is dependent on him. Over the month I spent comforting her, she grew attached to me. Torn between you and her, I decided to honour my debt to Pandey by marrying her. I am sure, with your qualifications and charm, you’ll find someone else. Please forgive me.

Vikas

I hugged Divya. “I understand your pain. It’s a betrayal, no matter his reasons. You need to move on. Go back to work, visit me, meet new people, and have some fun.”

Two months later, I was temporarily posted at Chandigarh Military Hospital. On my second day, I recognized a name on a patient file: Vikas Kumar. The chief nurse told me he was an army officer severely injured, losing both legs and with one arm badly hurt.

I went to his bed; he was sleeping. “How long has he been here?” I asked.

“Six months,” the nurse replied.

“Any visitors?”

“None. He dictated a letter a couple of months ago to a woman once, which I typed.”

Tears rose as I realised Vikas’s true love and sacrifice for Divya. His letter was merely a ploy to divert her mind away from him, handicapped as he was now.

(Readers who post their comments anonymously may please leave their names under the comment)

 

A broken pane and the unspoken bond (972 words)

 

As a young boy, I played cricket in our colony several decades back. There was not much vacant space except a patch in the middle of the colony. Three sticks of different heights served as stumps, with a brick at the other end as the fourth stump. Half a dozen boys of varying ages formed our team. Discarded tennis balls were donated by the dad of one of the boys. Two hours in the evenings, until the shadows lengthened, were sheer thrill and joy for us.

While the inevitable noise and shouting during the play, were not objected to by the elders,  one old gentleman, Bhaskar Rao, living adjacent to the playing area, did not relish the game being played there. He often came out and remonstrated with us, saying, “You are all shouting too much and are a daily nuisance. This is not a playground. Why don’t you go play in the corporation ground in the adjacent street?”

We would plead with him, “Uncle, we will not shout or make noise. Please allow us to play here as older boys are playing in the corporation ground and do not allow us to enter there.”

“I don’t wish to hear all your excuses. I am not going to allow you fellows to play here. I will tell the Secretary of the Association in writing, though I know his son Mukesh is also one of your gang,” he said. Nevertheless, he never wrote or spoke to the secretary, and we continued playing merrily.

One day, Mukesh had brought his cousin, an older boy. A tall and strong fellow, he hit a ball into the window of Bhaskar Rao’s flat. Luckily, the ball hit the wooden frame, and the glass was not broken. The old man rushed out of the flat to survey whether any damage had been done to the window.

I said, “Uncle, nothing has happened. It just hit the frame. We will be careful.”

Without uttering a word, he took the ball that was lying near him and went inside. All our pleas for the ball fell on deaf ears. When he did not open the door, I remember pressing the bell at regular intervals, sometimes nonstop for a long duration. He came out seething in anger and exploded, “You rascal, how dare you press the bell like this continuously. I will complain to your father in the evening. I have no intention of returning the ball.” He slammed the door and never opened it despite our shouting.

The day’s play had to stop as there was no spare ball. As we dispersed, I took a small stone and hit the window pane directly, breaking the glass. I ran away before he came out.

I was scared that the old man would catch me the next day. But surprisingly, we found the ball lying on the ground, and he never came out to make noise about the windowpane. It pricked my heart with guilt when he remained silent about the broken glass whenever I crossed him in the colony. I could not return his smile and instead hung my head in shame. His stony silence about the incident made me all the more uncomfortable.

When I told my mom about his stopping the play one day and how I broke the glass in anger, she said that Rao had lost his only son of my age some years ago while playing cricket. When he was fielding at close quarters, it appeared the ball hit him on his head near the brow, and the poor boy died the same night.

My mom felt that he was so paranoid about youngsters playing cricket  and it stemmed basically from the fear of likely injury I could not sleep that night. I had saved about two hundred rupees from the gifts for my birthday.

The first thing in the morning I did was to go to his house and fall at his feet with profuse apologies. He lifted me and said with a smile, “Raju, why are you prostrating? Any examination today or birthday for you?” He saw me crying and asked, hugging me, “What happened? Why are you crying?”

In sobbing tone, I remember saying, “Uncle, you must pardon me. I was the wretch who broke the window that day in anger when you did not return the ball. Here is two hundred rupees that I had saved that would cover the cost of putting a new glass. Please accept it. I never knew then why you did not like us playing cricket till Mom told me last evening. Until you forgive me, I cannot look straight into your eyes.”

“Wait a minute,” he said, and came back with a new cricket bat. “This was bought by my son a week before he had the tragic accident. I am not against cricket when played with protective gears. Take this bat; I gift it to you as it can be put to better use than being an article of memory. Here is the money you gave me. I knew you had broken it. But I have left the door deliberately unrepaired as it would make you all play carefully. You can use the money to buy some protective gears like a helmet, pads, gloves, and abdomen guards. If you need some more money, I am ready to pay.”

Even after several decades, I fondly remember his kindly face that taught me a lesson on concern for others and forgiveness. As I look back now, I realize that his silent pain, hidden behind his stern exterior, was a testament to his love for his lost son. As he embraced me that morning with forgiveness and love, he mended not only a broken window but also healed a part of his heart.