The compassion

 

Mahalingam was not exactly henpecked though he did not do things which his wife Gowri disapproved of. One of the things she disliked was having his aged mother with them, as he was her only son.

“Maha, it is very chill these days during nights and I keep shivering. Can you get me a woollen blanket?” his mother asked him one morning

He was reading a newspaper and his wife was cutting vegetables by his side. He made a small non-committal grunt ’hmm’ to signify he heard her but said nothing more.

Three days past she again reminded him. ” Maha, I am unable to sleep. Bangalore is colder this year than in the past. I cover myself with my old saris too but they give no relief.”

A lump passed through his throat. He knew his wife was listening to the request and her silent look spoke enough. All he could say was only,” Amma, let me see. I am busy with a lot of work in the office. Close the windows in the night. The chill air would not enter.”

The old woman kept quiet and thereafter stopped asking him.

Two weeks later Mahalingam’s brother-in-law, Dandapani who had come on a short visit asked his sister “Gowri, what are these two big bundles in the hall for?”

She said with pride “Your brother-in-law is very particular that we distribute saris and dhoties each year at the old age home during winter. We have been doing these for several years. We will be going there this evening. Why don’t you accompany us?”

Her brother replied” I am very proud of you, sister, for your compassion”

In the background, the old woman lay huddled on the mat with an old sari doing the duty of a blanket and coughing nonstop.

As Dandapani was leaving the next evening, he went near the old lady bowed before her and said as he handed over a bundle,” Mami, I am Dandapani taking leave of you. Here is a token of my affection and respect for you. This woolen blanket will make your nights very comfortable.”

Mahalingam was seen with his head bent downward and Gowri cringing in shame.

 

The tough choice

                     

Kunal was content with his accommodation in Chandigarh. The house owners, Sethi and his wife Basanti, were warm and caring. He had chosen to stay with them as a paying guest for six months. Though they had never taken in a paying guest before, they agreed at the request of a mutual friend. Their hesitation was understandable; Kunal, at 27, was highly educated, handsome, and successful. Yet, one might wonder why these admirable traits could pose a problem—until it became known that the couple had three beautiful daughters, all 22, and triplets at that.

The daughters were not only beautiful but also talented, excelling in both academics and sports. Sethi’s worry wasn’t that one of his daughters might fall for Kunal; rather, he feared all three might. And, considering their identical looks, Kunal might struggle to choose between them. While Sethi wrestled with his concerns, Basanti remained neutral. However, the decision was clinched when all three daughters pleaded in unison for their parents to allow Kunal to stay.

But if you thought the matter was resolved, you’d be mistaken. It was only the beginning of a dilemma. All three daughters developed an instant liking for Kunal, each eager to outdo the other in serving him—be it bringing breakfast, pressing his clothes, or cleaning his room. The once-close sisters soon found themselves competing for his attention, leading to constant friction over who would do what.

Kunal, ever the diplomat, remained friendly with all three, each girl believing she held his heart. He relished the attention but faced a greater challenge: choosing one from the identical trio, each uniquely appealing. He felt that though they look similar, their personalities can differ with different tastes and values. He wished to explore a little further before deciding on one who was compatible with him to cultivate more.

The next morning, Ankita arrived early with tea and the newspaper. "Good morning. Let’s cut to the chase,” Kunal said. “What is it about me that makes you like me so much? Be honest."

Caught off guard, Ankita hesitated but then grinned. "I’m a huge fan of Aamir Khan. You resemble him, and I’ve always adored his looks. I see you as the closest thing to him, and that’s enough for me."

Kunal laughed. "Aamir Khan, huh? That’s a high compliment. Thanks for being so open."

They spent the next few minutes discussing his latest show, Satyameva Jayate, before parting ways.

Later that morning, Amruta brought him breakfast, looking radiant in a Patiala suit. "Wow, you look amazing. Going somewhere special?" Kunal asked.

"Nope, just dressed up for you. How do I look?"

"Stunning, as always. So tell me, what draws you to me?"

Laughing, she replied, "Honestly? One day I caught a glimpse of you after your shower—towel, six-pack, the whole deal. You looked like Tiger Shroff, and from that moment, I knew you were mine. You just radiate strength and confidence.”

Kunal chuckled. "Well, thank you. I see you’re not shy either."

After some more light conversation, he excused himself to run errands.

He returned late for lunch, where Anjana was waiting with his meal. "You’re late! You must be starving," she teased.

"Thanks for waiting. Let me ask you something—do you like me?"

She looked down, shy but smiling. “Isn’t it obvious?”

"Yes, but I’d like to know why."

"Because you’re kind. You haven’t taken advantage of our fondness for you, and you treat everyone—no matter their status—with respect and compassion. That’s rare, and it’s what I admire most in you. Looks fade, but kindness doesn’t."

Kunal smiled warmly and extended his hand. “You’ve won me over. I couldn’t decide before, but now I know. Please keep it to yourself for the present.?”

Anjana smiled but said nothing when Basanti’s voice rang from downstairs. "Has Kunal finished his lunch? Where are you, Anjana?"

They both smiled before she ran away.

Later that evening, Kunal received a call from Mr. Sethi. "Kunal, why don’t you join us for dinner at 7:30? We’d love to chat."

At the dinner table, Sethi sat at the head, with Basanti and Anjana on one side, Ankita and Amruta on the other. The atmosphere was light, filled with soft laughter.

“Kunal,” Sethi began with a grin, “I heard you were chatting with all my daughters today. Don’t be fooled by them. They’re sharp and mischievous. But we’re here tonight to share some news.”

Kunal looked over at Anjana, a smile tugging at his lips.

Sethi continued, “Brace yourself, Kunal. All three girls are leaving for the U.S. next month for their postgraduate studies. Berkeley offered all of them financial aid, but only Anjana accepted. Ankita is heading to Georgia Tech and Amruta to Harvard. While they may have a liking for you, their immediate focus is on their education and careers. They didn’t want to spoil your romantic mood and played along with your questions. But who knows what’s in a woman’s heart?”

Kunal’s smile faded as the news sank in. The girls, laughing, rushed to hug him as Sethi stood up to pat Kunal.

“Who knows what fate has in store, Kunal? Maybe one day, you’ll be my son-in-law after all!”

The Deep Scar (690 words)

Guna, a school dropout, had fallen into bad company and turned to petty theft to fund his drinking and other vices. While he hadn’t yet graduated to serious crimes like housebreaking, he was content picking pockets in crowded markets, stealing boxes at railway stations, and occasionally snatching gold chains on desolate roads at dusk. To make his getaways easier, he rode a stolen scooter. Guna was no stranger to spending short stints in jail, only to return to his old ways as soon as he was released.

His name figured prominently in police records as a suspect, and he was frequently ‘interrogated’ whenever there was a theft involving important people. The deep scar on his neck, the result of a brawl among rival criminal gangs, made him easy to identify.

Guna came from a decent family, but all efforts by his parents and siblings to reform him had failed. After years of futile attempts, they gave up in despair, distancing themselves from his self-destructive path.

As fate would have it, Guna’s next victim was a family member of an influential politician. The politician’s wife and daughter, laden with heavy purchases, were loading their bags into the trunk of their car. As they stepped away to collect more packages from the portico, the bags they had already placed in the trunk mysteriously vanished. In their haste, they had neglected the basic precaution of having one person stand guard. The lapse cost them dearly.

The police swung into action, desperate to catch the culprit. They knew the usual suspects operating in various localities, many of whom they were on familiar terms with. Constable Manickam was assigned to track down Guna, who had gone into hiding. Despite relentless efforts over three days, Manickam was unable to find any leads on Guna’s whereabouts. The pressure was mounting to recover the stolen goods, and the constable knew he had to find Guna at any cost.

Acting on a tip, Manickam headed to a village on the outskirts of the city. It was around 4 p.m. when he arrived, only to be greeted by a scene of chaos. A massive fire had broken out, engulfing a cluster of thatched huts. Gusty winds fed the flames, which spread rapidly from one hut to another, giving the residents little time to salvage their belongings.

Panic-stricken villagers ran in all directions, clutching whatever valuables they could grab. Some carried young children, while others supported elderly parents or hauled boxes, beds, and cooking utensils. The air was thick with black smoke, and the sounds of terrified screams and wails filled the atmosphere.

Manickam's attention was drawn to a young woman who was screaming hysterically that her baby was trapped inside a burning hut. The flames had already consumed most of the structure, and no one dared to enter. Just then, a young man darted towards the burning hut and leapt through the flames into the opening that served as a doorway. Moments later, he emerged, his clothes on fire, cradling a small bundle wrapped in cloth.

He handed the baby to the frantic mother before collapsing to the ground, screaming in agony. Villagers rushed forward, pouring sand and water over him to extinguish the flames. Although badly burned, it appeared he might survive.

Manickam pushed through the crowd to get a closer look at the heroic young man. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the darkened face and the distinctive deep scar on the young man’s neck. It was Guna.

The crowd around them erupted in praise for Guna’s bravery, marvelling at how he had risked his own life to save a child. The mother’s tears of terror transformed into tears of joy as she clutched her baby to her chest.

Manickam wiped his misty eyes, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. After a moment, he turned away, deciding to pretend he hadn’t seen the scar. Without a word, he trudged back to his vehicle, leaving the village behind.

 

The Perils of Easy Money (686 words)

There was a nip in the air as the waning moon shone dimly over the empty highway. After dropping off a load at Hosur, Kapali was heading back to Chennai in his mini-truck. Given to booze, he was always in need of money and looked for easy ways to augment it. He liked the easy money obtained without much effort. After a hearty meal at Krishnagiri, he hummed a tune while lighting a cigarette.  The road stretched ahead like a ribbon of darkness, and the night felt peaceful.

After an hour of driving, Kapali spotted two men waving frantically at him by the side of the road. Beside them lay a bulky bundle. His mind flashed to the thought of easy money—maybe they needed a lift and would pay handsomely. He pulled over with a screech.

“This is our relative,” one of the men said. “He fell from a terrace and died on the spot. We need to send his body to Gudiyatham. His family will be waiting on the highway to collect it. We’ll pay you 500 rupees for the trouble of carrying.”

Kapali felt a shiver down his spine. He didn't like the idea of transporting a dead body, but the lure of easy cash tempted him. Sensing their desperation, he decided to squeeze out some more money.

“I don't carry dead bodies. Company rules are strict. But for 1000 rupees, I’ll do it,” he said.

After some negotiation, the men reluctantly agreed but refused to travel with him, claiming they had urgent work to attend to. Kapali, eyeing the bundle suspiciously, insisted that one of them accompany the bundle. When they pleaded inability, he raised his price to 2500 rupees, which they paid before loading the body into the truck. He was happy to be richer with 2500 rupees in his pocket.

As he was nearing Gudiyatham, Kapali started feeling uneasy. He pulled over to relieve himself, but as he returned to the truck, a slight movement of the bundle caught his eye from the rear mirror. His heart skipped a beat. Was the bundle moving? He froze, staring through the rear-view mirror, his pulse quickening as he saw the bundle shaking violently.

Fighting his fear, Kapali jumped out and opened the cloth covering. Inside, tied and bloodied, was a man—alive, but barely.

Kapali’s hands trembled as he untied the man. “They told me you were dead!” Kapali exclaimed. The man gasped for air. Kapali poured some water into his mouth.

“They tried to kill me... I went to collect the money they owed me. They beat me with iron rods,” the injured man whispered. “Please, take me to the nearest hospital. I’m from Bangalore.”

Kapali didn’t waste a second. He rushed the man first to the nearest police station when the man was alive, to escape any harassment later and narrated the entire incident to the inspector, luckily present there. The inspector insisted on speaking to the injured man to verify the story. Kapali hurried outside to the truck followed by the inspector, but when he touched the man’s shoulder, he felt the chilling stillness of death.

Panic flooded Kapali as the inspector checked the man's pulse. “He’s dead,” the inspector said coldly, eyeing suspiciously and maliciously at Kapali with his blood-smeared hand and shirt. 

“I swear, I’m innocent! He was alive just moments ago and spoke to me! Please believe me, I beg of you” Kapali implored even as he nudged again in vain the dead body, but his words fell on deaf ears.

The inspector smirked. “Let’s see how innocent you are after this.” He reached into Kapali’s pocket, pulled out the bundle of 2500 rupees and said.” Huh, innocent, is it?” 

With the dead body now lying silent, the only witness gone and the unexplained money seized, Kapali’s fate looked sealed.

As he was dragged inside the police station, he saw a glimmer of light from a lantern far away on the road. When Kapali resisted being pulled for a better look, he was given a big blow and pushed inside even as the distant light disappeared.

A Divine Matchmaker (1778 words)

                                                       (I hope you like this story though a bit long)

As soon as the clock struck four in the evening, Kamala Paati would become restless and get ready in her nine-yard sari to visit the Sri Parthasarathi temple close to her house. She must be over seventy years old, tall and frail. Her head neatly combed and her forehead shining with a streak of red line, she carried herself with dignity. As she lived just behind the temple, she easily entered it from the rear gate.

She would sit at the same corner spot daily in the mandapam outside Perumal’s (god’s) sanctum and recite Sri Vishnu Sahasranamam (Thousand Names of Vishnu). She never missed a day in this routine. Sometimes, while gazing at Perumal, she would mutter something softly, and on occasions, she would gently pat her cheek with her fingers in a gesture of regret. She rarely spoke to anyone.

 If the sanctum was less crowded, she would step inside for a quick darshan of Perumal and take the theertham (holy water). Since she visited daily, she was well acquainted with the priests, particularly Singham Iyengar (hereafter referred to as Iyengar), who was not the chief priest but was always present in the evenings. He was around sixty-five years old and showed respect and kindness for the elderly Kamala.

One day, he gently asked her, “Do not think I’m prying into your matters, but I notice you pray devoutly to Perumal every day. It feels like you’re seeking something from him, yet it seems He hasn’t answered. If there’s any way I can help, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

Kamala replied, “Why would I hesitate to tell you? I’ve been through a lot in life. Money isn’t an issue. I had only one daughter. After carefully looking for a good match, we married her off to someone we thought was from a respectable family. Later, we found out he was a rogue, a cheat, and addicted to all kinds of vices. He never spoke the truth and was a cruel person.

My daughter, on the other hand, was calm, virtuous, and very strong. She was not the type to argue or raise her voice, which angered him even more. In fits of blind rage, he would beat her and torment her. While she was eight months pregnant, he kicked her in the waist in anger just because she said she didn’t have the money he demanded. The injury was severe, and though she gave birth to a baby girl, she passed away within a week.

“We took custody of our granddaughter and raised her. My son-in-law even tried to demand money in exchange for the child, but with the help of my relative, who was in the police force, we scared him off. There has been no contact with him since then.

“My granddaughter has grown into a beautiful maiden, just like her mother, both in looks and temperament. She’s highly educated and has a very good job. She’ll turn twenty-six this Vaikasi (Tamil month). My last wish is to see her married to a good-hearted, well-educated and loving person before I leave this world in peace. But nothing seems to materialise despite my best efforts. That’s why I come here every day to pray.”

“What’s her star and gotra? What did she study, and where is she working? Maybe I’ll come across some good match,”  Iyengar said.

“I don’t know all the details. She’s doing research on finding cures for diseases like cancer, and she earns a high salary,” Kamala replied.

“Ah, what an extraordinary and capable girl! How is her health and personality?” he asked.

“She’s healthy, tall and good-looking.  I need a little help from you. Will you do for me?” Kamala pleaded. She added, “I’ve been praying with all my heart for years, but Perumal hasn’t opened his eyes to my prayers. Maybe He has some reason, but I don’t know what.”

“Perumal knows when things must happen. Don’t worry; He will surely listen when the right time arrives,”  Iyengar said, trying to console her.

Kamala, with a determined voice, said, “You stand in front of Perumal every day and serve him. His name is always on your lips, and you’re always gazing at his divine form. If you whisper my request in His ear just once, I’m certain He will grant it. Will you do this for me?”

 Iyengar chuckled, saying, “I don’t work here for money. My children keep telling me, ‘Father, stop working at the temple and just stay at home. But I can’t bear to be away from Perumal even for a day. Whether or not He knows how much I love Him, I can’t tell.”

“Please don’t brush this off. When you’re alone, tell Him that the old woman’s granddaughter must be married to a good man soon. I’m sure He’ll listen to you. After all, you have a unique bond with Him because of your devotion and proximity. You’ll be blessed for helping me,” Kamala pleaded.

 Iyengar was torn between feeling amused and pitying her deep faith in his ability to sway Perumal. Despite his hesitation, he finally said, “Don’t worry, I’ll certainly convey your request to Him. He’ll surely fulfil your wish for your faith even if not for my sake.”

That night, Iyengar couldn’t sleep. The thought of requesting something from Perumal on someone’s behalf seemed presumptuous. "Who am I to ask Perumal to fulfil such a request?" he thought. The old woman’s plight, however, tugged at his heart.

The next morning, in the absence of the head priest,  Iyengar performed the puja with greater devotion than usual. Afterwards, when the temple was quiet, he stood before Perumal’s idol. In a voice filled with emotion, he said, “My Lord, I’m not asking this for myself. You know everything about this old woman, who has been praying here earnestly for two years. Her suffering is not unknown to you. With her belief that I have some special closeness to you, she has asked me to make this request on her behalf. Your mercy is boundless, and you’ve rushed to help before, at the slightest request of your devotees like Draupadi when she was disrobed or Gajendra in deep trouble from a crocodile. Won’t you turn your kind gaze toward this poor old woman too?”

There was no response from Perumal. Iyengar felt as if Perumal was laughing at him. Feeling deeply ashamed, he prostrated on the floor, asking for forgiveness. When he stood up, a flower fell from Perumal’s hand. He was filled with an overwhelming sense of joy at this omen. He thought to himself, “I should tell the old lady about this gesture. She will be thrilled.” But that evening, Kamala didn’t come to the temple.

That night, Iyengar had a strange dream. Suddenly the room was filled with the fragrance of sandalwood and the sound of bells. Perumal himself appeared before him with a mischievous smile. “What’s this, Iyengar? You’re funnily searching for ghee having the butter in your hands and yet expecting me to solve as I did for Gajendra? Isn’t this a small thing for you to remedy yourself?”

 Iyengar, prostrating before Perumal in the dream, cried in excitement, “My God, my small mind is unable to comprehend what you are hinting at.”

“Take your time and think carefully. Everything will work out fine,” Perumal smilingly said, even as He disappeared.

The next evening, Kamala came to the temple. “I didn’t see you yesterday. Is everything alright?” she asked  Iyengar.

“Yes, everything is fine. I put your request to Perumal yesterday, and a match was found immediately. I was waiting for you to tell you the details.”

“I knew it would happen! I was certain that Perumal would heed to you. What a blessing! Who is the groom, and what does he do?”

“He’s twenty-nine years old, well-educated, working in a foreign bank in Bengaluru, earning around four lakhs per month, and comes from a good family. Here’s his photo, with all the details on the back. Show it to your granddaughter. If she likes him, let me know. I’ll arrange for them to meet,”  Iyengar said.

“Once burnt, twice shy, it is said. The boy and his family must be good people. Money is not important; character is. Please check this point thoroughly,” Kamala stressed.

“Don’t worry,. First, see if your granddaughter likes him,”  Iyengar reassured her.

The next day, Kamala and her granddaughter Veda arrived at  Iyengar’s house. Kamala was surprised to see how well-kept and beautiful the house was, with granite floors, plush sofas, a large TV, and an air conditioner. It did not look like the tenement of a poor priest.

 Iyengar’s wife greeted them warmly and, sitting next to Veda, said, “She’s much more beautiful than I expected! I hope she likes the boy.”

Kamala asked, “Yes. Have you had a chance to inquire about the boy’s family?”

“Yes, they’re from this area only,”  Iyengar’s wife said.

“You are not telling whether they are good people and that you are fully assured on this point,” Kamala persisted.

"Alright, please tell me one thing first —what do you think of me?" Iyengar asked with an impish smile.

"You are a very virtuous man, always steeped in thoughts of God. You are a great devotee of Perumal and very helpful to everyone. What more can I say? But why are you asking me about this when I’m asking about the boy’s family?"

Iyengar burst into laughter, leaving both Kamala and Veda confused, as they looked at his wife for an explanation.

It was then Iyengar spoke, " Initially, I had no thought about this young man. When I prayed to Perumal about your request, a flower fell from His hand. I took it as a good omen. That night, in a dream, He appeared and said, 'You are asking for ghee having butter in your hand, and still expecting me to find a match for the young woman.”

 It was only after He disappeared, it struck me what He meant. If Perumal has willed it that way, then let it happen beautifully, I decided. That’s when I gave you the boy’s details and photo, but even then, I didn’t tell you who he was till I knew your mind."

Seeing Kamala still confused, Iyengar's wife added with a broad smile, "This groom, Krishnan, is none other than our son! We showed him Veda’s photo, and he was very pleased. He’s been asking when he can come over to meet her. Now, it is for you both to take it forward."

Both grandmother and Veda joined them in the happy laughter that ensued.

G mami's secret (715 words)

Ambujam mami knew almost everyone in the sprawling apartment complex She had the knack of befriending everyone with her pleasant conversation. Always well-dressed, she was a picture of grace wearing a smile on her face. She lived with her husband, who worked long hours, and their daughter, Sumitra, who also had an office job.

Alone and idle during the afternoons, Mami wandered the complex, gathering information by chatting with neighbours in the lobbies, play areas, or pathways. Twice daily, she took walks where she’d meet most of the residents. Nothing happened in the complex without her knowing—new tenants, pregnancies, children's schools, family disputes—she was aware of it all. This knack earned her the nickname "Gmami," with the "G" representing both her block and her gossiping nature. It wasn’t her fault, she believed, that she knew everything and occasionally shared it with others. Still, many residents tried to avoid her.

These days she had been noticing for the last few months every weekend, when she went out to visit relatives, a young man visiting the complex on his motorbike. Clad in jeans and colourful shirts, he looked muscular and quite handsome. What intrigued Gmami was that Renuka of E block rushed out every time that young man came in a motorbike and was seen talking to him in a corner of the community hall.

Renuka and Sumitra were close friends, having grown up together in the complex. Mami, however, was careful not to mention this to her daughter, fearing her disapproval of her snooping. But Mami couldn’t hold the secret and confided in a few other ladies. They confirmed her suspicion: Renuka was secretly meeting the young man, without her parents’ knowledge. Mami considered telling Renuka’s mother but decided against it, as the woman had never been particularly warm toward her.

Whenever Gmami was leaving the complex, Sumitra would invariably excuse herself from accompanying her pleading she had some work or needed rest. One Saturday when Gmami was leaving, she saw Renuka in animated conversation with that young man pointing at her and giggling with him. She could take no more of these nasty goings on and decided to tell her mom about their secret meetings.

The next Monday she took her close friend from the opposite apartment with her and went to Renuka’s house. Luckily Renuka was not at home. Her mom welcomed them warmly and said “What a pleasant surprise your visit is. I know you as Sumitra’s mom but we have never mingled much.”

After the initial pleasantries, Gmami said, “In fact, I wished to come earlier but was somewhat hesitant. I was not sure how you would react to the information that I wished to convey to you.”

“Why would I react? You can tell me freely without hesitation. I am eager to hear you,” the lady said.

“Please don’t take me amiss. Renuka is like my own daughter, Sumitra. But I thought you should know that Renuka has been meeting a young man near the community hall every weekend. They seem very close, and I wasn’t sure if you were aware.”

“Frankly I am not aware. Let me check with Renuka. We are a liberal family and would not object to her choosing her boyfriend and eventually even her partner. Since she hasn’t mentioned it, let me find out,” the lady said calmly.

It was then Renuka entered the house unexpectedly. Gmami was taken aback and started to get up. The lady restrained her asking her, “Please be seated. Let us ask Renuka in your presence. We will know the facts”

After hearing the situation, Renuka turned to Gmami and said, “Mami, brace yourself. That young man? He’s not meeting me; he’s meeting Sumitra. They’ve been dating for over a year. Every weekend, he checks with me to see if you’ve left so he can visit her. He spends an hour or two with her. We came to know very recently he had lied about his qualifications and his lowly job. Sumitra didn’t tell you because she knew you’d disapprove.”

Gmami sat in stunned silence. Sumitra? Her daughter? The woman who knew everyone’s secrets had missed the most important one in her own home. For once, she had no gossip to share—only unpleasant news to suffer in silence.

 

Doubly Lucky (1188 words)

 

Vinod had his account with the bank on the ground floor of his office building. It was manned entirely by ladies except for the security. He preferred frequent visits to the bank and rarely used an ATM or the credit card facility. The reason was not far to seek. It was the attraction of the charming lady teller who drew him like a treacle to an ant.

 She was around 27, quite efficient and business-like. Though she smiled, her answers to Vinod’s questions were professional and to the point. This did not deter him from trying to cultivate her. Unsolicited, he informed her that he worked in the same building and was an engineer in a good position. Sometimes he would talk about the weather and the overcast sky. She would just count the money and hand it over with a smile. But the pleasure of seeing her once daily was an adequate reward for the visit.

Vinod had gone with his mother to a book fair on a Sunday. It was a huge fair drawing a heavy crowd and on this day it was unmanageable. The weather was oppressive in the mid-summer. With poor ventilation and narrow corridors, it was smelly and hot. His mom bought some religious books while he went for cheap editions of old classics. It was nearing 8 pm and they had covered more than half the fair. Suddenly, they heard cries of ‘Fire, fire’ from one side and soon there was a mad scramble from the visitors for the exit gate even though smoke was coming from one corner. Soon the fire spread and engulfed larger areas.

 The unruly rush became a stampede near the exit and it was by luck that Vinod found an opening on the side to take his mother out. Someone had cut the power and the whole place was plunged into darkness. He could hear the bells of the fire engines rushing towards the different sides of the fair. In a short while the fire engines were dousing the fire and the shopkeepers' keepers were busy in salvaging the books. Most of the visitors had left except for idle and curious onlookers. There was utter confusion, smoke and shock

By the time he located his car in the darkness, it was 9 pm. As he got into the vehicle, his mother shrieked from the other side and said” Vinod, come here, I find a young girl lying on the ground near the door. “ She was about five years old and fast asleep. Separated from her guardians, she had strayed in the darkness to this place and fell into slumber.

“Mom, I will leave the child with some policeman. You be here. I will come soon” Vinod said

“No, it is a girl child and it is night time. It is not desirable to leave her with some policeman. The girl looks from a well-to-do family. Let us take her home and leave a message with our area police station that we have brought the child home and give our address and phone number. The missing parents would eventually find their way to us” she said.

The next day morning the little girl started crying when she woke up to the new surroundings. Vinod’s mom had gone to a temple. The child could only reveal her name as Purnima but could not tell precisely the location of her house though she gave the name of her play school. Vinod decided to take the girl to the school when the phone rang. It was from the police station informing that the girl’s mother was coming to Vinod’s house along with a policeman. The girl was tidied up, and given milk and some toys to play with. Vinod was playing with her to keep her in good humour and the little girl took to him instantly.

The bell rang and the girl rushed to open the door. Can you guess who was there with the policeman? You did it right. None else than the teller at the bank in the building where Vinod worked. For a moment both were rendered speechless. It was broken when the girl rushed to the arms of the lady telling her, “ Mommy, uncle is so sweet but did not know how to play even in simple games.”

Both broke into laughter. “I am Vinod. Please come in. Mom should be here anytime from the temple. How did you miss her last evening at the book fair? Lucky that we could find your daughter sleeping last night near our car. Or should I say doubly lucky?” Vinod said smiling.

Meanwhile, his mother came and the policeman was thanked profusely and sent away with some money.

“I have no words to express adequately my gratitude. I am Archana. You did a very wise thing bringing her here and keeping her safe. I see you daily at the bank,” she said with a smile

“Mommy, can we take uncle with us to our home? I like him so much” the girl intervened

“Don’t worry Purnima, I intend to drop you both at your place and meet your daddy,” Vinod said

Her mom’s face fell. She said” My husband was killed at the Kashmir border three years ago. I am living alone with my daughter.”

“Oh, oh. I am extremely sorry,” he replied even as his mother put her arms around Archana and led her to the sofa even as Purnima snuggled in his arms.

When driving them home, he asked with a broad grin on his face,” Should I explain why I said doubly lucky if you have not guessed it already?”

She looked at him and made faces before breaking into a smile. A love was born.

As Vinod pulled up at Archana’s home, the quiet of the morning settled around them. Little Purnima had dozed off in the back seat, still clutching the toy Vinod had given her.

Archana looked at Vinod, her expression was soft yet uncertain. "I can’t thank you enough," she began, her voice halting for a moment, "for everything. If it weren’t for you, I—"

"Please," Vinod interrupted gently, "you don’t need to thank me. I think I’m the one who got lucky here." He flashed her a warm smile, but this time, it wasn’t the casual flirtation he usually showed at the bank. It was much deeper and sincere, and Archana could sense it.

For a moment, their eyes locked. The tension, the brief awkwardness, dissolved. "Lucky, huh?" she teased lightly, trying to break the moment.

Vinod chuckled softly. "Doubly lucky. I found your daughter safe… and I got to finally talk to you and know you."

Archana’s lips twitched into a smile with her eyes sparkling "Well," she replied, "I guess we're both lucky."

Vinod turned to face her and said, “I think this might just be the start of something even luckier.”

With a promise in the air of happier days ahead, they looked at each other for long with a knowing smile before he followed Archana into the house carrying Purnima in his sinewy arms.

The mysterious disappearance (1343 words)

(An interesting story that may keep you engrossed)
 It was raining heavily with staff members coming out of offices and seeking cover under the porticos of office buildings or shops.

“How about a hot coffee at the adjacent coffee shop?" asked Vittal to his good friend and colleague Shoba.

Seated in a corner of the coffee shop with coffee cups in their hands, Vittal looking at her intently said, “Are the ear studs new? The penguin-shaped one with a red stone fixed on it for the eye looks exquisite on your face.”

“Yes, I fell for it when I saw it. It is a new and unique design. I bought them yesterday at the mall,” replied Shoba. She readily agreed to Vittal’s wish and posed for a selfie with him that displayed the stud prominently.

” Shoba, I have been observing you for the past two weeks and notice a look of worry on your face. Are you keeping well with no health issues? I have not seen the usual smile for a long time. Tell me if there is any problem that I can help resolve.”

She kept quiet for a long time. When she did not answer, Vittal said, “Never mind, drink the coffee before it gets cold. The rain has subsided. We will make a move.”

“I am sorry Vittal. You are someone more than a friend and someone whom I could trust and in whom I could confide. Let me tell you in strict confidence what is bothering me. I have been dating secretly someone in our office for a year. You know him well as I have seen you both together often.”

“Did you say secretly dating? why should it be that way? A guy in our office known to me? How come I did not get a scent of it?” asked Vittal in a baffled tone.

“It is Vikram Arora in marketing. You must know him well.”

“Who will not know that dapper guy with his charming ways and flashy style. He is a close friend as we were classmates at IIT. Surprising, he has not uttered one word about you so far. I have heard friends telling me he is the heartthrob of many female employees. You are lucky he has chosen you. Why this veil of secrecy? If the friendship is open, it will keep others away from him. When are you both getting married?”

“It was at his insistence that I did not tell anyone and secretly met him in resorts and hotels on weekends. You know I have no parents or any close relatives here.”

“Such an amorous development should reflect joyfully in your face. Why this melancholy look then?” If you had confided in me earlier as a trusted friend, I would have advised you not get too close to him till the wedding is decided publicly. I know him well from his college days. Do not lower your guard. I would advise you, if you really love him, get married soonest.”

“Vittal, I am actually in trouble due to my foolishness in falling for his sweet talk. I explained to him the urgency of the marriage in the condition I am. His reaction is callous and irresponsible. He tells me it is my problem for not being careful and asks me to abort or get lost. He even has the cheek to tell he cannot marry every woman with whom he had slept,” confided a sobbing Shoba.

“I feared this response. What will you do now? Did you consult a doctor? Vittal asked her with concern

“I will not buckle that easily. I threatened him that I had proof of all his messages on my mobile phone and that I would lodge a complaint in the office and if needed go to the police. He got jittery and asked me to wait for two months when his sister would have been married and he would marry me immediately in a gala function.”

“If I were you. I would still get rid of the problem immediately. He is not trustworthy. Do what you think is best before it is too late for redemption, “ he consoled her.

“Do not worry. I can afford to wait for two months,” she assured.

Vittal left the next day on a long tour for nearly a month. He got immersed in work and did not think much of Shoba. He was once or twice concerned about Shoba and her relationship with that wily Vikram.

On the day he returned to the office, he was busy meeting senior bosses and in meetings. Only as the evening drew close, did he remember Shoba, he requested his secretary to get her on the intercom.

“Don’t you know, Sir, she stopped coming to the office two weeks after you left on tour? Our HR department’s efforts to trace her at her apartment failed as she was missing there also. She had left no message to people. The landlady had also complained to the police. Our legal office has also informed the police. So far they have drawn a blank with no clue of her whereabouts. Her mobile is switched off. We are all very much disturbed. She was pleasant and seemingly had no problem. She had no romantic interest to our knowledge,” replied the secretary.

When Vittal met Vikram the next day in the corridor, the latter betrayed no emotion. On the other hand, he hugged Vittal and asked, “Where had you gone? I was told you had gone on tour. I need your help this Sunday. I am shifting my house to another locality. I want you to be at my place to keep an eye on the things at my present place as I will be busy receiving things in the new house. The truck will carry the big packages like furniture, fridge and washing machine. We will take in our cars the costly electronic and delicate items finally.”

Though Vittal agreed readily, an irksome thought crossed his mind about the coincidence of the disappearance of Shoba and Vikram’s shifting to another apartment.

Next Sunday the truck carried all the heavy things to the new location. Some personal items, electronic items, and some expensive glass items were stacked in Vikram’s car and a few in Vittal’s. Both cars followed the truck and reached the new apartment. A few men were arranging heavy things inside the apartment at the proper places. Vittal called two men who were standing idle to take the  things from both cars carefully inside which they did.

When everyone was inside the apartment, Vittal cross-checked Vikram’s vehicle's boot to see if nothing had been left behind. It seemed. empty though it was dark inside. When he narrowed his eyes and looked hard, he saw something shining in one corner at the rear. Curiously, he pulled up the mat and saw to his shock, one penguin stud with red stone. There was a reddish-brown smear on one side of the stud. He took care not to touch it but made sure it was one of the pair he had seen on Shoba. He closed the boot even as Vikram came down with the labourers.

Vikram thanked him profusely before Vittal took leave calmly without revealing the horror of what he saw and his strong suspicion.

 He stopped on his way at a public booth, rang the Police emergency number 112 and said “Please listen carefully. Look for Honda City Car number DL XX XX XX**** at ..... apartments, Third Avenue, …..Bagh and check the rear end of the boot for a penguin-shaped ear stud smeared possibly with blood and connect it to the missing woman reported if any within the last fortnight. Do not waste a moment. Seize the car.You may lose the vital clue. You will get a photo of the missing woman with the stud very soon.”

“Hello what is your name, where are you speaking from? Can you please hold on for a moment?” asked an anxious voice from the other end only to hear a click of the phone being disconnected.

The Stranger’s Visit (1124 words)

Top of Form Bottom of Form

Anita disliked the old man who visited once a month. He was dressed shabbily with an unshaven face, protruding yellow teeth and an ash mark on his forehead.He wore the same blue shirt with slightly frayed collar. She wondered why her parents who belonged to the upper class allowed this man to come and sit in their elegant living room and entertain him with snacks and tea. He generally stayed for about 30 minutes.  Worse still, her parents made it a point that she was present as he came on the last Sunday of each month. Much to her chagrin, they would ask her to hand him over the snacks and tea. There was not much conversation except pleasantries and a few appreciative comments about Anita like her charming face, intelligence and knowledge of English from the old man.  As soon as she finished this routine, she would run to her room on the first floor to escape his presence. Once the old man ran his trembling hand on her hair as she placed tea before him. She recoiled in shock and said rather rudely. “Don’t touch me anymore.” His face fell and she could see the hurt in his eyes. But Anita did not care.  After he left, her parents rebuked her for her uncivil and rude manners. Her father in a gruff tone sternly said,” I am disappointed with you. I hate the way you insulted the old man who visits us at my request as my guest. You are hardly 16 and he is over 70. You should learn to respect elders.” She expected her mother to come to her support. But she said softly,” What you did today embarrassed us much. Do not judge people by their riches and good apparel. If we are in a comfortable position, it is by the grace of God but that does not give us the right to hurt those who are less fortunate.”  Anita, unable to suppress her tears, ran up the stairs and flung herself on her bed. She hated the old man more now.  It so happened that the next last Sunday of the month, her parents had to go out early in the morning leaving Anita behind with the female cook. Anita was watching the TV. It was around 11 am when she heard the doorbell. Peeping through the French window, she saw the old man standing outside. She said without opening the door, “My parents are not at home. They will be coming only late in the evening”  “Never mind, young girl,” he smiled and continued,” You are here and that is adequate. I come here to meet you also. Let me in,” he softly said with a smile. There was no trace of disappointment at her not opening the door initially.  “I told you my parents are not home. I am alone. Please go away” she said in an acerbic tone  The smile on his face faded away but with kindness still in his eyes, he said,” You are like my grandchild, Anita. I have come in the hot sun walking a long distance. Please allow me to rest a while. No harm would come to you by me,” he pleaded.  “Go away. Don’t you understand what I am telling you? Don’t call me by my name. I am not opening the door,” she said brusquely.”  The cook who heard the bell was standing near the kitchen door watching. The old man did not utter one word but silently turned and slowly walked away. Anita could see him wiping his eyes but she never cared  When her parents returned around 4 PM, her father asked Anita whether there were any telephone calls or visitors. She replied that none came except the old man. She rushed back to her room pleading some pressing work. When Anita’s mom enquired from the cook whether the old man was allowed to come in and was served tea and snacks, the parents came to know what had happened.  It was during dinner that the subject came up for discussion. Her father asked her why she had turned the old man out especially when she knew he was always entertained by him.  “I don’t like him. I hate his appearance, his tattered clothes and his ingratiating smile. He is a misfit in our bungalow. You cannot compel me to like him” she said defiantly.  “Shut up, you hot-headed girl,” her father roared in anger and continued,” Do you think you are a rich girl?”  Her mother intervened and pleaded” Forgive her. She doesn’t know how much regard you have for the old man. I will explain her. She will not repeat this. Please stop with this” Her father said “No, it is time she knew the facts. Anita, brace yourself to hear some shocking news about yourself. You are not our biological daughter. When we came across this old man 16 years back,  he had lost his only daughter and her husband in an accident. He was left with the responsibility of bringing up the young baby girl of his daughter. He had lost his wife earlier some years back. When I heard about it, your mom and I agreed to bring up the baby as our own. He readily agreed but declined to take any money. The old man told us that he was happy that his grandchild got a good home to live in good comfort and that he wanted nothing except permission to see the young baby girl grow once a month. He promised to keep your identity a secret and has faithfully done so. He is your grandfather and you have treated him shabbily.” Anita sat in stunned silence as the realisation of her past came over her. The image of the old man’s retreating figure, wiping his eyes, came rushing back to haunt her. The truth struck her hard: she had rejected the one person who loved her unconditionally, even from a distance. “Tomorrow morning, you will come with me to apologise and ask for his forgiveness,” her father said. The next morning when Anita and her father went to the hut, they were told he had left the place permanently without leaving any information about where he was going.  Anita’s heart sank. She had hoped to make amends, to show him she understood now. As she looked around the empty hut, she noticed a small, tattered black and white photograph on a shelf. It was of a baby girl, held by a younger version of the old man, smiling proudly. Tears filled Anita’s eyes, as she clutched the photo to her chest, vowing silently to find him. She needed to make things right by tightly embracing him.

The lingering fragrance (588 words)

This is a very old post repeated on Teacher's Day

I was in eighth grade when Mr. Govindarajan (whom we affectionately called GR Sir) became my class teacher. Despite my sieve-like memory, I vividly recall his short, frail figure, unkempt hair, and an appearance that belied his early fifties. Yet, what truly stood out were the twinkle in his kindly eyes and the ever-present mischievous smile that brightened his face.

GR Sir had a unique gift for making even the dullest subjects fascinating. His witty remarks and lively teaching style transformed our classroom into a place of wonder and laughter. I remember one day while explaining a complex math problem, he suddenly quipped, "Mathematics is like a detective story—full of mysteries to solve!" His humour was infectious, making even the most reluctant students sit up and take notice.

Despite his humour and warmth, there was a certain aloofness that kept us from taking undue liberties. He knew how to instill confidence in us, making us believe we could achieve any goal we set. GR Sir never derided even the weakest students, patiently explaining lessons over and over until everyone understood. The last ten minutes of his class were always dedicated to broadening our minds, discussing topics beyond the textbook, and kindling our curiosity.

One day, GR Sir entered the classroom unusually late, looking distinctly fatigued and distraught. He called me over and whispered, "Partha, I went to the hospital this morning to admit my aged mother. She has acute asthma. It was an emergency, and I am coming directly from the hospital after she stabilized. You know my house. Can you please collect lunch from my wife? Tell her I was held up and couldn’t come home as promised. Also, let her know that doctors are attending to my mother and I’ll be going to the hospital directly after school."

I dashed to his house, a small, two-room side portion that was dark and dingy. After conveying the message, I waited as his wife packed lunch. In the dim hall, I noticed a boy my age huddled on a mat. He tried to get up but couldn't, making unintelligible guttural noises. His mother hurried to his side.

"Lie down quietly, Kanna. I will come to you in a minute after sending lunch to appa," she said gently.

"Aunty, is he not well?" I asked, concerned. "He is not getting up and is making strange sounds."

She turned to me, a tear glistening in her eye. "Yes, he is very unwell. He cannot walk on his own. He cannot speak and is not a normal child."

It struck me then that he was not only affected by polio but also mentally challenged. What a cruel fate for my kind and dedicated teacher, who never let his personal struggles show. An aged, sick mother, a disabled child, a small decrepit home, and low income—such a burdensome combination for anyone to bear.

Yet, GR Sir's devotion to his duty and his unwavering amiable disposition remained unshaken. My admiration for him grew boundless as I recalled his natural dignity, infectious warmth, and willingness to go the extra mile for his students. He never allowed his private grief to intrude upon his professional responsibilities.

For GR Sir, education was more than just book learning. It was about igniting young minds with the wonders of the world and life itself. The memory of such a remarkable teacher lingers like a sweet fragrance, long after the years have passed. His rich contentment and serene detachment are rare qualities, not often found among ordinary mortals.

"A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops." Henry Adams