OVER A COFFEE

Golden green bangles slowly slipped into Rasika’s wrists. They beautifully fell one over the other, clanking and jingling. She was gently pushing them into her dainty wrists. 
She then carefully placed the bindi on the small patch of smooth skin between her eyebrows. She took one keen glance at the mirror. Like the wings of a bird, her eyebrows stretched across her forehead, finally merging into that small red dot. She wondered if her aspirations will also have to shrink into something as small as that.
She then took the vermillion from her mother’s shelf, dipped her ring finger into it and put a speck of it over her bindi. Perfect, she thought.
The door banged and the vermillion box slipped from her hand.
“What a promising sign,” sighed Rasika’s mother.
“You know the spilling of vermillion is considered to be auspicious. I hope everything goes well,” said Rasika’s mother pinning to her hair the fresh jasmine flowers she had just tied in banana coir.
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Outside, in the hall, Rasika’s father is trying to strike a light conversation with Harish and his family. It indeed is an efficacy that every father develops out of responsibility, to discover in a short notice the prospects of finding the best groom for her daughter.
“Like every girl, Rasika dreams to see the qualities of her father in her to-be husband,” laughs Rasika’s mother. Harish’s mother nods in agreement. And Rasika’s father gleams with pride of having nurtured a healthy loving family.
Harish is growing anxious inside but he tries to cover it up with a calm exterior.
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Harish watches as Rasika slips out of her room. She looks adorable in her simple green silk saree. Confident and smart, she appears to have an innate charm sitting inside her somewhere.
She walks over to Harish. He stands up to greet her. 
She steps on her saree hem and trips. She covers up the nervousness and pretends to be absolutely fine. Harish smiles at the pretentiousness of the whole thing.
She serves coffee to everyone and takes a seat across Harish.
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Who knows she was a fun girl when she was herself. But how could she be herself with someone who, the World has informed her, will judge every movement of hers. And how was he expected to judge her when she wasn’t herself.
They sit across each other in silence. Rasika takes a sip of filter coffee, purses her lips and looks over at Harish. They offer each other a conscious smile once more and quickly shift their glances.
Harish leans back in his sofa trying to comfort himself. In his mind, he steps out of this home. He turns around to watch Rasika and himself. Rasika is absorbed in her own thoughts. She is struggling hard to align her thoughts.
Their thoughts churn together over the steaming filter coffee. Over the delightful aroma of filter coffee, they both are brooding of the purpose they are here for. Why is it so tough to find someone perfect or possibly the one who is supposed to make the rest of your life simpler?
They take another sip of enriching coffee and do a bit more of enlightened thinking. Just like coffee that mixes up with water trying to bring out the best, aren’t we supposed to complement the other? Just like two completely different ingredients that they are, aren’t we supposed to blend thoroughly with the other to bring out something new?
And just like our parents did, when two people fall in love, change needn’t be forced. It comes out involuntarily as a reciprocation of love. Like water that generously submits itself to coffee, aren’t we supposed to endear the challenges? Life cannot be a bed of roses but when water and coffee are subjected to more heat, they combine with the other bringing a strong astonishing flavour.
And isn’t character something that we inherit and acquire over time? So, how can one even be judged by something that is not even theirs? And wouldn’t we mend and bend a little so that some 50 years later our children would want to find the perfect wife or husband like their parents? 
Harish gulps down the last of his coffee. He feels relaxed now. He walks over to Rasika and asks ” So, when are meeting for the next coffee? “
A shy smile stretches over Rasika’s face bringing out her dimples.
P.S – This is my personal view. For people who don’t like coffee there obviously exist other acceptable lifestyle.

THE COLD BLANKET

Like any other day, Swapna was obstinate of not going to school. As a responsible mother, Aisha was persuading her to go to school. It was the beginning of January and the nights were getting unbearably colder. The Sun would show up as late as 7 in the morning. Her heart melted when she saw Swapna hugging herself and wrapping herself in Aisha’s worn out pink sari. She wanted to hold her little innocent girl tight in her arms, caress and bundle her up in a thick blanket for which she was saving money. Nevertheless, Swapna was always a happy, contended kid. Graciously she adored the small and big holes in the saree like her favourite pink colour of it. In the summer, she would wrap it around her waist, carefully fold the shabby saree into pleats and drape it down from her shoulder to touch her feet. She loved it when the fabric touched her feet, she felt like a grown up. She would then wear those old glasses, the only memory her father had left them. He passed away when she was just 5 and Swapna faintly remembered how he looked and talked. Sometimes, she wondered why her mother never talked of him but she never pondered over the reason. She was a happy cheerful kid!
Being unable to lift her heavy exhausted eyelids, Swapna still lay on the cot.
“You are getting late “yelled her mother Aisha.
Swapna gave her a feeble look, her eyes filled with some expectation.
“Not anymore. I am tired of your excuses. If you go to school regularly like a good child I will take you to the exhibition” uttered Aisha.
Swapna secretly smiled at this excuse that her mom gave every day. Though reluctantly, she had been regular to the school but her mom never took her to the exhibition. She never forced her mom to. She understood how hard her mother worked in the neighbourhood, washing their dishes and clothes. Even if they did go to the exhibition, unlike other kids she would not have her father to take her to those scary rides and her mother could definitely not afford those fancy frilled Angelic gowns.
Early in the morning, hands in hands, they would tread down the narrow lanes leading to the school. This is the time they were the closest to each other. Sometimes, Aaisha would even churn up a cute story for Swapna. With big old trees on either sides and the chirping of birds, in the best company of each other Aaisha and Swapna would start their day this way.
“I have kept sugar stuffed parathas for lunch. Eat that fully” uttered Aaisha on reaching the school.
“Hmm. I will Amma” uttered Swapna in a low voice.
With hunched shoulders under the heavy backpack, Swapna slowly moved towards the school.
With a lot of dreams for the future and the unconditional love for the other, they parted this way each day.
Aisha, while doing the daily chores of different houses would often sink into some sort of day-dream admiring the education, lifestyle and especially the respect her malkins had in the society. She coveted (yearn to possess) Swapna to become one of those revered persons and more often than not her reverie broke into reality by either the doorbell or a new command from her master, sometimes by the clink of porcelain dishes or the icy cold water cutting through her hands instantly reminding her to get a new blanket for Swapna.
It had started darkening. Some weird calmness and wild chill in the air only added to the troubled atmosphere prevailing already. Swapna was missing. Missing for the past 3 hours!
Everyone in the neighbourhood had gathered at Aaisha’s rickety house. Men in the village were gravely searching and enquiring for Swapna. Aaisha was running to every place of possibility. Mercilessly, strange thoughts were coming to her. She was internally fighting them back and subsiding the fear with prayers.
Then, a painful wailing of a villager hit her ears. Huffing and unsteadily, she brought herself to the spot. In a deep deserted waterless well, Swapna was thrown. Thrown mercilessly like a waste after use. She lay there in a pool of blood, captured in the thorny bushes. She lay there naked, her body full of bruises. She lay there with her eyes closed!
This terrible reality broke over Aisha like a wave of terror, picking her up and thrashing her around. She stood paralysed! She thought of Swapna’s beautiful eyes, her innocent smile, flat noes and her ever understanding soul. She thought of her little soft hands and legs. She thought of her calling “Amma” again and she could not think anymore. She rushed towards her home, pushing away the crowd that had gathered around. She came back huffing with a newly bought thick blanket and covered up her little girl. The entire night she wept into her old shabby pink sari, the only one that accepted her with all the warmth.
The very next day, it became news. Just another one of its kind to be precise. It read exactly this, “VIOLENCE WREAKED ON THE 14-YEAR OLD GIRL IN A FERAL MANNER, WITH MEDICAL REPORTS STATING THAT HER LIMBS WERE BROKEN, HER ARMS DISLOCATED FROM HER SHOULERS, HER SKIN SHORN FROM HER BODY WHICH HAD BITE MARKS ALL OVER.”

Disappointments and Expectations

It is really hard to wake up early in the freezing cold mornings. I mean, who wouldn’t want to sleep for some extra hours especially when you have nothing to do? But I need to force myself out of the bed every morning. I bet anything is better than hearing the tantrums of my parents, howling and reminding me of being irresponsible. So, what’s the big deal, they all have a job. But they all have a job! It’s not that I didn’t try, even Shukla uncle who lives two buildings away interviewed me for his proprietary. He thinks I am too fragile to manage the workers at his brickyard. I don’t give a damn, it is always some or the other excuse!

I am here at the breakfast table for about 10 minutes already and my plate is still empty. Nobody seems to care! My brother, younger to me by 3 years is sitting across me. I see him spreading his favourite pineapple jam over hot toasts. He has two more toasts in his plate. He briefly looks at me and gets back to his newspaper. I am dreary and hungry, does he ever notice the lost respect for him in my eyes? My mom usually cooks sufficient but when she doesn’t, why is it always me? 

I slip the hood over my head, shove my hands into my pockets as I slowly go down the stairs and arrive at the pavement. I know a small eatery nearby. Cheap and best! They make delicious samosas. 

I need to take a right turn around the corner and walk for about 2 more minutes. I walk past a small children’s park. This is where I met Shanguftha. We went to the same school, in the same auto rickshaw. She is a small cute girl, very ambitious and good at studies. She was my junior in school. 

I heard from my friends that she has a new boyfriend. She never talked to me about that, why would she, after our breakup, she moved on! That is what she told me the last time she called me on my birthday. 

I had been to her sister’s wedding last month. Shanguftha graced the evening with her dance performance. I don’t know, neither do I want to know, whom that dance partner was! He was touching her everywhere, her waist, her hair and her backside. She never feels uncomfortable. I feel uncomfortable that she never feels uncomfortable when some guy touches her.

Why do people disappoint other people? My parents disappoint me by ranting all the time. I disappoint them by not being a good son. Shanguftha disappoints me by moving on in her life. I disappoint her by not telling that I love her. Why do we disappoint each other? It is really tough to come clear with your expectations and depend on others to not crush them.

I reach the shop and order two hot samosas. Crisp and rightly fried! The crispy layers crumble in your mouth bringing out the potato-onion filling inside. Wow! They taste super awesome in this cold weather.

I see an old man sitting across the street. He is wearing a ripped dirty black sweater. His skin has gotten dry because of cold weather making white rashes all over. He looks at me and smiles. I smile back.

Should I offer him one of these samosas? He didn’t ask me for it. He doesn’t seem to expect that from me. I cross the road and offer him the snack. He smiles and grabs one!

P.S: Expectations bring Disappointments. When you are unexpectant and something is offered to you, it brings joy!!

ANUSUYA

                                                            SHORT N SWEET 

AWAKENED BY THE THUNDERS IN MY MIND,

NUMB I STOOD, ALOOF IN THIS WORLD,

URGE TO DISCOVER WHAT I WAS GOING THROUGH,

STILL WAITING FOR SOME MYSTICAL ANGEL TO COME MY WAY,

UNSTABLE THOUGH, I MANAGED IN THIS SORDID WORLD,

YET, SOME ABSURD BELIEF IN ME MADE ME STAY,

AND THERE SHE CAME TO EMBRACE ME WITH HER

MAGICAL WARMTH.

BUDDHA

HAPPINESS DOES NOT DEPEND ON WHAT YOU HAVE OR WHAT YOU ARE. IT SOLELY RELIES ON WHAT YOU THINK.  

                                                      ~ BUDDHA

ISWARAN - A PROFOUND CHAPTER IN MALGUDI DAYS

 A shy, embarrassed college boy named Iswaran suddenly starts refraining himself from his friends and family members. He fears dejection and disappointment. He looks obscure to me because when his classmates and others in Malgudi are convulsed with excitement over the expectations of Examination results, Iswaran looks unconcerned and detached.

 I get that, it happens! In fact, it has happened to me. When you haven't done your examinations well, all you can do is HOPE for the best. You can only hope not expect. Iswaran must be going through similar circumstances.

 Iswaran leaves me in awe as he deliberately combs his hair and puts on a well-ironed coat. "Mother", he says as he walks out, "don't expect me for dinner tonight. I will eat something in a hotel and sit through both the shows at the Palace Talkies."

Now, this is something none of us would do while something bad is on its way. We would be trembling with fear calculating the loses so involuntarily. May be I still don't recognize Iswaran. He seems to be me an enigma.

As I continue reading, I realize that Iswaran had failed repeatedly. Failures are not new to him. The first time he failed, his parents sympathized with him, the second time also he managed to get their sympathies, but subsequently they grew more critical and unsparing. His parents lost all their interest in his examination.

The author R.K.Narayan brings out the emotions of the protagonist beautifully. Just when my mind starts recognizing Iswaran as a futile, creepy lad; my eyes get hold of the following lines - "But all this was only a mask. Under it was a creature hopelessly seared by failure, desperately longing and praying for success. On the day of the results he was, inwardly, in a trembling suspense."

Iswaran silently accepts all the mockery. He is not able to even defend, or may be he is! But the society doesn't give him the standards to speak back when people around him joke, " We know you are going to get a first-class this time." All he can do is accept them till they feel ignored.

He watches two  Tamil movies successively which has all the Gods known in it. He enjoyed it all - the battle, a deluge, somebody dropping headlong from cloud-land and somebody coming up from the bed of an ocean, a rain of fire, a rain of flowers, people dying, people rising from graves and so on. He yearns to be a part of such a world - no exams, no mockery and all that he adores! Ironically, some 50 boys come to the same theatre to celebrate their success. He rises, silently edges towards the exit and is out of the theatre in a moment.

He feels a loathing for himself for himself after seeing those successful boys. He writes on a borrowed paper, the last note to his beloved father. He stuffs it in the inner pocket of his coat. He feels,HE IS NOT FIT TO LIVE. He decides to die and go to a world where there were young men free from examination who sported in lotus pools in paradise.

The story goes like, Iswaran,since he has decided to die anyway, musters up all the courage to check the results board? This time he is not hopeful but also, he is not afraid! Because, anyway he is going to die, Isn't it? He scrutinizes the results board, His number is 501. He admires those who managed the first-class. His curiosity increases, he runs his eyes fast through and through. He speculates how he should feel if his number is on the board. He would rush home and demand that they take back all their comments with apologies. After gazing for a while, he comes to terms with the reality. He feels void and condemned. He walks back to the river. But why does it even matter? Isn't he anyway going to die. He walks straight to the results board. This time fixing his more firmly on each number. And .... his number is there.... he is one among those who have passed with second class.

Maddened by the happiness and sudden unexpected success, he starts imagining and acting like a King. A king who has 501 horses. He mounts the horse with great dignity, kicks, rides and drives it off. The next afternoon, his body comes up at a spot about a quarter of a mile down the course of the river. Meanwhile, some persons had already picked up the letter in his inner coat pocket which he left on the river bank. The inscription read, " My dear father : By the time you see this letter I shall be at the bottom of Sarayu. I don't want to live. Don't worry about me. You have other sons who are not such dunces as I am."

By the end of this story, Iswaran looked familiar to me. He seemed to be a reflection of my own self, my shadow.  Iswaran, who was obscure and an enigma became someone I could literally connect to. Yesterday and today morning, I felt devastated and shattered. I felt void and condemned. I am placed in TCS and I am extremely grateful to God for this. I can't imagine myself undergoing the turmoil of finding a job in the present competitive world. Yet, I wished that I get a job with better package. As someone in early 20's , we tend to dream of hefty package. To buy and be able to afford better life, gifts and better everything. I had sent applications for a few companies and till yesterday there was no response from them. Yesterday, I was told by a referee that my chances of getting a job there are slim.

A lot of times, we need to distract ourselves from what is going on in our life. Lower the background noise to be able to better introspect and know what can be done or what is that I want. I expected someone to attend to me yesterday, understand what I was going through. It was tough to put myself to sleep. I succumbed to fear of future life. Morning that continued. I blamed my bad luck. I blamed my friends and my fate. It is very unlikely that someone will come to you and be by your side until things are completely fine. My life is my responsibility. Like in Iswaran's case, there is an outside world which sets standards for everything. He starts feeling the need to hide himself from people making excuses in the name of movie. Nobody is bothered or even considerate of his little dreams, simple hopes to clear the exam and prayers. But his battles has taught him to at least look stronger. He is already titled as a mere loser and nobody will do even a bit to help him succeed or even instill some positive hopes. They consider it their opportunity to boast and laugh. He eventually gives in and decides to end his life. But when you are going to die, who and what someone thinks of you doesn't make sense anymore. He wins on his last day. This story and the way the author has portrayed it has been of great help to me today. I am no exhibition for people to like , dislike and comment on. At least to be good in someone's eye is not the purpose of your life. I don't mean to say people are not helpful. Many are!But you are the only one who knows what you are going through, the only one who knows every little of your own self. Comments - good or bad, they don't define you. They are perspectives. Stabilizing yourself can help you pay heed to other alternatives to what you want. The personification in this story has helped me in a larger way to ignore the negatives. Yes, I couldn't make it through few applications I sent but tonight I am going to look out for other vacancies, exams and apply for them.

I wish Iswaran was alive not giving too much attention to the negatives, his failures which people around kept ranting and reminding him. I wish he had the strength to persevere by not succumbing to the pressures of failure. I wish he was there to inspire me this way because he is a winner, in the real sense. Saddening, he passed the exam , made his dream come true but could not live it. Unlike Iswaran, I wish to have the strength to stand strong whatever it be, through mistakes, through failures, criticisms and anything that comes my way because when in the death bed, I can still look back and say, "I HAVE LIVED!"

A GREAT START FOR 2016

HURRAY ! Here comes a New Year..... just like any other year :( But is that all ? It brings along new hopes, new opportunities, new lessons, new people and a lot more in your life for a new beginning. Remember to take your baggage, though heavy, unattractive and filthy..... it will help you deal with the unexpected adversities in a better way, take a few tips this time too; don't you forget that grand baggage of joy, success and blessings .... that will give you moments to rejoice for years to come. Our hardship makes success more adorable, more enjoyable. Happiness and Sadness are all a part of life. I read somewhere THE CLIMB IS HARD BUT THE VIEW IS BEAUTIFUL AT THE TOP.

"SUCCESS IS NOT FINAL, FAILURE IS NOT FATAL. IT IS THE COURAGE TO CONTINUE THAT COUNTS ". - WINSTON CHURCHILL.

You don't need money, friends, food, new dress or anything to be happy. Happiness demands only one thing - SATISFACTION.

I am not expecting 2016 to be a miracle year for me. I know this is going to be a mix of success and failures; happiness and sadness; love and hate - but today, I begin this year with great hopes, great positivity and determination to make through this year through the thick and thins. I believe that I have something in me - THE HOPE which nobody can take away from me. I shall continue through all the pitfalls coming my way sometimes jumping across, sometimes sliding down and sometimes falling deep - but WAIT, WAIT for me because I will come - come shining a little more at end! (each time :P)

Today, it was a great start. From Bhumi, we had decided to distribute gifts to children in the orphanage. I went there at about 2 p.m. Nisha akka had already arranged and wrapped all the gifts. I helped them in announcing names, carrying the baggage and distribute gifts. Those simple wishes those children had made - as simple as a green tiffin box just because his/her school friend has a green lunch box. The happiness in their face while unwrapping the gifts and that innocent precious smile on their face, A great start, isn't it ??