God is Peace

The lady, now in her late 60s has been living in solitude for more than couple of decades. In the wee hours, she sits in the lobby of her big mansion in the royal arm chair. Whenever, somebody passes by her gate, she lifts her eyes from the Bhagvath Gita and exchange a benign smile with the passer by. Over time, it became customary that many of the villagers felt, exchanging smile with her would bring good luck. However, now the smile isn’t as graceful as it was.

One day, the village chief who passed by asked her “We haven’t talked much. But then I don’t feel the radiance on your face which you had earlier. Does something trouble you?”

She opened up hesitatingly “yeah. I am bit apprehensive over something”.

“Do you mind sharing it with me? I resolve knotty issues for whole of the village. Solving your problem should be much easier”, he volunteered with an air of confidence.

”I am growing old. And I have 3 gold bangles and a big mansion. I live on my husband’s pension. He passed away long back.” She continued “and Kids I have none.” Chief’s eyebrows creased with attentiveness and he clarified “It’s been the same for more than a decade. What has changed now?”

She retorted “You asked the right question. I am growing old and one day I will die. ” Chief looked perplexed as she continued “When I die the outside world will not know till I rot. And I sleep with the doors closed. When my corpse stinks, the villagers will break open the door. My soul would wander in this house after I die. I wouldn’t be so happy to be in a broken house then”

“Why do you want to sleep with the door closed? Keep it open. Nobody will break your door. Simple.”

Chief’s pragmatism did not work- “What if somebody steal my bangles, when I sleep with doors open”.

“In that case why don’t you give me your bangles for safe custody”.

“I trust none.”. She curtly replied. “I must admit, I don’t have a solution”. He gave up. Village chief was later followed by few other elites of the society that included the village doctor, priest and the headmaster. As for the chief, none could give her a solution and over time the worry took the better of her.

At last she was visited by man with an undistinguished look. The question answer session went as before. “I have a solution.” He said. Her eyes lit up as he heard. “I am the thief and have never been caught. I can open any locked door like a charm. The day I don’t see you in the morning I will open the door without even a hair line crack on it. You can lock the door and sleep peacefully.”

“How do I trust you? Having heard of all my assets, what if you steal my bangles ?” She asked worriedly.

“I won’t kill the goose that lays golden egg. You bring me good luck with your smile everyday”.

“What If I tell others that you are thief? How did you trust me?” She had a point

“If you tell others, I will be caught and there won’t be any one to open the doors, the way I do. I am sure you won't make such a ludicrous move”, He added up.

From then on she slept peacefully and the graceful smile returned on her face. God is peace and appears before the needy - not necessarily the form you expect him to.

Fairy’s Tale

She woke up before the first ray of sun fell on the dry land of poverty stricken village. She got out of her hut and headed towards north with an empty pot to fetch water from the village pond. When she was done with three rounds, her 5 year old brother woke up. She kissed him on his forehead and it was returned. He went out, broke a neem branch and started brushing. She again went out to fetch some logs to cook. Sun was half way up by the time she returned with the logs. Took the small axe and the logs were split. Sweat drops trickled down her cheeks and neck. Set the fire ready to cook. Took two cups of rice and boiled it. Chopped down few vegetables that was in the store and cooked it with the boil to save time. Her paralyzed father made some sound and she rushed to that corner of the hut. The torn floor mat was wet. She lifted him, placed him on a dry mat and cleaned up the corner. Rice had boiled by then. She rushed to the other corner and served it to her brother. Also filled up his lunch box. Dressed him up and he was ready to go to school, a privilege she was deprived of. She wanted him to touch the horizons which she had never dreamt of. Took out the boiled rice and some pickle in a plate and served her father. With the one pot of water left, she bathed him. It was almost lunch and she was drenched in sweat. She took out left out rice and had her ‘breakfast’ in the noon. Its time for her to set out to the landlord’s house to earn living for the family.

Every girl child is a fairy. Stop girl child abortion.

Ghost Bungalow

Being the watch man of the cemetery, I have cremated many blood-less bodies. They were either of the priests who went to the Bungalow to capture the spirit or the atheists who tried to solve the mystery. I live in a hut built next to the cemetery gate. From my window I can see the path that stretches at least till the Bungalow. Not sure where it proceeds beyond that, as nobody went beyond the Bungalow. One night, somebody knocked at my door. I opened the door, and right in front of me, stood a stout guy in flowing black robe. I could barely see his face, as it was covered by his robe cap. As soon as I opened the door, he said, “Can you accompany me to the Bungalow.” “Are you atheist? Are you not afraid? You know what time is it now?” I threw a volley of questions at him. “Why so many questions. One day you are bound to die, why fear. Hold this lantern and take me to the Bungalow”. He replied. I further warned him “It would take another 2 hours to reach there. This means, if at all we are not killed on the way, we would reach there at midnight.” And the wall clock bell behind me rang 10 times. He said, “And it’s a no moon day and Friday. I am aware.” he held my arm strong. “Food?” I asked him. He turned back, pulling me along.

Thus began our journey. He did not talk all along the way. The long route was pitch dark, the lantern being the only source of light. He asked me to walk in front. Every now and then I turned back. He was walking with his head down. I made all attempts to see his hidden face. Suddenly a bat flew right above this head and he clasped it quickly, squeezed the neck and threw it down. I could hear the squeaky sound of the bat. I quietly walked in front. We walked for about an hour an half “Show the lantern here”, he said pointing to a big stone erected on the side-way. I held the lantern close and it had a list of names and dates He went close by and said “Which means, these many were not killed till this point. He laughed aloud”. He did not enter his name on to it. The wind blew stronger. He held his robe firmly and said “Now let’s move. We have to be in the Bungalow in an hour’s time”. By then, it would be 12. I knew. We continued the journey.

From a distance we could see the Bungalow. The gates were closed. He pushed opened the gate and it did with a creaky sound. The wind blew stronger taking away his robe. I held the lantern high to see his half burned face. Before I could ask something, he asked me to proceed. He opened the big door of the Bungalow and as he did the big banyan tree fell with a heavy thud. He laughed insanely. As he walked, a broken glass piece pierced his leg. Tiny drops of blood oozed out. He laughed aloud with a joy of triumph. “Nobody has made it till here but I did.” He said as he entered the spacious front room of the Bungalow. The lighting flashed once and we realized that we were standing in front of a big mirror. It flashed again and he looked into the mirror only to find only his reflection. And I kissed him on his neck from back. Clock struck 12.

Rain

She took a sip of coffee as the cool breeze passed by her. Sitting in her favorite cozy lean back chair, she looked at the evening sky. The drizzle turned to a moderate rain. The aroma of wet sand caught her attention off her favorite novel. Drops of water sprinkled on the glass window looked better than any spray painting.She looked at the naughty water drops that trickled down the glass window. The drops coalesced into one, and they were big they fought and split. And it repeated. On the mist formed on the nearby glass, she wrote her name. The rain seemed to give her a company in her hours of solitude.

In the peak morning traffic hour, rain water filled gutters and slippery roads, deprived the commuters of a safe ride. Being a working lady, she had already had a fare share of stress. The not-so-well-working brake of the 100 cc lady scooter worsened her fear of an accident. By now she was half drenched. The thought of performing the presentation before the delegates from the client in damp clothes frustrated her. Snarls in the traffic block shifted her temper from bad to worse. The rain seemed to be making fun of her misery.

On her first day to school, the tinkling sound of the anklets which embraced her cute little legs and the swing of the ponytailed hair were in sync to the rhythm of the rain drops. Her mom was desperately pulling her under the umbrella and she tried her best to expose herself to get wet. She ensured that she had dipped her legs into each tiny pool of water she found on her path, seeking apology from her mom, every time she was caught doing it. Stealthy she also found joy collecting the rain drops that fell from the umbrella tips on her cute nose tip. She befriended the frogs that leapt beside her as she walked. The rain seemed to play with her.

The prolonged rain had already flooded the only field he had, toiling on which he fed his family of four. The torrential down pour had washed away his hut. His last ray of hope rested on his cattle, the cattle shed was much stronger than his hut by his choice. The rain proved mightier for the mud bonding and the cattle shed got washed away. Cattle followed the suit. He gripped the banyan tree branch never so stronger. As he saw the last cattle member being washed away, the plight of his family post flood ran before his eyes. He loosened his grip and freed himself to the flow of water. The rain seemed to be god’s punishment for an unknown sin of his in the previous birth.

In the village school, the teacher said “Take a paper and write down the answer to – What is rain? One of the answers read “Phenomenon with a million facets”

Retrospection

"I cannot think of a life without you", her words lingered in my ears, as I placed the razor blade on my left wrist. Her parents were not happy with the 5 digits that appeared on my salary slips. Day long counseling helped her forget me. She justified her decision as being practical. As I drew a 0.5 mm line across the vein, god drew the finishing line of my life. My soul was destined to wander in search of peace which I did not get on Earth. A Year passed by and I decided to go back to Earth, invisible to everybody. To start with, the place where my mortal remains were incinerated.

The gate of the graveyard was closed. The wind blew and the gate opened with a creaking sound. The fallen leaves of the banyan tree freely whirled to the rhythm of the wind. I did not find any remains of my mortal body. I went to her house. Her mom was busy giving directions to the cook in the kitchen. I slowly walked towards her room in the upstairs. She was lying half naked and tired beneath the bed sheet as her husband took a shower. The same tired look, which I used to see on the nights we spent together. The wind blew fluttering the curtains in the room. It went unnoticed. Things were back to normal in her life.

I slowly drifted to my office. I saw a young lad drafting beautiful status reports with colorful graphs sitting on my desk. The wind blew and the paper notes flew in air. It went unnoticed. He collected them and placed it back. My manager came near him, patted on his back for the wonderful work he did the last day.”I have never come across a guy who is as passionate about work as you are.” The same words he used to describe my work. Things were working even better without me.

My next destination was my friend’s house; I used to visit almost every day. He was too busy preparing his thesis for the PhD which he was involved in when I was with him. The gentle breeze blew and it went unnoticed. He slammed the window cursing his wife for leaving it open. . I realized I could be forgotten easily.

The last destination was my house. My little house has not changed much; expect that a garland hung across the frame of my big solo photo in the front room. The wind blew and as the door opened; my father came out of the kitchen running as if he was expecting somebody. He shut the door and before he put the bolt, he opened it again, sneaked out and left it open. As he went past my photo, he closed his eyes for a second and kissed in air. I followed him to the kitchen, a place, where I had never seen him before. His grease stained shirt, told me that he was still working in the lathe in his old age to make a living. He came out of the kitchen with bowl full of smashed rice with curd. I followed him to the bedroom. I was shocked to see my half paralyzed mom moving at the mercy of a wheel chair. The gentle breeze blew again and a tear drop tricked down her half dead cheek. I realized there were some places where I was not replaceable. It’s too late now, I know….