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Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts

Saturday, August 12, 2017

This afternoon, I was hunting for hotels for my luncheon.  As there are not too many options at Royapettah, Chennai, the area where I dwell, I decide to have my lunch from a hotel which is nearby where I reside.

As I progressed to the entrance, I see an old man approaching me and mumbling something. As he appeared extremely ugly, shabby and malodorous, I decide to give him an ignore and went in to order food as nothing came about.

But then, I knew from within that my conduct was inappropriate, considering his age factor.   When this thought started pricking me, I decide to approach him. As he saw me approaching, he got down to talk to me in English and politely requested me to buy him some food.  This behavior of his intrigued me.  Somewhere, I felt, he may have been cast out by his family members.  First time ever, I decide to buy someone, who is neither my friend nor family, something which he had asked for, and, that too for a homeless man.   I ordered food for him, got it parceled and I paid the bill for the gentle old man.

I became busy with munching down my lunch and by the time I was done, I could see him nowhere in the vicinity.  He had already left.

I walked down the junction, crossed the lane and I hear a weaker voice trying to reach me from far behind; “Saar, saar.  I bless you from bottom of my heart. You have provided food to an orphan a homeless”. 

I could very easily relate to the word orphan and the emotions attached to it.  My eyes got all teary. I requested him for a photograph with him and he replied with a smile “with all my heart, and with pleasure”. (in English) 

What could be his story?  

I could be that homeless man tomorrow, who knows. Despite we cling on to our family and friends, we live a farce life, where we make ourselves believe that we are amongst those fortunate who are bound by all family and friends.   Maybe, this gentle old man, also had the same feeling, until life knocked him down.




Copyright @ Ajay Pai 
August 12th 2017


Thursday, October 22, 2015

  
Today, we celebrate, Navami. The 9th day of Navratri. 

The ( idol) Goddess arrives on the golden Chariot, defeating the demon king. This win over the evil is celebrated by one and all. 

I become part of such a procession which is held to celebrate this victory.

Amongst the crowd I see Her, unbothered, she dances.

It’s her way to rejoice.

Her moves sensuous, balancing the flower pot on her head, she sways.

Seeing her curves, the crowd goes berserk.

“Abundance in life is what you offered,
You the mother, WE the kids.
You are just,
Caring your nature, you treat us as equals”… a mild song is played in the backdrop, praising the Goddess. 

She swings to the tune, ignoring the stare of the eyes around her.

Amongst the crowd, a voice whispers, in a tone of ridicule, to the other,“She’s a Third Gender” pointing at the dancer.


 © 2015 Ajay Pai (Reserved)






Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Anjali breaks herself free from the clutches of a deep slumber and starts weeping inconsolably, as if, a maniac.

Until last night, she had felt a pulsating life within her. With utmost care, she had nurtured him all through the nine months.

She was connected with the little one in her womb through the umbilical cord. They had lived one soul. 
But tonight her womb is deserted.

She can feel no kicks, no shudders, no movements and no thrusts from within. 

Anjali isn’t able to bear this and weeps inconsolably. Her sobbing reaches newer heights and AJ, her hubby rushes into the room in a state of panic and witnesses a maniac, Anjali.

He switches the lights on and hugs Anjali and shakes her so hysterically, so as to get her away from her trance-like-state.



With severe shakings, Anjali, regains her posture and clings on to AJ.  Unable to explain, she takes his palm and holds on her stomach to reflect the hollowness in her womb.

AJ realizes Anjali's deep hidden fear.

He whispers into her ear "My love! Do not panic. You have delivered a healthy baby boy this afternoon @ around 2.19 PM.”

“You will wake the little one up if you weep so loud. He is sleeping tight in the cradle” and points to the cradle besides her bed.

Hearing these soothing and reassuring words from AJ, Anjali gently opens her eyes to witness, Lil Vivaan lying in the cradle and sucking onto his thumb.

Lil Vivaan, the beacon of their life. 

As Anjali notices healthy Lil Vivaan, her sobbing transforms into a smile.  She sighs in relief, holds a smile and leans on AJ's  shoulders.

AJ sends a silent prayer to the almighty in gratitude. 

All is well that ends well.

Image Courtesy: google   © 2015 Ajay Pai (Reserved)

Saturday, May 9, 2015



Yesterday, a pretty looking lady in mid 50’s, approached me at the office. 

Elegantly draped in a Mangoish Yellow silk saree with a broad green border, she stood in front of me as if,  she was a goddess. 

Vermillion on her forehead was as mesmerizing as the evening Sun.

What an aura she had!   Our eyes locked, instantaneously.

But, she held a lifeless smile.  

Her eyes spoke a zillion words. She had masked the vacuum in her eyes, with a thick line of Kohl.

She passed over an envelope to me as she reached my desk.  I spread out the envelope to scan the printed official letter as a 
“Death Certificate”. 

I sat speechless and pale at my office desk.  My hands trembled as I accepted the death certificate from her.  

I made her an acknowledgment copy and replied: “Mam, it will require 15 days for processing the death claim.”

Tears rolled freely down her cheeks.  

I heard her Womb scream, howl and wail.  It was Mother’s Day the following day. 

             

********************



PS: The above narrative is a real life incident and is written for Prompt of the Month; a feature of Writer's Ezine

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Tuesday, April 21, 2015


Sarla, aged 12 was brought up as a free bird, without any restrictions, though born into a community where a girl child is fastened with umpteen  limitations.

(Limitations in the way how she should - walk, talk, place her hair, modulate her tone of speech,   gaze at people etc.)

Sarla, lives with her grandmother in Kerala, as her parents are away for their livelihood.

As a custom, every morning, Sarla along with her grandmother, visits a nearby Shiva temple for offering their morning prayer.

Conversation between Granny and Sarla on one such fine day:

Sarla :        “Granny, hurry up. It’s time for the Aarti at the temple, and I need to offer my prayers to Lord Shiva for securing scores higher than Vishal in my maths exam.”

Granny:     “Sarla, my baby girl, I am suffering from high temperature and have not taken a shower. So, Granny will not be accompanying you today to the temple. You have to visit Lord Shiva unaccompanied by me. However, do pray for your beloved granny and rush back home fast.”

“Do not talk to any strangers and be very watchful on that deserted narrow road through the fields, which leads to the temple entrance”. (Granny’s voice has a concerned tone now).




“Ok, I shall go by myself and will not talk to strangers. Granny, don't you worry. I can take care of myself!.”

Nodding her head in agreement to her granny's advice, Sarla rushes to the temple, hopping, with a little bag on her shoulder, which has flowers and incense sticks as offerings to Lord Shiva.

Sarla has worn a silk white skirt and a pretty embroidered white blouse. Her  long hair is braided beautifully with a red rose pinned in the middle.

Sarla has to cross a scenic green field, which takes her to the temple entrance.
As Sarla crosses the deserted green field, she looks around her with amazement.





“Looks like it’s a special day today. The nature is at its full bloom.” 

“Ah! Nature looks so gorgeous. Is it all because of me?” “It looks like the lady nature is welcoming me.”  She says in amazement.

She watches a bunch of butterflies circling around the blooms which are about to flower. 




The flowers happily sway in the field as the wind passes through. She sees leafless trees coming to life with naïve leaves on it.

“Aha! How beautiful and comforting, a sight is that!”. Sarla in her amazement exclaims joyfully,  witnessing the way of mother nature.

Birds are chirping in their sweetest tone ever. The wind soothingly fondles Sarla as if it is caressing her.

This is the first time, Sarla noticing mother nature in such little proximity. 

“What is so special today? Let me reach home and then I will ask Granny.” Her young heart pounds.

At the same time, Granny is worried, as Sarla hasn’t reached home as yet. The medicines have its effect. Granny slowly glides into a nap.

Aaah, Grannieee! Um..Hmm…eeee!  A cry awakens the granny from her nap.

She jumps out from her nap and rushes to the front yard.

She sees Sarla standing and sobbing. A shiver ran through the granny’s spine as she sees blood stains on Sarla's silky white  skirt.  Though initially shocked, granny regains her posture, embraces her little granddaughter and takes her in for a shower.

Later in the evening, Sarla asks her grandma, “Grandma, why the blood? Am I sick?”

“No my sweetie. Did you notice there in the fields? Did you see the flowers bloom, and the  butterflies hopping from one flower to the other. The season has changed. Right?. 

Likewise, from a little girl, you have blossomed into a beautiful young lady today.” saying thus, she pecks on Sarla's forehead.

And Granny continues “Now during these days you should not wander around too much. You should stay at home and should not visit the holy temple as you are unclean”.

"Unclean?" Huh!  “But granny can you please clarify me something”, scratching her scalp, Sarla probes further in a very pleasing manner.

“Ask me, my baby girl”, the gray-haired granny lovingly runs her fingers through Sarla’s hair and waits for her to ask the question.

“You say that I should not  enter the temple as I am unclean.  But then Lord Shiva himself is “ardhanareeshwar", so do God undergo these periods?”




Innocence is personified in her question.

“Hmm. Good question, Sarla.” says the granny. But her tone made it very clear that the granny isn’t pleased with Sarla’s question.

Oblivious of the tides of expression on the granny’s face, Sarla continues...

“Again, today in the temple, I have noticed, the senior priest accepting the fees for the Pooja, standing in the Sanctum-Sanctorum. The notes were so filthy and were foul.  I am sure that the notes have travelled its way through the fish and meat market as I saw the blood is smeared on it.  Then how can it be touched by the priest? The notes too are unclean, isn’t it? Are the rules different, for the priest and me?”.

Granny stares at Sarla with a poker face.

Sarla continues “Granny, you have always taught me, that we visit the temple to cleanse our thoughts, right? Also, you have imbibed in me, that every human body is a temple and God lives within.  So how can the body be unclean if God lives within the body?”.

Hearing this, Granny, whose face is tense with anxiety and anger loosens with love and tenderness. She is impressed with the brilliance of Sarla.

She grabs Lil Sarla, kisses on her forehead and whispers into her ears, pulling her long braided hair...


“Sarla, my Lil one, do not talk like an adult. However, this silly Granny is in agreement with your broad thoughts.” " I just wish that people had a broader and a logical mindset on such issues."



Saturday, April 18, 2015


‘Grandpa, Wish me! It’s my 18th birthday today!’  Sitting up on his bed and in his pajamas, joyfully shouts Alex to his grandpa.

‘Grandpa, come here fast, I have to show you something’. ‘Grandpa! Where are you? Hurry up, Grandpa!'

‘ Ohoho! Hold on sonny,  I am not 18, sweets. Grandpa is 81 years of age. So Grandpa, cannot walk so fast as you do'.  

George replies and slowly walks into Alex’s bedroom watchful of each  step he takes, holding and balancing  his walk with the assistance of the walking stick and adjusting  his black framed thick glasses, which is firmly kept on the edge of his nose.

On entering Alex’s bedroom, George sees his grandson in a playful mood. Alex has covered himself from head to toe with his blanket and is lying on the bed as if he is asleep. 

As a custom, from the time Alex is born, George wakes up Alex by pampering and cuddling him with love and affection, and this day is no different.

‘Happy B’day, Sonny boy’, wishes George, ruffling through his hair and patting Alex on his bum.

Alex jumps out of his blanket and hugs his Grandpa.

‘Love you, Grandpa! Tell me, what are you gifting  me today?’ and continues to pester George with his question.

‘Gifts are not to be revealed, Alexie.’ ‘It would be revealed once you are done with your shower and post your breakfast’.

‘Come out of the  bedroom now, you lazy bum.’ George replies to Alex in a pampering tone.



Now Alex, slowly massages his mustache (the dirty teen mustache) and quips, ‘Grandpa! Do I look like Dadda? '  and continues to rub is mustache in the manner done by an adult.

George gives a soft slap on his palms. ‘Alexie, shave off those mustaches. You’ll look handsome without them.’ ‘Get out of the bedroom now and do as I asked you to do’.

Saying this, George, hurries out of Alex’s bedroom.

Alex slowly drags himself out of his bedroom. He is still sleepy. But the thought of the birthday party and the awaiting gift, works as a catalyst and Alex rushes for a shower and finishes the shower and breakfast within a time span of half an hour.

‘Grandpa, I am here! Now you MUST reveal the secret’. ‘Tell me, what my gift is?’ ‘say, say, say’. 

Alex is still a kid. He is just growing up physically. George thinks, with a smile on his face.

 “Here it is, baby boy, see for yourself, what I have brought for you.”

Alex cannot believe his eyes.

“An Armani Suit! Yepiee”.  He exclaims and hugs his grandpa so tightly that George struggles to breathe, and somehow manages to  free himself from the loving clutches of his grandson.




‘Thank You, Grandpa. Cynthia, will love to see me in Armaani’. ‘Am sure she will accept my request for a date tonight.’

George, sees a twinkle of a teenager-lover-adult in the eyes of Alex.

‘Come grandpa, let’s go for my regular swim.  I hold a national competition scheduled next month. I need to practice for the event. Let’s quickly finish the session in an hour and then let’s set out the activities for the birthday party.’

Alex drags his Grandpa to the swimming pool.

Alex changes to his swimming costume.




‘Grandpa, please check how many minutes do I actually take to reach the other side of the pool.’

Saying this, Alex stuffs the stop-watch to George’s hands and dives into the swimming pool.

Alex is a professional swimmer and has won several state level competitions for  the butterfly stroke swim style.

His grandfather is his coach.  So, George, stays back outside the pool and watches his grandson swim. George visualizes Alex winning the national level competition, and proudly he smiles.

All of a sudden, George comes out of the trance and sees that Alex is still not seen on the surface of the water.

 “Hey Dolphin! Come out now!” George calls out for Alex.

George addresses  Alex  as “dolphin” when he is in the pool. Such is Alex’s connection with water and the pool.  He started to swim at the age of 4.

But, George’s words went futile, it echoes in the pool area and slowly drifts to a stony silence.




‘Alexie, my son, are you Ok?’ “Please, answer this old man. Do not give me shocking surprises. Am too old for this sort of play. Alexie, You hear me?’

Desperation has now set into the fragile voice of George.

George peeps into the troubled waters and finds Alex in the bottom of the pool with his hand stuck somewhere. He could see Alex struggling to free himself. Alex’s breath has taken the form of  bubbles and is exuding from his mouth and those  bubbles start bursting as it reaches the surface.

Are these bubbles telling a story?

George is in panic and calls for help.

“Is anyone there? Please help this old man. My grandson is drowning. Hello…”




The only successor to his clan, his beloved, his grandson, who was born into his hands, he is drowning and fighting for his life in the pool. The same pool which he considers his second home. 

George looks into the pool helpless. His shivering body cannot help Alex.

Few of the neighbors hear  George cry and they come running to help. But alas, none of them knew swimming. They  call the fire force for the rescue and with the  buckets they try to empty the humongous swimming pool. 

20 minutes later the fire personnel arrives for the rescue.



They pull Alex from the bottom of the pool. They find that  Alex’s hand got sucked in the suction duct while swimming.

George stood at least 10 meters away from the pool with his back facing the pool. He has no strength now to see anything dreadful.

“Oh, Good Lord Save my Grandson
Do not take him away from us
I have had faith in  you all my life, despite my trying situations
Lord, the father of humankind, save him
Let the satan fade
Save my grandson, have mercy on us
I plead Thee, I count on thee
Take my life, but save my grandson”

Thus prayed the shaky old man standing there frozen.

And then he hears the most upsetting, gloomy, wrenching words from the fire personnel.

“George! George!” they call the grandpa. Scared even to move, George turns around to face the fire personnel.  In, their hand, he sees Alex lying lifeless; his dolphin is no more.

Unable to witness such a scene, George shouts like an eccentric man, shuts his eyes, as if the entire incident  would be undone, and falls on the ground, thus breaking his eye-glasses. He mutters and cusses his fate. He hits his forehead on the ground and runs to the party hall.




Like a whirlwind, he trashes all the decorations and walks towards the area where the majestic photo frame of Jesus Christ is hung.

As he faces the photo of Jesus, he breaks down and hits his chest and weeps. His sobbing is so intense, that none of the neighbors are able to console him.


“Why did you do this to me? What have I Wronged? All my life, I believed in you. I led my entire life as a true Christian. First, you took away my wife; she was my life. Now you have taken away from me the last hope, my last breath.  Merciless you”.  

George is inconsolable.

In that outrage, George pulls off the photo from the wall and raises high up  in the air, as if to smash  it on the ground, but then, his eyes fell on the Armani suit he had brought for his beloved grandson, Alex.

George’s eyes wells up. 




“Oh Alexie, my sweetie pie, my son.  I wanted to see you badly in this Armani with your bride in the church, walking up the aisle. But look at the fate of this old man … Oh Lord!” His voice softens and George faints ...



PS: Image courtesy Google.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Aalekh is a traditional guy though born and brought up in Delhi.  He loves every such custom that is linked with the tradition.



As destiny had it written, Aalekh is now married to Avantika, the village belle.

It turns out to be a marriage evolved from their love-at-first-sight.



Tonight is the much awaited night. Aalekh waits for his bride with a burning desire in his belly.



As he waits, Avantika enters.



The floral scent of hers, ignites all his fantasies. The tinkling sound of her anklet, feels like the music of lovemaking to his ears. The jingling sound of the bangles sing those erotic whispers into his ears.

Her neatly polished nails, artistically done Mehendi on her hand, sparks that fire within him. 



Aalekh  can't wait anymore.

He notices that she has not pleated her sari, but, has perfectly and cleverly wrapped it around her. The sari is so well draped, that it clung to her body showcasing her curves and shapes in its absolute form.
  
Her navel seemed like a swirl to his eyes. Is that a black spot next to her navel?  He peeks in, to confirm, though a little nervous.

The petticoat has given way to the leggings and the sleeved blouse  to the strapless one, beneath.




He sees her bosoms rise and fall as she breathes.

The temperature starts soaring in the bedroom.

Slowly Aalekh, approaches Avantika, who is clad in a red chiffon sari. His hands touches the veil to lift it up, which has hid her gorgeous face from him.



Slowly, as he raises the veil, he  sees her wholesome lips. He holds her face in his palms and  bends forward to 'k…

They hear “wouaa, wouaaa, wu wu, wouaaaaa” a baby cry.

Avantika rushes out to the next room, carries the baby in her arms and starts feeding the baby.



Note: Aalekh, married Avantika (a widow, and a mother of 3 months baby) despite opposition from the society.

PS: Image courtesy Google.