Disenchanted

 She knew she would have to step out of the house someday, why did today have to be that day, she rued loudly, in her mind. It had only been a month since Menon had walked out of her life, it hadn't been enough time for her to get over the shame of abandonment. She did not miss him, nor did she want him back, but the suddenness with which he had exited her life had left her stunned; it had been done with surgical precision, cold and neat, with no loose ends to fret over. In their time together, there had been no drama, no heated exchanges and no moments of passion - they had existed together, barely lived. Her memory of their time together was the constant feeling she had, of being suffocated, by a soft, silken pillow, something that would eventually put her to sleep before smothering her by its officious civility. Eventually she had been no different than that packet of meat that had remained frozen in their refrigerator, in plain sight, yet forgotten, and their relationship had ultimately shared the same fate of being tossed into the garbage can in one sudden swoop.

Hidden behind the recess in her window she watched the world zip past outside, everyone forever in a hurry, running towards something, stressed, harassed, oblivious of their aliveness, ungrateful of the miraculous gift of life bestowed upon them. Hadn't she been one of them, focused on her 'hustle', destined like the hamster to always dance to someone else's tune, striving for that pot of gold at the end of some rainbow. It hadn't been anyone's fault, no one had set out to cheat her, she sighed. She had herself, drifted away from her consciousness, the choices she had made had kept pulling her ever deeper into the churning morass of 'productive' society. She had been fortunate though, hadn't she, her wakeup call had had been the blazing trumpet of Menon's disappearance from her life, had that not happened she would have ended up like the toad in a pan of slowly heating water.

But now, she perked up, trying to force herself out of her morbidity, the sun was setting, soon it would be dark, perfect for her to slip out; everyone would be cozying up in front of their mindless bingeing on televisions or laptops. She stood there, waiting patiently, silencing her mind, watching the street clear after the flurry of increased traffic from people bound homewards, mindless honking, and the dusty atmosphere of irateness dissipate gradually. Eventually, she could hear only the lazy rustling of palm leaves and the stars started to shyly play hide and seek. The next five minutes went by without her knowing, her body still remembered how to get ready and out for she soon found herself at the entrance of the lighted garden. Looking at it uncertainly, she reminded herself - "One step at a time", as she eased into her slow walk, looking down at her shoes, her trusted old sneakers. People passed her by as she continued on the walkway, eyes fixated on the ground to avoid making eye contact, her earphones plugged in but silent, only to signal she wouldn't respond to people calling out to her either. A regular to the park, she had not been visible for more than a month, yet no one had called out to her - not even the security guard whom she had given all of Menon's left-over clothes - of such impeccable quality and taste that it had caused the man to reel over in ebullient gratitude and now he had his face turned away from her. She had wanted to be left alone, but her becoming invisible this quickly hurt deeply.

She noticed a new path had been cleared with fresh tiles laid out and took up the trail, her regular path had only about five people but to her it was a crowd. How long she had run for that evening, she could not recall, puzzlingly she did not feel any soreness in her muscles. She had been a runner before the break, even so she could not claim this level of fitness. Not wanting to regret her over-enthusiasm the next day she did some stretches and seeing a stone bench sat down to cool off. This new trail had not seemed to help for she still felt neither tired nor rejuvenated. Maybe she needed to get back to her morning runs as before. "One step at a time", she reminded herself as she found herself panicking at the thought of getting out during the day.

 She could not have been alone for long before someone came up the path leisurely strolling as they spoke loudly into their phone. The man was likely one of the painters who had been painting their apartment complex walls, she deduced based on his overalls. Maybe it would be good practice for her to try and strike up a conversation with him. She had been garrulous decades ago, she squirmed at the thought of the gibberish she had spouted in the name of 'conversation', Menon had taught her the power of silence, of using few but powerful words. Her friend circle had disappeared soon after that, "good riddance" Menon had approved of the change. 

Why had someone as astute, as awe-inspiringly brilliant as Professor Menon stooped down to marry her, she had often asked herself in their marriage of four years. A few months back, during a dinner party, when she had sat obtusely through the complex discussion on world affairs and had hesitatingly stated an overly simplified viewpoint, she had noticed Menon freeze, going red in the face. On the drive back, he had maintained an aloofness that scared her more than if he had yelled at her. And that's when she had asked him the question about why had he asked her, then a student of his, to marry him. He had looked at her for a long time before shrugging, "Opposites attract". The humiliation had stung, she felt tears well up but had hastily swallowed those away, Menon detested overt displays of emotion, calling them childish. Each day she had changed - a bit here, a bit there, until there came a day when she looked into the mirror, she saw Menon and not her goofy face, she had finally truly become worthy of being his wife, someone he could take out to meet his colleagues without dying of embarrassment. A few weeks later, after dinner, he had calmly conveyed to her stunned face that she should expect the divorce papers soon. As usual he had been gravitas personified, cool, precise, and masterful, His eyes glittered through his specs as they seared right through hers, cold as ever, she had not even blinked, he would not have any of that emotional outburst, she knew. Had it been her hair? she could not help blabbering incoherently "I was going to get it cut this weekend", it had been a lie and he had just smirked at her, reverting to correcting the exam papers. 

Her running and her hair had been the only things Menon had been unable to get her to change. Just like her mother, she had been blessed with thick waist long hair. While everyone had admired her Jezebel locks, Menon had hated it. No educated girl should allow herself to have hair as long as this he had told her, "for heaven's sake, you look like a farmer's wife" he had grimaced through tight lips, yes, she had wavered, but had not been able to get the bob Menon had so badly wanted her to get, instead, she had started to put her hair into a tight bun ever since, anything to avoid Menon noticing it or commenting on it. 

Something tore through her as she realized that her hair was still in a bun, he was still in control, "No!" she yelled out furiously. The guttural howl that shook the leaves around her seemed to have come from somewhere behind her, stunned, she looked around to find the painter guy on his knees, whimpering. Had she been the one who made that thunderous noise? Embarrassed, she stood up to find her hair had come lose. She shook it letting it fall over her face, liking its texture, its smell. She had forgotten how her open hair felt, she was never putting her hair back in a bun, she promised herself. The man had turned white, whimpering with fear. Guiltily, she extended a reassuring hand out to him but he cried out, finally scampering to his feet and running away. She smiled, ashamedly at the surge of power she felt at scaring the man. She hated herself.

The next day, she woke up to a massive headache, how long had she been asleep! Looking on languorously at the setting sun, it seemed she had slept through the entire day, had her run been that tiring, she thought, noticing she still had her running clothes on. With  no recollection of getting back to the apartment, she concluded the run must have been very emotionally draining, maybe she'd wait to get back to running.  Gazing out from her sofa, she could see the familiar rush of people and cars, everyone was either with someone or trying to get home to be with someone. Her loneliness hit her hard between the ribs, there was no one thinking of her, wanting to be rush home to her, she swallowed painfully. She was still clutching her knees trying to reduce the hollowness within her chest, when a sound alerted her - the front door was opening. Her mouth went dry as she looked about her, no one had the keys to the place except Menon and her. And then she heard his voice. She wasn't ready to meet him, not like this, she scrambled to her feet, panicking. She ducked into the closet, closing it lightly just as the voice came closer, he was almost into her room!. She heard the voice fade in and out as he walked about the front room, it most definitely was Menon's but he sounded different, apologetic, humble, scared even. 

"....it's five years now, this was my first flat...would love to get back here..." apparently his companion had not agreed for he continued his groveling, trying weekly to convince them. And then she heard the second voice, it was sharp, static, deep but distinctly female, "get rid of it, it stinks of middle class". That seemed to have ended the discussion. She had to see who it was that had Menon shut up. Quietly, she stepped out of the closet and peeked around the door, Menon was running his finger over the coffee table, fondly even, while the woman, with her back to her was standing huddled up in the center, afraid as though to get contaminated, of what, she thought. There was something familiar about her - she had the short wavy hair of one of the students that Menon had tutored, deciding to know more she stepped through into the drawing room. Menon looked up at her, expressionlessly, almost as if he was seeing past her, she almost gasped aloud, noticing how much he had aged in the past month. He had been her Professor in college, almost a decade older but had always had youthful vigour about him that had been a huge hit with his students, including her. His companion turned to look as he exited the room, and just like Menon, ignored her completely. She was used to being a wallflower when with Menon but being someone of no consequence even to this young thing, was humiliating. This female version of the youthful Menon was unaware of the treacherous phase of life she had entered into, feeble or not, Menon was dangerous. She stepped forward, into the girl's line of sight hissing "Why are you here?" The girl seemed to look away, hugging herself tighter, then suddenly she yelled out "Menon, we've got to leave....Now!"

Menon came racing out, "Anything's the matter honey". "Don't honey me you!" she snapped, "this house gives me the chills.... you can't expect me to move in where she died.." "Baby, it's been five years, this is prime property..." he cooed, completely ignoring her confused face. Who were they talking about, who had died there - Menon and she had bought this newly constructed apartment just a year back. The way Menon was looking at the young girl reminded her of how she had looked at him, what a fool he looked like, she giggled but then stopped fearing he would hear her, But he did, both of them clutched hands gawking at her, were they fearful of her! She burst out laughing, their fearful faces looked comic! One of the windows flung open blowing a strong breeze through her open hair, ignoring the thought that she'd be struggling to comb her hair the next day, she twirled it around, loving the feeling of how her hair swirled around her. She was glad Menon and his new young thing got to see it. As the girl shrieked, both of them tumbled towards the door, she bent over howling with laughter, The girl's purse and the keys they had used to get in lay strewn about on the floor as they fled, they had even left the door open. Outside, in the corridor, a painter, the same man she had seen in the walkway sat washing his paint brushes. He looked up, startled at the exiting couple, then he  peered into the house and seemed to see her - he seemed to be the only one who would actually acknowledge her presence. She moved towards him to reassure him but he too screamed and fled, upsetting his paint can all over the granite floor. 

So, it seemed her newfound superpower was to drive people away, that was indeed hilarious. She had never laughed so much and never for so long. Still howling with laughter, she made her way through the empty corridors. Reveling in the wind blowing through her hair, she headed towards the walkway, she was not going to hide inside the walls anymore, she had found her voice and she would never stop laughing.

I noticed...

The double lines running from the nose to the chin;

The chin that wobbled with the added padding,

The neck that looked like parched earth, waiting for the rain.

Knees that hurt with each step, fingers that swelled up every morning,

It did not escape scrutiny, those thinning strands of silver, same as the watery, fading eyes

The canopy of leaves, inviting, green with young life, mellow with the morning dew

A decadent jar of sweetness, the call of the cuckoo bird, persistent, divine

The enchanting yellow flowers strewn across the walkway, soft and deadly

The little blobs of red grass, the ones that had escaped the lazy gardener

As the heart grows bigger, softer with tenderness, beating with heightened awareness,

Shuffling feet turn leaden, unwilling to walk away.

Spellbound at the cacophony, the melody and gladness of the birds, this buffet of sensations, 

The current of life, passing through the darkening skies, the soft wind, even the immutable rocks.

It had been sunrise a long time ago, now, it was time for sunset to bloom, 

Vibrant beyond the peacock's bloom, it beckoned, come, pause a while.

The gladness of life, that celebration of awareness, so temporal, so infinite

The journey would continue, beyond time.

I sat there as the last rays of the sun flickered fervently for a while, fighting, resisting,

and then,

I noticed how they gently paled into the iridescent darkness, contented, at last.

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Her Birthday wish

 It was to be her birthday in a week and she would finally turn ten, an adult, she thought dreamily swinging idly on the playground's rusted equipment. Would her mother remember, a querulous voice from within asked. She had checked the calendar in the apartment supervisor's office - it was to be on a Monday this time, one of her mother's double-shift days. Even on her single-shift days like today, all she would do is cook and pack food for the week that she and her brother were to heat and eat in the evenings. She would soon be coming home, her greasy work uniform would still smell of heated oil and other things that always made her want to puke. But her mother would often start cooking even while she still had her uniform on. Her face fell as she recalled the ghastly sight of her mother waking up that morning with her make-up caked up and packed thickly into the deep crevices on her face. What she disliked the most were her large, unwieldy hands with swollen veins popping out and the red nail polish she always had on even on her broken nails. She had prayed everyday that her mother wouldn't come to the bus stop to see her off, she often did so even with her mascara smeared on her paper like skin and her hair tousled in the previous night's hairdo. Her brother was too young to understand and was just always idiotically delighted that his mom was there, not understanding the looks from the other mothers at the bus stop - wary, haughty and sometimes pity, her haggard family of three stood out like a caterpillar on a plate.

Later that evening, she took out the diary her grandmother had gifted her the previous birthday. Her brother had already written his name, or something similar in hieroglyphs, in various sizes, through all the pages. The diary had originally opened up to be a cake with a huge cherry on top. Her brother had also taken care of the cherry and chewed through it within a month. Seeing that he was now trying to help her mother with the cooking she pulled out her pencil and found an empty space that hadn't been scribbled over. She carefully typed out "My Birthday Wish", and later changed it to "My Birthday Wishes" as she did have more than just one. She hesitatingly listed the battery-operated robot and the roller-skates as an after-thought. Then her imagination ran free and her list kept growing till she had covered the whole page, front and back. Finished, she looked at it with deep satisfaction, just writing her wishes down made her feel like she already had those, she started planning how she would race around on her skates in the evenings with all her friends watching enviously. She decided to place her list strategically near her mother's work satchel, that way she would not miss seeing it. Satisfied with her plan, she ran out to see what her mother and brother were upto, for the house had gone silent - only to find them both crashed out on the couch, snoring wildly. As she had done on many other days, she poured herself some milk and went to bed.

The diary was still on the counter when she returned from school that day, and for the rest of the week she got no indication that her mother had made any efforts to buy her any of the gifts she had listed. Rather her mother seemed even more haggard and seemed to have double-shifts every day that week. She would barely see her and once when she did, her mother had swollen eyes and a puffy face that scared her so much that she burst into tears. Her grandmother came over one day that week to spend the night with them. With a special dinner of boiled eggs and jam on toast and some of the games she had brought they had an exciting time, so much so that she completely forgot about her birthday wish list. It was only when their grandmother boarded them into the school bus the next morning that she remembered and yelled out from the bus "Don't forget what it is on Monday, Gramma" The bus moved on slowly but not before  she saw her grandma turn around looking deeply sad. She was perplexed at the reaction, but sat back happily having successfully reminded her of the upcoming event. She was always one who had good gifts and for the rest of the bus ride she dreamt of what might she get for her birthday that year.

By Sunday night she was dismayed to see absolutely no change in her mother or her routine, she seemed to have got even busier  than before. She had just rushed out with some instructions for dinner and to go to bed by eight. Her brother was zooming around brainlessly with his red bus with no comprehension of the turbulence within her. She sobbed her heart out into the pillow, all the while her brother was running around in circles assuming she was playing a game. She would wait until tomorrow and then the two of them would run away she decided. Once her mother had left for work, she'd pack his red bus and her books and they would go and live on apples in the forest on the other side of the town. Satisfied with her plan she fell asleep. 

She woke up to an eerily silent house, her mother wasn't screaming out instructions, nor was her brother running around like a firecracker. Disappointed at the damp start to her big day she ran out of her room angrily, ready to break the first thing she'd lay her hands on. How could her mother forget the day, she screamed inside, tears welling up in her eyes. No wonder they did not have a father like the other kids did, who would want to live with a woman like her, she kept shouting silently as she approached the kitchen. Sitting on the rug, cross-legged was a beautiful lady, she stopped in her tracks, looking closely she saw it was her mother, her hair tied back and a huge smile on her face, Her brother was snuggled up tightly on her lap happily sucking at a lollipop. She set her brother aside and stretched out her arms "Happy Birthday Sweetie" she whispered. To her ears the words seemed like a roar and as she ran into those arms her tears started to fall, she knew she was ten now, and no longer supposed to cry but she could not seem to control it. Her brother had started to kick her wanting in on some of the action as well and soon before they knew they were all entangled in a confused pile of arms and legs shouting and laughing and crying all at the same time. "So who is going to help me bake the birthday cake?" her mother asked eventually and she knew then it was the only birthday she had ever wanted.

Gulu Bhai - Street food to die for

 Constable Binapani tapped anxiously on his lathi, his stomach rumbled in anticipation. It was almost six and time for him to get off his shift. The fog was thick that day and he peered unblinkingly into it, searching for the familiar sight of the red and yellow hand-cart, "Nandi Ghosha" as Gulu called it with the same pride as that of a young father. It was Tuesday and Gulu Bhai would have Dahi Bara with piping hot, spicy Aloo Dum for the day's special. There were already some of the other regulars milling about the place, he decided to brave the chill and step out of his check post to beat them to it, he didn't think he could wait for another five minutes, as hungry as he was! Seeing his familiar portly figure huff about in the early morning chill some of the other regulars smiled at him, it was always good to have the police on familiar terms, they reckoned. He was oblivious to the scrutiny and just paced up and down trying to ignore the rumbles from his stomach, the last meal he had was the cold stone-like rice and watery daal his wife had cooked, something even the street dogs around his house had judiciously learnt to avoid. The small meal Gulu provided had nourished his soul for several years now, the fresh, aromatic dishes he doled out was the only reason he had always asked for the night or early morning shift, for by 7, Gulu was sold out. Considering that he had been inching towards retirement and had over the years been a more or less harmless sort, the Head Constable had been more than willing to accede to his simple request. For Constable Binapani. the Nandi Ghosha had always been worth waiting for, the only bright spot in his dreary life, about to go grayer even more post retirement. He sometimes pitied the senior officers seeing them frivolously throw away their money for the paper-like food served on equally unpalatable paper plates in those shiny, bright restaurants that dotted the road leading to the biggest universities in the city. If only they knew what they were missing, but then overcome by a strange envy he would quickly change his mind, he did not want Gulu to get rich and go away setting up another of those shiny monstrosities that served horrible, pitiful food, no Gulu had to be protected from that fate. Sighing, he stopped pacing and perched himself on the stone bench, the one that was closest to where Gulu put up his stall.

Unfortunately for Constable Binapani and the others, Gulu Bhai broke the tradition of the past 7 years and did not turn up at all. His customers were confused, they waited patiently, ignoring the other stalls for as long as they could, rudderless, some eventually turned disloyal and sheepishly bought breakfast from a rival and went their way. Others stood about, at first, talking about everything except what was on their minds the most, Gulu Bhai's absence. Eventually someone casually remarked about the new Food Commissioner's vow to make the city a safe haven for all foodies - he had recently vowed on TV to end all instances of food poisoning, diarrhea and the type, caused by, they stressed, unlicensed food vendors. He had started a campaign - My City the Cleanest. All people gathered there turned towards Constable Binapani, as though he was the Food Commissioner, afterall, he was the only one there in a uniform. Reddening to his neck, he immediately and vociferously disowned the Food Commissioner, letting out a string of choicest abuses that cast aspersions on the Food Commissioner's very birth and parentage. 

Hungrier than he had ever been before and reddened by the exertion of proving to the crowd that he had nothing to do with Gulu or the Food Commissioner he went back into the Police Station. His shift had gotten over and the morning staff were trickling in. He peeked into the holding cell, the boy still lay crumpled up and immobile as they had left him, one of his arms stretched out underneath him, obviously broken. He would have to be woken up and made to clean up on his urine and faeces that lay all over the floor, mixed with the blood, the stench nauseated him and he retched near the door. Well, the urchin would have to clean that too for it was his horrible odour that had caused him to throw up. Remembering the night's episode he now realised that he should not have exerted himself so much, he should have allowed the younger ones to beat up that boy.  He couldn't remember why the urchin was in the lock-up, he had simply been the entertainment of the night - the younger constables had been poking and prodding the boy all day for the urchin had the pride of education stamped on his dark, oily face - these ones, with a smattering of education quickly learnt to throw off their shackles, raising their voices, standing up straight - this boy had refused to squat on the floor and had to be taught a lesson. If not them, the world would have taught him the lesson, in a much harsher way, mused Binapani in a wave of sympathy for the unmoving pile of flesh and bones.

About three month later, almost the last week of his service, Binapani stepped out for a breath of air, winter had passed quickly that year, and with a non-existent spring, Summer had gleefully started early. The early morning reddish hue bathed the hedge in its dewy splendour, the birds had started to flit, their morning calls quickly rising in volume as they began to welcome the beautiful new day. Binapani began to feel a strange throbbing in his heart, fondness for his work, this place that had sustained him for forty years, that had stood by him through thick and thin. When that despicable urchin had died, everyone in the Police Station had supported him, they had vouched for him so strongly that the urchin's death had been deemed a suicide and the case had been sealed and closed. The Head Constable had even recommended him for an increase in salary, for maintaining peace and harmony in the locality, this would increase his pension, overcome with gratitude that his team had ensured his record would not get tarnished by that incident, he began to weep. The two other younger Constables who had been present  that day and had been transferred out as a precaution, came walking by and hugged him, consoling him, teasing him for being emotional, they had all bonded that day, a bond formed over murder being stronger than even that of blood. The three of them were getting a Farewell party that day. They had all been asked to come by at noon for the ceremony and lunch. 

Exiting the gate, Binapani looked fondly at the spot where Gulu would be seen, no one had known what had happened to him and like others, Binapani had woefully switched to having his breakfast from another vendor, but those who had eaten from Gulu, could never be satiated with anyone else. Sighing he scanned the horizon again as though hoping to see the familiar red and yellow cart trudging up the slope, he laughed at his imbecility, so bad had been his craving that he imagined he saw the cart. But the sight could not have been imagined, it was the Nandi Ghosha, the flag fluttering in the breeze was as true as the drool forming in his mouth. He turned around, stuttering, his heart beat increasing, half-breathing half choking, he called out to the two others, today, he would show them what true Dahi Bara and Aloo Dum tastes like. He could still teach them a thing or two he thought, his chest bursting with pride, joy and laughter, all at once. Gulu came up and perched his stand, setting it up would usually take him twenty minutes for he followed a ritual of sweeping the area around his stall, sprinkling it with holy water and doing an elaborate prayer ritual before starting business. Binapani decided he would not wait, and gesturing to his two proteges, called them over. Gulu had never been one to talk much, however today he was been quieter, it could have been for he was accompanied by his wife, who had done so only a few times in the seven years that he had known Gulu. Had he lost weight and grown older all of a sudden. thought Binapani, and addressed Gulu "Not to be seen, eh! Did you go to jail?" and the three policemen roared in laughter at the bad joke. Gulu's eyes seemed glazed but he showed his crooked teeth dutifully in a forced smile, Binapani thought he must be high on Ganja and snickered at the two proteges, excited at the upcoming farewell, the three could find nothing to bring down their bonhomie. 

"Two plates each for the three of us" ordered Binapani, waving away protests from the two others, "my treat.... other than welding my lathi to break bones, I know a thing or two about good food.... and you'd better learn how to recognise true Odia test" he said officiously causing another cacophony of laughter that even startled the birds into silence for a moment. Gulu stood immobile for a moment, his wife prodded him and he nodded after a while. Disconcerted a bit by this strangely turned out Gulu, Binapani hoped the food would not let him down, if so, Gulu would have it he thought menacingly stroking his lathi, emboldened by the fact that there were no other food carts there yet, Gulu had been really early. Realising Gulu was not up for conversation the three began to talk while Gulu heated up the stove and started chopping onions. "Don't go stingy on those... has to be your best or else..." Binapani shouted sternly at Gulu, causing him to chop with an increased speed, causing the two others to laugh again. Binapani was on a roll, the last week was turning out to be quite something after all. He would not fade away, people would remember him, not just as a fly on the wall but someone who had the courage of a lion. They started talking about the urchin and arguing about who had dealt the fatal blow when Binapani felt the presence of Gulu at his side. He stood there, his glazed eyes fixed on the horizon, a steaming hot plate in his hand. The aroma of freshly chopped onions, chillies and coriander caused Binapani's stomach to rumble loudly, ignoring the ganja addict he snatched the plate out of Gulu's hand, handing it out to one of the two constables. Gulu went back, shuffling his feet, "He has had a strong dose today..." Binapani winked at them, "but let's just enjoy this for now". The next time Gulu was back with two plates balanced in each hand, he seemed more energetic and alert. He even came back offering to top up with more chips and 'mixture', his secret sauce. They each wolfed down the two plates and ordered a third, Gulu's Dahi Bara was still the one to die for!

Sad to leave Gulu's side, Binapani and the others left , without paying of course, Binapani had to teach them how to get free food out of the vendors. Their stomach's were full and their mind happy. Heading out Binapani noticed Gulu packing up, "Leaving so early, Gulu?" he asked uneasily, something had seemed off but he could not put his finger on it. "No Sahib, I will be back tomorrow, I had not got a lot today" "Okay, you better be here Gulu" saying so Binapani whizzed off on his motorcycle. 

The Farewell ceremony at the Police Station would turn out to be a memorable one, for years to come, everyone would talk about it in hushed tones. The guests of honour, Constable Binapani, Sub-Constable Nakul and Sub-Constable Prahlad were to be felicitated but did not show up for the ceremony. The three had gone home to freshen up and come back to the Police station but neither could make it, while Constables Nakul and Prahlad who stayed in the Guest House were both found dead, frothing from the mouth, Constable Binapani had collapsed on the Highway, apparently he had a major heart-attack and was crushed under a speeding cement truck. The deaths of Nakul and Prahlad had led to a major crackdown on street vendors around the Police Station but nothing conclusive could be found, none of the street vendors there sold Dahi Bara and Aloo Dum, the food that was last consumed by them, as found in the autopsy. Eventually the food stalls were allowed to re-open, but judiciously avoided by the Police, who had learnt to have their meals provided for free from the bigger restaurants. The vendor who got all of Gulu Bhai's clients was always grateful that Gulu Bhai had left for his paternal village after the death of his only son. The boy had been picked up by the Night Patrol team for loitering on the street with a friend past midnight and had then committed suicide in this very police station. 

The Orange Cloud and the Cliff

The Orange cloud hovers over the Cliff.
Refusing to budge, even as the winds ram into it,
Each time the Orange cloud scatters and comes together,
as it gently floats just above the Cliff.

The Cliff begs for it to rain or move
For the sun can't get into it's groove.
Even when the people of the valley beseech and to the mighty cloud, stoop.
Unmoving, it hangs on there.

The priest sends up a sacrifice,
asking the Orange cloud why it wouldn't rain
Why put the timeless valley under such enormous strain,
Turning a blind eye to the children, why disregard these fields full of grain.
The Orange cloud hung on there.

Eating into the cliff, rock by rock, dirt by dirt,
For centuries, for eons, it hung around, no feelings it showed - of anger or hurt.
Filled with a painful secret that only it could know, for the cliff it had love abound.

Until the cliff was merely but a stooped and tiny hillock,
The village but a haunt of the spirits without its living folk
Over the endless stretch of parched land,
The orange cloud shadowing the cliff, hung on there.

The large boulder, once the tiny hillock had been once the majestic cliff,
Called out to the Orange cloud and whispered, "I understand. I've known it all this while."
As it wept for all the lost time, it revealed its heart,
gentle and pure, they hadn't really been apart;
the Cliff had sent up water to sustain the cloud, all this time, even in exile.
As the water dried up, so had the soul of the grand cliff, shrinking it into a tiny hillock and then a mere boulder.

With no more water to send, the boulder cracked its broken heart,
rued for no more sustenance it could provide.
With one last look at its beloved, it disappeared into a mass of dust.
For ages thereafter, travelers from afar would come to see a curious sight,
as a massive brown cloud would hang next to an orange one, close but just.

Until a day would come, when the rains would hum
and these clouds would be one.

The escape

The rain pierced her face like a thousand needles on a comb, turning her malnourished skin into a splotchy canvas of  clotted blood underneath. Her barely covered frail frame did not register the wind clawing at her chest nor did she hear the guttural breathing sounds she was making as she  gasped through her mouth as well as moaned with terror. As she escaped into the gray darkness of a mouldy, smoggy early morning, she could only feel the comfortable warmth of filth squelching between her toes, wrapping around her brittle ankles, reminding her of what might be hers with each step that she took forward. Then again, she had been born into murkier surroundings, the stench was familiar, it did not revolt her. The subsuming scent of excrement mixed with rotting carcasses, perhaps, was more accentuated with the rain, carrying newer unfamiliar notes, sending shivers of exhilaration down her bony back. For a moment she paused, taking stock, she was now living her mad nightmare - the one she hadn't been able to get out of on awakening for the past several months. But try to escape she would, forever, until she had reached that place that was furthest from here - anyplace other than this.

Squeezing her eyes against the onslaught of the razor-sharp sleets of water she stumbled on, dodging the debris. The open sewers were overflowing again, spreading their mulch all across the muddy street, prodding anyone awake to move to higher, drier grounds - away from the whirlpool forming right in the center of the decrepit town. Even on a hot summer day the town would hobble awake well into daylight, it was a place were nights were reveled, days shunned. This was what she was counting on.

She felt the gusts of knee-deep gray waters ebb and flow with each frustratingly slow step that she could take, she fought getting immobilized by her darkest fear of being seen out of her hovel, the rain was bound to start thinning soon and the town would then begin to stir as the day started to break through. She was certain, however, that her absence would not be noticed until much later - she had made sure of that, she thought of it as her first victory. It wasn't what she was leaving behind that she was afraid of, what scared her most was being found by someone from a different 'home'. By stepping out she had become common property, with no protection she would be owned by the next animal that sniffed her out, someone with more muscle, more brutality than the previous, bled dry until she was nothing but a hollow tin can to be kicked around till their legs were sore.

That's what had happened with Inusha her cell mate for a few days. The thought left her weak and giving out a yell of desperation she continued plodding upstream against the now increasing currents. She dared not look at the tattered hutments lining the streets. There were hardly any lights on yet she imagined a thousand eyes on her just waiting for it to get dry enough to pounce, letting out another frightened whimper she looked back, there was not a soul to be seen, not even the mangy dogs of the town could be seen or heard, maybe the winter rains were a blessing. The windows on the establishments she passed were shuttered, as best as could be managed, against the howling wind and from a few partially shut doors to the brew houses she could see just a faint streak of pail yellow light falling on the waters, making them look deeper and more dangerous than they really were - it was just waist-deep water now, she would make it after all, all she had to get to was the narrow road on the left that led into the forests of Nenular, she thought shivering uncontrollably by now, her teeth chattering loud enough for her to force her mouth to shut. She'd get out but beyond that she did not know...

She had reached the foot of the little hillock, the one she had always eyed as she was ravaged, it had been her beacon, her escape as her imagination took her on rides beyond the hill, seeing different places - sometimes it was endless fields of rice under dreamy blue skies with sheepy clouds, other times she'd imagine a town like this one only neater, the only inhabitants being the Dhritis - as the girls of her hovel and others were called, the unacceptables. In this shady town with rejects from all across the land, they were the lowest in the food chain. The fortunate among them died or were killed during infancy for any 'defects'. The girls in her hovel kept getting replaced, one day they'd be dragged out into one of the 'special' shacks to never return from there, many had been executed in the open, in front of whistling, cheering crowds for falling ill. That had been one the reasons why they'd never been provided any dresses like she had once seen some of the women wearing in the very street she was standing in now - to ensure any signs of disease were caught instantly during their weekly showers. That the girls were disease free had been one of the reasons the charges had been exorbitant, and that they were very young, really young. She herself had barely any memories of her mother who had disappeared one day into one of the special rooms after which she had been moved into the shack and she had been there forever. Had Inusha not told her about the place beyond the hillock she would not have had found the urge to look beyond, it had been months since she had found out that there were places that were not like this, and she knew she had to get there, to survive. Being the longest surviving amongst all the girls she knew luck was taunting her - her turn to get into the special room would be up any time.

The hillock loomed larger than it appeared from her window but it filled her with hope, the higher it was the further the distance between her and her chasers, she knew there would be a chase soon, she would just need to give herself as much a headstart as possible. Gritting her teeth she looked up at the water cascading down the slopes. It was all uphill from here and she'd have to take to the footpaths, for she knew there were steps starting from somewhere there that could make it easier to cover ground instead of  trudging uphill against the flooding water. She was safer in the middle of the road, from unseen predators lurking out even in this spiteful rain or worse, the overflowing sewers - one misstep and she'd be pulled under. She moved slightly to her left feeling the ground with each slide, moving only when finding a foothold. Scrambling over to the footpath she was glad to be out of the water, she looked down at her bleeding feet, she had pierced it over something, probably a broken glass and it had started to bleed heavily. Ignoring it she fumbled over to the side of a shanty, she could hear some low voices coming from within and the fact that she could hear it told her the rain was dropping, there would soon be drunkards stumbling out of the bars. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she found the steps on the side of the hillock, she had a foreboding, it had been easy this far, too easy.

Looking at the grimy steps, now as slick as oil, brought back painful memories, for she had heard that the stone slabs had been where Inusha's battered, lifeless body had been found, carelessly flung as though a dirty rag. She had overheard two guards discuss in their peculiar sing-song high pitched voice about how dogs had got to her face by the time the Bordwars, the undertakers, who were shunned, despised and feared by everyone,  had found her. The Bordwars, recognized by the blood-red sigil of a jackal, were known to gleefully rescue every stray corpse, her mutilated corpse could still fetch a good amount with those who had a taste for it. Maybe they had exaggerated, she hoped so fervently.

As she started to climb the treacherous curving stairway, she realized the stairs went around, a section of it went directly in view of her room, she was stunned, why had she never noticed the stairs or seen anyone on the stairs. Even with the rains she could be clearly visible to anyone in the room. There was no way she could not take the stairs, there was no way she would be able to clamber over the slopes, she had to take the steps. She decided to cross sitting down, minimizing her exposure, she also saw that while the progress was extremely slow sitting down, she was better able to cope with the rain which was now changing directions and beating right into her face. She reckoned she had been out for an hour now, the guards would probably start on their rounds anytime now, and it would not take them long, there were only the ten small rooms and the one large dormitory housing fifteen other younger girls who were being 'groomed'. But why would they look out of the window, she reasoned with herself frantically, they'd probably want to take it out on her newest roommate , whom they had flung into her room earlier yesterday. She had been scratched all over, with purple blobs on several parts of her exposed chest. Unconscious and groaning through the night, she had finally quietened down when she had gone over and hugged her and then continued to rock her. When she'd woken up with a jolt in the middle of the night, the groans had stopped and so had her breathing. Her newest roommate had not outlived her as she had hoped for.

With the rains battering their unholy settlement through the night it had seemed a propitious coincidence, prompting her to put her plans into effect immediately. She had waited for the guard to take his last round, disinterestedly looking into each room, he had had enough of the place, after three years, he had lost his ability to be shocked, and he had seen things in the lands he had traveled earlier, this place had been something else. In all of her sixteen years she had never been unguarded and did not know the way out. She had found it as simple as unlatching the door and walking out - the latch had been a new experience and had taken time. She had expected to hear a howl and a knife in her back anytime since she had walked out of her room but in that moment of terror at the front door she preferred capture than having to step out and see her dream materialize.

Crawling slowly she circled the final steps, going over the hillock just as the rains started to thin. She hadn't known what to expect, ever since she had heard of the land beyond the hillock her imagination had taken her vanishing into the Nenular forest or running wildly through endless grass fields. She crossed over just as the rain petered away washing off grime and dust from the air giving her a perfect view. The revolting shanties lined haphazardly around a town square looked just like the street she had crossed, only edgier and more sinister; these were bigger, with tattered curtains that were flailing slightly giving her a glimpse of a town waking up. She then looked at the blood red sigil of the jackal mounted on a wooden post in the square, it was the only thing that gleamed and burned bright.

The young devotee

The wizened old priest seated at the feet of the Devi peered over his spectacles bemusedly. The college student was struggling to carry her helmet, books and a heavy satchel in one hand while balancing the overladen Puja thali in the other. As he continued to chant his mantras with their elaborate hand gestures, the inevitable happened and the books, helmet and the bag fell with a loud thud, scattering on the steps of the temple and scaring away some pigeons feeding on grains nearby. Obviously rattled and sweating profusely in the hot April morning sunlight the girl left the items strewn across the steps and resolutely made her way towards the priest, the thali, still intact, held firmly in both hands. He had a mind to chastise her for messing up the steps but for some reason held his tongue, the girl had him intrigued for her face belied her befuddled actions, it reflected a quiet glow, a strength of character that he had not seen in many. As she neared, he could make out a faint smile on her face, she looked quietly joyful, if that was possible, ah, the joys of being an innocent youth, he thought.

He continued his prayers as she stood there gazing at the idol fondly. It took him a while to complete the morning rituals, but she seemed patient. Suppressing the curse on his lips for the rickety knees Devi Ma had given him, he reached out to her for the Thali, it was indeed heavy. It was a traditional bronze thali, something he had not seen in years, with a coconut, incense sticks, a few slightly crushed hibiscus flowers, some misshaped peda and some red glass bangles. The simplicity of the items made him smile, he looked at her sternly “Go and collect your books, someone may step on those” he spoke gruffly. Happily, she rushed back to the steps and gathered up everything dumping them on the side in an ugly heap. So much for being organized the priest thought, she might have left those on the steps, they looked better that way! Why he had expected her to demurely arrange things neatly, like any other well-brought up girl would do, he couldn’t say.

As she flitted back to him, she told him breathlessly that she hadn’t wanted to set the plate down as she had put the offerings for Ma on those, continuing in a sing song voice that she was going to write her exams and wanted to pray to Ma before it. Ah, he thought, one other selfish seeker again, he had no patience for people of this ilk, he felt his anger rising. If there really were a Ma she would’ve gone deaf by now, hearing to these greedy, petty requests. He would punish her by demanding a fee to do the Puja, why should she think that Ma’s blessings come for free! Making up the amount in his mind, he steeled his face and said, “Jhia, if you want the Puja to be done for good results it will cost you 500. Otherwise just take the Thali back and say your prayers”. “Please forgive me, Nona,” she said with tears in her eyes, her voice trembling, for the tone of his voice had been harsh, “I just want to give these for Ma, I made the Peda myself in the morning, Ma has called me for the first time and I didn’t want to come empty-handed to her.” “No, No,” he said angrily shaking his hand, seeing his customer slipping away, “I can’t offer anything to Ma, this is not the time, the morning Puja is over, she has had her Prasad”.

The way the girl’s face fell with dejection broke even his aged heart, he wasn’t a cruel man, he was just someone who was practical, trapped for far too long in the wrong profession, of his own accord, and way too bitter about it for there was none other to blame. He had lost his ‘Bhakti’ a long time ago, back when his 9-year-old son had drowned in the well behind this very temple, his wife had passed away of a broken heart, not long after. Since then this had been his trade for, he had known no other skills. As far back as he knew, he came from a long line of Pujaris, and had his son been alive, he’d have been expected to continue the tradition, imprisoned within this ancient pile of stones, while the world laughed, partied raced by, forgetting their pitiable souls, mocking their habits, yet using them to get their self-obsessed favours bestowed by that all-pervasive power.

“Please, Mousa, atleast give the bangles and flowers to Ma.” her beseeching tone brought him back to the present, “a few days back I had a dream that Ma wanted to see me. I have travelled nearly 15 Kms only to see her, I am sorry I am late as I had to make the peda fresh and missed the Aarti. If you just give her the flowers I will go, I need to travel back quickly as I have an exam starting at 12”.  He felt his heart softening and although he wanted to stay aloof, he heard himself saying, “Okay I’ll leave these near Ma, if she wants them, she will take it.” Her face brightened up instantaneously, and he got carried away by the positivity reflected in the smile and continued “Let me plead with her to help you with your exams”. “Thank you, Mousa” she said humbly, “I don’t need to pray to her for anything, I just wanted to see her. I do hope she will accept my Peda, I’m not sure if I added enough sugar to it”. Suppressing a smile, he started the Aarti, the priest of the nearby Ganesha temple looked up surprised at the sound of the bell, this was neither the time for Aartis nor was there a crowd of devotees, must be age catching up with the old man he thought to himself.

The girl watched the idol wide-eyed, the priest caught a glimpse of a tear rolling down her cheek as he went full throttle, unintentionally performing the full ceremony. For some reason, once he had placed the girl’s flowers on the idol of Ma, he could not take his eyes off them. They seemed to fit perfectly into the already crowded, over-sized garland she was decked in, they glowed brilliantly like red rubies.  Through the haze of the incense and the smoke of the lamp which he was moving intricately in front of Ma, while reciting the mantras in his broken voice, he thought he saw Ma smile contentedly. For a moment when a stray ray of sunlight made it across the smoky interior, he thought he could see her eyes twinkle with joy. The mantras he had started to mumble feebly now spilled out of his mouth in a baritone voice, powerful and captivating, making it across to the younger priest who was now watching, his mouth open in shock and admiration of the performance. He did not know even half the mantras the old priest was chanting! As the prayers reached a crescendo, the girl started to weep openly, rapturously unconsciously repeating ‘Hey Ma’, while the whole world seemed to have gone quiet to join in on the Aarti. The younger priest had now come to the temple and was kneeling in front of the idol as well. He had never looked at Ma so closely before, never realized she was so radiant so forgiving, he began weeping repentant of the wickedness of his mind, the fakeness of his faith.

It took a while for the girl and the younger priest to realise the Aarti had stopped. The old priest lay prostrated on the ground before the idol. He seemed to be sobbing quietly. They did not know how much time had passed, the girl kneeling down looking at the idol lovingly, had forgotten her hurry to get back, the younger priest red-eyed and red-faced in front of Ma felt a new spark, a new love for this centuries old temple, his faith renewed and his vigor restored, he was an entirely different soul from just a few minutes ago.

Eventually, the older priest rose slowly, he seemed to have lost years in the few minutes. He looked every bit as old as his age, and more. His face though seemed to glow, his eyes reflected kindness and deep compassion, his smile at them was so benevolent that both the younger priest and the girl threw themselves at his feet for his blessings. They both knew they had witnessed something indescribable, something powerful and rare, something that seemed to say, from then on, everything would be okay.

Blessing them both with severely trembling hands, he pointed to the sweets on the plate, the hibiscus flowers placed on the idol had fallen on them, “Looks like Ma liked your Pedas” he smiled affectionately. As the girl graciously accepted the tulsi water, he looked at her closely once again, yes, Ma had indeed come to see him, to bless him for his years of service. He felt light as a feather, he had forgotten what it was to be like without the constant pains plaguing one’s body. As he hobbled down the stairs, he turned back to look lovingly at Ma one last time, he knew there would be no Aarti from him again. Smiling through his tears he enjoyed the hot sunlight falling on his face and breathed in the air scented heavily with incense, he felt Ma’s warm protective love engulf him. He was elated, he was finally going home!