The Oldman's Grouse (758 words)

 Meenakshi, I know you're coming to visit me soon. But before you do, I need to tell you something important. Despite what others might say, I am not sick. I’m in perfect health, even if I am getting on in years. Yes, I sometimes forget small details, but that’s normal, right? At my age, a bit of forgetfulness isn’t unusual. They might try to tell you I’m deranged, that I’ve lost my mind. But unless I explain everything, you might be inclined to believe them. So, please, hear me out.

It’s been nearly five years since they confined me to my room. Can you believe that? Five long years. I’m not allowed to leave the house unless Selvaraj, the driver, has time to take me out. And even then, he treats me like a prisoner on parole. All I want is to sit in the park and watch the children play on the swings and slides. But Selvaraj won’t let me get close. He holds my hand so tightly, as if I might run away. The kids, they make faces at me, and I think they want to play, too. But Selvaraj scares them off, saying God knows what to make them stay away. And I hate him for it. I really do.

Kausalya, our daughter-in-law, is the real mastermind behind all this. She has no love for me, Meenakshi, and I know she’s poisoned Mahesh’s mind against me. She makes up stories about me, and he believes every word. Remember the day I cut my finger trying to close the window? There was blood, and I couldn’t find any cotton or bandages. No one answered when I called for help—they say I cry wolf too often. So, I tore a piece from one of Mahesh’s shirts to wrap my finger. How was I supposed to know it was new? I have dozens of shirts, all the same colour. Kausalya made such a fuss over it, and Mahesh scolded me right in front of her. That humiliation, I can’t forget.

But there’s one thing I can never forgive her for. She took away the lock from the bathroom door. Do you know why? Because I sometimes doze off there. It’s not my fault! I don’t sleep at night—I’ve seen too many old people die in their sleep, and I won’t let that happen to me. That’s my secret, Meenakshi. That’s how I’ve managed to live this long. But Kausalya, she can’t stand it. She thinks I’m a danger to myself. She has no idea that I stay awake to keep death at bay.

There’s something else, too. This strange man keeps peeping through my bedroom window at night. When I look, he disappears. But I’ve seen him—dark figure, glistening white teeth, bushy moustache, and that ridiculous county cap, probably hiding his bald head. It’s not his appearance that bothers me, though. It’s the way he sneaks around. I caught him one night and threw ink at him. He screamed, and they all came running, but did anyone listen to me? No! They said he was the night security guard, keeping watch over me. As if I’m some dangerous criminal. They all looked at me as if I were the mad one.

I overheard them talking on the phone. I think they’re planning to send me away, to one of those places for ‘people like me.’ They took me there once before, and I was stuck there for so long. Please, Meenakshi, come soon. Mahesh keeps telling me you’re gone and that your picture on my wall is just a memory. But I know better. You come to see me, and we talk.  Kausalya thinks I’m just muttering to myself in my sleep. Let her think what she wants. Who cares? Come tonight, Meenakshi, and take me away with you. Take me somewhere far from here, before they send me to that horrible place.

The next morning, Mahesh entered his father’s room, Kausalya trailing behind. They found the old man seemingly fast asleep, clutching a photograph in his hands. Mahesh gently removed the blanket and saw his father holding the picture of his late mother, Meenakshi, close to his chest. He turned to the empty wall where the picture usually hung, a sudden chill running down his spine.

“Appa, wake up,” Mahesh called softly, nudging his father’s shoulder. “We have an appointment with the doctor today.”

But there was no response.

The old man had finally found peace. Meenakshi had kept her promise and taken him away.

 

The Broken Promise (949 words)

 

It was in class VII, I remember, that Anand was my mate sitting next to me. I vaguely remember his puny structure, hazel green eyes (cat’s eyes as I used to call them), and his warm disposition. We were together most of the school hours enjoying each other's company. He was I think staying with his grandfather.

One Friday when the classes broke for a recess of 15 minutes, he told me in a conspiratorial tone to follow him quietly. He moved fast to the main gate of the school. Luckily the watchman was missing. He took out his Sanskrit book hidden inside the shirt and gave it to the peanut vendor who sat outside the gate.

 “Be quick, keep the book with you and give us a large quantity of peanuts,” said Anand.

The poor fellow gave a bewildered look at him and said “No, I will not accept it. It is meant for reading.”

” I have another one This is an extra book bought by mistake. Take it and quickly give the peanut in two packets. The bell is ringing,” urged Anand

 Without further resistance, the vendor gave him two cone-shaped packets full of peanuts more than what we expected. Generous as always Anand gave me one packet that we stuffed in our knickers pockets.

“Do not utter one word about this transaction to anyone under any circumstances and promise me now,” he warned as he extended his palm for me to complete the promise.

It was next Tuesday when our Sanskrit master entered the class. A frail man with hawkish eyes he relied on his ferrule and the dictum “Spare the rod and spoil the child”. No sooner than he entered, he asked us to copy four Subhashitani slokas from the Sanskrit book saying that he would explain the meaning after we finished.

I placed the book in the centre of the bench to enable Anand to copy the slokas without craning his neck much. Very soon the teacher was by our side thundering, “Where is your book?”

 Anand meekly replied “I lost it. I brought the book last Friday to the school but could not find the book when I reached home”

The teacher looked suspiciously at me and snatched my book that had lost its front cover with all its pages dog-eared with smudges of ink. He threw the book at my face telling “Is this the way to keep the book, you fool?” he scolded

Staring at Anand. he said, “I do not have a good opinion of you. I do not believe you. I am not going to let this rest without further probing. Where is your house? If it is close by, go and fetch some elder immediately.”

In less than fifteen minutes, Anand who was weeping came with a young boy aged six years old. The class burst into laughter. As the teacher’s face reddened his grandfather entered the class. The old man started speaking loudly to the teacher, “My grandson says he lost the book last Friday in school. He never utters a lie. Someone in the class must have taken the book. I wish you had checked that before getting upset with the innocent boy.”

 The teacher said “I have already done that. The adjacent boy Partha is very good and has his torn book. I do not think it has been stolen.”

The grandfather in a taunting tone said “Does the book have wings to fly? I do not like the shifty eyes of that boy” he said as he came near me and looking at me added,” I accuse you of having stolen Anand’s book. Give it back. Otherwise, I will take it up with the headmaster and have you dismissed from the school.”

 Anand just kept quiet without saying anything in support of me.

The teacher said “Enough of this unfair accusation, Sir, please stand aside. I will talk to him”

He said softly,” Partha if you know something about the book, tell me to save your honour. I trust you fully and would not let the false accusation go unchallenged.”

 I started crying, feeling embarrassed with all the boys and girls looking at me, half in sympathy and half in doubt. I quickly thought about the promise made by me and Anand’s silence when his grandfather openly accused me and felt it was better to come clean.

 I replied to him,” Sir, he sold the book to the peanut vendor at the gate.”

As soon as the old man heard this, he stormed out of the classroom, his steps heavy in anger, to the gate. To his frustration, he found the book with half the pages missing having been used to make paper cones.

 The vendor said,” Sir, I refused initially to accept the book and took it in exchange for peanuts only when the boy said it was a spare book. Please check with another boy who accompanied him. Forgive me, I am a poor man”

The old man came to the class and hugged me profusely expressing his apologies to the teacher for wrongly suspecting me. He snatched the ferrule from the master’s hand and started hitting Anand like a madman till the teacher stopped him.

 He dragged him out of the class loudly rebuking, “This fellow is a disgrace to my family and I will pack him off to his parents”

As he was being dragged, Anand turned towards me at the door and I could see in his eyes a deep hatred for me. We never met thereafter.

I realised only in my later years that no promises were to be made or assurances given to cover up misdeeds.

 

The interview (908 words)

 

The large door swung open, held by a stern-faced security guard, as I stepped into the imposing building. My appointment was with the Managing Director for the position of staff officer to the CEO. Though it was a middle-rung role, insiders had assured me it carried immense clout and influence. My credentials were impeccable: a diploma from a prestigious business school and experience in leading companies in the industry. I was confident this interview would be a mere formality.

I was led into a spacious room where five others were already waiting. I sized them up quickly. One man was short and stout, his ill-fitting suit straining at the buttons. Another, with two days' worth of stubble and dishevelled hair, looked like he hadn’t slept in days. A third, tall and lanky with a vacant expression, resembled a scarecrow that could be blown over by a gust of wind. The fourth, biting his nails nervously and twitching his lips, was a ball of anxiety. The last one seemed like he might be real competition—smart-looking but dressed horribly, in a bright yellow shirt and an askew tie. His pants were too short, barely reaching his ankles.

I, on the other hand, stood out. Tall, with curly hair, a square jaw, and sharp features. A blend of Hrithik, Salman, and Ranbir, all rolled into one. I was dressed in a smartly tailored suit. I was used to turning heads and pushing my way to the top, especially in the presence of female colleagues.

Across the room sat a young woman in her mid-twenties, with two others standing beside her. The seated woman was strikingly beautiful but exuded an air of arrogance as she glanced around. She seemed to be checking off names on a list, probably an HR clerk. I was the last one she called.

“Your name?” she asked without looking up.

“Sandip. Sandip Saxena,” I replied confidently.

“Where is your profile? Your CV?” she asked, looking at me for the first time.

“I sent it with my application. I didn’t bring a copy,” I said nonchalantly.

“Shouldn’t you carry one to an interview? If the interviewer asks about your profile, what will you refer to?” she asked with a hint of irritation.

“I didn’t think it necessary,” I replied, sensing some stifled chuckles from the other candidates.

“You seem to have a casual approach to this interview and are not adequately prepared,” she said sharply.

My temper flared, especially when I caught the smirks on the other candidates' faces. Who did she think she was, a lowly HR clerk, questioning me? I forced a smile. “I trust you won’t send me away for that. If there are questions about my profile, I can handle them. Don't be worried.”

“Far from it. Why should I be concerned when it’s your gaffe?” she retorted, her eyes narrowing.

“Mind your words, Miss. As a receptionist, I expect more civility in dealing with people,” I shot back, returning to my seat, fuming. The girls beside her stared at me as she walked away with a smirk.

About thirty minutes later, a different woman entered the room, announcing that the MD was unavailable. Instead, the CEO would meet with each candidate. One by one, the others were called, each leaving through a separate exit. My anticipation grew. I cursed myself for not bringing my CV and for losing my temper with the HR clerk.

I was the last to be called. By now, my confidence had waned, replaced by anxiety. As I entered the office, my heart nearly stopped. Sitting at the CEO’s desk was the same young woman who had been screening us earlier. I felt a cold sweat break out. I quickly wiped my face with a handkerchief.

“Mr. Sandip, please take a seat,” she said with a smile, gesturing for me to sit. A glass of water was placed before me, and she waited patiently as I took a sip, trying to steady my nerves.

“Shall we start?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” I replied, my voice shaky.

“In your resume, on the second page, you mentioned your role responsibilities. In the second line, you said…” she trailed off with a mischievous smile.

I froze. “What did I say?”

“You should know better,” she said, the smile never leaving her face.

I swallowed hard. “I apologize, Madam. As I mentioned earlier, I forgot to bring a copy of my resume.”

She chuckled. “It doesn’t matter.”

She then proceeded with the interview, asking pointed questions about my work experience. I answered each one as confidently as I could, but her eyes never left mine, assessing me with every response.

Finally, she asked, “How soon can you join? I need someone who is alert and not forgetful. I assume there’s nothing uncivil about my expectations?”

I managed a weak smile. “I can join in a fortnight.”

“Good,” she said, extending her hand. “I look forward to a happy and fruitful association with you.”

I shook her hand, still dazed. “I apologize for my earlier behaviour. I was indiscreet.”

She laughed softly. “No need. Your reaction was what clinched the position for you. I dislike timid men. Welcome aboard.”

As she walked me to the foyer, I realized how gravely I had misjudged her. The entire interview process had been a test, not just of my qualifications, but of my temperament. I had passed, but not in the way I had anticipated.

(Normally I would have brought Cupid with his arrow at the end of the story but desisted this time to infuse some element of unpredictability!!)

 

The Final Offering (600 words)

 “Appa, I've planned a small puja at the Hanuman temple tomorrow evening. I want you to come with me,” Pankaja said.

“What’s so special, Pankaja?” Rama Rao asked.

“It’s nothing big. You haven’t been sleeping well for months. Even the tranquilizers haven't helped. I prayed to Lord Hanuman to cure your insomnia and promised to offer two garlands made of vadas and betel leaves,” Pankaja replied.

“Foolish girl,” Rao said with a chuckle. “Why trouble the Lord for petty, age-related problems? But I'll come along.”

The temple was wedged between two tall textile shops on a bustling road. Though small, its presiding deity was known for granting boons. Only eighteen steps led to the temple, with a rope separating the paths for ascending and descending. The idol of Lord Hanuman, standing with a hillock on his palm, seemed ready to fly. An aged priest performed puja twice daily, and the temple was mostly crowded in the evenings when the bazaar was busy. Devotees would bring offerings of butter, garlands made of betel leaves, Tulsi, and flowers, sold by vendors at the entrance.

The next day, Pankaja prepared 108 vadas on an empty stomach and was ready by 5 p.m. She called to her son, “Nandhu, can you hold Grandpa’s hand and bring him to the temple by auto at 5 p.m.? I'll go ahead to buy the puja materials. Take care of him on the staircase; it's usually slippery.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I promised to play in a cricket match and can’t come,” Nandhu replied rather curtly.

“Don’t worry, Pankaja,” Rao reassured her. “I’ll be careful.”

They reached the temple on time, Rao holding the basket of vada malas. “Appa, hold the basket carefully. I'll be back after getting the flowers. Please don’t climb the stairs alone; they're often wet,” Pankaja cautioned.

“Don’t worry. I won’t climb if it’s crowded,” Rao promised. “And I’ll hold the rope if I do.”

As he climbed, the priest met him halfway. “Swami, are you sleeping well these days? Your daughter mentioned your insomnia a month ago. Please go to the sanctum carefully. I'll be back shortly.”

There was a group of students at the temple, noisily waiting for the priest. The results of their annual exams were due the next day.

As Rao carefully climbed the steep steps, a mild tremor shook the temple for a few seconds. Panicked, the students hurried down both sides of the rope, creating a stampede. Rao lost his balance and fell, the students trampling over him in their rush.

“Appa, Appa!” Pankaja screamed, rushing up the stairs with some vendors. She found her father lying unconscious, his body twisted, legs above his head. Someone tried to lift him, but his head lolled to the side.

Pankaja’s piercing scream echoed through the temple and down the busy street.

A voice exclaimed, “Look at the miracle! The vada garland he carried has fallen perfectly on the nail holding Hanuman’s picture. It’s as if the garland is adorning the picture.”

The aged priest, wiping his eyes with his upper cloth, gently consoled her, “Pankaja, do not grieve. He has attained Mukti here at the temple, after fulfilling his vow. He is truly a blessed soul, destined for Sadgati. Only Lord Hanuman knows what is best for the departed. I will ask some vendors to help you take him home. If you give me your husband’s number, I'll call him.”

Turning to the vendors, the priest requested, “Please help this grieving lady. Your kind act will surely bring you blessings. I need to perform some rituals after the body is removed.”

 

Hook, line and sinker (833 words)

                    

The Unspoken Love (998 words)

 

Deepak was scrutinising the day’s mail stacked on his office table early in the morning. He was puzzled to see a small envelope in office stationery with the words “Personal, for your eyes only” typed in bold. He quickly opened it to see a typed short unsigned letter.

Honey,
You may not know my deepest love for you for I have never expressed it. The sole motivation for my coming to the office daily is to see your irresistibly charming face. I want to be bound with you and lead a life of eternal bliss. Won’t you open your eyes and see for yourself your love-struck admirer?

Deepak a handsome young executive was aware that he was the object of adoring eyes not only in the office but elsewhere too. He had no girlfriend in particular that could be called romantic. He was sure that this must be from someone in the office as the envelope bore the office logo and address. There were three young women in his small office.

Lavanya, a charming, chubby but petite one is married with a small child. Her husband worked in Singapore and came twice a year for a short holiday. Though she was friendly and spoke animatedly with him, he could not discern any romantic inclinations from her side. But then she found innumerable reasons to come frequently to his cabin and linger for a while.

Ipsita, secretary to the Managing Director smiled at him always but was taciturn. Conscious of her position and privy to all important decisions, she never spoke much for fear people may ask her questions. Deepak always took care not to embarrass her and for this reason, she dropped into his cabin for an occasional tea whenever MD was away. She was single, tall very attractive but had no fiancé to his knowledge. Here again, there was never an oblique suggestion of any amorous interest in him.

But Lalita was different. A bubbly extrovert, she was a flirt, not with him alone but with everyone including couriers and pizza boys who came to deliver. She was in the accounts department and reported to him. Knowing her well, she is not the type to write secretive letters. If she were in love, she would have told him openly and even taken the bull by the horns by hugging him on the spot. But he had heard that some young man frequently came to the office and took her in his bullet after office hours.

He was curious to find out who out of these three would have written this love note. It was unmistakably for him for his name was typed legibly both on the envelope and the paper inside. It was then his colleague Pinto entered his cabin. He was in the marketing wing and was mostly outside the office except in the morning hours and sometimes in the evenings. They were good friends. But strangely he never mingled with the lady staff. He was formal with them most of the time but curt occasionally with Lalita especially. The girls had even complained obliquely about him to Deepak who consoled them saying he was an enigma to him too.

Pinto asked him “Hey Deepu, why are you wearing a worried look on your otherwise charming face? What happened? What is that paper on your hand?”

“I am not worried but only surprised. Just have a look at this confidential note and tell me who could have written this to me,” said Deepak

Pinto glanced at it and then said with a mischievous smile “Whoever has written is shy of telling you directly on your face of their love and would probably wish you to find from their body language. You are a smart chap and should be able to unravel the mystery of your ardent lover very soon. I give you two days and in case you fail, I will help you find.”

The next day he showed Lavanya the note and said “I know it cannot be you. I am just checking with l the three ladies in the office.” She just smiled and said she did not write.

Ipsita’s response with a big smile when she saw the letter was” Deepak, you could have shown me this note a month earlier. It is late now. My parents have finalized a match already. Bad luck”

“For whom? “Deepak asked with a grin

“Me of course” she said and vanished

Lalita said “Sorry, my dear. I have a fiancé already as you might have known. I would have readily upgraded for you but I have gone too far with that guy”

The next day when Pinto came, he plunged directly into the subject. Deepak narrated his conversation with the three ladies.

Pinto then said with a roguish smile “Think out of the box. If it is not from a lady in the office, can it be from somebody else? “He left abruptly saying “Have your answer ready. I will be back in a few minutes”

It was then that Deepak realised that though Pinto seemed a normal guy, he often smiled roguishly without provocation, spoke in a soft voice, and simpered whenever he greeted him in the mornings. He had seen that he never befriended any girl or spoke of anyone. There was an effeminate side to Pinto’s personality and while talking often held Deepak’s hands with great affection for him. Now he realized he was different.

When Pinto entered and asked eagerly, "Could you  guess who wrote that short note?”

“Yes, Pinto, it is you but sadly for you, while I respect your views, I feel it is a misplaced affection. I am not inclined to that kind of love. Banish such a thought. I have high regard for you as a good friend and let us keep our friendship remain strong but untouched by any other sentiment,” replied Deepak as he tore that note into pieces and threw them in the waste bin.

 

The Gunshot at the Birthday Party (624 words)

 The Banquet Hall at the resort on the outskirts of the city by the seashore was ablaze with lights, festoons, and fluttering balloons. The large, multicoloured banner cheerfully proclaimed "Happy Birthday!" It was the 12th anniversary of the Girija Nagar Humour Club which day happened to be also the 50th Birthday of its Founder President Mr Sahayam. The club with about 100 members met on alternate Sundays for humour sessions or stand-up comedies. The Sunday gatherings were usually filled with fun, laughter and banter.

 About seventy guests, including a throng of young children, had gathered to celebrate the joyous occasion. Mr Sahayam dressed in a brightly laced sherwani and his wife decked in a glamorous Kanchi silk sari stood near the centre table, his proud smile glowing under the red balloon cluster hovering above. A well-decorated cake, its candles flickering, awaited the start of the celebration. The air buzzed with chatter and laughter, while a buffet table lined with glistening steel containers promised a feast to follow.

As the guests gathered around the centre table, eager to watch the president blow out the candles, a man in a dark suit entered through a side door. His face, except for his eyes, was obscured by black silk. His deep, commanding voice sliced through the festivities, snapping everyone’s attention to him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for this unwelcome interruption, but it’s necessary. This will be over quickly with your cooperation,” he said, pulling a shining gun from his holster.

A wave of uneasy murmurs rippled through the crowd as he continued, his tone growing more severe. “Do not create a commotion or you may get hurt. I have only one target; the rest of you can breathe easy. Now, every one of you raise your hands across your chest and clap when the president blows out the candles. No funny business—I am dead serious.”

He then turned his focus to the president. “Venerable Sir, start the party by blowing out the candles. Don’t worry, you’ll have your fun soon enough.”

Amid the tension, the lights turned dim, with all faces ashen and drenched in sweat, Mr Sahayam, half in fear and half in mirth, blew out the candles. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, followed by an explosion of glittering metallic streamers from the balloon above. The lights came back on as hidden speakers blared the "Happy Birthday" song. The dazed crowd quickly realized it was all a prank, orchestrated by the resort entertainer in league with the Secretary of the humour association.

Laughter and applause erupted as the entertainer, now without the black silk mask, handed Mr Sahayam a large, richly decorated gift box. The guests were amused, their earlier fear turning into joyous relief.

But amidst the fanfare, no one noticed a man standing at the fringe of the crowd, clutching his stomach, until he collapsed.

The crowd soon gathered around the fallen man, their faces twisting in confusion and fear. Blood soaked through his shirt, forming a dark purple stain around his hand. Who could have done this ghastly act? And why? Strangely, the security detail remained oblivious, even as anxiety spread among the guests. Some wrung their hands, others quickly distanced themselves from the scene.

To the bewilderment of all, the entertainer in the black suit slowly approached the fallen man. He nudged him with his shoe.. Lo, the man instantly stood up, pulling off a napkin from his stomach, and burst into laughter. The crowd, stunned, soon realised it was all part of an elaborate ruse that went well with the club’s activities, and they too began to laugh.

With the tension broken, the guests happily gravitated towards the buffet table, eager to indulge in the feast that awaited.

 

 

Karunakaran's Kindness (801 words)

 

 Savita graduated creditably five years back in English literature. Ever since she has been trying hard to get a clerical job but has yet to be successful. Wherever there was an entrance test, she cleared them but got rejected at the interview stage. They do not assign any reason and only her name is not in the final list. She is smart with good communication skills. It is not her fault that she is short, limped after a polio attack and has a flat wide nose. To make matters worse, the teeth needed to be better aligned and showed prominently.

She needed a job badly. Her mom an elementary school teacher had retired. She often approached the recruiting agency and sought to meet the MD Mr. Karunakaran. The front desk people tried to turn her away giving different reasons that he was busy or out of station or against dealing with candidates directly. But on this day, she loudly persisted until someone from inside the office came to the reception and asked that Savita be sent inside MD’s office after 10 minutes.

When she went in, she found a 55-year-old kindly-looking man completely bald and dark in complexion in a full suit. He just smiled at her and asked her to take her seat.

“I heard the commotion outside and had your file brought to me. I can understand your frustration in not finding a position despite your good credentials. I do not know why you have been overlooked by many companies to whom we had referred your name amongst others. Tell me in brief about your family, what kind of job you are looking for and how much you are expecting. I can see you have no experience whatsoever”

Savita told about her being the only child of her mom with no father and after her retirement how the two were struggling unable to pay even the small rent. She added,” I have attended dozens of interviews and many companies held some entrance test. I always did well in them and yet when the interviews took place, I could discern a change in their attitude. To be born short with a limp with an ugly face is not my fault. My mom had no money to attend to my teeth. I need not be given a front office job but there is always some position in the inner office. I am at the end of my tether, sir. It was at the height of frustration and not knowing what to do, I created a scene in your office. I wished to give vent to my feelings though I was not sure if it would help. I am willing to do any clerical job at any salary that applies to the position. But I need one immediately. I am a quick learner and lack of experience should not matter. I would be indebted if you could find some position in any company” and wiped her eyes

In a choked voice, the MD said “I understand. The world is cruel. Can you please wait for 15 minutes outside? I have some important work. I will call you. Don’t go away”

Exactly 15 minutes later, she was called in. He did not ask her to take her seat but asked her to open an envelope lying on the table addressed to her name and read the contents. She could not believe her eyes when she noticed it was an appointment letter as a junior executive in this company and the salary was much beyond her expectations. It required her to join three days hence.

With tears welling up in her eyes and choked with emotions, she came near him and bent to touch his feet. When he gently placed his hand on her head, she stood up and proffered her hands to thank him.

Moving back a little, he said,” Never mind. Take the other envelope on the table. It is an advance against your salary deductible in easy instalments. Buy some good dresses” he said

“Don’t take me amiss for not shaking hands to congratulate you. My right hand and right leg are artificial and I have undergone all the bitter experiences you have faced. It was then I started this company and my dad was a great support and encouragement. Since then, I have helped countless differently abled boys and girls. Lucky you raised your voice and insisted on meeting me. I feel my front office staff need some training on empathy and understanding” he said as he slowly ambled to her side.

“Go and share the good news with your mom. You will be working in my secretariat and gradually reduce my burden. May God's Blessings be upon you” he said and bade her adieu.

 

The Highway Hustler (932 words)

                                    ( An interesting short story that I hope will keep you hooked)

It was very hot on the barren highway with no trees on either side. The sun blazoned in its full fury. Naresh has been driving for two hours towards Jaipur. A little away he saw some figure getting up from the culvert on seeing his car. As he drew nearer, he found it was a young village woman with a bag in hand, clad in a sari with dishevelled hair and drenched in sweat. He saw that she was tall, and slim with well-chiselled features. He was struck with remorse at ignoring her pleading eyes and reversed the car to her side. She looked sun-tanned and tired.

“Where are you going? How long are you waiting?” he asked her

“To Jaipur, Saheb. It is more than two hours and no bus stops here.”

“Okay, get in. I am also going there” As she hesitated not knowing where to get in, he opened the front door.

He drove silently for some time and then asked “Is Jaipur your home town?”

“No, it is a village here. There is no work here. My husband is a lazy and violent alcoholic. I am leaving him for good and going in search of some work. I have some relatives there” she replied

“You look so young. Any kids?”

“Luckily no. I am married for less than two years”

He saw a service station a little away. Wishing to use the restroom, he stopped the car. He hesitated for a fraction of a second whether to leave her alone in the car. ” Do you also wish to come? “ he asked her.

When she declined, he rushed to the restroom and came back as quickly.

“Had you come, we could have had a cool drink. It is so hot outside. My throat is parched” he said and took the Bisleri bottle kept by his side and gulped half the bottle. He offered her the balance but she declined.

He would have driven hardly for 15 minutes when he clutched his head and said that he was feeling giddy. He stopped the car and with a concerned look, she had his head rest on her shoulders before he blacked out. She got out of the car, pulled him to the side seat and made him recline in a sitting posture even as she sat behind the wheel with a smirk on her face.

She opened her bag and changed into a clean and swanky salwar suit, dabbed her face with a makeup kit, combed her hair and wore sun goggles. She was transformed in a jiffy to a modern young lady as she took a turn towards Delhi. She drove for some distance till she found a service plaza. She swerved the car to the rear side and parked it. She opened the computer bag that was in the rear seat and found some money. She took the bag, opened partially one of the windows and briskly walked away.

As she came out of the plaza with a Coke bottle in hand and the computer bag, she found a car coming out of the parking lot driven by a young man. She raised her thumb and the man asked her where she was going

“Gurgaon”

“Hop in,” he said as he opened the front door

She gave him one of her seductive smiles and said “It is so sweet of you. I am Lolita” as she settled down in her seat almost brushing close to him.

“I am Vinod, it is a privilege and pleasure to be of small help to you. How come you were stranded here?”

“My car broke down and I am in a hurry to Gurgaon. Luckily, I met my Good Samaritan in you “she said as she fondly patted him on his shoulder.

“What do you do for a living? Single?”

“I do many things. Though an advertisement executive by profession, I like to socialize, dance and mingle with men. I am single. How about you?” she asked not lifting her hand off his shoulder.

“Me too a single and am into real estate and fixing many lucrative deals. I look forward to a lasting friendship with you” he said as he put his hand on her thigh. She did not make any effort to brush his hand away. Emboldened he stopped the car at the side and drew her near to give her a peck.

“Not now. Later as much as you wish after we reach Gurgaon. I told you I was in a hurry. We will meet maybe tomorrow itself” she said

As he was a little disappointed, he drove silently even as she caressed his hair. As they were nearing Gurgaon. she said abruptly” Look out to your right side at the petrol pump that is a little away. Stop the car for a moment”

When he turned his head after he stopped the car, he felt a sledgehammer karate blow on the region near the neck and collar bone. He felt something crack inside as he slumped down unconscious. She quickly rummaged through his bag and found wads of currency. She filled the computer bag and threw the computer behind a bush. Making him sit in an upright position, she walked away quickly from the vehicle.

As a three-wheeler with an old driver stopped by, she got in and said “Mall”. She thrust a five hundred rupee note into the hands of the surprised driver at the mall and hurried inside with the computer bag in her hand only to melt away in the vast crowd of shoppers.

(Unless you wish to be anonymous, please leave your name at the end of the comment)

Menon's Munificence (834 words)

(Do not miss this touching story of a different Postman and not the one you might have read earlier in the blog)

Menon has been working on this beat as a postman for several years. It was not certainly a posh area dotted as it was with many slums and lower middle-class houses of government housing board. The area of his beat was also not too extensive to cover in his old bicycle. There were no heavy parcels for him to carry as these people hardly got any gifts. What they received were mostly money orders from kith and kin and postcards filled all over the card mostly in illegible writings. It was given to his lot to read and explain the content.

 Though a Keralite, he was born and brought up in Tamil Nad and could easily read and write Tamil. He knew most of the people by name and always had a kind word or two to exchange. They were guileless people and regarded him with respect despite his tattered khaki uniform and much-worn shoes. Of late his vision was giving him some trouble and he had been putting off a visit to the hospital. On summer days when the sun was hot, they offered him cool water from a mud pot. Menon never regarded his duty as an imposition but as a social work providing him with an opportunity to enjoy meeting people and listen to them.

Menon was nearing retirement age. His only son had gone to some Middle East country on a small job and there was practically no contact thereafter. His eldest daughter fell in love with a boy from Kerala who had no steady job but married him despite Menon’s reservations about the chap. He had learnt that they were leading a happy life though passing through difficult times without a steady income. She came once after marriage but had not visited him for almost five years. He had two more daughters studying.

Menon felt his pocket to see whether the hundred rupees note he had was safely there. He was to take his wife to the doctor but put it off until the first week when he would have received his salary. He was to take some medicines urgently. She has been ailing for long and he had spent most of his savings on her treatment. He found it difficult to make both ends meet and was always short of money.

As he was entering a narrow alley to deliver a money order, he saw Bhagyam lying on a bench outside her hut. An old woman past 70, emaciated with shrunken eyes and pale in colour, she gave the appearance of one whose end was not far away.

“Menon”, she hailed as he was moving away. “Is there any money order for me from my son?” she asked. This was the daily refrain and Menon would stand patiently by her side and tell her consolingly that it should come anytime if her son had remitted. He would even mentally curse that wretch for leaving his old mom to fend for herself. In his memory, she had not received any remittance after the first year or two. The tragic part is that the old woman’s daughter had left in her mom’s care a young daughter of ten years when she died of cancer. Her husband had deserted her long back.

This day he could not wrench himself away from her as he saw tears flowing from her eyes and she started sobbing. He sat by her side and said softly “Bhagyam, do not cry. Is this a new development for you to feel sorry for now? What is bothering you so much?”

“Menon, I would have preferred hell to this life and taken poison but for this unlucky girl burdened on me by my daughter. She has not eaten a morsel of food for the last two days. I don’t mind my starving but I cannot be a witness to this young thing silently suffering. Please see inside the hut. She is lying folded with hands on her stomach. “she cried loudly.

Menon could not suppress his eyes from becoming moist. Without a second thought, he took the only hundred rupee note from his pocket and gave it to her telling “Get something to eat immediately. Manage a few days with this money. I know one person in my beat who is running a poor home. I will ask him to take you both. He will ensure your granddaughter comes up in life. Don’t worry, he is a very good man Come on, get up and get some idlies for both of you.”

As he got up, he thought of his suffering wife and muttered to himself that he had to choose first the needier and that he would find some way to get his wife medicines. She can wait for a day with no great harm but Bhagyam and her granddaughter cannot.

(“One's life has value so long as one attributes value to the life of others, by means of love, friendship, indignation and compassion”. Simone de Beauvoir}

 

Babita's Blunder (658 words)

When Sekhar mentioned over morning coffee that he would be away in Washington for two days on official work, Babita demurred. She had never stayed alone in this place. Though her house in Fort Lauderdale was independent, there were many adjoining houses on both sides. She was by nature timid.

Sekhar said with finality” Look honey, I cannot put off this trip. I will leave tomorrow morning and may have to be away for one night. I will be back by day after tomorrow night, you can be sure. You have to get adjusted to staying alone. There is no fear here.”

Babita woke up with a start the next day night when she heard a heavy truck pass through the road. Without moving she looked at the clock it was 1 am. Her child was fast asleep on the tiny cot adjacent to their king-size bed. When she opened her eyes fully and looked around, she was shocked to find a dark silhouette of a young man standing by the side of the door.

 The room was dark and Babita never liked the night light in her room as it disturbed her sleep. The street light that found its way through the curtained windows was adequate. She concluded it must be a burglar waiting to enter her bedroom to access the steel almirah. She did not move even a little in panic and had her eyes almost closed as if she were asleep. She cursed Sekhar for having left her alone. The figure came close to the child and stood staring at the child for a moment before moving towards her. When she was shivering in fear about its next step, It strangely tiptoed to another room.

Babita making sure the figure was not there, jumped out of the bed and locked the door. She rang 911 seeking help. In a few minutes, she saw to her relief, a couple of police cars with coloured lights blinking screeching to a halt outside her house. There was dazzling light from the cars. She gained confidence when she saw the policemen approaching the door. As she was waiting for the bell to ring, she heard voices in the living room

“You say you didn’t call us. But we got the panic message clearly with this address. Who else are there in the house?” asked one of the policemen in a gruff tone.

“My wife and child are sleeping on the first floor. There must be some mistake somewhere.”Babita heard the reply.

When she came down, she saw Sekhar to her surprise and surmised what had happened. She explained to the policemen how she mistook the shadowy figure for some burglar as her husband was supposed to come only the next day. There were profuse apologies by Sekhar for the surprise he wanted to give his wife and the loud laughter that followed the gaffe before the policemen left.

“Why are you angry? I thought you would be happy at my return. I saw you both asleep and did not want to disturb you. So, I went to the living room and read the unfinished novel. Come up and let us go to bed,” said Sekhar

One month later Sekhar had to go to New York for one day. He promised to come back by the next day evening. Babita was half asleep when she heard some noise possibly from her child. She found the child sleeping soundly. The clock struck 2 am. When she turned to the other side, she found the dark shadow standing near the door. Not to be taken in by her husband’s trick again, she smiled and said “I know you will come. I am waiting for you. Come and lie down by my side”

The shadow stood for a moment and then hesitantly moved towards her bed.

Sekhar was snoring heavily in his room on the 7th floor of Sheraton Manhattan in New York.

 

 

 

Sundaram's self-respect {880 words}

 

(This is a fiction written in first person for effect)

The one question that bothers me always is why success in life is not guaranteed to genius and why happiness is not always a possession of good people. Life turns out to be cruel to a few even when they do not seemingly deserve such a fate. I was recently a witness to such an oddity of fate. Some of the memories of the young days are sharper than the recent happenings.

I clearly remember my classmate Sundaram for he was a class topper and always sat next to me. We were close friends. Lean and tall with a sharp nose, he frequently fell sick. He had a large birthmark on his right forearm. He came from a poor family and he used to wear the same brown colour shirt. I remember my putting an ink mark to see whether it was the same shirt he wore and his getting upset with me. He was a friendly chap and we would walk home together in the evenings after school hours. He confided in me his wish to be an engineer along with his doubts about his achieving it. He had two younger sisters. I lost touch with him when I left the school in my ninth class on my dad’s transfer to Delhi.

 It was more than three decades later when I was attending a marriage of my colleague’s son in Chennai that I came across my old friend in totally unexpected circumstances. I was seated in the dining hall along with other friends who were all well-placed in life. It was a marriage done in style and ostentation.

As the servers in white uniforms were serving the food and different delicacies, I saw the large birthmark on the extended arm of a tall lean man in his late forties who was placing a jangri (a sweet delicacy) on the plantain leaf. Recollecting that my friend Sundaram had a similar one, I looked up and could instantly recognize him. The same tall figure and the unmistakable sharp nose confirmed that I was not off the mark.

When I asked him whether he was, Sundaram, he nodded in agreement. I asked him “Don’t you recognize me as Rangan? We sat adjacent to each other in classes eight and nine".

 He hesitated for a moment and said that he had not met me before and tried to retreat hastily. I persisted by asking him, “Do make an effort to remember me and the ink mark I had made on your shirt.”

 For a split of second, his cloudy eyes cleared but when he saw many eyes on him, he left denying any knowledge of me or the incident.

 I was doubly sure that he was Sundaram and that he wished to remain unidentified. I could not thereafter enjoy my lunch and the conversations around me. I was left wondering how such misfortune could befall such a bright person whom I had hoped would rise to high positions.

 I rose from the table earlier than others to wash my hands. I rushed to the kitchen area looking for Sundaram. Not finding him there, I approached the head cook and asked him,” Where can I find Sundaram?”

“Sundaram came just now to me and pleaded of severe headache and wanted some rest. He assured me that he would be back in an hour. Do you know him?” replied the head cook

“We studied together in school and were close friends. He was intelligent, hard-working and a topper in school. He used to be soft by nature with a very warm disposition. I had high hopes of his reaching high positions in life.  How did he come to work here in such poor circumstances?” I asked

 The head cook, an elderly man, said,” Sundaram’s father died suddenly in his middle age leaving behind his large family of wife, one son, two unmarried daughters and an aged mother with no resources to fall back upon. The entire responsibility of looking after his mother, grandmother and sisters, their schooling and marriage fell upon the young shoulders of Sundaram. He had not completed even class eleven. As his father was working for me as a cook for several years, I took pity on the young boy and took him under my fold. I offered some financial help to the family initially. He worked hard and has since educated and married off his two sisters. But he chose to remain a bachelor in the dilapidated house  to look after his aged mother.”

 I could realize now why he wished to avoid me. He must have seen my shock and pain on seeing him in a server’s uniform and being a man of high self-respect, possibly wished to save me from further embarrassment.

 As I was financially well placed, I resolved to help him monetarily or by renovating his old house I left my card with my mobile number with the head cook and requested him, “Please ask Sundaram to contact me without fail within the next two days of my stay in Chennai. Tell him it is my fervent request.”

But being a man of high self-respect, he never made a call.

(The willingness to accept responsibility for one’s own life is the source from which self-respect springs-Joan Didion}

The Kidnap (603 words)

                                      (A short story of yesteryears that will leave you with a smile)

 “Uncle, let me go. Why have you brought me here? I am scared. My parents would be worried and looking for me” cried the ten-year-old boy, in a trembling voice

“Keep quiet, I warn you.  I am not letting you go so soon. Let me get some money from your dad and I will think about it later” barked the man, his eyes cold and speculating, beneath a big drooping moustache.

The boy started crying loudly. The man slapped the boy hard and asked him to be silent if he were not to get hurt.

 “Ayyo, ayyo. It is paining. Please allow me to go. I will ask my dad to pay you whatever money you want”, pleaded the boy with flowing tears. Annoyed by the loud cries, the wicked man took out a roll of duct tape from a bag and put it on the boy's mouth securely. He tied his hands behind and also his legs.

“You ignored my warning. Now suffer the consequences” said the kidnapper as he spat the pan through the window.

 He closed the shutters and started smoking. Scared beyond wits, the boy turned silent and was looking at him wistfully. More than an hour passed and the man had exhausted his cigarettes. He was pacing in the room restlessly for two hours with his patience wearing thin waiting to make the ransom call.

Suddenly he heard loud knocks at the front door. He immediately lifted the top of a hollow centre table and thrust the boy inside.” If you make even a slight noise I will kill you. Beware” he warned the boy as he replaced the top and kept a flower vase on it.

As the pounding of the door became incessant, he opened the front door to find a policeman with two other men.

When he looked askance at them, the policeman said “We have come in search of a young boy. This man here who was in the tea shop across the road says he saw you with a boy. Where is he? The other person is his father and says the boy is missing for two hours from the house where he was playing.”

“I know of no boy. What crap is that man talking? He must have seen someone else”

“Anyway, let me search inside the house” the policeman replied and went from one room to the other and searched thoroughly opening the shelves, lofts and almirahs. When they drew a blank, the policeman said “This is the room where this man has been staying as it is filled with cigarette smoke. Call your boy by name” he told the father of the boy.

“Ambi, Ambi” he called loudly twice. The boy heard his dad but could neither make any noise nor move cramped as he was inside. Panic struck him afraid they would go away.

The policeman turned to the boy’s father and said “We are not finding him here. Come to the police station and lodge a formal complaint. We will take further action. No point in wasting time here. Let us go”

As they were about to leave, the man from the teashop suddenly exclaimed “Look, under the centre table”

They saw a puddle of yellowish liquid trickling from below the table. The policeman caught the kidnapper who tried to flee even as the other men removed the top to find Ambi tightly bound.

When they removed the tape, the boy proudly said “Daddy, when I heard your voice, I tried to shout or make noise. When I could not, I started peeing hoping you would find me”