The end is the beginning (or the beginning is the end)

Once upon a time, there was a country, where lived a little girl. She was alone. No one else. She decided that this was not good. But she decided to make herself the Queen of the whole country. She worked a teacher  in a regional university. She was new to the job. But there was no one to teach her. But it was ok, because she had no boss. And the University had no students. Or other teachers. It was just an empty place.

Then she decided to experiment with research. She was worried because she was a single woman without a partner or boyfriend or whatever. She at times felt like life as a professor would be better. So she decided to become a professor. It was very different from what she had been led to expect it would be when she was a teacher; she at times felt like the fact that she was a single woman marked her as invisible or different in ways that made people uncomfortable.

She decided to fix this. She would write books, to explore ideas related to these things, but she did not want it to be a diary. Rather, she constructed a voice that was brash, at times caustic, at times inappropriate. She did not want to perpetuate the weird language of promotion and tenure notebooks and letters of application. She wanted to talk not exactly as herself but nevertheless in a voice that was decidedly not her academic voice. She also wanted to keep her “real” identity secret. A pseudonym gave her, or so she thought, a certain measure of freedom.

A few weeks ago, she decided, after having considered the idea a number of times before, to end this experiment. Why abandon a professorship that has developed into something good? Why do this now?

Then for a long time she felt somewhat hemmed in by the space that she lived in. It was empty yet she felt crowded. Her pseudonym give her freedom, but at the same time limited her. The voice was always there. She had to be very careful about what she did. She was being watched.

What she’d achieved was the construction of a space, identity, and voice, that allowed for her to talk about personal life things but that ultimately stripped her of all authority (and of all ability to defend her positions) about the professional.

She felt this was quite unreal. It was not authentic research. Even her professorship was faulty. There was no specific intellectual life. She tried to get all these out of her head. But to fabricate and embroider in ways that are obfuscating: that was not her forte. She had to be careful in a space that she imagined first as a space in which she could escape the pressure to be careful that she feel in her academic writing.

And so, toward the end of last semester, along came a troll. And at first she was really freaked out. This person seemed malicious. She considered how to respond. In that consideration, she also reread a lot of what she had written over the past year-and-a-half – early entries that don’t seem like anything she would write today.

She also thought a lot about what she was trying to do with herself. She thought about going on as if nothing had happened, but didn’t feel comfortable with that. She thought about stopping everything altogether, and that felt like a really bad “letting the terrorists win” sort of thing.

And then it occurred to her: the only reason she was in this predict ent was because she was terrified of people knowing who she was. As much as she had dealt with her “real” identity being revealed to others, she had also been really afraid of the consequences of being a “real” person. And so, maybe the solution is to come out – to just be in the real world.

 

THE MONGOLOID

Mongoloid, Yes. That’s it. She looked Mongoloid. Why he thought of her, he himself could not fathom. Was it her voice? It had been the most commanding voice he had ever heard. Oh no. Could not be that. She hardly spoke. The others were chattering so much. Yet he remembered her.

It was the twilight time. Dusk. Everything looked a little dark and foreboding. The figures moved stealthily. The sounds were subdued. As though expecting something big to happen. The girl moved along the shadows. She had the rod in her right hand. The rod dragged along the earth path. A strange rattling sound. The sound grew louder as the girl moved further.

It had to be her. She knew it. A favorite concoction. Of course there were other considerations too. Purple flowers. The most exquisite flowers. But they were always purple. And in her hand, the wand. It was so long that she had difficulty balancing it in one hand. Occasionally she would spit at passersby. But she would not really spit. He mouth was always dry. No spittle. It was just a sound of spitting.

Cockroaches swarmed over the wall. Where did they all come from? As if by magic. They just appeared. And soon after, they would disappear just as mysteriously too. The crickets were chirping. The sound was ominous. Almost like a warning. Yes, the baying started next. And the howling. The stray cats began their cacophony. And then the mongoloid girl. She spoke. She commanded everyone to be quiet.

And there was quiet.

Life and Death

Vittal sat at the altar. He was deep in prayer. The room was hot and stuffy, but Vittal looked serene. He was oblivious to the buzzing mosquito. It was a good 30 minutes before he opened his eyes. He rose, his mind calm and collected. Everything was in its place. Everything was in order. His mind could even perceive the order in the chaotic room. Vittal moved to the kitchen.

Anusu was at the kitchen sink. She looked tired and sleepy. In fact she had just woken up after an 8 hour sleep. Yet she looked like she had not slept for days.

“Bloody water pressure..” she muttered as she tried to turn the tap further. She gave up after a while. As Vittal watched, she opened the kitchen cabinet, upsetting the whole pile of containers, which crashed to the floor at her feet.

“Damn.” She cursed. As she turned, she saw Vittal. Standing at the kitchen door. “And what is so funny? Why the hell are you smirking?” she raised her voice in real irritation.

Vittal just shook his head. “No, I m not smirking. You look tired. Bad night?” He walked over and picked up the containers, arranging them neatly on the kitchen top.

“No. I slept ok. But it was your snoring that probably disturbed me. Seriously, I should move to the other room. I really need the peace.”

“Come on Anusu. I don’t snore.”  But Anusu ignored him.

“Are you going to get the plumber to fix the water tank today at least? It’s been pouring down the back wall for weeks.”

“Oh? I didn’t know there was a problem.”

“WHAAT? I have been reminding you and reminding you… you are just impossible. You don’t care about the house or me or your family. It’s just you, you and you… Have you ever asked me whether I’m ok ? Whether I need anything? Have you bothered to think about me? Hah?” she ranted on and on.

“Anusu, I really don’t remember you telling me. But I will call the plumber. Will you be around today when he comes?”

“That’s it now! So I have to do this as well. Don’t I have any time for myself? I wanted to go out today and now, I have to stay in this prison, just because Mr. High and Mighty is calling the plumber.”

“OK, Anusu, I can ask him to come tomorrow?”

“No, I m not free tomorrow either. You handle him. I’m just not free. I don’t have the time. For a change take some responsibility.”

“OK, I’ll call him and come back from the office when he comes.”

“And I don’t want strangers left alone in the house when I’m not around. You make sure you are with them all the time. I have valuables around the house. And I don’t want anything missing.”

“OK. I’ll do that. Do we have any bread for breakfast?”

“ Go look for yourself.” Anusu walked away to her room, slamming the door shut.

***

The MPV shot out of the side road, swerved at high speed across the three lanes and entered the ramp, screeching to avoid the embankment wall. Vittal slammed on the brakes, missing the MPV by inches. Cars around him swerved to avoid each other, honking, the drivers cursing and swearing.

In a moment things were back to normal. Vittal continued driving. As he reached the office car park, he saw a long queue of cars at the barrier. There was something wrong and the barrier was not going up. There was a lot of honking and shouting, as the car park attendant scurried to get the barrier up. Many people had come out of the cars and were giving the poor man an earful. Vittal looked at his watch. Nearly nine. Ghosh was chairing the meeting at nine today. And he hated latecomers. Vittal knew he was going to be late. But he could do nothing. By the time the barrier got sorted out, it was nearly 9.20. Vittal drove to his reserved parking bay. And there was a car parked in it. Vittal sighed. He continued to drive down to basement 4 before he found a space.

He quickly parked and grabbing the briefcase, walked briskly to the lift. He waited a good 10 minutes, before concluding the lift was out of order. Vittal walked quickly up the 8 flights, reaching his office at 9.40. He walked into the meeting room, looking neat and calm.   

“Sauntering in at your own sweet time… Bloody irresponsible. I do so many things, yet I’m on time. You just take care of this one miserable section, yet you can’t make it on time for this meeting, where you are in charge. What the hell kind of person are you?”

“Sir, there was a problem…”

“I don’t want to hear your bloody excuses. You have to be more responsible. When you have an important meeting, can’t you start a little earlier ? You want me to wait for you? Who the hell do you think you are?”

The staff looked uncomfortable as Ghosh went on and on. Finally he stopped. Vittal sat down, and the meeting continued.

***

Vittal sat at his desk. The meeting had gone on until nearly 5. It was only after 5 that he had come into his office and cleared all the backlog work. He was working on his plan for next week’s presentation. And Ghosh had also asked him to clean up the McCall Proposal. Arvind had prepared it, but Ghosh was not satisfied. Vittal finished off the presentation plan and sent it off to Ghosh. Then he started on the McCall proposal. It was 8 by the time he had done with everything.

The phone rang. It was Anusu. She wanted to know when the plumber was coming. And when was Vittal coming home ? And can he buy some supper? And can he pick up her laundry on the way home.

***

Vittal came out of the shower, got into his shorts and lay down on his bed. It was nearly midnight. In a few seconds, he was in deep sleep.

***

Vittal was driving home. The plumber would be there in a few minutes. The lights turned green. As he started to move, the timber truck beside him shuddered to life. In a split second, there was an explosive sound as the cables snapped, releasing the huge timber log to crash down on Vittal's car.

***

Ghosh sat in Vittal’s living room. He was alone with Anusu. The accident had been extremely convenient. Some had whispered behind their backs. But over time, it all blew over. They got married. Anusu was soon GM in Ghosh’s company.

***

Anusu sat hunched on the bed. The room was a shambles. She herself was a haggard old woman. Just skin and bones. He skin was pale and dead. Her hair almost all gone. She sipped the porridge. After a few spoonfuls, she retched. She lay back. The pain was unbearable.

Ghosh had calmed down considerably. The high done medication was working. The spells of hysteria and anxiety were rare these days. But they were replaced by the depression. He had difficulty breathing. And eating. And sleeping. And standing up, or sitting down. Or even lying down. In fact everything was equally painful. He longed to die. He glanced at his wife. Just at that moment she opened her eyes and gazed at him blankly. But she had no energy to rant at him. And Ghosh was too weak to speak.

The Dream

Chandy sat back in his chair. His eyes were half closed as he gazed at the city skyline out of his office window. It had been a good day. After all the stressful events over the  past few weeks, success had come. And it had come big time. The CEO was excited at what Chandy had presented. It was a great breakthough. The CEO heaped praises on Chandy and his team. And this was no mean feat, considering the CEO was a man of few words. And in the midst of the euphoria had come the excited call from the doctor in Penang. It was excellent news. Everything was going right. This could be the time to tell her. He picked up his phone. He had to share this with Malini now.

The phone rang and rang. She didn’t pick it up. She’s probably having a nap, Chandy though, as he hung up.

***

It was nearly dark when he pulled into the driveway. The house was dark. He rang the doorbell, while opening the front door. What a lovely surprise it would be. She knew Malini would be happy. He  walked into the living room. Everything was dark, but he could hear the TV upstairs. He padded up the stairs. The living room was a mess, dirty clothes and shoes everywhere. Leftover food on the coffe table. And a bad odour emanating from the kitchen.  This was unusual!

“Malini! I need to talk to you,” he exclaimed, bubbling like a little boy.

“Shhhhh….. “ she waved him off, not taking her eyes off the mega-serial scene.

Chandy sank into the sofa beside her. He watched the scene for a few moments.

“Malini,” he began.

“Shhhhh…. Just go away ok? I’m watching this.”

Chandy gave up. He went in for his shower. The sight of the bathroom infuriated him. Wet clothes everywhere. Some stinking, obviously having soaked for days. But Chandy quietly cleaned it up. Then he showered, and by the time he dried up and changed into his comfortable shorts and t-shirt, he had cooled down. He walked into the TV room just as the serial was ending.

“It’s been a week since you came home. And now, you walk in late and won’t leave me in peace to watch my show ? So what is so urgent you have to interrupt me?” Malini raised her voice in irritation.

“Well, I was trying to call you from the office….” Chandy began.

“Ya, that’s what I want to know? What’s so life-and-death that you have to keep ringing home and disturbing me? Can’t it wait? You are such a nuisance.”

“Listen, Malini, I was just trying to talk to you…”

“You can talk to me anytime. So do you need to interrupt my show? Doesn’t what I’m doing matter at all?”

Chandy exploded. “Listen. I just don’t know what kind of woman you are. The house is a pig sty. The bathroom and kitchen stink to high heaven. And here you are sitting all day watching serials…”

“Listen, I’m not sitting all day ok? You are the one sitting in the air con office like a Lord, and you think you can walk in here and Lord it over me? Get lost.”

And the words got harsher and louder. Until Chandy just walked out of the house.

***

Chandy sat on the park bench. It was dark and lonely. The evening had started so well. Why is Malini behaving like this? Just when the good news should be a cause of cheer, she had to throw the tantrum. What did he do wrong?

It was almost midnight when he left the park, driving slowly home.

***

Malini lay on her bed. The pillow was wet from her tears. She was angry with herself for not confronting him earlier. Kamala had told her she had seen Chandy with a woman in Penang. But even otherwise, she should have suspected something amiss. Chandy was always travelling to Penang. “Business,” he would say. How could he do this ? She had sacrificed everything to come with him. And now he was picking on her for not answering his calls, and watching a TV show. And for God’s sake, does he think she is a slave ?

***

Malini sat upright. It was incredible. She was alone in the huge theatre. It was cold. She shuddered. But she couldn’t move from her seat. And then the lights dimmed. The screen came alive. The scene was blindingly sharp. Two people…. Walking in the distance. The camera zoomed in. It was Chandy… and a girl. It was Chandy and Christine. She recognized her immediately.

Malini looked at Christine. She was pale and wearing a headscarf. Instantly everything became clear to her.

***

Malini awoke early. She sat up. Chandy was not beside her. She hurried into the living room. Chandy lay in a heap on the sofa. The comforter lying on the floor nearby. She stood near him, looking down at him. What a childlike face. He had been caring for the terminally ill Christine. She stroked his head softly.  Chandy opened his eyes and looked up at her blankly. He watched as tears welled in her eyes.

“I know everything Chandy. I’m sorry. How could I have been so stupid. I am totally unworthy of you. Please will you forgive me?”

Chandy got up and pulled her down beside her, hugging her tightly.

“Shhh. Its ok. Malini. Its ok.”

“We have to go to Penang. I have to see her. I have been stupid for far too long. Please take me to see my sister.”

With a little help

The night was still. The sounds of the crickets seemed like a racket. And then the occasional howling of a stray dog in the distance.  Bharath lay awake. He was drowsy, but his mind was racing. The events of the last week ran over and over in his mind like a commercial.  The tragic case. The hopeless financial situation.  And then the final straw – the humiliating abandonment by his own family.

Bharath was alone in the dark house. He was alone in his life. The emptiness weighed down on him. He started unblinking into the darkness. And then suddenly he realized it. What was wrong ? Why wasn’t it working ? He tried to get up. But his body was stiff and rigid. As he tried to sit up, he heard it.

A soft creaking sound. Bharath felt the acute sharpness of the sounds. It was as if all his being was focused in his hearing. The soft footfalls came closer. And then he saw him. A stocky guy. He had a long dagger in his hand and a rucksack slung on his back. Bharath was surprised that he felt so calm. For a moment he forgot his life. With one mighty effort he sat upright and shouted.

The startled man pounced on Bharath. He slashed wildly, catching Bharath on his neck. As the weapon sliced his jugular, Bharath collapsed, his blood spouting out all around him.

The police were all over the house. Bharath’s wife stood silently in the corner. She was surprisingly calm. As she started at her husband’s body, lying in the middle of the hall. The blood had hardened and covered almost the entire floor. The police were removing the body. Ratha looked up. And her eyes fell on the unfamiliar bottle standing below the stove platform. It was partly hidden among all the other bottles. But Ratha recognized it immediately. The bottle of weedkiller. It was empty.      

 

I Thank

I thank God for my parents

I thank my parents for bringing me into this world

I thank them for raising me, educating me, making me what I am

I thank my wife for feeding me, caring for me, and being there for me

I thank her for our beautiful children, for bringing them into this world

I thank her for raising them, feeding them, caring for them

I thank my children for being such fine children

I thank them for making us proud, so often

I thank my children for our grandchild, and our legacy.

Thank you.

The Birthday Present

Vimal looked sullen. It was his birthday, but here he was dusting the furniture, vacuuming the floor and scrubbing the bathroom. His wife snapped at him for wetting the kitchen floor. And he had to go to the market. And that delayed his breakfast. He fel even more sorry for himself.


They were expecting a guest. The Guruji. Everyone waited anxiously for his arrival. Vimal sat alone. Sulking. The Guruji came late. It was almost 1 pm. After some small talk, lunch. Vimal looked at the items on the dining table. His wife had outdone herself. There was sambar and rasam and olan and payathanga. Vimal was depressed. It was his birthday. Yet every item on the dining table were things he hated. But the Guruji liked them. That’s all that mattered. Vimal nibbled at the food.

After lunch, the conversation was on astrology. And numerology. It was not really a conversation, It was a monologue. By the Guruji. But his audience loved it. They soaked up every word. They doted on him, plying him with fruits, snacks and coffee. The horoscopes of every member of the family was brought out and analysed. The Guruji made predictions, gave advise and ways to counter the various misfortunes that lay in everyone’s paths. Vimal sat disinterested, hardly listening. He looked at the clock every once in a while. His afternoon nap time came. And went. The Guruji showed no signs of letting up. It was nearly 4 when he finally left.

Vimal looked sullen. The sleep deprivation made him look even more grumpy. His family was discussing what the Guruji had said. The things he had had said after looking at their horoscopes. Their lives ahead were so much clearer. The horizons looked bright. The choices were clear. The future was an open book.

Vimal started listening. He recalled bits and pieces of what the Guruji had said. It all started to fall in place. His troubles at the office – he knew all of a sudden what the real issue was. And his restless mind, which was causing him sleepless nights, it was crystal clear now. Yes, Vimal’s life looked a lot more cheerful now. He was raring to get on with it. His face had cleared perceptibly. He knew that God had sent the Guruji intentionally. God had wanted to give Vimal a Birthday present. And He had sent the Guruji.