Geetha Krishnan's Blog, page 23

Movie Review: Shelter (2007)

The other day I happened to watch a movie named Shelter. I knew that it was a gay love story, but what I did not expect was to be moved by what is unquestionably a beautiful love story.

The storyline is simple, the actors brilliant and the emotions that the movie evokes are universal. Anyone who has experienced love can identify with Zach, around whom the story revolves.

Zach, an aspiring young artist had to shelve his college dreams to take care of his disabled father and his nephew, Cody. Jeanne, his sister is irresponsible and depends on Zach to take care of Cody while she hangs out with her current boy friend Alan.

Zach works as a part time cook and spends the rest of his time surfing with his best friend Gabe and hanging out with his girl friend, Tori with whom he has an on and off relationship.

While Gabe is away, his brother Shaun comes to stay in their house. Shaun is a published author, who has broken up with his partner and is looking for a place to stay till his new lease starts next month. He is also attempting to find inspiration for his next novel.

Shaun and Zach go surfing together and form an easy camaraderie. Shaun is impressed by Zach’s art portfolio and advises him to go for his dreams. They enter into a relationship though Zach is initially hesitant. Cody also becomes friendly with Shaun. Shaun encourages him to apply for the course at CalArts, a large arts university and even gets him an application form.

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Jeanne wants to go to Portland with Alan who has got a job there, but she cannot take Cody. She’s also upset about Zach’s relationship with Shaun since she considers it to a bad influence on Cody. Zach is conflicted and confused and he breaks up with Shaun.

Zach gets a call from CalArts who has accepted his application. Zach realizes Shaun had sent his application and portfolio to CalArts. He also realizes that Cody will be better off with him and Shaun since Shaun cares for both of them. He comes out to Tori who tells him she has always suspected. Later, he apologizes to Shaun and tells Jeanne that he is going to pursue college and his relationship with Shaun. He will take care of Cody but he will not forsake Shaun. Jeanne accepts his decision and leaves.

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The movie ends with Cody playing in the beach with Shaun and Zach.

The scenes with Zach and Cody are among the best in the entire movie. It is evident how deeply Zach cares for his young nephew and how much Cody depends on him as a father figure. In one scene, Cody insists to Zach that “You’re my dad,” in spite of Zach explaining to him that he is Cody’s uncle since his sister is Cody’s mom.

The initial relation between Zach and Shaun is also friendly and uncomplicated. Zach and Shaun have known each other since childhood and they have no difficulty slotting into place in the other’s life. Zach’s initial reluctance and confusion as also his conflict after Jeanne’s vocal disapproval are both portrayed well.

The way the movie ends in a positive note with Zach free to pursue his dreams without having to give upon either Cody or Shaun is heart-warming and one cannot but feel but hopeful for the future of both these men.

Trevor Wright is convincing as Zach and Brad Rowe nails the role of Shaun. Among the other actors, the most noteworthy one is Jackson Wurth who plays Cody. We hope these men to end up together as much for his sake as for theirs.

Whether or not you like gay movies, if you are into simple love stories with happy endings, Shelter is a must watch. I have a feeling I’m going to watch it again. And again.

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A New Beginning

A/N: So, I had this dream and I wrote this story! Enjoy!!

As his car got stopped at the checkpost, Gary scanned the men stationed there. None of them were familiar and they waved him through after a perfunctory and routine verification. Gary did not know if he was relieved or disappointed. It was quite possible of course that Blake was no longer here. Or perhaps, he was no longer as influential as he once was.

Gary refused to think of any other scenarios his overactive brain came up with. He still wasn’t certain why he came. True, he wanted to attend Sue’s wedding, but she would have understood if he’d told her why he couldn’t come.

Why did he come back? Perhaps he had a death wish? After all the last time they had seen each other, Blake had very publicly threatened to kill Gary. And Gary had done the smart thing and left town.

At the time, Gary wasn’t certain how effective running would be. But he’d stayed alive for three years before he had that accident. No one had come looking for him. So, he supposed it had been pretty effective.

Of course, it wasn’t such a smart move to come back here. Though after his accident and the surgery, he was all but unrecognizable. The doctors had suggested plastic surgery, but Gary had declined the option. The scars that disfigured his face and made him unidentifiable were a reminder. A reminder of how transient life was. Of how fortunate he was to be alive at all.

And here he was, trying to throw away that life by coming back to the one city where he was in mortal danger.

Gary was wondering if it might be wise to turn around and drive away and to make his excuses by phone to Sue when he saw Blake. Or rather, the building that housed Blake’s office which for some reason had a large bill board which flashed Blake’s face.

So, Blake was still around.

Gary weighed his options. He could go back. He could stay out of Blake’s orbit and be safe. Or he could embrace the danger and introduce himself to Blake.

He grimaced. Introduce himself. It sounded so weird considering the relation he had with Blake at one time. It was all based on lies, of course, so yes, introducing himself was not so strange after all.

Gary drove to the hotel he’d stayed in during his last memorable visit to the town. He gave his real name at the desk. But the manager, the same man who was here the last time, showed no hint of recognition. Which wasn’t surprising considering the way he looked right now. His name wasn’t an uncommon one after all, and the man apparently didn’t make the connection.

Having refreshed himself, Gary called room service and ordered lunch. Then he picked up his cell phone to call Carla. He owed her a call.

“Gary?” She exclaimed when he identified himself. “My God! I didn’t recognize your voice! Are you having a cold? Where are you calling from?”

He told her. There was silence in the line for a long moment that he thought the line was dead.

“Carla? You there?”

“Are you crazy?” She demanded in a breathless whisper. “What made you come back, Gary? Blake Dexter does not forget! And you made him look like a fool when you came out with that story.”

“I’m a reporter, Carla,” he said. “I can’t keep running every time danger threatens.”

“But you don’t have to go looking for it! My God! Gary! I hope you had the sense to check in under a different name at least.”

“Actually, I did not.”

“Gary!”

“Don’t worry, Carla. I’ll be gone before you know it. I had some urgent personal business. Just thought I’d call you.”

“Gary, I’d love to meet you, but I don’t want to get you in trouble. You may have no sense of self preservation, but I don’t want to attend your funeral.”

There was a knock on the door just then.

“I’ll call you later, Carla. I think my lunch is here.”

“Take care, Gary.”

He ended the call and put the phone back in his pocket. He opened the door to find the muzzle of a gun trained against his forehead. The man holding the gun was one of Blake’s henchmen, Nate Benson. Blake was also standing there, behind the man. A terrified waiter was also there, with the lunch trolley.

Gary lifted his hands to the air. His heart was racing. He wondered how the manager or anybody recognized him. The injury to his throat had caused some damage to his vocal chords, causing his voice to be raspy and hoarse, so it was unlikely that his voice was recognized either. It might be the name that did it.

“I’m sorry,” said Blake, touching Benson on the shoulder. Benson lowered his gun and tried to look apologetic. “I mistook you for someone else.”

Gary stared at Blake. Of course, he didn’t recognize him. No one had. But Blake’s men were not taking chances and so had informed Blake about the man who checked in under the name Gary O’Brien.

With a nod, Blake left with his man. The waiter wheeled the trolley in apologizing profusely. But Gary was not paying attention to the waiter. He was too shaken.

He knew he shouldn’t have come. Blake still wanted him dead. Carla was right. Blake Dexter did not forget.

Gary slept all through the afternoon. When he woke up, it was already six and he still felt groggy. He pushed himself out of the bed, groaning. He picked up the phone to call room service to order a pot of coffee and dragged himself to the shower.

Drinking his coffee, he contemplated having dinner in his room. Had he come here for that? To hide in his hotel room? He’d known Blake would want to kill him when he came. He knew it before he came. Then why did it affect him so badly now?

Because, his heart answered, some part of him had hoped Blake would have forgotten it by now. After all, seven years was a long time.

Not long enough, apparently.

His hand hovered over the phone. He had not come here to hide. He had intended to let Blake know he was here. Of course, he should have known that Blake wouldn’t recognize him.

Gary dropped his hand. It would probably count as suicidal to call Blake and tell him who he was.

But hadn’t he come here to make peace with Blake?

He shook his head. He’d come for Sue. And he knew Blake was not likely to attend Sue’s wedding. Sue and Tom were artists, which made them as unlikely to be in Blake’s orbit as he was.

Gary knew he could have told her why he couldn’t come and she wouldn’t have complained, but Sue was important to him. Had it not been for her, he would never have survived the years of physiotherapy after his accident. He probably would never have even gone in for it had she not pushed him. She’d come and stayed with him to make certain he wouldn’t cheat on his practice. She’d driven him to and fro without his even asking for two years. And she’d put up with his anger and negativity and complaints without reacting in kind.

No, he was not going to stay away. He was going to attend Sue’s wedding.

He picked up his phone to call Sue to let her know he was in town. He should have called her before this, but he wanted to compose himself first. And that call to Carla was part of the closure he sought for that episode of his life.

He frowned as the call went to voicemail. Perhaps she was busy. With a wedding in two days, it was natural. He would call her later.

But his phone rang just then. It was Sue. He grinned as he answered.

“Gary!” She shrieked. “You actually came!”

“How could I not?” He laughed. “You’re my best friend.”

“And some,” she laughed. “When did you reach?”

“This afternoon. When can we meet? Shall I come over?”

“Not today, Gar. I’m super busy. We can meet for lunch tomorrow. If I had known it was going to be this much bother, I’d never have said yes to Tom.”

He laughed again. “Poor Tom!”

“Well, we were living together anyway. This is just making it official or legal or whatever. But it is so much trouble for a minor detail.”

“Does Tom share your views?”

“I think he’s beginning to regret ever asking me. We haven’t had a moment to ourselves this past week. Relatives we never even knew existed are trampling all over our house. God!”

He grinned. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Don’t forget lunch tomorrow. There’s a new restaurant a block away from your hotel. The food is really good.”

“I’ll be there.”

He hung up feeling so much better about being here.

There was a knock on his door. He opened it, still chuckling and the smile faded from his face as he saw the man who stood there.

“Hi,” said Blake. “I just wanted to apologize properly for earlier. May I come in?”

Gary swallowed and nodded. He’d not seen Blake properly earlier since he was standing behind Benson. He looked exactly as he remembered.

Gary closed the door and turned to face Blake. He needed closure. And he was damned if he was going to chicken out now. He just hoped his closure would not be a literal one.

“There’s something I need to tell you first.”

Blake was looking at him with a strange expression on his face.

“Why did you come back, Gary?”

Gary felt as if someone had dunked him in cold water. He was finding it difficult to breathe.

“How did you recognize me?” He asked finally.

Blake made an impatient gesture. “That look in your eyes when you saw me earlier and now too.”

“The look in my eyes.” He repeated as he crossed to the bar and poured himself a drink. “Even I didn’t recognize myself the first time I looked in a mirror.”

Blake shrugged. “I guess I know you more than you do, then.”

“Yea, I guess that’s why you want to kill me.”

Blake shrugged. “You know I have a temper.”

“Is that why you came with a gun wielding henchman?”

“I couldn’t be certain about your intentions, now, could I?”

“What do you mean?”

“Gary, when you… well, the last time… you were only after a story. But you could have been after my life, and I wouldn’t have known. So…”

Gary sighed. “I came for Sue’s wedding, if you must know.”

Blake looked blank.

“Sue.” He said patiently. “The artist. The one I recommended for a job at the school.”

“Oh her. Didn’t realize she meant this much to you. After all, you did take a risk in coming here.”

“Well, I probably would still be tied to a wheel chair, full of anger and self-pity if not for her. So, yes. I took a risk, but I had to.”

“What happened to you?”

Gary flung himself down on a chair. “Look, if you’re here to kill me, kill me. If you’re not, say what you have to and go. I… I’m not in the mood for reminiscences.”

“I don’t remember you being this touchy,”

“Things have changed. I have changed.”

“Have they? Really? I wonder.”

Gary realized what was happening only when he found Blake’s arms around him and his mouth on his.

“Blake,” he groaned. “It has been seven years,”

“And you still respond to me,” murmured Blake, his fingers stroking Gary’s face. “I wonder why.”

“You know why,” said Gary quietly. “That’s one thing I never lied about.”

“And yet, you lied about everything else. So, can you blame me for believing that you lied about that too?”

“That’s over,” Gary muttered. “Why dredge it all up?”

“It’s not over for me, Gary. And judging by your words, it’s not over for you either.”

“Look, why are you so keen to believe me? I could be lying to you.”

“Like I said, there was that look in your eyes when you saw me. I don’t think you faked it since you didn’t even know I was going to come here.”

“Blake, this is stupid.”

“Why?”

“Look at me. I mean, look at my face.”

Blake scanned his face gravely. “A bit scarred. But it suits you.”

Gary sighed. “Blake, I may not be a cripple, but that doesn’t mean I’m whole. And… I did lie to you. I lied to get close to you, all for a story.”

“But you never lied about your feelings for me,” Blake kissed him again. “Can’t have been easy for you. I know I’m the antithesis of every ideal you ever had. And I haven’t changed.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter to me. You are what you are. And I am what I am.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be together.”

“Isn’t this seven years too late?”

“Maybe,” Blake sighed. “Look, I want you back in my life. Maybe I’m a fool to trust you again after what you did, but… well… and if you don’t want it, you’d better say it now.”

Gary closed his eyes and his arms tightened around Blake. He was scared by how much he wanted this. He had got through the years by deliberately pushing Blake to the back of his mind.

“I want this too,” he whispered at last. “But Blake-”

“No buts,” Blake’s voice was husky against his ears. “You and I, we both did things we shouldn’t have done. Let’s just put it all behind us.”

Gary smiled. “Why not?”

Prologue

The man stood frozen in fear. Even his innards seemed to be frozen. He wet his lips and wondered what else fate had in store for him. Was he destined to die like this, naked and alone in this dense forest, swallowed by a snake? He, who was the scion of a most noble line, who had been the envy of even the Gods? And he had been reduced to this! This man who lost his kingdom, his possessions and even his clothes. He had to steal his wife’s uttariya to cover his nudity and to leave her in the midst of the forest, so whatever ill luck plagued him would not follow her any further.

But it was all for nought, thought he, as he stared into the eyes of the huge serpent, as if mesmerized. There was something strangely hypnotic about its eyes. He could not look away. The movement of the snake was almost seductive. For one wild moment, Nala, the rightful King of the Nishadha Kingdom, wondered if being killed by this snake would be better than the life he had now? At least, without him, Damayanti, his wife, would have a better chance at happiness.

But then, reason returned. Damayanti might be better off without him, but he also knew she would never see it that way. He had left her for her own good. But to get himself killed so ignominiously might be the worst service he could do her.

He tried to move sideways surreptitiously, the snake’s eyes following him. Yet, it made no move to strike. Nala gained confidence and took one step back. The snake did not move. Nala took one more step.

Then he saw the orange glow of the fire. The forest was on fire! He knew he had to escape now. He took one more look at the snake and realizes that it was caught in a net, a net whose strands were so thin as to be invisible in the gloom. But in the orange glow of the fire, he could see that the snake was trapped.

He looked at the fast approaching fire. The snake was certain to burn to death if he left it there, but the fire was spreading fast. His face grim, he strode forward, grasping the edge of the net and freeing the snake in one smooth motion.

The snake reared and struck.

Far away, in another part of the forest, Damayanti screamed as the coils of a great snake tightened around her.

“Oh Nala!” She whispered, even as she struggled, tears pouring down her face. “Will I ever see you again!”

A Day in Heaven

“They’re at it again,” chuckled Suyodhana.

“At what again?” Yudhistira lifted his eyes from the book he was reading.

“Discussing us,” Suyodhana smirked. “And they’ve decided I’m the good guy.”

Bheema gave him an once over, “I can see what they mean. You do look good.”

“Er… I don’t think that’s what they meant,” said Arjuna with a grin.

“I know what they meant,” said Bheema, “I was just adding my own perspective.”

“I wish they would just make up their minds,” said Vasusena, looking over Suyodhana’s shoulder.

“I think this time they have,” Suyodhana chuckled, “You’re a monster now,” he said to Bheema. “And I’d better not mention the language they are using about you,” he said to Yudhistira.

Yudhistira put the book down and covered his face with his hands, “Remind me again what exactly I am supposed to have done, to earn all this- encomiums?”

“You staked your kingdom, your brothers and your wife,” Vasusena said promptly.

“When did I do all this?” Asked Yudhistira in a long suffering tone that made Arjuna snicker.

“Beats me,” grinned Suyodhana. “Must be the day we played that game in the garden.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t have a kingdom or a wife to stake then. And how could I stake my brothers when I have an older brother? Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who lost that game,”

“That was the day you made me steal grandfather’s clothes while he was bathing, wasn’t it?” Asked Suyodhana. “I warned you there would be repercussions!”

“That’s because you went and stole grandfather Vyasa’s clothes instead of grandfather Bheeshma’s clothes, you moron!” Bellowed Yudhistira.

“Well, how was I to know who you meant?” Said Suyodhana in an aggrieved tone. “They were both our grandfathers, weren’t they?”

“Someone kill me!” Groaned Yudhistira.

“You’re already dead,” said Bheema helpfully, while Arjuna and Vasusena caught each other’s eyes and turned their faces away, trying to stifle their laughter.

“And who is this Krishna they keep talking about?” Demanded Suyodhana. “And this Draupadi?”

“Grandpa Vyasa’s real name is Krishna,” said Arjuna. “And this Draupadi is also called Krishna. God, he loved his own name, didn’t he?”

“I still don’t know why he gave me a hundred brothers.” Said Suyodhana. “I mean, how is that even possible?”

“The same way he gave us two extra brothers?” Suggested Yudhistira.

“A hundred and two are not the same, I only had one brother and grandpa turned him into a traitor!”

“I will have you know I object to that portrayal,” Yuyutsu from the corner where he was engaged in a game of chess with himself. “Why did he even portray me? I mean, first he made me illegitimate, then he made me a traitor!”

“Well, you’re the one who locked him inside the bathhouse, that day,” said Suyodhana.

“What about me?” Asked Bheema. “He made me into some kind of amoral person, a real monster.”

“If you hadn’t laughed that loud, the guards wouldn’t have noticed him sneaking into his room, naked.” Said Vasusena, grinning.

“That was your fault! It was dark! Even I wouldn’t have seen him if you hadn’t lit up the whole damn corridor with that arrow of yours!”

“He got his revenge on me too,” muttered Vasusena. “And now we have posterity arguing about us,”

“You know, I have serious reservations about these people,” said Suyodhana. “Surely, someone ought to realize the implausibility of half the things he wrote!”

“Well, to be fair, he made it sound realistic,” said Yuyutsu grudgingly. “He always had a way with words,”

“Let them argue over his stupid work,” said Yudhistira, as he picked up his book again. “Aren’t they gonna look foolish when they realize what actually happened!”

“We could lock them up with the rest of the poor souls who went insane on learning the truth.” Said Arjuna comfortingly.

“You know, I never even knew souls could go insane,” said Bheema.

“Whatever, he made us famous,” said Suyodhana. “I mean, if he hadn’t made up all that stuff about us, no one would even have known about us.”

“Price of fame,” muttered Yudhistira. “I would have preferred to be obscure.”

“Shall we have another game?” Asked Suyodhana. “Loser to go down on earth and steal all of grandpa Vyasa’s clothes? After all, we’re all dead. What can he do to us now?”

A gleam came to Yudhistira’s eyes. “Steal his clothes, his car keys, cell phone, wallet and laptop!”

Suyodhana grinned. “We have a game!”

More Similar than Different

A/N: This is my first ever ASOIAF fan fic and I’m fairly new to the fandom. I’ve never watched the show, and have only read the books. English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse any mistakes there might be

He sat near the window. It was his favourite place. He could see the snowy peaks of the mountains and the forests from where he sat, high up in the tower. If he looked down, he could see the bustling courtyard. He was feeling quite content.

A soft knock at the door.

“Come in,” he called.

It was a footman. “Your presence is requested, my Lord.”

“By whom?” He wondered if this was another attempt by Sansa to find a bride for him. When he heard of the party she was having to honour their new monarch, he had made it very clear that he would not be taking part. Arya was not so lucky. Though Sansa had pouted, she had seemed to accept his reluctance.

The footman fidgeted. “By one of His Grace’s entourage.”

Bran frowned. Why would any of the King’s men want to meet him?

“Hasn’t this person got a name?” he snapped, angry now. He’d need to send for someone to carry him downstairs. His disability no longer bothered him. But he knew just how uncomfortable it made those around him. Even the footman averted his eyes while speaking to him. As a child, he had not minded the pitying glances. As a man, no one glanced at him and it bothered him. Which was one of the reasons why he’d decided not to attend the party.

The footman cleared his throat. “He didn’t say, my Lord. He only said there was no compulsion. If you permit, he’d come here himself, if you can’t make it down.”

“Then tell him to come up here.” God! I sound like a querulous old man, thought he.

The footman fled, closing the door behind him.

Bran turned to the window, watching the setting sun turn the snowy peaks to red and the Western horizon into a riot of colours.

Bran had not wanted to come and stay with Sansa and her new husband. Though Sansa had changed, she still seemed to have a fanatic belief that everyone needed a spouse. Both he and Arya had resisted her match-making, Arya with rather more grace than Bran. Bran had got so fed up that he told her that no woman on earth was going to be willing to shoulder the burden of marrying a man who was tied to a chair. Sansa had gone pale, though she did not have a single thing left to say. But she had stopped her match-making.

But when the plans for this party were told to him, he’d wondered if she’d actually stopped, or was just holding them in abeyance for a more opportune moment. She’d still not protested much when he told her flatly he would not be attending and to make his excuses to the King and Queen. And now, here was some guest, wanting to see him. Bran could not for his life, think who would want to see him so badly they were willing to climb all these stairs. There were more than four hundred, Sansa had grumbled the last time she came to see him, though Arya had laughed and told her not to be such a baby.

There was another knock at the door, this time a servant bringing him his food. Normally Bran never stayed here in the tower. He had a room downstairs. But occasionally, he preferred to be away from Sansa’s fussing and Arya’s boisterousness. And of course, during parties.

Rickon had invited him to go with him during his last visit. Bran had been tempted. Rickon would leave him alone and not fuss over him. He would not throw eligible girls at his head, girls who tried hard to hide their discomfort. But in the end he’d turned Rickon down. Rickon lived in King’s Landing now. And Bran did not wish to ever see that place. Even though Rickon might leave him alone, there were a lot of people there who would wish to meet the famous Brandon Stark, the hero who turned the tide of the war. Most did not even know he was crippled. Like the silly girls Sansa tried to throw at his head. All their fascination with the heroic Brandon evaporated the minute they realized that he was a cripple. Bran had felt sorry for some of those girls.

As he ate, he thought that the guest who wished to see him might be one of those who wished to see the hero. Once the war was done, Bran had fled to the Reeds’ home where he’d stayed till Sansa had prevailed on him to come home.

Home… this was not the home he remembered. It was built from Sansa’s memory of Winterfell and though it resembled the original, Bran knew it could never be Winterfell. Winterfell was gone, like his parents, like Robb. There was no bringing it back.

The King had offered to rebuild Winterfell at its original site, but Bran had refused. He had not wanted the castle rebuilt. And even he didn’t know why. It seemed to him a desecration of the memory of the place to clear away the site and build a new castle there. Both Arya and Sansa had shouted at him for that, but Bran had been adamant. Surprisingly, Rickon had supported him. And the girls had given up, though not very graciously.

Sansa had got over her disappointment by building her own Winterfell. And Arya too had to be satisfied with the copy of Winterfell that Sansa built. But living in this pale imitation had made them see Bran’s point of not having Winterfell rebuilt.

Another knock on the door. A servant came to remove the plates and clear the table. His personal attendant would be here soon to get him ready for bed. Bran wondered absently whether the party downstairs was over.

He was already in bed when someone knocked at the door. Bran frowned. Who could it have been?

“Who’s it?” He asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“I’m sorry, I was told you would see me later. I can come back in the morning.”

Before Bran could collect his wits, he could hear footsteps receding.

He lay back, rather stunned.

Why did Jaime Lannister come to meet him?

Morning brought no counsel or ideas. But Bran had a nervous sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had not had nightmares about his fall for such a log time, but he had one last night. He had not thought of Jaime Lannister for such a long time. The man was no longer what he once was, if reports were to be believed. The loss of his hand had changed him, was what Bran heard. And now, he was a war hero just like Bran. And a cripple, again like Bran. But the similarities only made Bran sick. Jaime Lannister was the last person he wanted himself compared to.

Bran left the tower after breakfast, Hodor carrying him to the Godswood. Though Sansa did not follow their father’s faith, she had felt even a copy of Winterfell would be incomplete without its Godswood. This was the only part of the whole place that felt real to Bran. Probably because the wood was already here for such a long time. Hodor sat Bran near the Weirwood tree and wandered off. Hodor had grown old, but was still strong and Bran never allowed anyone else to carry him. A basket was no longer needed and Hodor carried him as one would a baby. Bran no longer minded.

Bran bowed his head, and though he was greatly tempted to reach out to the tree, he did not. He had not used his gift consciously since the war ended. Not once. He’d sworn to himself he’d never use it again.

The sound of a twig breaking under heavy boots broke into his reverie. He turned his head to see Jaime Lannister standing there. He did not look much different, though the gold in his hair was now mixed with white and there were deep lines etched on to his face. And of course, there was the hand. Or lack of one, rather. But his eyes held almost the same expression Bran remembered from his nightmares. Nothing.

That lack of any expression in Lannister’s face as he had pushed him out of that window was what had frightened Bran most in later years. Anger, remorse, contempt, fear- all those he could have understood. But there was nothing there. He was utterly indifferent. How could any man with a soul be that indifferent to a deed that heinous?

And Bran was seven again, staring into those eyes just before the man pushed him out of a window and changed his life for ever.

“Came to finish the job you started?” Bran was surprised at the venom in his own voice. “You botched that job then.”

Lannister did not even flinch. “I understand your anger. And I do not blame you. But I do wish you to know that I regret what I did. There were other ways of ensuring your silence. I shouldn’t have done something so drastic.”

“If that’s supposed to be an apology, you’re botching that too.”

Lannister shrugged. “Apologies are grossly overrated. I do not think you’d be satisfied with one. I regret what I did, but I cannot change it now.”

“No, you can’t.” Bran paused for a moment. “I wanted to be a Knight, you know. A Knight! I might even have admired you at one time. I don’t know, it’s so long ago now… Thanks to you, this is all I became. A cripple!”

“A cripple with such power that he could turn a whole army into gibbering idiots,” said Lannister drily.

A shudder went through Bran. “I don’t do that now.”

“So I’ve heard.” A pause. “However, I want you to know that Knights are fairly common. What you are now, that is rare. That is special. That helped you win a war, become a hero.”

Bran smiled bitterly. “Yes. It did. But I would give up all my gifts, and all those lives I saved when I stopped that army, if I could just walk again! Can you even begin to understand that?”

A muscle moved in Jaime Lannister’s face. “I do, believe me! I understand more than you think!”

Bran’e eyes went to the stump of Lannister’s right arm.

“I believe you do,” said he softly. “Though the way I heard tell, you are just as proficient with your left hand now as you once were with your right.”

“I guess, we both got our consolation prizes, then.”

“Why did you come to meet me?”

Jaime Lannister looked nonplussed for a moment. “I wish I knew.”

Silence fell.

“I’ll take my leave of you then,” said Lannister.

Bran nodded as he turned his back on the other man.

My new book

After a lot of dithering and procrastination, I finally got around to putting it in createspace! Yay!!

https://www.amazon.in/gp/aw/d/1540594793

The Deathless Ones (My entry for Nanowrimo 2016)

Prologue: The Children who died.

Matt was eleven the first time he died. It was an accident and it wouldn’t have happened if he’d been careful. But he was too close to home and had been careless. The arrow had caught him in the heart and he’d fallen down, mere feet from the front door of his home. Of course, the soldiers did not know it was there, it was too well hidden.

When Matt started breathing again, he was inside his home, where Kathy had dragged him into, once the soldiers had left. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him and he knew that he’d been dead.

“You are like me,” she’d said as Matt examined his torso. There was not even a scar, though the strange markings were still there. Matt still remembered the first time he realized that others could not see his markings. Not even Kathy. But she had markings too and he could not see them.

Matt lay back down. His chest still hurt. He wished the pain would disappear as easily as his scars. All his wounds and injuries healed almost instantly, but the pain remained for a few days depending on the severity of the injury. And this was an arrow.

“We need to leave,” said he. “Once I am well. The fighting has come too close.”

Kathy nodded. “I wish… I wish father and mother were like us.”

Matt closed his eyes. His chest hurt and his eyes prickled. Their parents had died in the war. They did not come back to life, like he did just then and Kathy did when she was five. His parents were still alive then and they’d thought Kathy had only fainted, though the Healer from the village had told them she was dead. The Healer was as surprised when she started breathing again, though not as delighted. He’d muttered about witchcraft and had hastily left their house.

“We’ll go,” muttered Kathy. “But where?”

Where was a good question. Matt did not know of any place where the war was not happening. They had no money, no weapons, no parents.

And they were both only eleven. We will find a place, thought Matt as he drifted off to sleep. We will leave here. Perhaps they would find a place with no war.

Kathy sat still, watching her brother sleep. She curled up on her own pallet, but her eyes remained open. They should have left earlier, much earlier. They had nothing here, no future. Both Matt and she were dead. They had to leave and be someone else in some other place.

And perhaps, thought she, as her eyes closed and she slid into sleep, perhaps they would find a place where they would have enough to eat.

Musings

There was only darkness now. In this all pervading gloom, Kaikeyi longed for a ray of light for just a moment. But that longing vanished as soon as it was born. She did not deserve the light.

She did not know how long she’d been here. A village at the edge of Ayodhya’s borders. Her sole relief was that none in that village knew her identity.

When was it she left the city of Ayodhya and the palace? How many years might have passed since then? Kaikeyi was unable to recall. Time was meaningless for her. And in truth, hadn’t her life ended that day? That cursed day which would never fade from her memory?

Even while she claimed aloud that she was blinded by the love for her son, Kaikeyi knew she was deceiving herself. The mother she lost. The mother who did not exist even in her memories. From the day she learnt that her father had abandoned her mother, she had started hating men. Never did she seek to know why her father did that. But she hated him for making her motherless.

The hatred and contempt just grew in her heart. It spilled over to all the men in her life. She had felt nothing but contempt for her husband who loved her above all his wives. She had never felt victorious, but contemptuous as King Dasaratha neglected his other two wives for her. He was lost in her beauty.

She had also felt fear. What if someone more beautiful came into the King’s life? He’d already neglected two wives for her. He might neglect her for another too! All the wiles she used to keep him attracted to her, all the little tricks were not born out of spite for her co-wives, but her own insecurity. She never sought to establish her ascendancy over them, but only to keep her own position secure.

Kaikeyi was amused by the jealousy and anger of the other two queens. She was also surprised at how obtuse they were- how was it they could not see the frailty of their husband? How was it they never realized that none of them were beloved of the King?

Why had she been so stubborn? It wasn’t out of her love for her son. It was true that she had forgotten the King’s promise to her father at the time of their marriage. The son born to her would be made King. This he had promised. And she was angry that the King chose to completely forget that promise. By the time she realized that she had been prompted neither by her love of Bharata, nor by any envy for Rama, it was already too late.

She sighed deeply as she thought of that day again. The day when her son had walked away from her after calling her a mariticide. She had never seen him after that. In the days that followed, she had wondered if she was being punished for what her forgotten mother suffered. In spite of knowing her whereabouts, Kaikeyi had never once attempted to see her. In spite of the anger she harboured for her father, she had never tried to ease her mother’s suffering.

The day she left the palace for good, the thought of ending her life was foremost in her mind. When did she get the realization that her true punishment was life, not death? She could not remember. Countless number of days had passed since then.

Kaikeyi was ready to welcome death as an old friend now. But the one she longed to see before that was Rama, not Bharata. Rama whom she had once loved more than her own son; Rama who had once loved her more than his own mother. If that Rama did not forgive her, she knew her death would be even more futile than her life.

As she lay on the bare earth, Kaikeyi’s dreams were full of her mother’s face.

Love Triumphant

Three

The forest was in bloom again. Dipping into the forest pool, Parvati wondered at the marvels that each day in the forest revealed. Whilst she lived in the palace, she had never noticed the primeval attributes of nature. Nor the savagery inherent in her. She’d seen the beauty of flowers, of a sunset or a sunrise, of the blue sky, of neatly trimmed lawns, of rainbows and sparkling pools. But she’d never seen the power and beauty of a thunderstorm, of a lion stalking its prey, of a river in spate. Now, all that seemed but an integral part of the world. Her world.

The water was icy cold even though spring had arrived in the forest. She shivered slightly as it first touched her skin, but she was used to the cold now. She had bathed in this pool even in the depths of winter. It was not to mortify the flesh, but rather to remind herself that the flesh and its comforts meant nothing now. Her goal was all important.

She did not really know how long it had been since she left the palace. It might have been a few years, it might have been a few months. Time really had no meaning anymore. She was aware of the passing of seasons, but she did not notice their cycle nor even think about how many seasons might have passed. All that mattered to her was Him.

She was still lost in His thoughts. Only now, she used that thoughts to meditate on Him. She went without any sustenance for days on end, His thoughts and His name was all the sustenance she needed. Even when she ate, she ate only the fruits she could find fallen from the trees. She drank the water from the forest streams. She slept on the bare earth or on leaves. And she’d never been more content or happy.

He still had not come, but she was not concerned. She knew it would take time. And she was prepared to wait. Time did not matter. Only her goal mattered. She’d never expected attaining Him to be easy. She’d always known her patience would be tested to the limits. And she was prepared for that.

She dressed herself and dried her wet hair as best as she could. She spread the clothes she had washed on the bushes to dry and made her way back to the crude idol she had made. It was by no means perfect, but she knew that it did not matter. Appearances had no value. What mattered was the devotion and the love that went into worshipping Him.

She collected flowers for the worship and was making her way to the idol when she suddenly had a feeling of being watched. She turned around quickly. A young man stood near the tree which bordered the pool. He was obviously an ascetic by his garb, but the expression on his face was hardly ascetic.

How long had he been there? She wondered? How long had he been watching me?

His hot gaze raked her body and she was suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She pulled her robe tighter around herself and addressed him politely,

“Are you lost, O holy one? Do you require any assistance?”

“I was about to ask you the same, O lady. How come one so beautiful is clad like a hermit? How is it that one who should be living in luxury is living in such austerity? Who are you, O lady? And what are you doing in this dense forest?”

“My name is Parvati, O holy one. I am the daughter of Himavan and Mena, here to perform penance for attaining Lord Siva for my husband.”

“Lord Siva? That mendicant?” The man looked horrified. “How can any delicately nurtured maiden even think of obtaining that beggar for her husband? No, Devi! Give up this foolish dream. One such as you should never demean herself by binding yourself to Siva! He’s not worthy of you!”

He had moved forward as he spoke and now stood in front of her. His face held so much earnestness that she could not even bring herself to be angry at his words.

“Please, do not test my patience,” she told him. “Siva is my Lord and my chosen husband. I am not likely to tolerate such remarks as these about him. I suggest you leave!”

A look of contempt came to his eyes.

“Lady!” Said he. “You do not know this Siva! You are deluded by him! He calls himself an ascetic and roams in the company of ghosts and ghouls! He is a drunkard and likes to dance naked in graveyards! He wears animal skins and ornaments himself with snakes! His body is smeared with ashes and he consorts only with the lowly! One such as you should put him out of your mind! You are a princess and even in these simple robes, your beauty shines like the sun! Your limbs are shapely and your mind elevated. Do not degrade yourself by seeking to ally with him!”

Her eyes kindled in fury. Well-meaning or no, the stranger had crossed all limits of propriety.

“Do not speak another word against my Lord!” She said angrily. “I could pardon your ignorance, but that does not mean you should say whatever you wish! You do not know who Siva is! He is the source of all creation as well as the end. He is all-pervading and all-knowing. For those whose eyes are clouded with this material world, his greatness cannot be understood. Only the truly enlightened can understand Him and even they understand but a part of him! There is none in all the three worlds who is worthy of him!”

“Worthy of him!” Exclaimed the man. “He has properly deluded you , lady! My concern for you is what prompts me to say these words. Even if you do not like them, I must utter them, for it is for your benefit only.”

“Your venomous words are of no benefit to me!” Her anger was growing. “I cannot compel you to leave, but I certainly can leave your foul presence.”

She turned from him and was startled when he caught her hand. She turned to him in fury and-

“Parvati,” smiled Siva. “Please forgive me, my dear. I could not help testing you.”

She swallowed. It was Him! And she had not even realized! Instead, she’d been angry and had ordered him away.

“My Lord,” she whispered, contrite. “I did not recognize you.”

His smile deepened. “And how could you? I was in disguise, you know.”

He had drawn her into the circle of his arms as he spoke. She looked into his eyes, her eyes wide, her lips parted. She was afraid to ask why he was there. But she had to know. She cleared her throat, but before she could speak, his lips had descended on hers and all thought was lost.

“Was that another test?” She asked when his lips finally released hers.

“No,” his voice was husky. “That, my adorable wife-to-be is only a sample of things to come. I am not the most patient of beings, I must warn you. So, if you want to change your mind, now might be the last chance.”

She nearly laughed aloud at that. Change her mind? Not likely! She shook her head. “Never.” Said she emphatically. “I am never going to change my mind.”

But, thought she, she was not free to bestow her hand on whom she pleased either. That was her father’s decision. She smiled at her Lord. She would need to tell him.

He smiled and released her. “I shall arrange for you to be escorted to your father. I believe I would need to request your father to bestow your hand on me.”

She looked at Him in wonder. How had He known the thought in her head. But then, he was God. He knew what was in every mind. The realization didn’t frighten her. It only made her love him more.

She put her arms around him, wondering if she was in a dream or was hallucinating. He laughed as he lifted her face to look into her eyes.

“This is no dream, my love,” there was so much tenderness in his smile, it turned her knees to water. She was really glad about the support his arms provided. His smile held promises of all that she’d ever dreamt of and she sighed contentedly.

Dream or no, she would not exchange this for anything.

Love Triumphant

Two

 

“You are resolved on this,” it was a statement, not a question. King Himavan knew there would be no turning his daughter back from this course. She’d always had a will of her own. And he’d always known that she’d chosen Lord Siva as her husband.

“It is the only way for me, father,” she replied.

Himavan knew pride as he had never felt before. She was determined to do this. And all he could do was to give his blessing and pray to the God of gods that his child attain her wish. For he knew his Parvati’s happiness, nay, her very life depended on gaining the Lord for her husband.

But he also knew a moment’s apprehension. How could his gently bred daughter face a life of austerity, even to attain her goal? How could he allow this beautiful flower to wither in the wilderness in meditation and penance? Wasn’t it his duty as her father to protect her from hardships? Shouldn’t he be using his authority to stop her?

But one look at her face told him he had to control himself. She knew well what she was doing. And she was not a child. His duty as a parent lay, not in stopping her, but in standing by her decision. His duty was to respect her determination, not to question it.

“I bless you,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulder. “May you be successful in your endeavour.” He paused. “Bid good bye to your mother. I shall arrange for you to be escorted to the destination of your choice.”

“There’ll be no need for that, father.” Her protest was half-hearted. She knew he would not have peace unless he ensured her safety during the journey at the least. And she still had enough fears in her own heart that she was glad of the escort.

“For my sake, child.” He said now.

She nodded. “I would need to bid good bye to mother.”

It was not something she relished. Her mother would understand, she had no doubt about that. But that was not going to prevent her from shedding tears. Mena was too much a queen, too loving a mother, to hold her back. Even her tears would not fall till Parvati was away, but Parvati knew her mother well. Mena’s eyes would not stay dry once she left. And the tears would not stop till she returned.

One more reason to ensure she would succeed, thought she. Her chosen husband, Lord Siva had to accept her. Not only hers, but her parents’ happiness was also riding on it now. Now that she’d finally made up her mind to do what she’d set out to do at seven.

It was her mother who had stopped her then, she remembered.

“Uma!” She’d said. ” Don’t!”

And she’d heeded her mother’s words then. Uma. The name had stuck, a pet name or a nick name, she was called Uma as much as she was called Parvati.

But her mother would not stop her now. She knew that. And much as it would comfort all of them, she could not allow her father’s soldiers to escort her either.

She looked at him now. “I will go alone, father,” her voice was steady though she quaked with fear inside. Himavan looked as though he wanted to protest. Any other man would have insisted, would have called her fickle, would have pointed out the danger in a gently-bred maiden going into the forest alone. But Himavan was silent. As if he knew that his daughter had to do this by herself. This was her destiny. And he had to let her find it.

Thus it was, the Princess Parvati cast aside her silks and jewels and garbed herself in simple hermetic robes. Her long hair, that used to be washed, dried, perfumed, combed and braided lovingly by her maids were gathered into a coil, and covered with her Uttariya. A long necklace of Rudraksha beads adorned her neck and her arms were bare of all adornments. The necklace was all the ornaments she wore.

Barefooted, she walked out of her father’s palace, the simple garments she wore preventing the populace from recognizing their princess. Blending into the crowd on the road, Parvati directed her feet to the forests that fringed their mountain Kingdom,