Sunday, August 31, 2014
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Time Voyager
WriteMaza
"Creativity is inventing,experimenting,growing, taking risks breaking rules, making mistakes and having fun." Mary Lou Cook
A Time Voyager
Vignesh opened his eyes with a great
effort and made a feeble attempt to smile at his cherubic six-year old Tarini.
She appeared overawed by the hospital environment and after a while pronounced
gravely, "You look like mummy."
He
felt he was sinking, did she know about her mother, Piya. Who would have told
the tiny mite that her mother had gone forever?
"With
your bandages you should be in some pharaoh's tomb," continued Tarini.
Vignesh was relieved; it was the mummy, and
not Piya she was talking about.
"Papa
where is Ma, when will we go home?" Tarini was getting restless and
impatient. Harish his old friend had been looking after Tarini and him after
hearing about the car crash.
"Papa I am going to stay here with you in
the hospital. Some times when I get up at night I am sure I can see Ma watching
me standing at the foot of the bed. But when I try to reach her she's gone. Why
is she behaving like this? I don't like her. . ."
Vignesh
watched helplessly as Tarini began sobbing and weeping. She had been the sole
survivor of the car crash, coming out miraculously with just some scratches.
His mind began wandering he was a
thirteen year old travelling from Delhi to Hyderabad with his mother. It was
very uncomfortable and despite the air- conditioning, he could feel the
blistering heat wave. Amma had appeared worried and tired not her usual happy
self. Summer holidays were one time that she went back to her parents. Appa,
was posted in the Defence ministry and as usual would join them briefly for a
week. Travelling with them was Smriti. She was quiet and withdrawn, replying
only in monosyllables when absolutely necessary. Nothing appeared to interest
her. She barely touched the paranthas, Amma had made for the journey. It
had made his mother a little more anxious and concerned (if it were possible to
be more anxious than she was already). Well he fell on his food with a gusto,
he was not going to let this girl Smriti spoil his mood. Long holidays beckoned
enticingly. He had finished with exams and one didn't have to think of school
for a good long time. Although one look at the thin pinched solemn face made him
feel a trifle guilty.
Vignesh
thanked god that he didn't have to face a future like Smriti's. Orphaned and
with no family to call her own. She had just one maternal grandmother in
Hyderabad, who was old and feeble and had not greatly welcomed the suggestion
that Smriti be sent to her. Smriti was not too keen on going either but for how
long could she have stayed on with them. She had mentioned a Mama who
was not mentally sound. Vignesh's parents were also uncomfortable and worried
about sending her there. After the initial crying bout, Smriti had withdrawn in
to a silent world. Barely coming out of it to carry on living in this world.
When they (Vignesh and his parents) had gone to pack-up and shift Smriti's
parent's house a strange incident happened, which Vignesh couldn't comprehend
and was wise or perhaps frightened sufficiently not to share with his parents.
He was bored with all the men shifting and packing the luggage. Vignesh got out
of the house and turned wards what looked like a shed. Peering from the window
he saw that the room was filled with
garden tools and wood. There were carpentry tools also stacked away neatly in a
comer. He recollected that Smriti's father had been fond of whittling wood and
making strange shapes out of them. Well if one stretched one's imagination you
could possibly see an old woman bent with age or a man weary and tired with
life. Often Vignesh had badgered him for a simple flute or a cricket bat, both
of which had been ignored. As his eyes got used to the dimness he became aware
of Smriti sitting still on the pile of wood clutching some wooden thing to her
heart. There was an air of expectancy on her silhouette, which made him uneasy.
He wanted to run away but something held him back. He saw a 'shape of a man,
tall with a pointed goatee beard, stretch out and fold Smriti in his arms. He
was surprised rather shocked to find Smriti smiling and flinging her arms
around that man, or was it just a shape?
Vignesh must have slipped
and tripped over in his attempt to get away. Next he remembered just shouting
with pain and fear.
Appa came running,
scolding, "You always manage to get into trouble. Never giving us a
moment's respite. Now just sit in the lawn we are almost done."
He was planted on the swing and he was
surprised to find Smriti still clutching a wooden monstrosity, settling herself
near him. On closer inspection of the wooden object Vignesh could make out a
faint resemblance of a man, woman and child who were clinging together. Smriti
looking up and caught his skeptical expression answered softly, "Ma, Papa
and me." She appeared at peace and for once ate all that was served on the
plate. After that day, Smriti was more 'normal' less of a sleepwalker and
sometimes actually replied to his unending questions.
He would always find her
with that wooden thing. Amma and Appa were too engrossed in the mundane paper
work and nitty-gritty of details, which follows death, to even notice any thing
unusual. They believed in 'Time the great healer' and breathed a little easy as
they found Smriti taking interest in her school.
As the train chugged along on the
journey, Vignesh noticed that Smriti was getting restless. She still held the
wooden peculiarity, they called it 'abstract art', 'Expressionism' or modem art
which any way he didn't understand. There was an impatient anticipation for
events, which she only could foresee. They played Scrabbles for a while and
slept off the long hot afternoon. At the close of the day when evening gave way
to night, Smriti appeared calmer, some how more grown-up. She helped Amma
unpack the tiffin-box, again barely tasting all the lip-smacking goodies spread
out before
The
next morning saw a more despondent Smriti, she was back to her old withdrawn
self. Amma put it down to the child's anxieties to a new environment. She
appeared to know very little about her grandmother, except that she had a huge
sprawling house in the outskirts of the city and lived with her son who was
'not all there'. After Smriti's mother's marriage, the distance between mother
and daughter had grown. The mother had in a way envied her daughter's happiness
and their brief meetings had always ended on a bitter note.
Vignesh was also caught up by the
excitement and general movement as the train approached its destination. They
were busy doing their last minute packing to notice Smriti at all. When Vignesh
looked back to see whether Smriti was following him that he saw her smiling
widely. Who or what could it be, that made her smile he wondered? Suddenly
there was a whole crowd of passengers jostling and pushing to get out coming
between him and Smriti, who was left behind. As he craned his neck to catch a
glimpse of Smriti, his heart turned cold. The hair on the back of his neck
stood up; there she was comfortably ensconced in the arms of that tall shadowy
man with a goatee beard. Catching his eye both of them waved at him. He felt
that maybe the man resembled Krishnan Uncle, Smriti's father! As soon as he
could he reported the matter to Amma, she became hysterical. She was sure that
the child had been kidnapped.
Slowly they made their way home after
having searched for Smriti in vain. Amma with a heavy heart called up Smriti's
grandmother's number again and again only to hear the ring go unanswered. The
next day Amma and Vignesh made their way to Smriti's grandmother's house. It
had an air of indescribable loneliness and sorrow. Nobody and nothing stirred,
not even a leaf moved;
as if even the trees were watching them in silence.
The merciless afternoon sun, beat on their heads and after
having
gone around the house several times in despair, Amma sat down
under the Neem
tree. A gnarled old man appeared behind a couple
of buffaloes; on
questioning about the whereabouts of Smriti's
grandmother, he looked at them
quizzically.
"Don't you know that Sunder her mentally
unsound son had been found hanging from this very tree?"
At which
both Vignesh and his mother jumped up and stood some distance away. The old man
grinned ghoulishly revealing toothless gums. The next day his mother was also
found dead by the servant."
Vignesh and
his Amma exchanged glances, was this true or was this man also part of some
bewitching tableau? So poor Smriti was left really and truly alone in the
world. Could it have been true that it was her father who had come to fetch her
back to another world? Last Vignesh remembered Smriti she was clutching that
wooden family' in one hand and waving with the other...
As he looked up Vignesh found Piya smiling softly at him. Now that was
odd had he,not been told of her demise? But wait his cherub Tarini was clinging
on to her mother and they both had that familiar expectant look on their faces.
Well, at last he had his family back with him, the agony of separation was
over...
Glossary
Amma.
.. mother Appa... father
Mama..
maternal uncle
Parantha....
shallow fried savoury
Thursday, August 14, 2014
The Phantom Guru
Writermaza
This time I have been inspired by the quotations from the blogs of EverydayGyan.
"Even a seemingly tiny story can travel great distances and deeply affect other people. Your story matters let them out to affect other souls..."
I intend to share some inspirational quotations, some fun in a writer's life.
The Phantom Guru
Can it be possible for a real person to be so like a wraith
wondered tiny Arika anxiously as she watched her English teacher Ms.Renee
Baruah enter her class. Her fellow sufferers of class eleven, groaned silently,
as they watched the skeletal frame settling down on the chair. Who would dare
to tell her that this was the period scheduled for the Chemistry class? Anybody
daring to state even the most obvious fact would have to suffer a long sermon
on discourtesy, indiscipline and insolence, all in a thin high pitched voice.
Piyush often in all innocence (he was one of those, who
would rush in where angels dare to tread) would pipe up, “Ma’m it’s our
Chemistry period, not yours....”
“You dare to mislead me, I know you are not interested in
studies but must you hold up everyone just to satisfy your short-sighted
motives,” her eyes flashed fire from behind her rim-less glasses. It looked as
if she would disappear in the smoke of her raging fire.
Sharma sir, their
Chemistry teacher paced the corridor restlessly, realizing it was impossible
for him to enter just then.
She pursued him relentlessly, “Piyush, ever since you have
become the editor of the school magazine, you have begun giving yourself airs.
Nobody can better your hold on the language, is it? You think you are the next
aspirant for the Booker prize,ah ha,ha...”, she began cackling with laughter,
her thin boney frame shaking with mirth.
This last bit was met with titters of laughter, Anubhav a
tall well built boy, laughed out loud and long. “So you think you can laugh at
me, do you know the meaning of impudence, ah I knew you wouldn’t, you are
that,” she ended the tirade triumphantly, noting the solemn faces with
satisfaction.
Arika observed the receding, defeated backside of Sharma
sir.
“Take out your book,” commanded the screeching voice.
“Which one Ma’m?”, called out Aditi.
“I told you to get
the literature one for today.”
This was met with looks of horrified amazement, as yesterday
Renee had ordered them to bring only the book of short stories. The children
noted long boney fingers, turning the pages of the book with a determination to
find some erring culprit.
The silence was broken by Mukesh, “Ma’m you told us that we
will begin Macbeth next month.”
The ghost of Banquo wouldn’t have appalled Macbeth as much.
“How dare you challenge me, I know being in class eleven fills you with
grandeur, but you must remember, that you have to pass the English exam too,
Renee was offended and horrified to note
that the whole class had turned up without the book.
“Well in that case as
you all have decided to be so uncooperative, I will give you a surprise test,”
she announced.
This was met with gloomy, “Oh,no, not again,” byRadhika.
“Radhika you have not given a single test yet,” shrieked the
‘Skeletor’as the students had named her. She would appear best in the biology
laboratory, along with other bits of life form preserved in formaldehyde,
thought Arika rather than making our lives miserable by her failing memory and
caustic manners. Her being unmarried added to their woes.
She just didn’t or
couldn’t cope with young children. Renee lived with her younger brother’s
family, she disliked her healthy and robust Bhabhi and the fat podgy nieces and
nephew made her look like a grim, unhappy spook. Her family had tried very hard
to entice unsuspecting men into marrying her, but one look into those bulging,
stern eyes, accompanied with a thin straight line for a mouth, made the bravest
of them quail. Such rejections had added to her bitterness. However, she was
glad that the recent trends of models, and wannabe Miss Indias, had all begun
resembling her. Some of the presenters of TV programs were bonier and thinner than
her,(if that were possible).She wished she had been born three decades later,
then maybe these foolish men would have been chasing her instead of fleeing. Although, her Bhabi hoped that
someday, someone might just transform her. Maybe what happened later was an
answer to her strong, silent prayers.
“Ma,m,I have given all the four tests you
have taken so far,” protested the tall slim girl.
“I have given you a zero,
zero, zero and a zero,” came the spiteful reply.
“Ma’m here are the test papers, Radhika
flourished the pages jubilantly. Ma’m I got seven, eight and a half and nine,
and nine,” she crowed.
“Let’s see,” called the
teacher disbelievingly. Just then the gong sounded, announcing the end of the
class. The class heaved a sigh of relief, Sharma sir entered with a confidence
of now getting back his flock. They were all in for a disappointment, “This is
my class,Sharmaji,came the stern statement. How can you just walk in like this?”
“But, but...the last period which you took was
mine.”
“You were not there on time and so I took
them, now please go as I have given them a test,” she dismissed Sharmaji with a
casual gesture of her hands.
The students all
sympathised with the trampled-down Sharma sir as he departed unwillingly.
Ayush staring at
the ceiling for inspiration for the essay, felt that if he ever met Renee Ma’m
at the dead of night on a deserted road, he wouldn’t be blamed for taking her
for a ghoul. Probably, ghosts would be terrified of her as well.
“Ah, I see you don’t intend writing this test too, called
out there ever vigilant teacher. Ayush do you think you will be allowed to
enter class twelve with this attitude?”
“Ma’m, you haven’t
returned any one of my test papers, so far, replied the alarmed boy.
“Ma’m you told me they were mixed up with science
papers.”Ayush was the picture of injured innocence. He had suffered her before,
she had been his class teacher in ninth and he was familiar with her memory
lapses.
“Now that you
reminded me, you can check this bag maybe, you will find your old papers here,”
Renee waved a round, fat, bulging bag in his direction.
Searching through
the papers, Smita was astonished to find test papers dated several years past.
“Thank your stars, she
doesn’t examine board papers, or you would have found some unfortunate
candidate’s answer sheets also,” commented Ankush.
“She just seems to grow more senile with each passing year.
More like a vengeful spirit,” added Smita.
She recollected the
time when Renee asked them, “Raise your hands, all those who have brought
Macbeth.”
Some children raised
both their hands in enthusiasm, that brought on her ire, “Now you can keep them
raised for the rest of the class.”
The young teenagers
were perplexed, one thin, frail looking girl Misha began, “Ma’m my wrist has a
hairline fracture, I can’t keep it raised.”
“Well then, raise your legs.”
The poor child had to
plead and ask pardon for an offence she never did, to mollify this ‘Skeletor’.
Of late, Renee had a
feeling that somebody was rifling through her papers. Must be Chinoo, her fat tubby
nephew. Though her nieces and nephew normally steered clear of her room, she
would not spare them an occasional slap as and when required, which had them
reeling and fleeing to their mother in fear. Bhabhi remained silent as any
showdown would have her husband take up cudgels on behalf of his poor unmarried
sister. So she resorted to fervent prayers, to release her from this peril.
Every paper she corrected, Renee normally, used a red pen to
boldly strike out the mistakes, writing long notes, indicating how the student
could possibly improve. Her writing was tall, thin and just as dry and peppery
as her. Some papers from a pile she had not begun correcting, had been checked
by someone with a very loopy and scrawling hand. Could it be Bhabi? But she was
a science graduate with very little knowledge of English, besides she wouldn’t
dare to do such a thing. Furthermore this was definitely not Bhabhi’s
handwriting. Then who could it be?
As Renee entered her
room, which was a self-sufficient, one bed room and study , on the top floor of
the house, she saw to her horror, a huge fat woman sitting quite comfortably on
her study table, deeply engrossed in her ( Renee’s) papers. Huge waves of anger
carried Renee to the intruder, but as she reached near her, that woman had
vanished! Renee took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes, had she begun
seeing things? A closer examination revealed the same loopy, spidery scrawl at
the end of each test paper. What impudence, how dare she, that woman wouldn’t
have gone too far, I will catch her by her throat and tell her what it means to
break into my room. Renee rushed down the stairs squawking at the top of her
voice, she had a jumbled incoherent recollection of what happened next. Chinoo
watched with fascinated horror his ‘Bhootni Bua’ just rush down the stairs in a
tangle of arms and legs arriving at the bottom in a breathless heap. He had a
distinct glimpse of some woman standing on the top steps, who had given his Bua
a push.
The old grim doctor
forbade all movement for an initial period of six days. Chinoo observed that
his otherwise bullheaded Bua give in like a Ba-lamb. Something had surely
shaken her quite badly, however, at the suggestion that she shift downstairs in
the guest room, till she could move around, brought out all her mulishness. Chinoo’s
mother had a look of long suffering defeat written all over her face. It meant
twice as much work for her now, just running up and down the stairs an average
of at least twenty times daily. She wished she could escape her
responsibilities by twisting her ankles, and lying in bed too.
Again that woman
was sitting on her chair, immersed in correcting the exam papers, Renee made an
effort to raise that walking stick threateningly towards her, “Hey, what do you
think you are doing, messing around with my papers.”
Slowly, she turned around, a genial, intelligent face, black
and white hair tied loosely round the nape of the neck. A small flower printed
long frock, like those worn by women of a bygone era.
She waved her arms up
and down, “I was only trying to be helpful, you have not finished correction of
even last year’s exam papers,” she ended accusingly.
“I must have
misplaced them,” Renee was on the defensive.
“How can you be so careless, they were in the bottom drawer,
stuffed amongst old school magazines, pens, and what-have-yous?”
Chinoo entering the room with a tray loaded with tempting
mouth-watering food, found a friendly Bua who insisted that, he sit beside her
while she finished lunch. Chinoo was uncomfortable, he wandered to the study
table, and was surprised to feel a sudden shivering sense of dread, he just
picked up the empty tray and ran for his dear life.
There ‘she’ was
quite comfortably, tucking away her feet and settling down snugly on the chair,
“Lord, what fools these, mortals be!”
Renee was startled to hear ‘her’ quoting from Shakespeare’s
‘A Midsummer-Night’s dream’. “Act
III,scene 2” completed the uninvited guest, reading her mind.
“Ah ,so you are fond of Shakespeare,” sneered Renee.
“Mend your speech a
little, Lest you mar your fortunes, King Lear, Act IV, scene 5,” came the angry
reply.
“In my times tales from Shakespeare were included in the
text from class five onwards, culminating in an intensive study of his main
tragedies, in the higher classes ,added Renee in a mollifying tone. Now of course
he has been virtually pushed out of the syllabus.”
It was a humbling
experience for her to find someone from way beyond the past, quoting so
fluently, here she was unable to even remember what she had taught in the last
class!
“We know what we are, but know not what maybe, Hamlet, Act
IV, scene 5”,came the premonitory reply.
A sudden chill descended, which was broken by the abrupt
entry of her three-year old niece, Chin-chin, (she was the proud owner of
several chins).
“Bua, come-come,” she
lisped,tugging at Renee’s arm. Renee hobbled down, sheer panic making her
forget her pain temporarily. Did she hear ‘The web of our life is of a mingled
yarn, good and ill together. All’s Well That Ends Well, Act IV, scene 3’
floating down behind her?
Renee was
recuperating satisfactorily, in the guest room, on the ground floor. The family
was in and out of her room, she had not had heard the ‘Bard’ quoted for some
time now; when she saw the inky blue Ford Esteem of her principal sweep into
the gate. Mrs.Robinson her school’s principal entered accompanied by two more
colleauges.
“Renee, you have been absolutely wonderful, so thoughtful of
you to send Beth, she’s absolutely fabulous as a teacher, the children just
adore her,” she ended dramatically. At Renee’s questioning silence;
Sheila volunteered, “Actually, Elizabeth, where did you hide
this friend all these years? She said that you had sent her to tide over the
time you till you are on leave.”
Renee stared at them in dismayed silence, her eyes behind
the glasses appeared like to giant white marbles dotted with black. Mrs.Robinson
stepped back in alarm, “Why, surely Renee, Beth told us that she had taught
English all her life, in a Calcutta school ;and she was appalled at the present
falling standards. Beth has definitely made a difference. She’s started the
dramatic club ‘Shakespearana’ where the children will concentrate only on doing
the plays of the great playwright.”
Priti her one friend also chipped in, “Beth has a great film
collection, she’s managed to get us a video of the latest ‘Shakespeare in
Love’.” “Isn’t that certified as an
adult film,?”
Renee finally managed to croak. “Renee you will never
change, of course we didn’t show it to the children. She’s even managed to get
a pirated version of ‘Elizabeth’, after
whom she was named”, ended her friend giggling like a high-school girl.
“Beth’s so energetic,
despite her age, I don’t mind employing her permanently,” commented their
principal. Renee thought that they would never leave, but after consuming,
several samosas, home made cake and coffee, they departed crooning
‘get-well-soon’ softly to her.
She sat there
beaming broadly, “O! The fierce wretchedness that glory brings us. Timon of
Athens, Act IV,scene2.”
What guts, now she
had begun invading the downstairs guest room as well. Was there no way of
stopping her. Renee stared at her in disbelief, she must have dozed off ,on the
recliner, evening was giving way to dusk, the room was enveloped in the
lengthening shadows. Renee picked up a large crystal dragon and hurled it in
her direction, she heard,
“I hate ingratitude more in a man, than lying, vainness,
babbling drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption taints our
frail blood. Now tell me, where it was said?” taunted her tormentor.
Rage illuminated a fading memory, “Twelfth Night, Act III, scene
2,”she shouted in triumph as her Bhabhi, entered the room in anxiety.
“What happened,?” as
she surveyed the fire-breathing Renee and the broken crystal glass. Her face
said it all, now added to her woes was
a deranged sister-in-law.
Back in her
upstairs room, Renee felt she could battle her ghosts alone. Although, this
time, even her ever indulgent younger brother had appeared worried and there
was talk of inviting their widowed Mausi from Benaras to shift in with her. She
had looked sufficiently normal for them to prevent any such further
development.
“This was the unkindest cut of all, Julius Caeser, Act III,
scene 2.”
Her heart was
bursting with grief, Renee found that this quotation was repeating itself, again
and again in her mind, to be branded insane by her own kid brother. All this
was thanks to Beth, she had begun spouting long forgotten quotations, almost as
if Beth had migrated into her mind as well! She would begin school tomorrow, at
least end of Beth there. She was missing the noise and the children of her
school. Absence had whetted her appetite for shouting and scolding the hapless
youngsters. She would concentrate on grammar and the short stories, about time
they finished with all those medieval plays. Unknown to herself she spoke
aloud, “I will drop Macbeth, and take up the other recommended reading, ‘Far
from the madding crowd’.”
An answer came unasked, “Thou speakest wiser than thou ware
of, As You Like It, Act II scene 3.”
Beth floated in majestically, eyes gleaming with battle,
Renee was up in a flash, she was prepared for her, a gleaming steel kitchen
knife in her hand, she would drive it through Beth’s throat, it would bring
back her inner peace. The steel slashed empty space and to her horror was
pointing at her own throat.
“It’s too rash, too
unadvis’d, too sudden; Too like lightnening, which doth cease to be. Ere one
can say it lightens. Romeo and Juliet, Act II,scene,2,” came the laughing
reply.
Renee was stunned
into defeat, she lay paralysed as she watched the amorphous figure merge into
her.
“And do as adverseries do in law, Strive mightily, but eat
and drink as friends. The Taming of the Shrew, Act I scene 2.” Beth spoke
inside her head.
“Oh! No, she’s back
again,” cried Piyush watching their old English teacher stride down the corridor.
“I will miss Beth ma’m, groaned Smita
She was so friendly and affectionate.”
The students bowed their heads in grief and disappointment.
“Good morning children”.
Was it possible, it was the old familiar, ancient gentle
voice. The amazed children looked up to observe a smiling Renee, there were
traces of Beth ma’m very clearly radiating from her!
*
*
*
*
The day passed off uneventfully, Renee was feeling rather
tired, the decibel level of class eleventh was getting intolerable; despite,
Beth’s control of her mind she was able to break free. The astounded class
watched as torrents of venom long pent up, come gushing down their, innocent,
unsuspecting heads.
“.........the rest is silence. Hamlet Act V, scene,2,”
commented an all-too-familiar voice.
Glossary
1.Bhabi…sister-in-law(brother’s wife)
2.Mausi….maternal aunt
3.Bhoothni Bua…..ghostly paternal aunt
4.samosa…..stuffed savoury
words….2,791
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
WriteMaza: What is WriteMaza
WriteMaza: What is WriteMaza: WriteMaza This time I have been inspired by the quotations from the blogs of EverydayGyan. "Even a seemingly tiny...
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