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.