A journey that was too short (359 words)

After a hard day's work, I was returning to my room by the fast local. it would be 9 pm by the time I reached my place. As it would be too late to cook, I decided to have my dinner from the roadside 'Dhaba’. They make tasty food no doubt and at affordable rates though they recycle the used oil till it gets exhausted.

My parents were looking for a suitable match for me and the photos of a few they sent did not enthuse me. Though not aiming at a drop-down stunner, I was not prepared to settle for a plain looking Jane.

The train was crowded but I managed to secure a seat. Still, the oppressive humidity, the hot breaths of passengers close to me, and the body odour from their perspiration made the journey extremely uncomfortable. Just as I reached for my handkerchief to cover my nose, I turned to my right and what I saw made my heart skip a beat. Such beauty, such perfection in creation- no sight can be more captivating. I forgot my handkerchief but adjusted my sitting posture to enjoy an uninterrupted view for the rest of the journey.

There was a faint smile at the corner of her lips and her eyes twinkled as a stray strand of hair curled insouciantly on her forehead. She wore a sleeveless blouse and a thin yellow saree was draped carelessly over her chest and shoulder. I could tell she was looking at me from the corner of her eyes, her gaze unmistakable and unhidden. This emboldened me to gaze at her uninterrupted except for short breaks to avoid disapproving stares from other passengers at my crude ogling. I had four more stations to go and wished that the train travelled slower yearning to feel the slight touch of her skin.

When the train stopped at the next station, the passenger seated beside me abruptly stood up closing the glossy foreign fashion magazine that had featured her on the centre fold. In that instant, my dreamy interlude came to a sudden end and the nauseating odour started assailing my nose with a vengeance. 

The Unresolved Murder (951 words)

 

Sub Inspector Manoj sat morosely at his desk, his head cupped in his hands, with the prospects of his promotion looking doubtful.  His boss was upset and berated him on the phone for his inability to find any lead on the sensational murder that took place in his jurisdiction.

Despite his relentless efforts, there were no clues like when and where the murder took place, the whereabouts of the weapon and how the body was shifted brazenly with none noticing to his jurisdiction. The biggest hurdle was the dead man’s face was smashed beyond recognition and the body was left naked before a women’s college without anything on it. The media had gone to town when many of the college girls fainted at the horrifying sight of the mutilated body at the entrance of the college and the management reported the matter to the higher-ups in the police.

 The assembly was in session and the opposition lost no opportunity to berate the government for the dwindling law and order situation with this latest murder following a spate of murders in the city and the audacity of the murderer leaving a naked body at the women’s college premises. What can poor Manoj do when even the best brains cannot unravel without some hint or evidence to work upon? His boss was not interested in all these excuses but wanted SI to go out, and find more about the dead man, missing men and complaints if any in other police stations.SI was told that there was pressure from high quarters as the matter was in the headlines

It was then he saw a young man walking in through the swinging doors into his room with no constable announcing his coming in.

The young man stood before Manoj and said” I have come to tell you about the gruesome murder that took place with the body thrown at a college gate.”

Manoj found the man a bit unusual, pale in look, though three-dimensional without solidity about him. It looked as if he could pass his hand through him. A sudden chill passed through his spine.

Gathering himself he asked” What do you know about the murder? Who was the victim? Why was he killed and who killed him? Tell me your name and address first.”

“My name is Sudheer and I am the victim” the man uttered.

Manoj sat up with a start and rang the bell feverishly till a constable entered. Asking him to remain, he asked the young man before him,” Are you a mad man? I asked you who the murdered man was.”

“I understood Sir and answered you correctly. I am the murdered man. Please listen without interrupting me,” he replied

“I was in love with Mandira and we decided to marry despite the opposition from her parents and brothers. They are rich and powerful. I belong to a different caste and they would not allow her to marry me. She told them she would either marry me or remain a spinster. In fact, we had decided to elope. They must have got a scent of it when her mobile was lost by her. They had finalised someone rich from their community. Her brothers with the help of some hired killers killed me as I was proceeding in a two-wheeler ​on the outskirts of the city,” the man said

“I don’t know what to make of your statement. Can you name them? Can you also show me some evidence to nab them? I promise I will avenge your death as you have been God–sent to me when I was at my wit’s end. Can you show me the place of crime? You can come on my pillion,” Manoj said hurriedly.”

“I can travel on my own. Come on let us go,” said the figure

​Sudheer led Manoj to a desolate and dark area about 40 miles away from the city​. ​​The area ​was surrounded by trees a little away from the highway. The man stopped near a very large and deep well and said,” They threw the sickle and the iron rod with which they murdered me in the well and pushed my two-wheeler also in it. Come with me to the tree here and see for yourself. Here they dashed my head against the tree before killing me​.”

The SI saw evidence of blood with hairs sticking on the bark of the tree. The forensic department was called​ immediately and it appeared to SI that the case against Mandira’s brothers and father was all sewed up watertight when they found the murder weapon and the two-wheeler.

Manoj was in high spirits about cracking what appeared to be an unsolvable crime. The SP who was initially jubilant became lukewarm when the girl's parents met him at his residence and discussed the matter. Not much was known about what happened in the background except that Manoj​ found the initial happy demeanour of the boss changed soon after a quiet meeting with Mandira’s parents.​

He soon found himself transferred​ to a god-forsaken place. The two-wheeler unearthed from the well, it was announced had no number plate, the engine number illegible and the identity of the dead person could not be established. Mandira’s lover​, it was mentioned​, had ditched her and ran away when rebuked by the girl’s brothers leaving no clues about his whereabouts.

The frustrated Manoj had reason for some small comfort when he heard after two months that his earlier boss the SP had gone insane after what people ascribed to a ghost hounding him as he was always seen staring at vacant spaces and screaming in fear, “Go away. Go away. Don’t harm me. Don’t scare me​."

 

 

Doubting God (1289 words)

 

Roopa Ghosh wound through the crowded roads in a three-wheeler. She had just 30 minutes to reach Chittaranjan Park for her appointment at 4 pm. Had she known the previous day she would have been well prepared. Only when she reached her office at 2 pm, she found a slip on her desk from the Editor. It read

” Mr. Nakul Goswami, the celebrated author, has agreed to give an interview at 4 PM today. Meet him at 24, RT road, CR Park sharp at the appointed time. Carry slips of paper for questions and answers as he is deaf-mute. His latest book Doubting God has already become a best seller for the year and a heated topic for discussion in literary circles. Can I have your report the day after tomorrow? I wish to carry it in this weekend's edition. Cheers, Som”

She knew this book was popular and much in demand though it is on her shelfari under books to be read. She quickly ran through Wikipedia and the internet to learn about the man, his background and his literary output. She read some rave reviews and jotted down some points in her diary. There was a tinge of envy when she found he was just 34, already famous as a writer with a few more books in the pipeline, and possibly already wealthy. She looked at the mirror, had a small touch-up, applied lipstick and sprayed gentle perfume. She did not want to look like a sun-beaten reporter with a hoarse voice and dishevelled hair.

She rang the bell a minute before 4 pm and was ushered into the study where Nakul Goswami was waiting for her. She greeted him with folded hands and he reciprocated by extending his arm. She shook his hands warmly. Both smiled at each other without a word. There was a twinkle in his eyes and looked younger for his age and was very handsome. The hair was slightly receding but it only enhanced his charm. He sat opposite her at the mahogany table in the spacious well-furnished air-conditioned room. They kept silent momentarily when Roopa scribbled her question in a slip.

“I am Roopa Ghosh from Bharat Times. I am fortunate to meet a celebrated author for the first time. I visualised a serious-looking person and am pleasantly surprised to see a young man who has achieved so much at this young age. I have read enough about you though I must confess I have not read your latest book Doubting God. I will do it within the next two days. My interview will not be about the book but more about you, your life and your motivations” She handed over the slip and kept the bunch of slips on the table under a paperweight.

He read it and laughed aloud. He wrote” You have a sweet name and an apt one too. I was actually looking for a middle-aged guy with three days stubble and not a young lady. Before we start tell me what will you have, tea or fruit juice?” and gave the slip.

She signalled a no with a wave of her hand but he ignored her and rang the bell.”I appreciate your honesty in telling me you have not read my book. Tell me about you before we proceed with the interview. How long have you been with this daily? You look in your early twenties. Where are your parents? What is your goal in life?”

“I am not that young and am 27. I live in Moti Bagh with my parents. My dad is a government official. I graduated with a degree in English literature and a degree in Journalism. I have been with this daily for nearly two years and wish to be a writer like you. Can I now start asking you questions?”

“Wow! We are birds of the same feather, a writer and a budding writer. We are both Bengalis too, he he. Okay, shoot your questions”

‘Born in a Bengali family where Maa Kali is held in great reverence, the title of your book Doubting God is intriguing. Are you not a believer?”

“Good question. My mother is a very pious lady doing all pujas and observing rituals. My dad is also a devotee but not very demonstrative. Much to my mom’s disappointment, I am an agnostic. I don’t interfere with her beliefs and gladly eat the sweet prasad she makes. Maybe when I grow old I may change or may not. I do not discuss this with others though the book is about an agnostic converted later by his lover. I am sure you must be a great devotee of Goddess Durga.”

“Yes, I am very pious and pray twice daily. Now coming to your writing, you are already an icon among the youngsters after the release of this best seller. What were the motivations of taking up such a theme? Can I say that it sounds like autobiographical after knowing your beliefs?”

“It is simply like this. I do not know whether God exists or not. I am not sure like others. So, this unsureness is unconsciously reflected in the story when I write. It is a theme that is known to me and has been discussed in the novel. As in all novels, there is a woman in it and inevitably a romance. I wished for a happy ending making the agnostic succumb to her persuasions. Of course, she could not prove the existence of god but he found it comforting to agree with his beloved. Please note he is not an atheist who refuses to believe in God but only professes his lack of knowledge about the existence of God”

“Do you mean an agnostic is a cowardly or a weak atheist vulnerable to romantic persuasions?”

“Haha, I think love is a powerful emotion. Won’t you agree?”

“I have no idea. I have had no lover” she laughed and he joined her

Meanwhile, the help brought a tray full of Sandesh, rosagollla and singharas with tea

They talked for quite some time through the slips of course about the initial difficulties in publishing a book, the disappointments of rejections, the unexpected break and finally when the book is out the tremendous response from readers. They talked about the publishers who initially rejected making a beeline with new offers once the fame and sales were established.

“Do you have any plans to write a novel?” he asked

“I wish to but do not know how to start it. My mind gets blank”

“Make a storyline for some 15 chapters and bring it to me. We shall discuss and refine them. You can then start writing. I am willing to help you” he said

“I your kindness touches me. I will consider it seriously. Thanks for the interview. It is nearing 7 pm.I must rush back” she wrote on the slip

He came up to the door, shook hands with her lingering a tad longer than usual and profusely thanked her.

On the second day, a messenger brought an envelope containing a draft of the interview and a small note from the Editor.

“Dear Mr. Nakul Goswami,

Please see the draft enclosed. It is written excellently by Roopa. If you wish to modify it, you can make the corrections. My office boy will come to collect tomorrow.

Incidentally, Roopa is all praise for you and thanks you for the courtesy shown to her. She told me about her plans to meet you soon but she did not reveal the purpose. I do not know whether you have observed that she is also a deaf-mute but she is one of our best reporters.

With best wishes and regards, 

Som”

 

A Suitor in a Swanky car (916 words)

The swanky car screeched to a halt. Swarna turned to see a young man with dark glasses on the wheel. She had been standing alone at the wretched bus stop that had no shelter for 40 minutes. The sky was overcast with dark clouds getting darker and threatening to break into rain any moment.

“Can I drop you at the first auto stand? It will start raining any moment and there is no shelter. You can get in if it is ok for you,” he said

She was hesitant initially but when he opened the front door and she saw no other male occupants, she got in. He did not talk much but dropped her at the nearest auto stand. He waited till she boarded one before he drove away even before she could thank him. He seemed decent.

Three days later the car again stopped and she was dropped. What started as once or twice a week soon became almost a daily ritual. They became friends. Vikas came in different vehicles. He told her he was the son of a rich businessman with a management degree and was planning to expand his own business. A pleasant, engaging conversationalist, he won her heart quickly. She was drawn from middle-class circumstances and worked in a private company. Their friendship blossomed into love and they started meeting on weekends. Swarna found him a cultured and nice chap. Nevertheless, he pressured her to accompany him to a resort for a weekend. She firmly refused saying that it had to wait till they wed each other.

It was a Sunday and she had an unexpected visit by her college friend Akila. They were close buddies but hardly met after Akila’s marriage. They had lunch together and had a long chat in her room.

“Akila, I have news to confide in you. I am in love with a guy and we have been meeting regularly. He wants to carry forward the relationship to the next level and I have been restraining him. I told him that my parents would formally approach his parents,” Swarna said

“I am so happy, Swarna. I hope he is qualified and employed well. What is his background?”

“They are very affluent and that is one thing that is bothering me. His dad has a big business and he comes in different cars. Vikas is a management graduate wanting to enlarge his own business” Swarna said.” Here is his picture. Have a look. Isn’t he very handsome?” she asked.

“Yes, he is quite good-looking. But his face is very familiar. I have seen him somewhere and recently too. Do you have any other pictures?” Akila asked

When Swarna handed her a bunch of pictures of Vikas in different cars, Akila said, “Swarna, brace yourself for a shock. This guy is a mechanic in a reputed and big automobile shop. Look at this picture. This car is ours, and we had given it for a major overhaul and service. I think he is a big liar and a crook. Tomorrow, take a day off. I will come in my car. I will take you to the workshop and expose that rascal.”

The next day as the car stopped at the large automobile workshop with many cars, Akila got down telling Swarna to stay inside the tinted glass doors. After some time she whispered “Your man is coming towards us. Just lower the glass slightly and see whether he is the guy.”

In a few minutes, Swarna heard Vikas’s voice and saw him in worker’s blue overall. He asked Akila as he quickly surveyed the car,” Yes ma’am, what can we do for you?”

“I get some humming sound. By the way what is your good name?” asked Akila.

“Vikas, Vikas Menon to be exact,” he said

Immediately the door opened and out came Swarna. Her face was red with anger and disappointment. “So, you are a mechanic in this workshop and take daily the cars that are left here with you. Why did you lie to me that you are a management graduate and come from a rich family? I would have loved you even if you were a mechanic had you been truthful. You are a cheater, a liar and a crook. I curse the day I met you” she shouted and started weeping inconsolably.

“Swarna, don’t come to rash conclusions. Let us go inside the office and talk. People are watching” he softly said

“No, I don’t wish to listen to your falsehoods anymore. Akila, let us go,” she shouted.

Akila said” No, let us hear him. Come along with me.”

Vikas took them to a spacious air-conditioned room in the office and offered them the chairs. He sat before them in the richly upholstered chair. Both were surprised. He pressed the ball and a boy in blue overall entered and saluted him.

” Get some cold drink. It is hot today”

He looked sharply at Swarna and said “I am proud to be a worker and work along with my employees. I wish to learn the nuts and bolts of the job even though I am the owner. I test the car after they are serviced. Turn behind and see the picture. You can see me welcoming the Governor who inaugurated this shop. I dislike rash girls generally but you had a genuine reason. I must thank your friend for bringing you here.”

Swarna with her face bent down said feebly “I am sorry, Vikas.”

In search of a darshan (799 words)

(When a good friend asked me recently if I had any connection at a famous temple for quick darshan. it reminded me of  an old story about finding God easily outside the temple precincts.)

The temple was crowded being an auspicious day. Long queues of devotees were seen before every sanctum with the longest moving at a snail’s pace before the presiding Deity’s shrine. There were pilgrims with families moving around the corridors of the sprawling temple gaping at everything they espied, the swaying elephant eating coconut leaves, the big chariot used to take the gods around the temple and many little idols that dotted around. Outside the temple precincts, shops selling flowers and other offerings like coconuts, betel leaves, plantain fruits etc were busy making money. On both sides of the passage leading to the temple, beggars, mendicants, sick men and women along with children were begging the people for alms making noise with begging bowls or pleading in pitiable tones.

It was then a big gleaming car came to a halt at the entrance. A portly figure clad in silk dhoti and angavastram alighted from the car. With prominent ash marks and bindi on his forehead, Arunachalam, with a bulging tummy evoked instant awe and respect. There was a momentary silence from the beggars before they started shouting for alms. He ignored them despite their persistent pleadings. Arunachalam looked around the vast crowd even at the entrance. Someone made a gratuitous remark that the queues are very long and it would take hours to get a glimpse of God. Arunachalam, a diabetic, decided that he could not stand in the queue for that long in the hot sun.

 When he turned to return home, one man clad in khaki looking like an employee of the temple came near Arunachalam and whispered “I can easily facilitate a darshan within 30 minutes and it would cost 500 rupees. Many have to be taken care of and today being a festival day, the rate is a bit high.”

 When Arunachalam pondered over the wisdom of parting with the money with a stranger, the man as if he read his mind said “Please do not worry. This is a temple. You can trust me. I have already taken six pilgrims inside.”

He watched the beggars looking at him strangely and curiously. He decided to take a chance as he did not want to miss having a darshan on this special day especially when he planned to commence a new business venture the next week. The man collected the money and requested him to wait for just ten minutes for him to arrange the visit.

 Fifteen minutes passed and there was no sign of the man. He felt thirsty and had a coke. He was getting impatient and started feeling that he had been taken for a ride. It was nearly an hour and the man had not yet appeared.

It was then one beggar woman said “Sami (sir), that fellow is a cheat. He does this daily. He will not come. We could not openly caution you as he would beat us. He is a local rowdy. The police also know. He has a few others working for him.”

“Oh, oh I suspected after parting with the money. I trusted him because of my intense desire to have a darshan. Let me return without waiting anymore,” he said

The beggars pleaded pitiably in chorus for some alms. It was pathetic to see them cry hoarse at every passerby only to be ignored. He told them, “Please wait. Do not worry as I am not like that man. I will be back within a few minutes.”

The beggars saw him cross the road and not towards his vehicle. He was back in ten minutes and asked them “You must all sit in a row on both sides and wait for your turn without making any noise. No one will be left out, I assure you.”

He waited for a couple of minutes for them to settle down and gave a ten rupee note to each of the adult beggars and a five rupee note to each child. When he had completed the distribution, he asked whether anyone was left out, one little girl said “Give ten rupees to that samiyar (spiritual mendicant) in ochre robes in that corner. He will neither  sit with us nor ask but would remain silent and hungry.”

Arunachalam went to him and handed over two ten-rupee notes and the mendicant in turn smilingly handed over one note to that girl. Arunachalam saw all the beggars in folded hands smiling at him with satisfaction. He rejoiced at their happy faces and did not feel disappointed for the missed darshan of God inside.

When Arunachalam entered his house, his wife asked him whether he had a good darshan of God and was happy.

 He replied to the confused bewilderment of his wife, “Yes, not one god but several gods in all their smiles.”

 

How Ananthu won my heart? (828 words)

 

I was a teacher in a Matriculation school in a small town. As a teacher​, I strived hard to inculcate in the children that the values are best measured not by the degrees held, the riches owned or the positions acquired but by the moments spent wiping tears and touching hearts, in helping the aged and needy, in sharing the knowledge and in making the world a better place to live in. Yes, I taught them their lessons too​ very earnestly, spending more time on the slow, admonishing the laggards and encouraging the bright. I tried to ensure that the gap between the best and the weak boy was abridged by raising the level of the latter

In one particular class, I had the challenge in the form of Ananthu. A well-built boy, pleasant in disposition, endowed with high stamina, he excelled as much in sports as he failed in his studies. All my special attention on this young boy was unsuccessful as he continued to get poor grades. I used all methods in vain to kindle his interest in studies by cajoling, threatening and punishing him. His father, I learnt, was an alcoholic and his mother an illiterate woman. There were daily fights in the presence of the boy. There were no other children in the family. When I knew the uncongenial atmosphere at home, I sympathised with the boy and doubled my efforts to make him a better student. But no matter how much I struggled, he stood at the bottom of the class.

It was recess time​ one day. There was a sense of defeat in me. I ​​cursed myself for my inadequacy in motivating him to succeed and felt that I ​ too along with his parents should share the responsibility if he failed to come up in life. It was then I heard a commotion outside in the veranda by the side of the staircase. When I came out, I saw a crowd of students around someone on the ground. One boy came running to me and said “Vignesh fell while he was walking on the parapet wall and has broken his leg and arm. He is writhing in pain “

Even as he was narrating what happened, I saw Ananthu rushing towards the crowd and coming out with the boy who had hurt himself in his strong arms and walking towards the gate. He had run to hail an auto before he came to lift the boy. That he took the boy to the nearest clinic is not so important for me to relate as the singular point that amongst all the brighter boys who stood curiously watching Vignesh in pain, it was only Ananthu who came to his succour on his own and acted as a leader with compassion. It struck me that he may not be a leader in studies but he excelled himself as a compassionate and helping person in times of need, unlike the other boys.

There was another instance about Ananthu that I came to know very soon. There was a big school function where all the parents and students participated. The dais was a little away from the gate and involved walking two hundred feet. There was a big crowd as was expected. Some of the boys chosen to help the invitees as volunteers in white uniforms with a big coloured ribbon to distinguish them were seen standing at the gate guiding the visitors.

One frail old lady past eighty with a hunch back came in a rickshaw with her grandson. With a walker in hand, she struggled to move even a short distance and was seen pleading with her grandson that they better return home. The boy was reluctant and refused to go back even as the uniformed boys in ribbons were watching them with amusement.

 I learnt Ananthu appeared from nowhere, asked her to get into the rickshaw and​ pulled ​it ​t​o the side close to the dais. He lifted her bodily and made her sit in a comfortable seat. This was beyond the call of his duty as he was not one of the uniformed boys. What impelled him to act as he did was his compassion.

 From that day onwards, I stopped worrying about the poor grades of Ananthu. He may not become a graduate and may not even be the type of boy that the school would expect of its students to come up with high marks in the final board examination. But he stood tall ​​compared to others in his compassion and kind ways.

 None of my teaching the prescribed lessons would have given him these god-endowed gifts. No university degree would announce these sterling qualities that Anant​hu had in immense measure. He might not have scored a centum in mathematics or high marks in physics but he had scored an A plus from my heart. His actions​ which are more telling than academic achievements exemplify the essence of moral development

Death God's Predicament (624 words)

 (I found this funny story in Tamil in my documents. It appears to have been written by me from the style though I am not sure. I have translated it into English and posting with this disclaimer)

Once, DG, the god of death, took a break from collecting souls and paid a visit to Earth. While strolling around, he saw a gorgeous woman and, to his surprise, fell head over heels in love. Though she was a mere mortal, DG was smitten. He thought, “Hey, why not live a little? Let me marry her and have some fun!” So, DG tied the knot with her and soon became a proud father to a handsome son.

Now, his wife was great—kind, caring, and all that—but DG, being the god of death, had other important things to do. Over time, he grew a little bored of domestic life. He missed the good old days of soul collection, and the nagging thought of returning to the heavens started creeping into his mind.

But there was one problem—Yaput, his son! DG just couldn’t bring himself to leave the boy behind. He loved the kid too much. Torn between his fatherly duties and his desire to run away, DG found himself in a dilemma.

One day, when Yaput was old enough, DG sat him down for a heart-to-heart chat. “Son,” DG began, “you must become the greatest doctor in the world. Not just any doctor, but someone who can save even those at death’s door.”

“Really, Dad? That’s amazing! But how?”

DG smirked and whispered, “Here’s the trick. If someone is about to die, I’ll be there. Only you will be able to see me. If you see me, don’t treat that person. Got it? Just walk away. Trust me. If you treat them and they die, you’ll ruin your reputation as a doctor. But if I’m not there, go ahead—give them the medicine. They’ll spring back to life, and everyone will hail you as a miracle worker! Your fame will skyrocket.”

With that, DG, wiping away a tear, hugged his son and made his grand exit—without saying a word to his wife, of course.

The son followed his father’s advice and became a famous doctor. People travelled from far and wide to see him. And the best part? Nobody died under his care! Every time he saw his dad chilling in the corner, he would respectfully bow, say, “Nope, not today,” and walk out. The whole town praised him, saying, “If this doctor leaves without treating, death is the only option left!”

One day, the king’s daughter fell gravely ill. The entire kingdom was in despair as no doctor could cure her. The king, desperate, called for the son. “If you save my daughter,” the king declared, “I’ll give you her hand in marriage and my entire kingdom!”

The doctor confidently strode into the princess’s room, ready to work his magic—but then he froze. Standing right there, next to the princess’s bed, was his dear old dad, DG, waiting to claim another soul.

“Uh oh,” thought the doctor. If he treated her, she would surely die. But if she lived, he’d get to marry the beautiful princess and become the king! It is a tough choice indeed.

Then, inspiration struck! With a twinkle in his eye, the doctor turned towards the door and screamed at the top of his lungs, “MOM! DAD’S IN HERE! YOU’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR HIM EVERYWHERE! HE’S RIGHT HERE!”

Suddenly, DG, the all-powerful god of death, turned pale. “Oh no, not your mother! I can’t deal with her right now!” he muttered. Muttering incomprehensibly DG bolted out of the room faster than lightning.

And just like that, the doctor cured the princess, got the girl, and won the kingdom—all thanks to his resourceful thinking and his poor dad’s fear of an angry wife! Needless to say, he brought his mom to stay with him.

Things are not what they seem (1214)

“Who is opening the curtain daily in the drawing hall? I keep it closed” said Mukund with some irritation as he drew the curtain close. He had just returned from office. He did not like the young man from flat on the same second floor of the opposite block standing in his balcony and staring at Mukund’s living room. That good-looking guy must be less than 30, tall, rugged looking with a week’s bristle on his face. Could the dislike be because Mukund was short, plump with thick glasses and a bulbous big nose?

Mohana, his wife, was busy in the kitchen and did not respond to his question.” Where is Manisha? I don’t see her” he asked her.

“Why? She has gone to meet Lavanya in the opposite block to collect some project report. She should be back any time” replied Mohana.

“Which floor is Lavanya living on?”

“I have no idea. How does it matter as there is lift as in ours?” said Mohana

Mukund did not reply and went to his room to change his dress after a wash. She peeped through the curtain to find no one looking at her complex.

When Manisha returned after a while, Mukund admonished her for keeping the French window open.” What are you talking about, Dad? The windows are meant to let in sunlight and air. Why do you insist that they be prevented from entry to the hall by closing the window by curtains?” replied Manisha, a beautiful 18-year-old girl. She had taken after her charming mom in looks.

“It is not the light or breeze; I am talking about” mumbled Mukund

“Then what?” she asked with a bemused expression.

Mohana intervened to say “Do not argue with dad. There must be a reason for his telling.”

After some silence, Mukund cleared his throat and said to his upset daughter “I see one guy always standing on the balcony of the same floor as ours in the opposite building and staring at our apartment possibly to catch a glimpse of you. That is why I wish to keep the curtains closed.”

“Dad, are you serious? When I walk in the road or in the college so many see me and some even stalk me. Do you want me to wear a burqa or live in a dark cell away from men’s eyes? You seem so outdated” she said laughing aloud. “I am not going to keep the curtains closed because some man is watching our flat and rather I will draw them open every time I see it closed” she added.

“Manisha, stop it. He is telling for your good” said Mohana and turned to Mukund and said “Do not worry. I will take care. Our girl is always in her room busy with her studies wanting to get into IIT and she does not idle away her time.”

From the next day Manisha was happy that the curtains were drawn open in the day time with living room bright till her dad returned home in the evening. She was also pleased that her mom sat more in the living room to listen to music or do some knitting. She also agreed with her mom when she said men are always suspicious by nature and Manisha should not be upset with her dad.

Manisha smiled and said “Mom, I can now understand why dad is suspicious. Even at your age of 39, you look so young and gorgeous, that makes me too jealous.”

“Silly girl, stop blabbering and drink your Horlicks before it gets cold,” said Mohana

Two weeks later, Mukund received a call around 4pm from Manisha. “Dad, please come home immediately. There is something amiss.”

“What is it about? I am busy here”

“Mom is not to be seen in the home. When there was no response to the repeated bell, the aunty at the opposite apartment opened the door and gave me the key telling that mom requested her to give the key to me as she was in a hurry to go somewhere.”

“Did she tell where she was going? Did you try her mobile/”asked Mukund

“I did, dad. The telephone was shut. I rang up our relatives to see whether she had gone there. She could not be traced. It appears she left around 11 am.”

After 30 minutes, her dad came home. He looked crest fallen and perspiring heavily. Manisha brought a glass of cool water which he drank in one gulp.

“Dad, I am worried about mom. She would not go without leaving information behind or talking to you.”

“Listen carefully. I asked the security whether he saw your mom going out. He said he saw her in a flustered manner leaving the complex towards the main road. She had a bag in her hand. When I asked the security whether anyone had accompanied her, he said the tall fellow with the stubble in the opposite block had come out in a taxi at the same time and talked to your mom for a minute before he left. I don’t know what is happening” he said with worry and anger writ large on his face.

“No, Daddy. That guy would have left for some errand on his own. Why do you connect them?”

“I also thought like that and went to the second floor of that complex. That flat was locked. I enquired at the opposite flat and learnt, he had vacated it and left the key with them around 11 am. He did not leave any address behind” sobbed Mukund.

It hit Manisha like a sledgehammer. Could mom be so treacherous, she thought? No, never can it happen, she reasoned. Tears filled her eyes as she hugged her dad consolingly.

It was 630pm and they were debating whether the help of police should be sought when they heard the doorbell. It was Mom. There was no bag in her hand.

“I am sorry I could not inform you or Manisha before I left. There was an urgent call from the nursing home where my maternal aunt is living with dementia. I thought she had died as they did not tell me anything more than my required presence for taking her to the hospital. As I came out of the complex, the tall fellow from the opposite flat who came in a car asked me if I needed to be dropped on the way. I declined his offer to help. It transpired my aunt fell and sustained a fracture. She was taken to hospital along with me. They put plaster and sent her back to the hospice. I took a few old nighties and towels for her use. I could not ring as there was no charge in my phone and I thought I would return before Manisha came from college at 4 pm. My aunt could faintly remember me and would not allow me to leave. The nurses gave her some tranquillizer and advised me to stay till she dozed off to sleep. I am sorry I got delayed. Were you both worried?”

Manisha did not say anything but hugged her mom and smothered her with kisses, even as her dad standing beside her mom, hung his head in shame for having doubted his wife.

  

The Modern-Day Bride-Meeting in group (950 words)

 This story relates to customs from a few decades ago, when marriages were finalized after the "bride-seeing" ceremony. During this event, the bride and groom met for the first time, with the bride attempting to impress the groom with her appearance and accomplishments. Much has changed since then.

 “Saro, you can go to your friend’s house today at 3 p.m. and return after 7 p.m. Some young man and his parents are coming around 4 p.m. to meet Lalitha. If she asks you to stay back, tell her you’ll be back soon, but make sure to stay out until at least 7,” Saroja’s mom said, giving her a knowing look.

Lalitha, who had just arrived to speak with her mother, paused at the door, overhearing the conversation. This was nothing new—it had happened many times before. Yet, each time it stung just the same. Why did even her mother have to hurt her with such careless words? Lalitha was slightly dusky, and a bit heavy, but her features were striking and well-defined. Saroja, on the other hand, was petite, slim, and fair, with a natural charm that drew attention effortlessly.

Lalitha was highly educated, bright, and always topped her classes. She sang beautifully and could hold deep, intelligent conversations. In contrast, Saroja, while attractive, had never quite matched her elder sister’s intellect or accomplishments. However, Saroja had also been present once during a bride-seeing event of Lalitha when the young man’s mother audaciously sought Saroja's hand. Since that day, her mom ensured that Saroja was never around during these occasions.

Despite her other successes, Lalitha loathed these bride-seeing rituals. Her parents, hopeful and traditional, allowed anyone to come without proper vetting or even exchanging photographs. They believed that photos could be deceptive and that meeting face-to-face would work better. But nothing had worked so far, not because Lalitha was unattractive, but for various other reasons, including some young men feeling intimidated by her intellect.

One evening, Lalitha’s mother received a call from Chella Mami, a family friend. Her son, Vishwa, had just returned from New York on a brief visit, intending to select a bride. Vishwa was highly accomplished, having completed his MBA from Harvard and working at the UN. He disliked the conventional bride-seeing process and requested that his parents arrange an informal gathering where all the girls they had in mind could meet him at once, along with their families. It would be a relaxed, high-tea event where Vishwa could interact casually with everyone.

Chella Mami invited Lalitha’s family and subtly hinted that they should bring both Lalitha and Saroja, though she requested they keep the real purpose of the gathering a secret from the girls.

The day of the gathering arrived, and Vishwa’s house bustled with energy, filled with about a dozen young women, each dressed in their finest, accompanied by their parents. Vishwa, wearing jeans and a stylish embroidered kurta, looked strikingly handsome. Tall, well-built, with chiselled features reminiscent of a young Sylvester Stallone, he had a charismatic presence. Outgoing and confident, he greeted everyone warmly, easing the shy girls out of their shells.

Many of the girls had brought small gifts, and Vishwa graciously accepted them, encouraging them to showcase their talents. He led the way, skilfully playing both the guitar and saxophone, which further lightened the atmosphere.

Soon, the other girls joined in, performing songs, dances, or playing instruments. As usual, Saroja stole the spotlight with her filmi music and energetic dance moves. She stayed close to Vishwa throughout, charming him with her playful banter. The atmosphere was lively, with laughter filling the air, as the girls subtly vied for Vishwa’s attention, and the parents looked on with amusement.

Lalitha, in contrast, remained quiet and subdued. She watched the event from the sidelines, smiling gently, but made no effort to compete for attention. After a while, feeling a mild headache, she slipped away to the quiet veranda, hoping for some peace. As she sat down, she reached for her phone, but it was missing. It must have slipped into the sofa cushions. Just as she bent down to search for it, Vishwa appeared by her side.

“Looking for something?” he asked with a smile.

“My phone,” Lalitha replied.

Vishwa took out his phone and dialled her number. Moments later, they heard the familiar ring from beneath the sofa. Kneeling, he retrieved it for her, handing it back with a grin.

“Thanks,” Lalitha muttered, feeling a bit shy.

“I’m Vishwa, by the way,” he said, sitting beside her. “Why are you sitting here alone? You seem quiet. Are you not feeling well?”

Lalitha smiled, briefly introducing herself. Vishwa seemed genuinely interested, and before long, they were deep in conversation. She talked about her work, her love for reading, her favourite authors, and her passion for classical music—both Carnatic and Western. Time flew, and they ended up talking for over half an hour. Lalitha found herself growing more comfortable with him, secretly hoping for something more, though she couldn’t ignore how Saroja had spent much of the evening by his side, making him laugh.

The next morning, as Lalitha, Saroja, and their parents were having their coffee, the phone rang. It was Chella Mami.

“I have some wonderful news!” she exclaimed. “Vishwa has made his decision. We’d like you to come over to discuss the next steps.”

“How can we proceed with the younger daughter’s marriage when the elder one is still here?” Lalitha’s mother asked, assuming they wanted Saroja.

Chella Mami laughed gently. “Oh, no! Vishwa has chosen Lalitha. He is captivated by your elder daughter and told us that if he were to marry anyone from yesterday, it would be her. He admires her intellect and feels she would complement him in many ways and be a perfect partner.”

Lalitha’s mother hugged her tightly, tears of joy in her eyes. Meanwhile, Saroja inwardly happy for Lalitha, quietly slipped out of the room, leaving the moment to her sister. -