Mahatma Gandhi went from city to city, village to village collecting funds for the Charkha Sangh. During one of his tours he addressed a meeting in Orissa. After his speech a poor old woman got up. She was bent with age, her hair was grey and her clothes were in tatters. The volunteers tried to stop her, but she fought her way to the place where Gandhiji was sitting. "I must see him," she insisted and going up to Gandhiji touched his feet. Then from the folds of her sari she brought out a copper coin and placed it at his feet. Gandhiji picked up the copper coin and put it away carefully. The Charkha Sangh funds were under the charge of Jamnalal Bajaj. He asked Gandhiji for the coin but Gandhiji refused. "I keep cheques worth thousands of rupees for the Charkha Sangh," Jamnalal Bajaj said laughingly "yet you won't trust me with a copper coin." "This copper coin is worth much more than those thousands," Gandhiji said. "If a man has several lakhs and he gives away a thousand or two, it doesn't mean much. But this coin was perhaps all that the poor woman possessed. She gave me all she had. That was very generous of her. What a great sacrifice she made. That is why I value this copper coin more than a crore of rupees."
GENEROSITY
Mahatma Gandhi went from city to city, village to village collecting funds for the Charkha Sangh. During one of his tours he addressed a meeting in Orissa. After his speech a poor old woman got up. She was bent with age, her hair was grey and her clothes were in tatters. The volunteers tried to stop her, but she fought her way to the place where Gandhiji was sitting. "I must see him," she insisted and going up to Gandhiji touched his feet. Then from the folds of her sari she brought out a copper coin and placed it at his feet. Gandhiji picked up the copper coin and put it away carefully. The Charkha Sangh funds were under the charge of Jamnalal Bajaj. He asked Gandhiji for the coin but Gandhiji refused. "I keep cheques worth thousands of rupees for the Charkha Sangh," Jamnalal Bajaj said laughingly "yet you won't trust me with a copper coin." "This copper coin is worth much more than those thousands," Gandhiji said. "If a man has several lakhs and he gives away a thousand or two, it doesn't mean much. But this coin was perhaps all that the poor woman possessed. She gave me all she had. That was very generous of her. What a great sacrifice she made. That is why I value this copper coin more than a crore of rupees."
A GOOD JOB
The time was 9.15 am. I was watching TV looking for something interesting after having the breakfast. Sushil and Nivesh were playing table-tennis in the gym room next to the TV room. Suddenly i heard the flapping sound of the wings coming from the window of the tv room, i ran to see what was actually going on there and then i saw a pigeon hanging in the strings of a kite trying desperately to get free himself.
Only few weeks back we had celebrated the festival of "Uttarayan". Uttrayan is a festival of Kites and the celebrations are kick-started in the early hours of January 14th, and extended to the next day, which is celebrated as Vasi Uttarayan (Vasi literally meaning Stale). The flying of kites continues into the post-dinner evening as lanterns are hung on the thread of big kites and flown. The night-sky comes alive with glamour and splendour as these tukkals gently sway with the breeze. Those were our kite strings in which now the pigeon was hanging and fighting for his life. I called Sushil and Nivesh to help me get the pigeon out of there. I brought some chairs from tv room to stand upon so that i can reach the pigeon and Sushil ran to his room to bring a knife and a clothe to cut the string. We had a plan and we had finally saved the pigeon. The pigeon was suffering from some minor cuts on his wing made by the string so we did some first-aid and kept the pigeon in the towel for some time so that he can get some rest to make his way home.
Meanwhile we were discussing about naming the pigeon and i came up with a name "Masakali". It was the name of a pigeon in a movie called "Delhi 6" and everyone agreed with me so now we were calling our pigeon Masakali. I told Sushil to bring a camera so that we can take some pictures of Masakali since he was not going to stay with us for too long.It has been two hours now since we had rescued Masakali and he was looking good afterall so we decided its time to let him go home. I lifted him from the towel, we took some pictures with him and then finally i threw him in the air and he flew like a rocket straight towards his destination. We were amazed to see that and happy too and then we congratulated each other and said "Good Job".
Only few weeks back we had celebrated the festival of "Uttarayan". Uttrayan is a festival of Kites and the celebrations are kick-started in the early hours of January 14th, and extended to the next day, which is celebrated as Vasi Uttarayan (Vasi literally meaning Stale). The flying of kites continues into the post-dinner evening as lanterns are hung on the thread of big kites and flown. The night-sky comes alive with glamour and splendour as these tukkals gently sway with the breeze. Those were our kite strings in which now the pigeon was hanging and fighting for his life. I called Sushil and Nivesh to help me get the pigeon out of there. I brought some chairs from tv room to stand upon so that i can reach the pigeon and Sushil ran to his room to bring a knife and a clothe to cut the string. We had a plan and we had finally saved the pigeon. The pigeon was suffering from some minor cuts on his wing made by the string so we did some first-aid and kept the pigeon in the towel for some time so that he can get some rest to make his way home.
Meanwhile we were discussing about naming the pigeon and i came up with a name "Masakali". It was the name of a pigeon in a movie called "Delhi 6" and everyone agreed with me so now we were calling our pigeon Masakali. I told Sushil to bring a camera so that we can take some pictures of Masakali since he was not going to stay with us for too long.It has been two hours now since we had rescued Masakali and he was looking good afterall so we decided its time to let him go home. I lifted him from the towel, we took some pictures with him and then finally i threw him in the air and he flew like a rocket straight towards his destination. We were amazed to see that and happy too and then we congratulated each other and said "Good Job".
Small Story BIG Thought !!!
One fine day, a bus driver went to the bus garage, started his bus, and drove off along the route. No problems for the first few stops - a few people got on, a few got off, and things went generally well.
At the next stop, however, a big hulk of a guy got on. Six feet eight,built like a wrestler, arms hanging down to the ground. He glared at the driver and said, “Big John doesn't pay!" and sat down at the back.
Did I mention that the driver was five feet three, thin, and basically meek? Well, he was. Naturally, he didn't argue with Big John, but he wasn't happy about it. The next day the same thing happened - Big John got on again, made a show of refusing to pay, and sat down. And the next day, and the next.
This grated on the bus driver, who started losing sleep over the way Big John was taking advantage of him. Finally he could stand it no longer. He signed up for body building courses, karate, judo, and all that good stuff.
By the end of the summer, he had become quite strong; what's more, he felt really good about himself. So on the next Monday, when Big John once again got on the bus and said, " Big John doesn't pay!"
The driver stood up, glared back at the passenger, and screamed, “And why not?"
With a surprised look on his face, Big John replied, " Big John has a bus pass."
Moral : "Be sure there is a problem in the first place before working hard to solve one."
At the next stop, however, a big hulk of a guy got on. Six feet eight,built like a wrestler, arms hanging down to the ground. He glared at the driver and said, “Big John doesn't pay!" and sat down at the back.
Did I mention that the driver was five feet three, thin, and basically meek? Well, he was. Naturally, he didn't argue with Big John, but he wasn't happy about it. The next day the same thing happened - Big John got on again, made a show of refusing to pay, and sat down. And the next day, and the next.
This grated on the bus driver, who started losing sleep over the way Big John was taking advantage of him. Finally he could stand it no longer. He signed up for body building courses, karate, judo, and all that good stuff.
By the end of the summer, he had become quite strong; what's more, he felt really good about himself. So on the next Monday, when Big John once again got on the bus and said, " Big John doesn't pay!"
The driver stood up, glared back at the passenger, and screamed, “And why not?"
With a surprised look on his face, Big John replied, " Big John has a bus pass."
Moral : "Be sure there is a problem in the first place before working hard to solve one."
THE WOODEN BOWL
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and a four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate together nightly at the dinner table. But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating rather difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass often milk spilled on the tablecloth. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about grandfather," said the son. I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor. So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner at the dinner table. Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl. Sometimes when the family glanced in grandfather's direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year-old watched it all in silence.
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening the husband took grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.
For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled. Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day that building blocks are being laid for the child's future.
Let us all be wise builders and role models. Take care of yourself, and those you love, today, and everyday!
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up." The four-year-old smiled and went back to work. The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening the husband took grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table.
For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled. Children are remarkably perceptive. Their eyes ever observe, their ears ever listen, and their minds ever process the messages they absorb. If they see us patiently provide a happy home atmosphere for family members, they will imitate that attitude for the rest of their lives. The wise parent realizes that every day that building blocks are being laid for the child's future.
Let us all be wise builders and role models. Take care of yourself, and those you love, today, and everyday!
A BOX FULL OF KISSES
The story goes that some time ago, a man punished his 3-year-old daughter for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper. Money was tight and he became infuriated when the child tried to decorate a box to put under the Christmas tree. Nevertheless, the little girl brought the gift to her father the next morning and said, "This is for you, Daddy."
The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."
The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.
Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses... from our children, family members, friends, and God. There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious than this.
The man was embarrassed by his earlier overreaction, but his anger flared again when he found out the box was empty. He yelled at her, stating, "Don't you know, when you give someone a present, there is supposed to be something inside? The little girl looked up at him with tears in her eyes and cried, "Oh, Daddy, it's not empty at all. I blew kisses into the box. They're all for you, Daddy."
The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little girl, and he begged for her forgiveness.
Only a short time later, an accident took the life of the child. It is also told that her father kept that gold box by his bed for many years and, whenever he was discouraged, he would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there.
In a very real sense, each one of us, as humans beings, have been given a gold container filled with unconditional love and kisses... from our children, family members, friends, and God. There is simply no other possession, anyone could hold, more precious than this.
KEEP THE SPIRIT OF “NEVER SAY DIE”
The story starts on a cold winter night of a December Month in Delhi. With temperature touching as low as 1 degree Celsius roads can be seen deserted with scarcely any veichel plying on the road with only those people who are coming back from their office late. The beggars can be seen sleeping on the foot path shivering heavily in that biting cold penetrating deep into their skin through those torn old rags covering them stinging every part of them like a scorpion. In that city of usual hustle bustle everything was unusually calm with Delihites still trying to come in terms with the horrible blast that took place only few months’ earlier right before Diwali casting dark shadows over that festival of light which ironically is the symbol of victory of good over evil. The place where the blast took place-Sarojini Nagar still echoed with that eerie silence that has gripped once busy market place after those acts of cowardice by Jihadis fighting for their so called-Religious Cause. The lull left those horrific cries of people crying out in pain, the noises of ambulance and people panicking, running all over the place can still echoed at the site where the blast took place. Few candles can be seen burning at the site lit by few good souls who are still living among us sending out a strong message that hope to live and survive still exsist- Though suppressed but not dead. But today at this point of night all appeared to be calm and silent with Khaki wearing constable going out on occasional beats trying their best to make normalcy return to the city which has been scarred by the blood of its brothers. At the other side of Sarojini Nagar one can see buses lined up in front of a big arch topped with a hoarding with- SAROJINI NAGAR DEPOT- written on it in bold letters. To one side of the depot Auto driver’s can seen sitting around their own bonfire’s warming themselves, occasionally looking all around as to get any late night auto seeker. As the last bus rolled on to the Sarojini Nagar Bus Depot parking itself into one of the its depliated shed, lights were put out and the gatekeeper locked the doors of the office along with going out for his daily patrolling around the Depot to see for any intruder. In those calm moments one can hear the steps the Gatekeeper’s shoes thumping hard on the tarred ground with his club occasionally giving jab at the the doors the the shed making a clanging sound as it collidede with its metal counterpart. Making sure that everything was in place and tip top as expected the assistant Gatekeeper called out to the HeadGuard to send out an all clear report to the Sarojini Nagar Thana and take the final clearance to leave the place and lock the gate. For a Brief moment the assistant guard looked on to that glass covered cabin where the HeadGuard was and getting a go ahead clearance from him he slowly pulled those big 2 gates which slided on the metal path to bang onto its collegue with a bang sending out shivers of sound wave’s into that cold night, apparently protesting to spend next 8 hours along with its patner till the normal activities are resumed by the end of the night.
The glass cabin of the head guard was entered by the assistant guard and the lights were put out, for them to fall into deep slumber, to swim in their own world of dreams neglecting the social reponsibity endowed upon them by the people elected Secular-Party Delhi govt. For next few moments everything was quiet and calm only with hooting’s of the owls which can be heard time to time. Nothing moved in that world of inanimate objects loaded with machines and long steel clad buses which found no use without their human masters. Yes, it was all quiet and calm as if the whole nature has joined along with the inhabitants of Delhi in their mourning for the life of the brothers whom they lost.
Shattering those moments of pristine silence a small sound seeped through those metallic sheets of the bus flowing out onto the depot like trickles of water flowing out of a usually dry Municipal tap. Crows crawed and owls hooted but the sound showed no sign of relenting and continued its journey out into the errie atmosphere of the depot, a sound which became louder and louder with every passing of every second. Distinct and clear it became over the passage of time, I with utmost sureity can say It was somebody crying, somebody in deep mental agony and pain, maybe crying out for loss he or she must have suffered in her past or maybe for the suffering that person has to undergo due to human ingratitude and the Evilness of the human heart lost in the world of its own injuired by social stigmas and socio-religious barriers.—HMM- Excuse You are reading my story Don’t be too much concerned with the whoever it was. Now let whatever be the reason me like author doesn’t care about it and now I want to tell you my own story.
“Tere bin Mey u kaise jiya kaise jiya tere bin-Tere bin mey u kaise jiya kaise jiya tere bin Lekar yaad teri ratte meri Katti Mujse batte teri karti hai Chandani ( Without how can I live without You how can I live Keeping your memories in my heart I spend each and every night I learn and talk about you with the moon).
As the romantic song of Atif Aslam blared through the loudspeaker’s of the Youth club Disco at Gurgaon with DJ ‘s doing mixing and matching along with the song. Zahira Shakeel Ahmed looked in to the eyes of the boy whom she has liked over the years. It was Anuj Kumar-taller than her, handsome, rippling muscle bulging out of Black T-shirt Streamlined onto his Nicely shaped Biceps, a 6-Packed Abs at the bottom with beads of black on his nicely chiseled face radiating masculinity who was looking back at her with a small spread across his Manly face. She herself was a specimen of a female beauty with big round eyes, dark,dense and short hair falling onto her shoulder with an angelic smile along with her Model like figure as she was indeed was an aspiring model. The story between them blossomed years ago on a Valentine’s day when they where still at school. It all happened quickly with He telling her that he likes her and she accepting him.A part of teenage fancy and attraction that every teenager feels during a particular phase of their growth. But over the years it has matured into a strong bond of love that has now bonded their hearts beyond one can break. Today was Valentines Day their 7th anniversary of love that has crossed the unpredictable path of teenage fantasies along with years of separation that they had to undergo due to their commitment to their studies and future. But now crossing all the barriers that came on the ways their story has delved itself into a love story of 60’s and 70’s in which love for them is not physical but a pure, emotional and a sacred one. Anuj was an IITian much respected and looked upon title, for which Crores and Crores of Student’s aspires and burns the midnight oil to enter into that hallowed institution called- INDIAN INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY( By reading this Don’t get the impression that even I like It. I JUST HATE IT). Well, for Anuj it was not that tough as it is for others, a born genius and an extremely talented boy who cleared IIT at the first attempt itself with flying colors getting himself admitted into IIT-Delhi and landing himself comfortably into much competed and vied branch of Engineering called- Software Engineering.
Zahira was totally opposite; she hated science freaks and called them geeks, Herself a student of science at her intermediate level she scraped through her exams much due to influence of her father who was Secular party leader and landed herself into the field of fashion designing where now she was a hot-shot personality much adored for her attractive figure rather than her design.
But today they were not there to discuss anything about their carrier or future but to say each other an emotional goodbye, No-No, they were not breaking up but Anuj has got a placement in Microsoft and now was called to US for a prestigious project involving designing a website for the US presidential Hopeful and one of the Democratic nominee Barrack Obama. It was all so fast and quick that Anuj couldn’t get any time to say No and nor he wanted to say so. He was to leave US the very next day and there was hardly any time left to callof his plans. So that is why he was there sitting with Zahira trying to convince her to let him go as it has been his long drawn ambition. “Zahira try to understand I cannot let this go, It has been my wish all these years. I really want to go” Anuj pleaded. “But if you go won’t you change forever and become and Americanized guy with no respect and regard for your own country” Said Zahira Her nose flaring up at the mention of the word “Americanized”. She was a girl who was extremely patriotic and loved her country to her core much because of her father who was a Secular Party Leader and an MP from Allahabad. “Come on Zahira don’t be stupid. What will you get by staying in India wherein you have no future” Anuj Said totally amused by Zahira
“Well mister Let me remind you that your IIT is not in Florida or in Silicon Valley where you are going to go. It is right here- IN INDIA” She said those last two words with such force that Anuj was virtually shaken. Her aggressive nature has now done them a favour of attracting the attention of a group of bouncers who were standing there at the beverage counter. One of them stepped forward and said “What is the problem M’am? Should we interfere”. “No thank you, its our personal problem, Let us go from here Anuj” She said getting up to leave. Anuj followed her and within seconds they both were out in the car of Zahira. “Well Zahira it doesn’t make sense and I don’t understand what you see in this poor poverty stricken country that you support it so much. but for me it is a land of snake charmers and Poverty with Corrupt and inefficient leaders leading it. I don’t want to put my own future at risk by staying here. I don’t want to offend you but I cant what you are telling me to do. I Love you but please don’t do this to me” Anuj said it all at one breath and turned over other side to stare out of car’s window. Zahira looked at her Boyfriend whom she had long know to be running behind money, and it was exactly the reason that he wanted to get into IIT and he was always a man who dreamed of US and As far she can understand it was not his mistake also and his eagerness to go to US and work there was understandable., his father was a Govt servant earning a meager salary of 5000 per month with which he has to look after the studies of his son, his 3 daughters one of whom is a divorcee and the other two were newly married but widowed and his wife who for most part of the year is sick. Their son is their only hope and they all were clinging onto him as their own path salvation from the problems they were in. Zahira extended her hand and landed it softly on to the face of her boyfriend and pulled him over to her side and said “I am not opposed to you for going to US only I fear that I will loose you if you go to that attractive and mesmerizing country. I lost my brother to that country. I don’t want to loose you”. Two drops of tears rolled down her flawless face washing away a thin layer of makeup on it. Anuj wiped her tears with his fingers and said “Don’t ever worry about that dear, I will always be close to you and it is only a matter of few month after which I will come back and tell about you to my parents”
As the music stormed out of the Youth club with its visitors heavily drunk and exhausted flowing out stumbling to their cars that was the last thing they both spoke in that Reva. With lights switched off in that dark corner of the parking slot lit by a faint moonlight reaching one can see the symbol of a Secular Political Party, Raised palm tricolored, shining on the dark windscreen of that car.
“Ho Ho Ho Ho” That old man coughed like a Santa as if greeting his dear children whom he selects every Christmas. His white untidy beards shaking vigorously under the impact of his cough. The hand which covered his mouth was wet with sputum that came out of his mouth and he slowly wiped it on his tattered sand coloured lohi which covered his Huge imposing body. “So was this the reason that you were going to commit suicide” He said to Zahira Shakeel Ahmed who was sitting on an old tyre kept at one corner of that crumbling Shack. Her face was wet with tears covering herself in a brown maroon shawl with which she had crept in to the bus depot narrowly avoiding the beam of the torch of the gatekeeper and hiding herself in the old tarpaulin sheet that she got at one of the Bus shed. She has run away from her house all the way from Allahabad to hide herself somewhere in the wilderness of Delhi from the goons of her father who were out on prowl after her parents discovered her love affair with Anuj. They found out about the family of Anuj but before they could get them Anuj managed to pull them off to US. But she was now left alone in that crumbling shack of that old man whom she had not expected to meet. He was a Chowkidar who was unofficially given the duty to look after the Depot when the guards to whom the job belonged slept peacefully. He was wearing an old khaki colored pant and a faded olive green army combat suit and covered himself with a Kashmiri sand coloured lohi which he must have got during his days in the Army. Hearing the sound of somebody crying he came up to check and that was when he found out Zahira sitting in one corner trying to muster up courage to put an odd looking yellow tablet into her mouth. With years of his experience he understood what she was upto and stopped her from doing that heinous act. Taking her along with him to a temporary shed that he had built for himself adjacent to the wall of the depot he was kind enough to offer her a cup of hot coffee and then finally asked her the reason for all this.
Zahira sat quietly with tears rolling down her eyes. She mumbled out few words which that old man couldn’t understand. “Arrey Bahi uchha bolo, Meein bhuddha ho gaya hu” He said in a resigned voice. She could say nothing to this and before she could say or do anything she decided to drink that cup of coffee which that Man gave to her so lovingly. A few moments of silence passed with the only noise of Zahira Sipping her Coffee. Old man waited patiently for her to get setteled and let her come out with the story which troubled her so much. Min’s passed when she finished and finally retuning the cup to the old man’s hand she took out her purse and dug her hand into it to come out with all the rubbish that you can usually find in the purse of a lady- Lipstick, mirror, Tablets, pen, A sheet of paper- Paper- Yes, paper, a sheet of Long white paper Badly folded with-KMK HOSPITALS-written on top it. With 2 red crosses which has been the symbol of hope for the people all these years drawn on both side of it something was written in running hand writing with black ink on it. She opened that paper properly and stretched her hand to hand it over to that old man who took it from her. Searching for an old broken spectacle of which one of the legs was a thin stretch metal, he found it with difficulty and then with his shivering hands he put it on his eyes and looked down at the paper. Giving a brief glance and looking down to the conclusion that was written at the bottom he folded it back and handed it back to Zahira. “Hmm So that is the case! When did you get it and when did he tell you about it?” Said The old man thinking deep
Zahira was sitting on her computer searching out for Anuj who was expected to be online. She was waiting for him all the time only to end up to see that he has sent her an E-mail message. She opened up her Google account typed in her password and pressed enter. Few min’s of waiting passed until her account opened.
She saw several notifications of Orkut telling her she has received scraps from her friends online. But for her it was not important and she scrolled down to look for the E-mail sent to her by her beloved. Finding it out trapped in between the notifications of Orkut she clicked and waited holding her breath waiting anxiously- And- The Email to opened- TO READ-
My dear Zahira,
I am writing this to tell you what I have hidden from you all these years. I feel guilty of what I have done and don’t have the courage to face you or to even to talk to you about it. Zahira you might remember during my years in IIT I went to Mumbai for a brief stay at IIT-Powai. There I fell into trap of some bad company and they made me to do what I never dreamed about. They made-made me a patient of AIDS. And Unwillingly I gave it to you that night. I will not say sorry and nor I will say- forgive me but I only ask you to give me what ever punishment you can give me. I will soon be sending you a plane ticket and you can come over here to do what ever you want to do me. I choose America because here for such crime I will get maximum punishment and justice will be speedy. So please come and do what ever you want to do with me.
Your loving-Anuj
It was the last time when she saw her computer or her room or her mother or her house from then onwards she was chased by her father when he accidently opened her computer and got to know about all this. From there she headed straight to Her Doctor friend Mrs. Priya Nair who confirmed it and from then onwards she was on run-from her father, from the police from, the goons sent by her father.
Now she was there sitting along with that old man crying over her lost love, her future and her family. To be stigmatized and shunned by the society if they ever get to know the virus that she carries. “So you are running away from the problem, from the mess you youself created leaving others to mop up the garbage you created. Did you ever think bout Your poor dad how broken and embarrassed he will be if anybody ever get to know this. How much trouble you will put Anuj in- The man who you loved so much all these years and who loves you and readily admits the mistake he committed and is ready to take the Retribution. Leave them all aside think about those poor watchmen who would have to answer for the act that would have commited” Said the old man shrilly. Zahira broke into fresh sobs crying louder than earlier. Her cries filled up the room but the old man did not console her apparently of the view that she should cry her heart out. With final moments of nights breaking out and decending down into day Old man got up and said “What ever has happened has happened but instead of throwing away your life like this- start it afresh. Go back and mop up the mess you yourself have created”
As the sun broke up the night to let the final rays of the sun invade the corners of the world a thin stream of light seeped into the house of that old man through the gaps on the sheet covering his house. “Aaj ka din bahut acha hai, aaj jo cristmas hai(Today is good day as today is Christmas)” with this that old man left that crumbling house leaving Zahira to ponder over what he said.
EPILOGUE-
It was a morning of september 22nd with sun shining bright and birds chirpping on the trees of the jamun tree of the Ahmed residence. It was the 5th anniversary of what was most important in the life of small Noor Ahmed Patel. A girl of 10 she was wearing a white frock looking like an angel who decended down from the heaven to bless the Ahmed family and the Patel family with small happiness in their life after the depressing times they had and let me tell you she indeed was an angel who threw up first case in the history of Medical Science wherein a girl didn’t get the AIDS virus from her mother much. She was indeed a gift of god born to reclaim the lost glory of the Ahmed family which I will clear in the next part of the story. That small chuby cute looking girl walked over to a grave in the middle of a huge lawn of the Ahmed residence holding the hands of her Grandfather and stopped at it. She looked down at the grave and bend down to put the flower that she was holding onto it . They both stood there for few mins or so and then turned over to leave the place where one can see something inscribed on a granite painted Green to one side Saffron to other and white in the Middle.
IN THE LOVING MEMORY OF-
Zhakira Ahamed Patel and Anuj Ahmed Patel who in their life and death has proved what true love friendship Humanity and Secularism is.
Yes, afte Zhakira met that old man she came back to Allahabad to face her father and confess of her mistake and tell him about the disease that she was carrying. Her father although resented her but then finally accepted he learned that daughter was dying day by day. Zahira was eventually married to Anuj who gifted her with a baby girl and named it Noor Ahmed(Patel was added later on by Zahira’s father). They both opened up and NGO named (PARIVARTAN) worked for the people affected by the deadly diseases-AIDS of which they died, but within few years they opened their NGO, it got world wide recognition including a Humanitarian prize from UN for being able to make difference in the life of many like them . For Zahira’s father it was the end of his political carrier and he lost his next election even though he received the full support of his party’s Secular Leaders and workers later he took up the unfinished job of his daughter and under him their NGO really extended Parivartan to the lifes of many.
And as for that old man, He never existed nor there was any such shack or house built adjacent to the wall of that Bus depot. But then who is he?- Well I leave that question to you to ponder about. Not clueless, but with certain clue that I have left in a line of the story. If you ever get- it is upto to you wether to believe or not to believe but as an author I tell you I Do believe in him. As symbol of- Hope, Faith and Love.
The glass cabin of the head guard was entered by the assistant guard and the lights were put out, for them to fall into deep slumber, to swim in their own world of dreams neglecting the social reponsibity endowed upon them by the people elected Secular-Party Delhi govt. For next few moments everything was quiet and calm only with hooting’s of the owls which can be heard time to time. Nothing moved in that world of inanimate objects loaded with machines and long steel clad buses which found no use without their human masters. Yes, it was all quiet and calm as if the whole nature has joined along with the inhabitants of Delhi in their mourning for the life of the brothers whom they lost.
Shattering those moments of pristine silence a small sound seeped through those metallic sheets of the bus flowing out onto the depot like trickles of water flowing out of a usually dry Municipal tap. Crows crawed and owls hooted but the sound showed no sign of relenting and continued its journey out into the errie atmosphere of the depot, a sound which became louder and louder with every passing of every second. Distinct and clear it became over the passage of time, I with utmost sureity can say It was somebody crying, somebody in deep mental agony and pain, maybe crying out for loss he or she must have suffered in her past or maybe for the suffering that person has to undergo due to human ingratitude and the Evilness of the human heart lost in the world of its own injuired by social stigmas and socio-religious barriers.—HMM- Excuse You are reading my story Don’t be too much concerned with the whoever it was. Now let whatever be the reason me like author doesn’t care about it and now I want to tell you my own story.
“Tere bin Mey u kaise jiya kaise jiya tere bin-Tere bin mey u kaise jiya kaise jiya tere bin Lekar yaad teri ratte meri Katti Mujse batte teri karti hai Chandani ( Without how can I live without You how can I live Keeping your memories in my heart I spend each and every night I learn and talk about you with the moon).
As the romantic song of Atif Aslam blared through the loudspeaker’s of the Youth club Disco at Gurgaon with DJ ‘s doing mixing and matching along with the song. Zahira Shakeel Ahmed looked in to the eyes of the boy whom she has liked over the years. It was Anuj Kumar-taller than her, handsome, rippling muscle bulging out of Black T-shirt Streamlined onto his Nicely shaped Biceps, a 6-Packed Abs at the bottom with beads of black on his nicely chiseled face radiating masculinity who was looking back at her with a small spread across his Manly face. She herself was a specimen of a female beauty with big round eyes, dark,dense and short hair falling onto her shoulder with an angelic smile along with her Model like figure as she was indeed was an aspiring model. The story between them blossomed years ago on a Valentine’s day when they where still at school. It all happened quickly with He telling her that he likes her and she accepting him.A part of teenage fancy and attraction that every teenager feels during a particular phase of their growth. But over the years it has matured into a strong bond of love that has now bonded their hearts beyond one can break. Today was Valentines Day their 7th anniversary of love that has crossed the unpredictable path of teenage fantasies along with years of separation that they had to undergo due to their commitment to their studies and future. But now crossing all the barriers that came on the ways their story has delved itself into a love story of 60’s and 70’s in which love for them is not physical but a pure, emotional and a sacred one. Anuj was an IITian much respected and looked upon title, for which Crores and Crores of Student’s aspires and burns the midnight oil to enter into that hallowed institution called- INDIAN INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY( By reading this Don’t get the impression that even I like It. I JUST HATE IT). Well, for Anuj it was not that tough as it is for others, a born genius and an extremely talented boy who cleared IIT at the first attempt itself with flying colors getting himself admitted into IIT-Delhi and landing himself comfortably into much competed and vied branch of Engineering called- Software Engineering.
Zahira was totally opposite; she hated science freaks and called them geeks, Herself a student of science at her intermediate level she scraped through her exams much due to influence of her father who was Secular party leader and landed herself into the field of fashion designing where now she was a hot-shot personality much adored for her attractive figure rather than her design.
But today they were not there to discuss anything about their carrier or future but to say each other an emotional goodbye, No-No, they were not breaking up but Anuj has got a placement in Microsoft and now was called to US for a prestigious project involving designing a website for the US presidential Hopeful and one of the Democratic nominee Barrack Obama. It was all so fast and quick that Anuj couldn’t get any time to say No and nor he wanted to say so. He was to leave US the very next day and there was hardly any time left to callof his plans. So that is why he was there sitting with Zahira trying to convince her to let him go as it has been his long drawn ambition. “Zahira try to understand I cannot let this go, It has been my wish all these years. I really want to go” Anuj pleaded. “But if you go won’t you change forever and become and Americanized guy with no respect and regard for your own country” Said Zahira Her nose flaring up at the mention of the word “Americanized”. She was a girl who was extremely patriotic and loved her country to her core much because of her father who was a Secular Party Leader and an MP from Allahabad. “Come on Zahira don’t be stupid. What will you get by staying in India wherein you have no future” Anuj Said totally amused by Zahira
“Well mister Let me remind you that your IIT is not in Florida or in Silicon Valley where you are going to go. It is right here- IN INDIA” She said those last two words with such force that Anuj was virtually shaken. Her aggressive nature has now done them a favour of attracting the attention of a group of bouncers who were standing there at the beverage counter. One of them stepped forward and said “What is the problem M’am? Should we interfere”. “No thank you, its our personal problem, Let us go from here Anuj” She said getting up to leave. Anuj followed her and within seconds they both were out in the car of Zahira. “Well Zahira it doesn’t make sense and I don’t understand what you see in this poor poverty stricken country that you support it so much. but for me it is a land of snake charmers and Poverty with Corrupt and inefficient leaders leading it. I don’t want to put my own future at risk by staying here. I don’t want to offend you but I cant what you are telling me to do. I Love you but please don’t do this to me” Anuj said it all at one breath and turned over other side to stare out of car’s window. Zahira looked at her Boyfriend whom she had long know to be running behind money, and it was exactly the reason that he wanted to get into IIT and he was always a man who dreamed of US and As far she can understand it was not his mistake also and his eagerness to go to US and work there was understandable., his father was a Govt servant earning a meager salary of 5000 per month with which he has to look after the studies of his son, his 3 daughters one of whom is a divorcee and the other two were newly married but widowed and his wife who for most part of the year is sick. Their son is their only hope and they all were clinging onto him as their own path salvation from the problems they were in. Zahira extended her hand and landed it softly on to the face of her boyfriend and pulled him over to her side and said “I am not opposed to you for going to US only I fear that I will loose you if you go to that attractive and mesmerizing country. I lost my brother to that country. I don’t want to loose you”. Two drops of tears rolled down her flawless face washing away a thin layer of makeup on it. Anuj wiped her tears with his fingers and said “Don’t ever worry about that dear, I will always be close to you and it is only a matter of few month after which I will come back and tell about you to my parents”
As the music stormed out of the Youth club with its visitors heavily drunk and exhausted flowing out stumbling to their cars that was the last thing they both spoke in that Reva. With lights switched off in that dark corner of the parking slot lit by a faint moonlight reaching one can see the symbol of a Secular Political Party, Raised palm tricolored, shining on the dark windscreen of that car.
“Ho Ho Ho Ho” That old man coughed like a Santa as if greeting his dear children whom he selects every Christmas. His white untidy beards shaking vigorously under the impact of his cough. The hand which covered his mouth was wet with sputum that came out of his mouth and he slowly wiped it on his tattered sand coloured lohi which covered his Huge imposing body. “So was this the reason that you were going to commit suicide” He said to Zahira Shakeel Ahmed who was sitting on an old tyre kept at one corner of that crumbling Shack. Her face was wet with tears covering herself in a brown maroon shawl with which she had crept in to the bus depot narrowly avoiding the beam of the torch of the gatekeeper and hiding herself in the old tarpaulin sheet that she got at one of the Bus shed. She has run away from her house all the way from Allahabad to hide herself somewhere in the wilderness of Delhi from the goons of her father who were out on prowl after her parents discovered her love affair with Anuj. They found out about the family of Anuj but before they could get them Anuj managed to pull them off to US. But she was now left alone in that crumbling shack of that old man whom she had not expected to meet. He was a Chowkidar who was unofficially given the duty to look after the Depot when the guards to whom the job belonged slept peacefully. He was wearing an old khaki colored pant and a faded olive green army combat suit and covered himself with a Kashmiri sand coloured lohi which he must have got during his days in the Army. Hearing the sound of somebody crying he came up to check and that was when he found out Zahira sitting in one corner trying to muster up courage to put an odd looking yellow tablet into her mouth. With years of his experience he understood what she was upto and stopped her from doing that heinous act. Taking her along with him to a temporary shed that he had built for himself adjacent to the wall of the depot he was kind enough to offer her a cup of hot coffee and then finally asked her the reason for all this.
Zahira sat quietly with tears rolling down her eyes. She mumbled out few words which that old man couldn’t understand. “Arrey Bahi uchha bolo, Meein bhuddha ho gaya hu” He said in a resigned voice. She could say nothing to this and before she could say or do anything she decided to drink that cup of coffee which that Man gave to her so lovingly. A few moments of silence passed with the only noise of Zahira Sipping her Coffee. Old man waited patiently for her to get setteled and let her come out with the story which troubled her so much. Min’s passed when she finished and finally retuning the cup to the old man’s hand she took out her purse and dug her hand into it to come out with all the rubbish that you can usually find in the purse of a lady- Lipstick, mirror, Tablets, pen, A sheet of paper- Paper- Yes, paper, a sheet of Long white paper Badly folded with-KMK HOSPITALS-written on top it. With 2 red crosses which has been the symbol of hope for the people all these years drawn on both side of it something was written in running hand writing with black ink on it. She opened that paper properly and stretched her hand to hand it over to that old man who took it from her. Searching for an old broken spectacle of which one of the legs was a thin stretch metal, he found it with difficulty and then with his shivering hands he put it on his eyes and looked down at the paper. Giving a brief glance and looking down to the conclusion that was written at the bottom he folded it back and handed it back to Zahira. “Hmm So that is the case! When did you get it and when did he tell you about it?” Said The old man thinking deep
Zahira was sitting on her computer searching out for Anuj who was expected to be online. She was waiting for him all the time only to end up to see that he has sent her an E-mail message. She opened up her Google account typed in her password and pressed enter. Few min’s of waiting passed until her account opened.
She saw several notifications of Orkut telling her she has received scraps from her friends online. But for her it was not important and she scrolled down to look for the E-mail sent to her by her beloved. Finding it out trapped in between the notifications of Orkut she clicked and waited holding her breath waiting anxiously- And- The Email to opened- TO READ-
My dear Zahira,
I am writing this to tell you what I have hidden from you all these years. I feel guilty of what I have done and don’t have the courage to face you or to even to talk to you about it. Zahira you might remember during my years in IIT I went to Mumbai for a brief stay at IIT-Powai. There I fell into trap of some bad company and they made me to do what I never dreamed about. They made-made me a patient of AIDS. And Unwillingly I gave it to you that night. I will not say sorry and nor I will say- forgive me but I only ask you to give me what ever punishment you can give me. I will soon be sending you a plane ticket and you can come over here to do what ever you want to do me. I choose America because here for such crime I will get maximum punishment and justice will be speedy. So please come and do what ever you want to do with me.
Your loving-Anuj
It was the last time when she saw her computer or her room or her mother or her house from then onwards she was chased by her father when he accidently opened her computer and got to know about all this. From there she headed straight to Her Doctor friend Mrs. Priya Nair who confirmed it and from then onwards she was on run-from her father, from the police from, the goons sent by her father.
Now she was there sitting along with that old man crying over her lost love, her future and her family. To be stigmatized and shunned by the society if they ever get to know the virus that she carries. “So you are running away from the problem, from the mess you youself created leaving others to mop up the garbage you created. Did you ever think bout Your poor dad how broken and embarrassed he will be if anybody ever get to know this. How much trouble you will put Anuj in- The man who you loved so much all these years and who loves you and readily admits the mistake he committed and is ready to take the Retribution. Leave them all aside think about those poor watchmen who would have to answer for the act that would have commited” Said the old man shrilly. Zahira broke into fresh sobs crying louder than earlier. Her cries filled up the room but the old man did not console her apparently of the view that she should cry her heart out. With final moments of nights breaking out and decending down into day Old man got up and said “What ever has happened has happened but instead of throwing away your life like this- start it afresh. Go back and mop up the mess you yourself have created”
As the sun broke up the night to let the final rays of the sun invade the corners of the world a thin stream of light seeped into the house of that old man through the gaps on the sheet covering his house. “Aaj ka din bahut acha hai, aaj jo cristmas hai(Today is good day as today is Christmas)” with this that old man left that crumbling house leaving Zahira to ponder over what he said.
EPILOGUE-
It was a morning of september 22nd with sun shining bright and birds chirpping on the trees of the jamun tree of the Ahmed residence. It was the 5th anniversary of what was most important in the life of small Noor Ahmed Patel. A girl of 10 she was wearing a white frock looking like an angel who decended down from the heaven to bless the Ahmed family and the Patel family with small happiness in their life after the depressing times they had and let me tell you she indeed was an angel who threw up first case in the history of Medical Science wherein a girl didn’t get the AIDS virus from her mother much. She was indeed a gift of god born to reclaim the lost glory of the Ahmed family which I will clear in the next part of the story. That small chuby cute looking girl walked over to a grave in the middle of a huge lawn of the Ahmed residence holding the hands of her Grandfather and stopped at it. She looked down at the grave and bend down to put the flower that she was holding onto it . They both stood there for few mins or so and then turned over to leave the place where one can see something inscribed on a granite painted Green to one side Saffron to other and white in the Middle.
IN THE LOVING MEMORY OF-
Zhakira Ahamed Patel and Anuj Ahmed Patel who in their life and death has proved what true love friendship Humanity and Secularism is.
Yes, afte Zhakira met that old man she came back to Allahabad to face her father and confess of her mistake and tell him about the disease that she was carrying. Her father although resented her but then finally accepted he learned that daughter was dying day by day. Zahira was eventually married to Anuj who gifted her with a baby girl and named it Noor Ahmed(Patel was added later on by Zahira’s father). They both opened up and NGO named (PARIVARTAN) worked for the people affected by the deadly diseases-AIDS of which they died, but within few years they opened their NGO, it got world wide recognition including a Humanitarian prize from UN for being able to make difference in the life of many like them . For Zahira’s father it was the end of his political carrier and he lost his next election even though he received the full support of his party’s Secular Leaders and workers later he took up the unfinished job of his daughter and under him their NGO really extended Parivartan to the lifes of many.
And as for that old man, He never existed nor there was any such shack or house built adjacent to the wall of that Bus depot. But then who is he?- Well I leave that question to you to ponder about. Not clueless, but with certain clue that I have left in a line of the story. If you ever get- it is upto to you wether to believe or not to believe but as an author I tell you I Do believe in him. As symbol of- Hope, Faith and Love.
A PHRASE CALLED "PEACE OF MIND"
My story begins in a village called Nellur somewhere in ottapalam area of Trisshur disrict in kerala. The place is situated by the side of the longest river of kerala- Bharta Puzha(Indian River). To one side of the river, spalshes of greenery covered a small Nellur Railway station in itself camouflaging a much greater and more developed town of ottapalam full of normal city hustle bustle but realtively better than cities as people here are not of cut throat mentality but are calm and peaceful. I know you all will be asking me why I am telling you about a city starting the story with the name of a village. Well ,I will take back to that beautiful place covered with tall coconut tree cashewnuts palm trees and whatnot. I don’t think the words of an ameture person like me will ever able to describe the beauty of the place. Well for now I think you all have to satisfy youself with your own wild imaginations by making it all run amok as much as you can.The village of Nellur is situated on the other side of Bharata Puzha where one can see a small port concreted with cement by panchayat authorities which also goes off after two months of its laying and inaugration- forming potholes during summers and miniuatre ponds during rainy season telling the story of deep rooted corruption which has also managed to reach a place like this. Well let us cut this social problem crap and move on. On the port on can see auto’s waiting to get the people coming from the station to meet their loved ones in the village of Nellur. Boats can be seen parked in front of the port floating on the remanants of the monsoon’s water quietly narrating the story of human ingratitude,using them when they need them and throwing them off when not needed.Moving on when one hires an auto and gets in, the first thing that they see are heaps of cements and bricks littering the road making it all more difficult to ride along with potholes. One can see trucks parked by the side of road and truck drivers sleeping showing the tardy progress that the place has undergone over the years still trapped in age old oudated ideology of communism. You know why you see those trucks parked there-- because a bridge is being constructed on the river Bharta puzha and you will be surprised to know that the construction has been going on for last 50 years or so( That’s what my dad says). Whether it is center or right or left in power the bridge has never seen itself completed and a generation has passed since its construction was first started. Oops I am again talking social crap, sorry, well you know these are things which always has sustained the people’s gossip’s in the past and hopefully will sustain in the years to come. Well now I must take you to the Nellur village as promised.After hiring the auto and crossing the administration cum political cum Social barrier erected by us over the years you need to go straight and don’t tell your auto driver to stop till you see the chirankara junction-Nellur people’s own town center. And take right from there and go straight till you reach Navodaya Vidyalya. The road diverges from here and from here you have to take the right side and move along- For Reader’s attention we are now in the village of Nellur and the readers are requested to put their concentration in- maybe for the most heart warming story you all might have ever read. You are now in the village of Nellur.
The sun descended down the green brown hills with sky darkening red with one more day of my vacation going to end. I walked on a path which I like, Delhi staying guy cannot call a road but for the people here this is also enough for them. Slanting downwards it merged itself into the much bigger brother of its own. And to the side of that path Thakkappan pappan was sitting watching at people coming and going and sometime staring into nothingness as if thinking something deep. He has seen the world move on, in front of him at the pace which he only dreamt and now he was there trapped in his own web of problems not able to get out and watching other people coming and going leaving him the job to sit and watch to pass his life.
I walked down the path and got on to the main road crossing a flag post on which a saffron flag was fluttering in the evening breeze. It was the flag of a Right wing party of India. Kerala saw an assembly election only 2 months earlier with Left- led front sweeping aside the Secular party-led front re-establishing their old strength and might. Giving a brief glance at the memorial of a Secular party leader that was erected by the side of the Saffron flag post I walked on. An old man was sitting in front of his house, oops not WAS sitting but who HAS BEEN sitting there for all these years with his skeletal legs long back affected by once dreaded diseases Polio stretched in front him, it seems that he was waiting for his death not so far removed. He smiled at me and asked “Aniyan vittil indo?” (Is your father at house?)
“Illeya”(No) I replied “Acchan auru sthalatha poyerikannu” (He has gone out)
Returning back his smile I walked on to my destination with a sense a urgency as it has already started to darken. After walking on for another 10 mins or so, I stopped in front of a small and an old iron gate with 2 cement pillars erected by the side to support It .I opened the gate which made a clanging sound of rusting iron joints rubbing against each other. As I Entered I saw an array of coconut trees standing to my right and left standing as watch towers as if looking for any threat from the outside world to those living in here. These trees have seen many people come and go but I don’t think any of them has seen the one whom I am going to see now. Older trees might have seen her as a child but it seems hard the younger trees might ever be knowing that such a person also lives in that house. With a long pathway in front of me leading straight down to the house I walked on inching nearer to the house which according to me was a glaring example of what living hell is. I moved on the path which was pretty long and terminated itself in short steps made of mud. I climbed down the steps to see my self standing in front of a house with a lady standing in front the veranda to welcome me. She was lean and thin with a skull like face and wearing an old, tattered sari but smiling at the sight of me which itself was radiating with the warmth which I can bet that you will not get anywhere even in the cosy luxury of the Taj Hotel. I climbed on to the veranda of the house narrowly avoiding a suspicious yellow colored liquid lying on the veranda. It was giving out foul smell and I was almost sure that it must be the urine of the old man who was sitting on, the other side of the slab on which I was sitting. Nearly in his 90’s, His head was bald with tiny beads of white on the barren landscape of his scalp, with all wrinkled face and the back stooping low supporting himself on a walking stick and his old fragile legs swelled upto a size of a football he slowly looked at me as if it was a movie shown in slow motion. He raised his tired hands up to his eyes level and slowly put in on his scarcely seen eyebrows to get a better look at his grandson. But the age has it and unable to recognize me he asked in his worn out yet powerful and heavy voice “Ara Attha” (who’s there?).
“Aniyannte kutty ana, Aniyan live na vannata enda” (He is the son of Aniyan [my father’s name in my village]. He has come on live” The lady in tattered sari replied. But he couldn’t understand and resigning himself from the whole scene he looked at the other side to continue with stories of his childhood and days when he was young, rich and vibrant but off the track in his life.
“Yepla vannade? Entha aniyite kuty knduvarane (When did you come? Why haven’t you brought your sister?)” she asked, still her face lit up with her warm smile. “Yyaan innelle ana vanathe. Ponni ammaede, achannte kude poyerikannu (I came yesterday only. My sister has gone along with my father and mother.” I answered grimly.
Taking the cue that I was upset for not taken along with them she changed the topic and said “Yyaan chaia edakam (I will get tea)” and she went inside. Looking all around to get a good look at the house I admired the skill of the head of this house who has manged to plaster every crack and patches on the wall with whatever he could. The wall of the veranda was no better and here another innovative idea was brought in by him. A line photographs of all their precious and happy memories of the past, of the days when they were happy rich and prosperous now embedded on photographic sheets and enclosed by dust layered glasses were put on the crack’s and holes to hide the poverty in which they lived in.Moving along those lines of photograph and inspecting them closely like a general inspecting his soldiers I got tired looking at the photographs again and again so I went into the house. The main door opened into a tiny hall which was so small that it ended as soon it began terminating itself at a small cement slab at the end which for these people was a kitchen. There was door right besides the slab opening to the back side of the house. To the right of the hall there were 2 rooms—2 small and tiny rooms like a prison cell and with no light inside covered by darkness telling us all the darkness that has engulfed the inhabitants of this not house but a depilated structure. To the opposite side there was a small window that was the only source of light and air in the this small dinghy. I could see a cow standing there,lean, thin, overtly undernourished with bones projected out of her dress of skin munching away whatever it’s owner could afford for her.
But these were the things unimportant for me, The important thing for me was the one who was laying in front of me covering every inch of the floor of that small hall since her unfortunate and a cursed birth. Crumpled and reduced heavily wrapped in torn bedsheets and cloths, lying on an old mattress Was my cousin sister Ammu eldest of all my cousins but destined to live like a tortured soul as a retribution of some past unknown sins trapped in that cage of flesh blood and bone depending on others for her vey survival. She was suffering from cerebral palsy- a neurological disorder affecting a person during a person’s infancy or during embryo development not curable but treatable to some extent. Mouth opened since the time of her birth blaring her overgrown teeth which she sometimes tries to close, her hands tilted, curved, pointed at curious angles giving occasional jerks and jumps like a state demanding secession from the center making curious and strange noises lying there on that old torn out matterres with cotton coming out declaring their own independence from the unending burden of the person lying over them. I caught the smell of a shit seeping slowly but effectively through the sheets covering her and a thin strand of saliva falling from her mouth flowing on the pillow viciously. My nose wrinkled at the prospect of spending here for another 15 min by the side of the girl who for past 28 years has been dependant on her mother even for emptying her bowel.
But I must do justice to her by mentioning here that even in that desperate and pathetic condition in which she was living for past 28 years or so her face instantly lits up and glows when she sees her relatives and there was no bound of joy when she saw her little brother after a gap of 2 years. She struggles and moves as if trying to break open the chain’s with which she has been bonded by the almighty. She creats noises and comes out with phrase’s like ‘kazicho’ meaning Eat or ‘aniya’ Meaning little brother in Malayalam. She tries to lift up her head and moves as if trying to get up and jump up to me to give me a tight hug. I gave a small smile and took out a chocolate from my pocket putting it into her mouth. There she goes again making again all the strange and curious noises expressing her own heart felt happiness to see me. Even in that moment of manufactured happiness I could hear sobbing of the lady in tattered saris who was now sitting besides me. Tears rolling down her eyes loosing itself into the wilderness of the threads of her sari as her sobbing gone soft and pale suppressing the long felt pain in her heart probably accepting the cruel fate that she had suffered since the time of her marriage. I sat there quietly staring at sister unable to offer any words of consolation to my aunt. My cousin sister craned her neck to get a good look at her mother and then looked at my with her beautiful round eyes as if asking me to console her mother who had nothing but tears to devour about all these years occasinaly blamed by the people in hushed voice for being herself evil to give birth to such a cursed child. My aunty was married to to a man who had everything that he wanted in his life, money care love protection support- everything that his rich father, the one who is now sitting on the veranda could give. But as it is said nothing is decided by us the fate turned him into wild drunkard and a gambler to destroy all that he inherited from his parents leaveing his own children to suffer for the sins he comitted. His son was now doing labour job to support his already crumbling family and to mop up the wrongs comitted by his father. Their eldest child, elder than the one lying died of tumour at a very young age inflicting a unhealable pain(No, sorry it was not healed by time even) on the hearts of us all as she was one the most loved in our family after ME(Yeah, I am the one most loved, that’s what I claim).
With these thoughts crossing my mind all I could do was stare at my sis who looked back at me with her beautiful round eyes. Hey don’t feel disgusted about me-- How can you accept me to say or offer any words of consolation to a person whose life’s has been blotted irreparably by the cruel hands of fate. “Ayyo! yyaan cahai terran marannu”(OH! Sorry I forgot to give you tea) My aunty said giving me the glass having tea( No don’t tell me that it is “Cup of Tea”—I know that-But how can you think, that such poor people will be having fancy Cups to serve tea) and wiping her eyes with the end of her sari breaking those uncomfortable moments of silence. I took it from her and blowed over it as it was still hot burning my fingers. That is when I noticed some books and toys lying in the corner of the room. I got up and walked to it taking the books in my hand I asked “Itha arrede anna”( To whom does these books belong)
“Attha chechidea Unnie avvala 123, ABC, Malayalam aksharam padikyan vankiyan paryannu, appo vankichttha aane”( It is of her. She asked us to buy it to learn ABC 123 and Malayalam words) she said getting up and coming over to me.
“Chechi na vayankyan arrayu?”(Can she read Also?) I said in wonder. “Ooo avalka Yellam vaykyan arayum”( Yes she can read everything) She replied. Her face getting lit upwith the same smile with she welcomed me. Clearly taken by surprise I started flipping the pages with my hands( well you know I handed over the tea back to her for a moment). It was full of pictures with ‘AA’, ‘AAA’,’E’,’EE’ WRITTEN in Malayalam. I flipped on of the page and ended up at the picture of a lady holding up and kissing her baby with word ‘AMMA’ written in red letters in Malayam. Yes this is the word that is holds a lot of value in everyones life. A word so pious and holy even the name of God or his name him self will not hold much value in front of it and in this case very important to the girl lying down on the floor who is very much debeted to her own mother. I put down the book and took back the glass of tea from her hand sipping it feeling the hot liquid but sweet flowing on to my tounge and running down to my throat invoking me with same warmth that I first felt when I saw the face of the lady in tattered saris.
Walking back to my house I felt heaviness heaving me down making it all more difficult to walk up on that slanting road landing my each steps with a gentle thud on the ground. I saw a small latern burning itself in front of Thakappan Pappan’s house who was now immersed in every evening drinks howling out old pattugal(songs) at the top of his voice. Watching his sheduled acrobatics I stumbled upon a deep thought on how foolish the Israelis are fighting over a small stretch of land by killing civilians and then claiming that they are doing it as a last resort, How foolish was Ajmal Kasab when he took over the job to murder those innocent civilians at CST, How foolish were those Right Wing leaders were when they murdered Muslims and Christians in the name of religion, Yes, we all are foolish even the great Einstein or the Communist ideals Karl Marx or Lenin for thinking theirs were a discovery unique from everything and their discovery was their own. Yes we all are foolish for thinking that we are the kings because nobody practically nobody is a king as everything in this world was in hands of God. He can make and break, and Aren’t we all lucky for the fact that we are being provided with Two legs and Two hands with a mouth and a pair of beautiful eyes to see all that goes around? Yet we waste away all the blessings of the alimighty on the senseless activites of killing, fighting and spewing venom on each other.
With these one simple but very powerful thought came to our mind that - the most lucky one in this world are not the ones who are Healthy and alive like you and me but the one like my own cousin sis because we have lost our innocence but they are the one who still holding it intact. We all have healthy body which again is subjected to pain and worldly torture but a mind stained and disgraced by our own activities and thinking but for them they are not given a healthy body, only to keep their minds away from the stains of the world giving them all today’s much commercially and spiritually valued-----
PEACE OF MIND.
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