Sharon Puthur's Blog, page 2

Episode 9: Karma, Divine Retribution, and, the sweet act of Revenge

Karma (noun): A force or law of nature which causes one to reap what one sows; destiny; fate.

Revenge (noun): Any form of personal retaliatory action against an individual, institution, or group for some perceived harm or injustice.

Retribution (noun): Punishment inflicted in the spirit of moral outrage or personal vengeance.

 

My friend Srikar and I were having a discussion on Karma and revenge when he told me an interesting story that I shall elaborate now…

Once, a Guru with his disciples were walking towards the bank of a river. Along the way a group of boys passed by and they picked on one of the disciples, making fun of his attire and his bald head. The disciple spoke not a word in retaliation. The boys went ahead and got into a boat to cross the river. When they reached the middle of the river, strong currents overturned their boat and all the boys drowned in the river. On seeing this, the Guru turned to his disciple and scolded him, ‘Why couldn’t you say something in retaliation? Your small act of revenge could have saved them from their Karma.’

 

In this way Srikar justifies his need for revenge. If someone harms him he prefers to harm them back to protect them from greater damage or so his belief goes.

It is a funny theory but surprisingly all religions have it in some way or the other, because that is how the laws of the world are. The world has a moral order in which it is built. If we break that order there is a consequence that has to be borne. To say it in the words of William Barclay:

“Break the laws of agriculture –your harvest fails. Break the laws of architecture –your building collapses. Break the laws of health –your body suffers.”

Whatever you do will have a pleasant or an unpleasant rebound effect. That is the law of nature whether you attribute it to a god or not.

~~~

My dad is a naval officer. During his tenure in the defence, his compassion towards his subordinates had earned him fierce loyalty in their ranks. Every time I meet one of them they speak very highly of my father and of how well he managed the workings of the departments under him. And more than once I have been told that the blessings on my parents will be reaped by their children.

Many seniors to show their power and control over their inferiors withhold some of their privileges. This not only happens in the defence but also among civilian ranks. When someone under them is denied in some manner or the other and are unable to retaliate in any way, in their helplessness they can only cry out to their God. And it is their God who listens to their cry. When God comes to fight your battles, the retaliation goes beyond the basic moral laws of Karma, or so my father says quoting stories of God’s revenge that he knows of personally. And so my father says to me that the best way to judge a man is to see how he treats his subordinates.

~~~

I shall now mention another case here. A friend I know of, tries out the Christian way of dealing with enemies…she forgives them. She quotes the words of Jesus thus:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbour and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.

If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the sinners doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than the others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”    –Mat 5:43-48

 

Forgiving enemies is a hard bargain for anyone, sometimes even as good as impossible to do so. When I asked her how she did it she told me something like this:

‘When someone hurts me, my first reaction is anger. I keep myself from retaliating and instead speak of my sorrows to my God. Speaking and crying it out is just one part of it. While most people wish for evil done to their wrongdoers at this point, I pray for the strength to forgive them. It is not easy at all. But surprisingly strength does come and slowly in that calm state of mind you can put yourself in their shoes and understand the reason to their behaviour. Once you understand that you begin to feel sorry for them. Then it is much easier to forgive, it is easier to bless them and it becomes easier to move on.

‘Once I have given up on my personal vendetta, the revenge is taken up by God. There definitely is a divine justice but it is not something that I am looking forward to or rejoicing in. Most times I don’t even know of it. But the most beautiful result of this is that the relationship is somehow mended. They invariably come back and the relationship is at times better than what it previously was.’

~~~

So whether it is waiting for Karma, crying for God’s retribution, forgiving your enemy or plotting your own revenge, the one common thread that connects everything is the need for a human to be justified with a result. It is an egocentric thought to expect the universe to be responsible for the pain you’re going through, or a God in his infinite magnitude to right the wrongs done to you. You need a result, not just an explanation, but a definite result. The result is what brings an order in life and a hope for the future. The hope that what goes around comes around, not to us, not at all, but to others, always to others.

The Princess who ran away……………A novel

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PROLOGUE

‘…And then the princess ran away.’

The lady was telling her young son in hushed tones. She turned and caught my eye from across the aisle and smiled sheepishly. I gave her a nod, embarrassed at being caught staring.

The boy’s voice was louder than his mother’s.

‘Where did she go? What did she do? Has she come back?’

I grinned at the window in the dim light of the flight cabin, remembering the questions I had asked my story teller.

It was seven months ago, while I waited for a flight that I got talking with a girl. She was reading a magazine and making no effort to quieten her laughter. I felt drawn to her as if by a magic spell (later I came to believe it was fate). I sat next to her and tried to peep surreptitiously into her magazine. That was when she turned to me.

‘The things they speak about the princess! They believe she is in Tahiti learning the Tahitian dance.’ She laughed.

She was talking about the runaway princess. It was a five-year-old story, lying dormant most of the time, only to be brought to life by a rumour of a sighting. I was personally interested in the story and had even tried writing a novel with a similar idea but it progressed very little before hitting a dead end.

‘People concentrate more on the story of the princess and forget the love story connected to it.’ She said.

I too had heard about the love story that had created a stir when it came out. But then the people lost interest in it and went back to locating the whereabouts of the princess.

‘Do you know the love story?’ I asked.

‘Yes, I know it well.’

She spoke with an authority that prompted my next question.

‘Do you know the characters personally?’

She bit the smile from her lips. ‘Do I look like I mix around with Kings and Queens and runaway princesses?’

Her lie aroused my interest.

‘You know where the princess is?’

‘According to this magazine, in Tahiti.’

‘According to you?’

She shrugged. ‘I just told you that the love story is more interesting.’

After my last futile attempt at writing, I was once again looking for a good story to write, with the ideas I had in my head leading nowhere. I had a four hour wait for the next flight and I had already bored myself window shopping at the airport. So, I considered this the next best option.

‘Can you tell me the story?’ I ventured.

‘I will, but only if you also promise to let the ghosts of the characters free from the story.’

When I looked confused, she laughed.

‘Let me explain.’

For the next four hours, I kept my eyes on her and forgot the world.

 

THE LEGEND OF PRINCESS KAIRAVI

Once upon a time in a strange land, there lived a King and a Queen, who believed they were loved and respected, but in reality, were not. The King was weak and insipid and the Queen likewise. The people waited desperately for a new ruler they could admire and placed all their hopes on the Princess.

The King and Queen had only one child, the Princess, who was said to be beautiful and richly endowed. She was trained and accomplished in all the arts of their land and outside. She had not a speck or taint in her character; unspoiled as a rose still in the bud.

To add to her mystery, the astrologers predicted a period of great changes and unparalleled splendour in her rein; a period of plenty for the land.

The excitement surrounding the princess was palpable and the people craved for the day when they could at least steal a glimpse of her, because bizarre as it seems, nobody had ever seen her.

It was a strange custom of that land that applied to only the princesses born, that apart from the day of their birth when they were ‘shown’ to the people from the royal balcony; nobody could see their faces till the day they became queen or the day they married, whichever was earlier.

It also inevitably followed, that the princess couldn’t see her land, or her people, or anything other than her castle, before either of the set conditions were met. This small detail, further added the necessary allure to the princess, which the people agreed was important in setting the precedent to the rest of the women in the land.

Her chastity and innocence was extolled and it was a regular phrase at homes of the common people, addressed to young girls and sometimes even to boys, to be “as pure as the princess”. It was also for this reason, that the people accepted the royal edicts without question and treason was unheard of.

And so, the tradition of keeping the princesses hidden continued up to the present day and age. The people lived in general harmony and waited for the day when they would finally behold their princess.

The Swayamvar of the princess was soon announced. It was the day she had to choose a groom for herself. The land was overridden by a flurry of excitement. People spoke of nothing else, other than how the princess might look and whom she would choose as her husband. Invitations were sent abroad and accepted by many influential families with sons.

On the appointed day, the land swelled with eligible bachelors of diverse skin colours and races, each hopeful of being chosen as groom and eventually, the king of the land. Anticipation hung as a thick cloud as people stocked their homes with coloured lights and fireworks. The longest recorded time for choosing a groom had been twenty-one days and they wondered if this time, it might be special with all the rumours of the princess floating abroad.

The people gathered in great joy at the square, waiting eagerly for the palanquin bearing the princess to arrive. The royal band was ready and on cue, began the drums. Everyone craned their necks, staring unblinkingly at the entrance of the palace. But instead a palace guard ran out in urgency. The band initially unmindful soon stopped and watched as the guard spoke with the king and queen. Silence was starting to spread like ripples in a lake, betraying the presence of danger lurking underneath. Nobody understood anything. The king and queen sat motionless. The guard then walked up to the podium and announced in clear tones.

‘Nridevi Kairavi palayanam kritavati.’

Princess Kairavi has run away.

 

CHAPTER 1

Dhruva sat on his bed and stared blankly out of the window. Outside, the sunlight penetrated undaunted through the thick foliage every few seconds, before cowering behind floating clouds. For some reason, the sudden bursts of brightness and coolness distracted his thoughts and annoyed him further. Why were the clouds thwarting the sun’s desire to shine freely? The more he thought of the sun and the clouds, the more depressed he became.

Mr Kayath was worried for his son. His son was the perfect picture of shattered dreams and disappointed hopes, and he had to take a fair share of the responsibility on his head, as his wife continually reminded. However, he refused to take the entire burden.

‘Who would have guessed that the princess would run away?’

‘What a shame!’ His wife said.

Abha sat cross legged and wide eyed in rapt attention. She loved gossip of any kind and an outrageous act like this demanded more of her attention than her full bladder.

‘How did she do it? Why would a princess run away before her marriage? Now Ma, you cannot tell me to be chaste like the princess anymore. I can do what I wish to.’

‘No, you may not. The King might not know how to keep his daughter in check, but I do.’

‘She may have had a lover.’ Abha went on urgently.

‘That doesn’t make sense. He could have easily come for the Swayamvar and she would have married him with the full permission of her family. There must be some other reason.’ Mr Kayath said. ‘It is a mystery.’

‘Now whom will Bhai marry?’ Abha asked fidgeting in her seat as the urge grew stronger.

Her mother grimaced. ‘Poor Dhruva. He has not spoken a word since the news got out.’

Dhruva still sat unmoving on his bed. After the affair between the sun and the clouds, he had to witness the antics of two cavorting squirrels. They ran from branch to branch of the Neem tree and the pine, before shrieking next to a pomegranate with their bushy tails up. They were clearly in love and that certainly didn’t

lift his spirits. To add to that, the ruminations from the hall were penetrating his ears and brain like harmful radiation. He wanted the world to stand still so that he could think clearly, but his mind was like a mess of knotted threads, paralysing him into inaction.

Far away in the distance, two hills away stood the castle, glinting darkly under the capricious sun. Every day he set his eyes on the castle believing that one day he would be living there. Now that building appeared strange, hazy and out of his reach. From the time that he could remember, his father mentioned to him that his destiny was to be a king and that the castle was his rightful place.

On the day the new born princess was shown from the balcony Mr Kayath had apparently whispered in his son’s ears that she would be his wife. After that, at every possible stage Mr Kayath took Dhruva with him to the castle during his tenure as minister. Dhruva drank in his surroundings greedily, knowing in his heart that it would all be his one day. The seed that was planted as a child sent its roots out deep and gripped his mind and heart, feeding generously on his thoughts and emotions, till his only purpose in life was to become the King.

When his father retired he stepped in his shoes as minister for Home affairs. Knowing that the princess was close every time he stepped into the palace, his mind would get into a frenzy of sorts. He imagined the smell of her perfume and her long, cascading tresses brushing against his face and then a fast forward to the Swayamvar when she would choose him and then the placing of the crown on his head, in the rightful culmination of all his dreams.

Now his dreams seemed to have sublimated from the reality of his mind into nothingness. He closed his eyes wearily as the reality of the nothingness bore heavily upon him.

In the next room, the telephone rang which Mr Kayath picked up immediately. Dhruva knew that it might be from the royal cabinet and he would have to be there. Before his father kept the phone down he walked into the hall. The hall was still decorated with coloured paper lanterns and earthen lamps, some of which were lit and were hastily being snuffed out by the servants. Flowers knitted on strings stretched brightly from wall to wall, waiting only to be pulled down and bid for by the servants in their quarters.

He stood staring at the main doors. The princess had to come through those doors, with him…

‘Remember what the ‘Snake Woman’ said!’ Abha cried out. ‘She had predicted this a month ago.’

The Snake Woman or the witch of the forest as she is variously known; had indeed come through those very doors, a month ago. The witch was a very short old woman who walked with two sticks and wore a dress made out of stitched pieces of bark and snake skin. She subsisted on snakes, some of which she knotted on her head with her hair, so that her head came alive with squirms and hisses. During her prophesies, she would untie a snake and pop it live into her mouth and swallow it whole.

Nobody knew how old she was or where she lived, though some speculated that she lived in a hollow of a tree in one of the forests and could be well over two hundred years old if the history of her sightings could be believed. She appears at places suddenly and without warning. No one would stop her from entering where she wanted, including the private chambers of the King and Queen if she ever desired to speak with them. Even the most hardened sceptics blanched at her sight. But not Dhruva. He considered her prophesies vague and her, a phony.

That day was her first sighting in three years. She had entered through the doors followed by fearful looking guards who were keeping a safe distance from her head. She was seeking him out, he realised, when she stood next to him.

‘The time she arrived was when we were at breakfast.’ Mrs Kayath said.

‘Which I couldn’t eat after that.’ Abha said.

‘Neither could I.’ Said Mr Kayath.

‘But I know what she said,’ Mrs Kayath said, fishing out a sheet of paper from a cabinet. ‘She looked only at Dhruva as she spoke – “One month from now your life is going to change. The decisions have been made. Though they could change, they may not.” At this point she plucked a snake out of her head and sucked it like a noodle and continued – “Make your future decisions wisely because the fate of the land depends on them. Your head will give you many options but do what your heart says.” At this point she smiled and yanked out another snake and – never mind I’ll skip that. She proceeded – “Or better still, use both your head and your heart to make your decisions. You will be a changed person soon and any change is welcome, is it not? I hope it is. The proper decisions will lead you to the goal that you desire, as long as you know for sure, what you truly want.” And with that she left.’ Mrs Kayath finished.

‘She travelled so far to utter ten sentences. It must have been important. Though I can’t understand what she meant by them at all.’ Abha said tapping a finger to her lips. ‘But she did predict something calamitous like this to happen, didn’t she? Something that has never happened before. Your life is going to change forever.’ She said in mock imitation of the witch from the forest.

Dhruva looked distastefully at his sister.

‘That was a call from the cabinet.’ Mr Kayath said to him. ‘They need you.’

He walked out of the house silently. He bypassed the stables and walked to the garage. He wasn’t in the mood for niceties.

He was the proud owner of a car, in fact, the only owner of a car in that land. The car was none other than the Rolls Royce Phantom, specially flown down for him. Mr Kayath had warned him against his idea of owning a car when even the King travelled in a carriage, but Dhruva went ahead stubbornly. His father was a nervous wreck for a month, worried about his and his son’s reputation.

Nobody was impressed when the car arrived. He drove it around for all to see, hoping to instil change. The change did happen but differently. On the eighth day since the arrival of his car, somebody gifted it with a long, vicious scratch along the length of its body. When Dhruva first saw it, he fainted. After he came to, he wept like a child refusing to be consoled. He remained in mourning for a month.

After his mourning period, he took out his scarred Phantom on the streets again with defiance. He maintained political impassivity, but in his mind that vile human being was hanging by his thumbs.

He sat in his car in silence aware of the deep resentment in him towards this land, its people and its rules and its uncanny ability to defeat his purposes every time. Either he should leave his land, or change its rules for good. With that he let out a long, loud, frustrated yell.

His mother heard it in relief.

‘He’ll be fine now. Life is all about acceptance. I’ve done it too.’ Mrs Kayath said while looking at Mr Kayath. ‘We’ll soon convince him to marry Gautami.’

~~~

He sped away, his car eating up the miles from hill to hill, leaving smoke in the nostrils of the horses and their carriages ambling by. He knew that their occupants would be cursing him and he took great joy in the knowledge of it.

Mr Saini, the head of the royal guards, was a troubled man. That the princess managed to leave not just the castle but supposedly the land as well, from right under the gaze of his ever vigilant men, was unthinkable. Repeated questionings did not lead to answers, but to further puzzling questions. He knew that she had inside help, but who those people were, who helped her, he would never know. Their oath to secrecy would never let them divulge information even to the pain of death. That was how they were trained.

He was running his fingers through his sparse head uprooting a few of the remaining hair, when he heard the sound of the car in the quiet distance. His anger immediately climbed a few notches. Dhruva was the reason why his marriage was in a precarious situation. Not just he, but most other men of the land suffered from marital discords because of Dhruva. Life was getting along smoothly till he introduced the infernal telephone into the land. It was supposed to make life easier, but the only thing it did was getting the women talking for long hours. They could now share gossip without leaving the comfort of their homes.

From the things that suffered lack of attention, the worst affected were the husbands. He took to drinking to banish his loneliness. When it turned into an addiction he was accused of villainy by his wife and the choice offered was either alcohol or her. The shaking in his hands had reduced considerably as his body started breaking free from the clutches of his addiction.

Now hearing the sound of the approaching car increased Mr Saini’s irritation and the trembling of his hands. He picked up his baton and swung it viciously at his side and reluctantly saluted Dhruva as he got out of his parked car.

‘I am planning to put up a proposal to install cameras here because apparently you weren’t doing your job of guarding the princess well.’

Mr Saini gulped the rebuke in silence but later drew another line on the black Phantom.

~~~

The sombre mood enveloped Dhruva even before he entered the royal hall. He bowed before the King and took his place next to Mr Arada, who was the minister for external affairs. He was the only person who looked just as morose as the King himself. Mr Arada had three sons whom he had ambitiously prepared for the Swayamvar. Dhruva peered condescendingly at his colleague, pitying the man’s lofty hopes. As if the princess would choose even one of the three dim witted Aradas.

Mr Palasa, the minister for defence, looked calm but his eyes sparkled with excitement. He finally had some work to do in this most boring department of the cabinet. He cleared his throat importantly.

‘Nrupa, it has been established beyond doubt that the princess left of her own volition. It is not ascertained if she is still in our land or has left…’

The King raised a hand stopping Mr Palasa midspeech.

‘I know what you all might be thinking.’ He began wearily. ‘The King cannot control his daughter, what example can he then set to his people? Before I blame my daughter, I have to blame myself. I should have read the signs. Every time she spoke of freedom, I dismissed her thoughts. I was scared of her thoughts. She wanted to see her country and the world. I spoke about the laws of the land to her, allowing my fears to find refuge in them. But she had a good reason to defend her point. Everyone in the land had freedom; but she had to be identified with a man, or with a responsibility to find freedom. Her thoughts were, according to me, scary and illogical. She wanted me to override the laws that have existed long before all of us have, to provide for her happiness. I weighed the importance of the laws to her happiness every time, and each time I chose the laws telling myself that she had to learn to delay gratification. Now after she has run away, I wonder if I should have tweaked the laws to keep her with me.’

‘No Nrupa, you had made the right decision every time.’

The speaker was Mr Matanga, the minister for law and justice, a seventy-year-old doddering fool with one foot on the funeral pyre.

‘Even if a single law is tweaked, how do you think the land will function? There will be anarchy. Dharma is more important than any emotional side tracking. In fact, she shouldn’t be forgiven for the shame she has brought to the royal line and to our land. The throne should next go to your brother’s son who will rule wisely.’

Dhruva wished he could strap both of Matanga’s feet on the funeral pyre.

‘It is easy for you to say that Matanga because you have no children, but for me, she is my dearest child and I want her back. I will let the people decide later if they want her as the queen or not. But at this point, I really want her back.’

‘To get her back we can send the princess’s guards around…’ Mr Palasa spoke hesitantly.

‘Her guards as you know have sworn an oath of secrecy and utmost obedience to her. They have helped her escape though I am sure none of them would actually know where she is now. Even if they do manage to find her, they won’t be able to convince her to get back, unless and until she wants to.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I want to know how my child is. Which part of the world is she in, whether she is safe and cared for… Oh my silly, headstrong child, I want you back so badly.’

The ministers were looking downcast and Mr Arada even furtively fished out a handkerchief. Dhruva was shaking his leg impatiently.

‘Rajah, could I put forth my suggestion?’

Immediately their eyes turned to him.

‘My suggestion will speed up the process of finding her. The rest of the world has internet and various other means to locate people. If you could provide a picture of hers then we could send it across and it would help find her…’

He paused as the ministers started banging the table shouting ‘Preposterous’, ‘Unthinkable’, ‘Outrageous’ and similar words. When the din reduced he continued.

‘None of us know how she looks. She could walk past us and we wouldn’t even know it. She has that advantage and is using it well. This is an incident that has never happened in the history of this land. So, don’t you feel that the law should be altered for special incidents?’

The banging continued and Mr Matanga spoke loudly.

‘Your thoughts speak of your immaturity. You are ready to break centuries of tradition just because of an unfortunate incident? The laws and traditions should remain and our future actions should be within its framework.’

Dhruva maintained political impassivity but his nails were digging into his palms.

The King lifted his hand a second time.

‘Dhruva, we have heard your suggestion and I must say that it is entirely workable, but totally unacceptable if you are born on this land. No matter how desperately I want my daughter back, I don’t wish to make her a spectacle, for the entertainment of the rest of the world. They are already having a field day with this news and any time now, will descend upon me for my statements. The fact that nobody has seen her might actually keep her safe. Her guards will be sent throughout the land and abroad while we wait patiently here. Though if anyone does have any suspicion regarding any girl they see, they can report it to the guards. And if the suspicions are true they will be rewarded handsomely.’ Then he addressed his scribe. ‘You can make a note of this and circulate it among the people, so that all may know of my decision.’ The scribe nodded while his pen worked furiously on the paper.

Talks ensued once more between the King and the ministers but Dhruva shut himself off from everything.

He stared blankly out of the open window where the sun continued its wanton dance with the clouds.

 

CHAPTER 2

‘At a particular point in the history of the world, after all the lands had emerged from the seas and sustained life in them, there was yet a land to be born… Like the pangs at a new birth, the sea raged while the earth quaked beneath. Then finally, out of the bosom of the ocean arose a tiny piece of land. Bare and naked as a new born, it was soon clothed with the best that nature could provide. It continued uninhabited and serene for centuries till the first humans arrived.

‘These humans, history says were from the IndusSaraswati civilization, one of the earliest civilizations of the ancient world. After the Saraswati River dried up, the people were forced to look elsewhere for settlement. Most went deep into the Indian subcontinent, but some adventurous ones among them, took the sea route. Legends say that it was a trip favoured by Prajapati himself to discover the land that was a part of his heart, as the people believed it to be. The planets were said to be in perfect alignment, with Jupiter in the ninth house showing good fortune in journeys, or so the stories go.

‘When they first set foot on the tiny island they were amazed at its extraordinary beauty and natural wealth. It was a home for all kinds of medicinal plants and herbs, but most importantly it was an abode for sandalwood trees. Scores and scores of sandalwood trees grew strong and untouched, anointing the air with its natural scent. The smell was said to be so intoxicating that, it is believed that many had hallucinations of divine beings, prompting them to believe that this was actually heaven on earth. “Naakaspardhini” was the first name they gave the land. It means, in competition with heaven. They also called it “Chandanadweepa” or Sandalwood Island; and “Saindhavi” or belonging to the ocean or river Sindhu or Indus from where they came. But the name which finally remained was “Saagaradatthi” or gift of the ocean.

‘These people who landed here were monotheistic, believing in the Vedic creator deity or the one supreme God, Prajapati, the God of gods with none beside him. Prajapati for them was not just a creator, remote and distant but a being present in his creation, both animate and inanimate. Prajapati was in the sky and on the earth, in the seas and the air, in every human, animal, plant and phenomenon. Because of this nothing in nature was harmed for sport. It did not mean that they lived off plants alone; they killed animals only for food and basic necessities.

‘They were however in for a surprise when they landed on Saagaradatthi. This island was devoid of mammals of any kind. The only animal that reigned over the land was the snake. Initially because of their belief in killing only for food they refrained from harming any snake. Later when coexisting with snakes became intolerable, they learnt to kill and eat the animals. Now snake meat is a delicacy on the island.

‘Scientists presume that the land being a relatively new one and being cut off from other land masses, somehow prevented migration of land animals, as is usually the case during major climatic changes. Having no animals on the land meant that they had to be brought in from elsewhere, which the people did eventually, bringing domesticated animals, horses and some varieties of birds. And every home had a mongoose to keep the odd snake out.

‘Saagaradatthi has two rivers, the fast moving turbulent river they named Saraswati after its namesake that dried up in India, and, the slow moving, abode of snakes as Ahi. The point of confluence, which happens in a small thicket, is also the secret rendezvous of a multitude of butterflies. Butterflies are a symbol of the Prajapati. The two rivers are considered as symbols of the pure and the impure with Prajapati shown as the God of the good and the evil.

‘There are no images of Prajapati that are worshipped and no temples dedicated to him. He is just worshipped in the presence of the five elements. While all civilizations are defined by the gods they possess, the lack of a tangible image of a god leaves

other cultures with mixed views about Saagaradatthi. Some feel it is a hallmark of a highly advanced civilization while others see it as primitive. But from the beginning the people lived in nonchalance of what others thought of them. It was soon turning into a general characteristic of the people, so much so, that they revelled in being different from the rest of the world.

‘They did not bother the world and neither did the world bother about them. Unambitious and self sufficient they went on for centuries, till the first invasion changed everything.

‘History says that the invasion came from the west though the scribes have only recorded that the invaders were big and fearsome, with grotesque masks and a bloodthirsty appetite. They ravaged the land, burning up houses and much of the vegetation with seemingly no purpose to their actions.

‘The people in turn were ill-equipped, with no weapons or skills or murderous intents. They would have been wiped out entirely if not for their land saving them and they indirectly attribute it to their God. There is a unique feature in the island which is not present in other lands, and that is their intricate network of tunnels. Under the deceptive shell of the land mass, lies a labyrinth of secret passages. The earliest belief of their existence was accredited to snakes, but that isn’t possible as snakes don’t burrow deep. It is thought to be a natural phenomenon and the only reason to have saved them from mass extermination. Most of the houses were built over these openings and the people did what they knew best, waiting in them till it was safe.

‘Life was different after the invaders left. Unharmed by nature or the wild, these people were suddenly afraid. Their complacent life was turned upside down. It was during this time that rulers and kings were born.

‘Rules were quickly formed. Rules on defence involved learning to fight, and use of weaponry in fighting. These involved among others, the sword and bow and arrow. Every person, be it man, woman or child had to learn to defend themselves. Spies were trained and sent out to understand the people and workings of different lands. Their reports were brought to the king who assessed and made decisions regarding what changes should be adopted from other lands and what should be discarded. Generally, the people are a cautious lot. Any changes that involved any form of destruction to the environment were refrained from. So that meant, a lot of economy improving ventures were mulled over and stalled indefinitely, till better options evolved. One of the most important lesson that was taught and handed down to the people was that: Change should be slow, as slow as the growth of a tree.

‘Industrial revolution did not find its roots in this land. The people lived blissfully ignorant of the developments and turmoil in other lands. While the others developed rockets to reach the moon, these people contented themselves with looking at the moon from their terraces.

‘The rest of the world began seeing Saagaradatthi and its people as curios. They wondered if it was a closed community or a possible cult or religious group. People came in droves to understand this strange land. They saw the natives as amusing specimens, while the natives were haughtily indifferent to them. Together, this remarkable intermingling increased tourism and the land learned to make money out of it.

‘The story of the invisible princess added another dimension to the tourism factor. Many thronged at the gates of the palace close to the princess’ tower to take pictures and souvenirs of the princess who couldn’t be seen. It has been a topic of debate by women’s groups around the world but the generations of kings in Saagaradatthi have remained unfazed.

‘There is a small history or you could say legend to this custom. King Vikranth, the eleventh in the line of kings of this land (the current king being the fifty fourth), had a beautiful daughter Bhanumati. She was so beautiful that legends say people were hypnotised by her every time she passed them by. The King was not amused. He instituted that she should be confined to her tower so that nobody should see her. He was known to be extremely possessive of his daughter and had no intention whatsoever of getting her married.

Few years after her confinement, Bhanumati died. Some say she killed herself because of her forced incarceration, while others say that she actually loved a commoner and was confined for that reason by the king and so died of a broken heart. Whatever be the reason, the king was extremely unhappy; his misery caused his death soon after.

‘It turned into a legend that was told and re-told and with each re-telling it added an allure to the story of the incarcerated Princess Bhanumati. So much so that the future kings of the land desired to have their daughters remain invisible to the rest of the world. And slowly, without anyone realising it, like an unknown plague that descends upon the land, the princesses were kept indoors and ‘shown’ to the people only on the day of their marriage or coronation, whichever was earlier. The practice was soon considered noble and with time was given a formal statement and entered into the rules of royal etiquette.

‘They say that Princess Kairavi’s beauty is reminiscent of the beauty of Princess Bhanumati. Nobody will know that now that she has run away, unless she comes back or they change the rules.’

The old gardener stopped speaking. ‘It is remarkable that for once you listened to me without interruptions.’

She looked at him with a mixture of wonder and joy. ‘I want to know all about the land, its stories and its people.’

‘Now that you are living here you will know everything by and by.’

She smiled mischievously. ‘Maybe I’ll create a legend of my own in this land and make it a story to remember.’

 

(My novel has been longlisted for the Word to Screen initiative of the Mumbai Film Festival 2018, that adapts books to screen)

 

Episode 8: Caged Dreams

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Once upon a time, a crow, looking for food, swooped down and picked up a dead rat in its beak, and flying to the window sill of a house, decided to eat its meal there. In the room by the window perched a beautiful white plumed cockatoo in a cage. On seeing the crow the cockatoo exclaimed:

‘What an ugly bird you are and what ugly things you eat!’

The crow looked up in surprise.

‘You are a beautiful bird, but why are you in a cage?’

‘Cage? I don’t know what you are talking about? This has been my home from when I can remember. My master looks after me and feeds me good food.’

‘What do you do for your master in return for all that you get? Asked the crow.

‘I do whatever he tells me to do. I play with a ball and a hoop, and talk to him, and make him laugh.’

‘Strange though it is, that is also a life,’ the crow nodded. ‘I in turn have no master. I fly where I like and eat what I like.’

The cockatoo peered from its cage into the vastness beyond the window.

‘The place out there seems interesting but scary.’

The crow laughed. ‘Though we may be curious of each others’ lives neither of us has the guts to switch places. I cannot risk my freedom and you will not risk your comfort. So let us be the way we are.’

With that the crow picked up its food and flew away.

 

I came up with this story when I read of Meghan Markle’s fairytale wedding to Prince Harry. I won’t deny that in my childhood I too harboured dreams of marrying a prince. I am sure everyone has one such seemingly impossible dream. Some dreams do become possible surprising everyone and some remain impossible.

My friend and I were recently having a discussion on finding a meaning or purpose in life. My friend is married with a child and she unashamedly admits to not having a passion in life.

‘I have worked, I have married, I have a child, I have a house of my own, everything is done. What else is there to life?’

At this point I throw a Japanese word at her called ‘Ikigai’ (pronounced Ick-ee-guy) and it literally means –a reason to jump out of bed each morning.

People jump out of bed out of responsibilities, food to cook, office to go to, children to look after or chores to complete; but that is not what they mean here. What is that one purpose in your life that makes you want to wake up every morning to go out there and relentlessly pursue it? Unfortunately many millions have no idea what their purpose in life is. They don’t know what they are good at and what they love to do. Many who know what they love to do have no means to pursue their dreams either.

Finding your purpose and following it is the surest path to happiness in life. I have been fortunate enough to realise my Ikigai early in life, and also have the means to pursue it. Now if for whatever reason someone comes up to me telling me to give it up I would refuse with all the will I can muster. This is where I come to why I came up with the story when I read of Meghan Markle’s wedding to Prince Harry. Here I am definitely making many assumptions of the new Duchess of Sussex and they could all be probably wrong. So personalise the question and consider it for you as the reader:

What need can compel you give up on your dreams? Would you give up your purpose and identity for the love of your life?

Maybe some will give it all up and hence find a new purpose and a new identity and call their cage as their new home.  But what about your original dream? Does it have to be given up because you have no option? Do you really have no option?

From my childhood, of all the fairytales I’ve read, I have always been fascinated with the story of Rapunzel; a princess locked in a tower by a witch, to be finally rescued by a prince. As I grew older I have often wondered why Rapunzel never thought of escaping from her forced confinement. The fear of the world outside and the fear of breaking rules set by the witch kept her from saving herself till she had to be saved by a prince.

I wrote my novel ‘The Princess who ran away’ with this idea in mind. The princess, in the novel, breaks an ancient archaic rule to follow her dreams and save herself rather than wait to be saved by a person or a circumstance. Princess Diana is remembered now because she did not set much store for rules, and so also Malala Yousafzai and countless others who chose to break free from limiting rules and restrictions and save themselves.

So if you feel like your life is like the life of Rapunzel or of a caged cockatoo and feel like there is no way out, then read of others who have felt the same way and found a way out; because trust me, obstacles are there for all and only the courageous and most persevering find a way through.

 

Note: Read the inspiring book: Ikigai –The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life, by Hector Garcia and Francesc Miralles, for all who have or have not discovered their purpose in life. Also if you want to read my novel ‘The Princess who ran away’ and need a preview of it before you make up your mind, I’ll be posting one soon.

 

 

Episode 7 : The dinner date

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Shayna is my neighbour. When we are not talking across balconies, she sometimes jumps over the common wall to sit in our garden and share a cup of tea with me. She’s a nimble, athletic girl with attractive eyes. She learns Jazz at a dance school nearby and regularly tells me stories about her experiences there. Her instructor is a lean, wiry man, a good twenty plus years her senior. He is one of the best jazz dancers around and people clamour to be his student, that is, if they can put up with his behaviour.

Her Sir is ill-tempered with frequent bi-polar moods. Shayna is one of the most composed people I know of, who is hardly ruffled by anything anyone says or does. One evening she confessed to me that her Sir taunted her so much that she cried. You can imagine my shock because I had never seen her cry till date.

‘What does he taunt you about?’

‘If I don’t get my steps right he is merciless sometimes. Some other times if I do the same mistake he is gentle and understanding. Some days he’s playful, other times he behaves sad and pouts and will refuse to speak. It is crazy; I don’t know how to deal with him. I cannot predict when his mood will change and that is why I’ve taken to praying before each class that his mood be good.’

‘Is he like this with everyone?’ I asked.

‘Yes. He doesn’t get along with the management either, having regular tiffs with them. But they don’t dare throw him out even if they dearly wanted to,  because he brings in the money.’

‘So they put up with his eccentricities.’ I said.

‘I do too.’ She said. ‘Tharun dislikes him.’

Now Tharun is Shayna’s current boyfriend. Like all boyfriends he is possessive and protective of her.

‘I told Tharun that my Sir made me cry and he was indignant. He wants me to discontinue jazz.’

‘Will you?’

‘No I won’t.’ She said. ‘I want to learn.’

 

Sometimes when I see her come back from her class she looks cheerful.

‘Today he told me that I have the potential to become one of the best jazz dancers in the world.’

Some other times she looks sad and angry.

‘He said to me that I have an inflexible body and that I will never do well and that I should give up learning jazz.’

 

One evening Shayna came home immediately after her jazz class. She ushered me into the garden.

‘What happened?’ I asked, surprised at her urgency.

‘Something strange has happened.’

‘Stranger than usual with your instructor?’ I asked, unable to stop the laugh that came out of me.

‘He asked me out on a date.’

I was stunned into silence. That was definitely not anything that I expected her to tell me.

‘Are you serious?’ I said after a while.

‘Yes. He asked me today. What do you think?’

‘I don’t know what to think.’ I answered truthfully.

‘You always give me good advices. I need one now.’

‘I think you should go.’ I said.

 

She decided to go. Tharun was shocked and upset.

‘Why is an eccentric old man asking her out on a date when he has a wife and a family? Why is she even going?’ He said.

‘It must be just a harmless thing. We shouldn’t read between the lines.’ I said.

 

That night after the date I was eagerly waiting for news from Shayna. She hopped into my garden looking excited.

‘It was good. Expensive food, wine, candle-light; all that.’ She said.

This surprised me even further. I hadn’t expected this.

‘What did you both talk about?’ I asked.

‘Oh just common place things, nothing personal or awkward, nothing about jazz either. We spoke about the things we like or didn’t like, the movies we watch, the music we listen to; more or less that. Though the entire appearance was romantic, there was nothing to imply that in our conversation. He was a gentleman and treated me well.’

‘Did he treat you as a father or an elder figure?’

She bit her lip. ‘No, we met as equals.’

‘Should I be worried?’ She asked when I did not reply.

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘If he did not make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I think it is fine. I would like to know how he behaves with you during classes now.’

But he continued being the tartar that he always was. I was truly baffled though I didn’t tell it to her.

Her classes continued unhindered and in the same manner as it always did till one day, around two months after her dinner date, she came to me hurriedly.

‘You know what? The day he took me out on the date was actually his birthday. I found it out from his files at the office.’

This was another shocker for me but I chose to stay calm.

‘He spent his birthday with you rather than with his family.’ I said.

She nodded. ‘I wonder why though.’

We made our speculations but nothing was conclusive. It was all a mystery. Tharun was furious about it being her instructor’s birthday on their date.

‘Why would he celebrate his birthday with you? I think he wants to get into your pants.’ He said.

‘He is my teacher. You shouldn’t talk like that about him.’ Shayna said.

‘Then he should behave more like a teacher and less like a lover.’

 

A month later was Shayna’s birthday. We cut cake in her room at midnight. She took pieces of her cake to her dance school. After her class she came straight to meet me.

‘You know what?’ She said. ‘My Sir got to know that it was my birthday and he got me this.’ She opened a flat box to reveal a pearl necklace.

We looked at each other in wonderment.

‘I think he likes you.’ I said finally.

‘He treats me as fairly as any other student with no distinction whatsoever.’

‘Maybe he secretly loves you or maybe he’s just eccentric and it is difficult to predict his behaviour…’ I said.

Both of us looked defeated. We were tired of speculating and decided to leave things as it is sans analysis. She took her pearls home. For Tharun the pearls were the last straw. He wanted Shayna to give it back to her instructor and give up on her jazz classes or change the teacher. She did none of it and they broke up.

 

Shayna and I were having a ‘break-up’ tea in the garden. A sweetened and chilled hibiscus tea.

‘An insecure man will not suit you.’ I said to her. ‘You need someone who will trust you and give you freedom at the same time.’

‘I shall wait for the right guy. Till then I’ll concentrate on my jazz and on my eccentric teacher.’

I raised my eyebrows.

‘No, it is not that.’ She said. ‘He is my teacher and I respect him for that. Whatever be his thoughts about me, it does not alter my respect for him even one notch. He is and will continue to be my teacher and nothing else.’

I looked at her face and was satisfied that she was speaking the truth. We ended our topic there. It was incomplete but rarely does life give you answers immediately. We had our tea at the moment and decided to just enjoy that.

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Episode 6 : Leo men and their Exhibitionism

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Disclaimer :

This article uses assumptions based on zodiac signs, which is a branch of astrology and not science. The writer is not responsible for the indignation or irritation caused to anyone, particularly those born under the sign of the Leo or those who sympathise with Leos. The writer is also not responsible for the sexist views mentioned in the article. The opinion is generated based on the characteristics of the male species and hasn’t been extended to include the female species; at least not during the time the article has been written.

No Leo men were hurt during the making of the article, though the same can’t be said about the people associating with them.

 

Kshipra entered my room and plonked herself on my sofa and sighed her usual sigh.

‘I am fed up of the men in my life. I really need to be single for sometime.’

I couldn’t help laughing at her strange predicament. Before I go ahead let me give you her back story.

Kshipra is a happy-go-lucky Gemini. For those who don’t know much about the zodiac signs, here is a brief overview. Depending on the time of your birth, and the star and planetary positions at that time you’re classified into an air, water, fire or earth sign. These are not the powers to bring in Captain Planet. That is a cartoon, this is zodiac- it’s real.

Under each of these elements are three signs, making a total of 12 horoscope signs which is supposed to define and shape your life and character till the day you die.

Kshipra, like me, took all this lightly and read it only for fun. With time and with certain coincidences in her life she, unlike me, began to take greater notice of these zodiac signs. The coincidences or Kshipra’s one strange problem was that she only fell in love with Leo men.

Leo and Gemini have a good compatibility, matching each other in their mutual desire for communication, exploration, learning and having fun. Where they generally have problems is when the Geminis flirt and the Leos turn jealous and possessive.

Kshipra though has another issue with her Leo men. She finds their pride and their need to be complimented at all times annoying.

In every relationship there comes a stage when it is considered the right time to share nudes. Kshipra though has a no nude sharing policy that she follows strictly. This rule is only for her and not for her men. While I know men who refuse to share nudes if the girl does not share hers, Kshipra’s Leos never refuse. Not only do they send out photos of their privates but they also expect her to compliment them.

‘I am so tired, ‘ she repeated. ‘I’ve had four lovers, all of them Leos, all of them obsessed with their bodies, and all of them suffering from Exhibitionism. They just enjoy it when I see their nudes. Finally the relationship is only reduced to that. I can’t tell you how desperately I need a break from this Leo jinx. I have to break this spell somehow. I would love an Aries or a Scorpio, they should be fun.’

‘When you find the right guy you’ll find him fun. His zodiac sign won’t matter then.’

‘Do you know any guy who is willing to date me?’ She asked pitifully.

I was thoughtful. Kshipra was a good conversationalist. She needed someone who could match her wit and words otherwise I knew she would be bored.

‘I have a friend.’ I said. ‘He is an interesting guy, good looking too. I think you’ll like him.’

Her eyes lit up. ‘What is his zodiac? That’s all I need to know.’

I laughed. ‘He is a Libran.’

She clapped her hands in joy. ‘That will do.’

I wasted no time in introducing her to my Libran guy friend. She found him interesting. They went out a couple of times and things looked promising. She phoned me one evening after their first movie date.

‘How is it going with him?’ I asked.

‘It is good. He is a nice guy to hang out with.’

She paused but I waited because I sensed that something more was to come.

‘This afternoon, during lunch we were interrupted by his friend, his childhood friend to be precise. He was attractive, with muscular arms and a good head of hair and a beard to add to it. I am attracted to him but I feel guilty about it.’

‘It is natural to find others attractive when you are with someone, but if you wait it out, the feelings will die and then it won’t matter any more.’ I advised.

She hesitated. ‘I was hoping that you’ll find out who that guy is. There is no commitment in my current relationship yet and what if that mystery guy is the Scorpio I am looking out for?’

The things I have to do for friends!

After I cut her call I called my friend.

‘How was your movie date?’ I asked him.

‘It was wonderful.’ He gushed. ‘I like her. Should I tell it to her now or wait? What do you think?’

I bit my lip. ‘Wait a bit. Give it time. She is hard to please.’ I said. ‘By the way, your childhood friend happened to meet you for lunch this afternoon? Kshipra wondered if he was single and would probably want to date me?’ I lied.

He laughed. ‘Yes I think Kiran is recently single. I could probably link you both.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘out of curiosity, what is Kiran’s zodiac sign?’

‘I didn’t know that you believed in all that rubbish.’ He said. ‘Kiran’s birthday is on August 3rd so I think he should be a Leo. Why do you ask? Why are you laughing like that?? What did I say that’s so funny? Hello? Hello?…’

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Episode 5 : Overlap guy

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When I checked my phone I had a missed call from my friend Richa and a message announcing that she had happy news for me. The last time I had spoken to her was a year ago. She was in a tensed state and wanted to meet me. Here let me tell you that most people come to me with their problems because I am a good listener, hearing them out without judgement, and generally handing out good advices. And so I agreed to meet her at a coffee shop. There she recounted to me her strange tale of the ‘Overlap guy’.

‘What’s an Overlap guy?’ I asked, sipping my sugary cold coffee with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

‘I’ll tell you all about it.’ She said after putting down her black tea with a slice of lemon in it.

Richa is by most standards a beautiful girl, the kind that men would be passionately in love with, and desperate to marry. I always believe that everyone attracts a particular kind of people towards themselves. This is just my opinion and not a scientifically verifiable fact. I know of a girl who has a history of boyfriends who have been obsessive and abusive. She has always been through bad breakups. I know of another girl whose boyfriends always tell her that she is the sweetest girl they know of but they never commit to her. Richa on the other hand always got guys who wanted to love her, care for her and finally marry her. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t jealous of her. In spite of all this attention, for some reason she refused to settle down with any of them.

‘I was 5 when I fell in love for the first time. It’s all a blur now. Early love stories don’t count right?’ She said.

I didn’t say anything to that because she had me at 5. At 5, I was busy eating chalk and mud and trying to muster enough courage to speak to a boy, let alone fall in love.

‘I’ll start from when I was 9.’ She continued. ‘I was in the 5th Standard when a new boy joined my class. Justin was a brilliant student scoring cent percent mark in all his subjects. He spoke well and participated in debates and won many prizes for the school, going even up to the national level. He was good in sports too, especially cricket. It was because of him that I learnt the nuances of cricket and began to play it. I fell head over heels in love with him. In all my books I began signing my name along with Justin’s surname. I felt like I was destined to marry him. He liked me too. He took every moment between periods to sit next to me and talk to me or instead look at me from across the benches while he sat with his boys.

‘We went to the same guitar lessons every Sunday. After class we held hands and walked. We did not declare our love for each other in plain words but instead showed it in actions. Our innocent love continued in this manner for 3 years till both of us shifted schools. I missed him sorely, unable to think of anyone else in his place. There were other cute boys in school but nobody could replace Justin for me. There was one boy, Pranav, in particular, who was my senior and he was cute. My best friend was obsessed about Pranav and she left no stone unturned to tell it to him. He was easily the best looking boy in school and the best in sports. I shared with my friend about my love for Justin and she spoke to me of Pranav. She wrote him letters in blood that I delivered to him and various other gifts. I did my best to further her case with him and in the meantime I met Justin on Sundays for our guitar classes.

‘One day my friend came to me dry eyed but in deep inexpressible pain. “Pranav is in love with you,” she said to me. I couldn’t believe my ears. “But I don’t love him,” I said. “I know, but he has asked me for your number to talk to you. Shall I give it to him?” I shook my head. “Why are you doing this?” I asked her. She shrugged her shoulders. “You both are two people I love. Better you than someone else.”

‘I refused to give my number then. It was her largess that she did not allow this incident to taint our friendship. In two months she left the state to study in her native, still in love with Pranav and still friends with me.’

Richa took a sip of her black tea, while I detached the straw from my mouth.

‘Did you fall in love with Pranav?’

‘You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.’ She said.

‘I am not judging you.’ I said, though in my mind I was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

‘I made a new friend who compelled me to share my number with Pranav. I gave in. And we began to talk every afternoon after school. I still had Justin in my mind and I met him every Sunday as usual. But I had to admit that with time and more conversations I began to fall in love with Pranav.’

She gave me a guilty smile.

‘I was with the best looking guy in school. I was suddenly popular like I was never before. I loved the attention. But like all good things come to an end, this ended too. He was my senior and he left school soon after 10th. We were still in touch. Then I began to hear rumours of him with another girl. It broke my heart.

‘I shared all this with my neighbour. Sameer was slightly squint-eyed but that was his best feature. He was in college, around four years my senior. I knew that he had a fondness for me. He was in fact possessive. I heard that he even beat up a guy because he was bad mouthing me. I felt safe with him and that was probably the reason why I spoke about Pranav with him.’

‘Was Pranav really with another girl?’ I asked.

‘I don’t think so.’ She said. ‘It was a rumour spread by girls who liked him and boys who liked me and wished to see us apart.’

‘Did that tear you both apart?’

‘No it didn’t but the distance did and also because I found comfort in Sameer’s presence. He was protective and dependable and so loving, I couldn’t help being drawn him.’

‘I am sure you couldn’t.’ I said and ordered another cold coffee.

‘Sameer was passionately in love with me, in fact he was obsessed. He had kept his obsession hidden till I reciprocated his love. Most girls are scared of such obsession but I loved it. I love being loved.

‘It was good for 2 years and then we shifted our home into another neighbourhood and I joined college. He was deeply upset at being separated from me and made it a point to see me every day. I on the other hand had to concentrate on my studies.

‘I was ragged in college by my senior, Bharat, and his friends. It was embarrassing. I complained about it to Sameer who was willing to pick up a fight with Bharat too regarding it. I had no intention of letting that happen. Instead I decided to keep my distance from Bharat. Since I didn’t like him, I assumed it would be easy. I was wrong. I saw him every day and moreover he would stop for a chat. He even offered to help me with notes and on one or two occasions saved me from sticky situations with some lecturers. By and by we became good friends.’

‘Sameer knew all this?’ I asked.

Richa looked sheepish. ‘Sameer is extremely possessive so I chose to omit few details, just to keep him at peace.’

‘And those details were…?’

‘I began spending time with Bharat after college hours. We began to get closer and became more than friends. And before I knew it, he dropped a bunch of red roses in my house on the night before my birthday and we confessed our love for each other. It was crazy and fun. I had never felt anything like that before.’

‘And Sameer?’ I asked, with genuine concern.

‘I felt bad too but I had no choice. I was worried about his obsession. Then I realised that every obsession fades out if it is not fed. I reduced meeting him claiming that I was busy with my studies. He might have understood though he didn’t show it to me. He got a job outside the city soon after and that was it.’

‘So now your story is with Bharat?’ I said feeling tired of the cold coffee. ‘I think I’ll order a pizza.’

She nodded. ‘Bharat and I are quite alike. I could identify with him. He flirts a lot though which irritates me, but I get a lot of attention too so we managed together fine.

‘One evening we went for a concert. There he introduced me to two of his friends. One of them, Samarth, was fun to talk to. He was tall and lanky and though not good looking in the traditional sense, had a very charming personality. We got along pretty well, sparring on various topics trying to one up each other. The queer thing was that when we shook hands before parting, there seemed like an electric spark that went through my finger tips into my body. It left me confused but wanting. I knew then that he would be important in my life.’

I rolled my mind’s eye at this and ordered a cheesy pizza.

‘Bharat had to leave to the US from his company. I didn’t want him to go. I knew the futility of a long distance relationship. I cried many tears but he left anyway. Samarth and I exchanged numbers and we began talking.

‘Conversations were easy with Samarth. Both of us spent long hours talking. He was boastful and dominating but deep inside a caring individual. That was all that mattered to me as I fell crazily in love with him. Bharat was entirely eclipsed. I was at the age when I could think of marriage and I could see Samarth as my husband. But things took a drastic turn when our families disapproved of our relationship. We had to part ways and I was heartbroken. There was nothing left to do except move on.’

I put my cold coffee down and patted Richa’s hand. ‘I am sorry about that. It must have hurt a great deal. Is that why you are upset now?’

‘No, that happened five years ago.’

‘Oh,’ I said picking up my coffee again.

‘During the time that I was with Samarth I attended a function at my workplace and there I met my colleague’s friend Rachit. He was a good looking and energetic guy. I did appreciate his looks and demeanour but my heart was with Samarth. Later after Samarth and I broke up I met Rachit again at a dance programme. It suddenly occurred to me that I was immensely attracted to Rachit. I fell in love all over again.’

Just then the pizza arrived and I was glad for the diversion. I grabbed a slice quickly.

‘Are you with Rachit now?’ I asked between munches.

‘Unfortunately no,’ she said. ‘Rachit and I had a whirlwind romance. It was fun every weekend; travelling, eating, exploring… The two years spent with him was the highlight of my life. He made me feel like a teenager all over again.’

‘If he made you happy, why aren’t you still with him?’

She shrugged. ‘I wasn’t ready for marriage. He went ahead and got married.’

‘Is that why you are upset?’ I asked with hesitation.

‘No,’ she said. ‘While I had Rachit in my life, my friend broke up with her boyfriend. I wanted her to have someone too. She had a colleague she was interested in. I decided to bring them together. Things were getting along well; they even went out on a movie date. In spite of all that they didn’t share any love or commitment. She wanted me to meet Aditya. I had seen his photos and heard his stories from her, but nothing prepared me for what I would experience on seeing him. I fell in love with him at first sight. Something inside me told me that this was the guy I wanted to be with all my life.

‘I had always scoffed at the idea of love at first sight and here I was having that same experience. It was unnerving. I was scared and confused. What would I tell my friend? What would I do?

‘What was surprising was that he went through the same experience that I did. It was love at first sight for both of us. My friend cut off with me soon after she got to know of our mutual feelings. And here I was with Aditya in a crazy, passionate and torrid relationship.’

‘Torrid?’

‘Yes. We fought and we made up repeatedly. We were in a “can’t live with, can’t live without” situation. It has taken its toll on me. I can’t do it anymore. I want to be with him but I can’t think of it. It’s driving me crazy.’

‘Is that why you are upset?’ I asked.

‘No. I am upset because there is no overlap guy any more. I have always met my future boyfriend when I was still in a relationship. It was a pleasant overlap, helping me move on smoothly. It has been 3 years of this on and off relationship with Aditya and there is no guy for me to move on to. I don’t know what to do. I need your help, your advice, anything…’

I opened my mouth to speak but she continued. ‘To whomever I tell my story to they tell me that I have no ‘overlap guy’ because it is Aditya for me. I don’t want to hear that at all.’

I shut my mouth because that was exactly what I wanted to say.

‘You need to help me out.’ She pleaded.

I was thoughtful. ‘Tell me,’ I began. ‘Is this the first time that you haven’t got along well with a lover?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The only time.’

‘But why? Why do you both fight?’

She took a deep breath. ‘All the guys I told you about? My ex lovers? I am still in touch with all of them. They are my friends now. Aditya doesn’t like me being in touch with my exes. He in fact doesn’t like me flirting with any guy.’

‘That’s a valid point.’ I said.

‘No. They are all my friends now and nothing more than that.’

I was thoughtful again. Her problem was deep rooted and the only solution was a surgical intervention. And I knew just the way to go about it.

‘Do you still love Aditya?’

‘I think so. I don’t know.’

‘Hmm,’ I said. ‘Leave him. He serves no purpose in your life now. Stay single for a month and then join Tinder.’

She looked flabbergasted. I savoured the effect my words had on her. Don’t mistake me. I am not an advocate for Tinder. My advices depend on the nature of the problem. I generally get a favourable response later from the people when they have benefitted from my advices. That is why we come to the present with Richa telling me that she has good news to share.

‘So are you getting married?’ I asked, my voice sounding triumphant.

‘Married? No,’ she laughed. ‘I called to thank you for helping me out. Tinder is amazing. I’ve met so many guys and had fun. I feel like a teenager again. Life is good.’

I bit my lip. This is not what I expected to hear at all.

‘I’ve been going out every weekend and having fun. I can’t thank you enough.’

‘But you’re 30 now. Don’t you want to settle down?’

‘I just told you that I feel like a 16 year old all over again. I’ll think about marriage when I turn 21.’ She said with a laugh.

I was resentful by the time I kept the phone. I felt fat and ugly and unhappy. I took out my phone again. My life can be like Richa’s too. I checked on the dating app and clicked Install.

 

 

Episode 4 : The haunting on Port road

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For me, Goa is home away from home. I spent a good chunk of my childhood there. So when people speak of Goa to me my ears are perked up and ready to devour any story that comes from there.

Just a few days ago, I read a post on facebook about a girl in Goa pinned down in a car with boys. The police are baffled because the girl’s family say that the girl was “possessed”. I bit my lips in surprise at the news article; I had heard this story just a few hours after it happened, and how you ask, because my friend was the eye witness to that “possession”.

 

It was late in the night, around 11:30 pm, when my friend Arjun had finished having dinner with his friends. From the adjacent road they could hear shouts and screams.

‘Who is making such a racket at this time of the night?’ Arjun said.

Two men on a bike who heard him said that a guy was assaulting a girl. On hearing this they got alert and decided to inspect. They took out their cars and entered that road. Sure enough, a guy was holding a girl by her throat and waist. The five or so men walked up to this guy and caught him by his collar.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ One of them asked.

‘Me? Why are you holding me?’ The guy screamed. ‘Look at her.’

That was when all turned to look at the girl. She was rocking on her heels and grinding her teeth. Her eyes were fixated at a point in the dark, wooded area ahead. She flailed her arms, pointing at where her eyes were locked.

‘Take me there.’ She said in a hoarse voice. ‘I want to go there.’

‘Why do you want to go there?’ Somebody asked.

‘I died there. I want to go there.’

Arjun’s friends who had caught hold of the guy backed off quickly at this pronouncement.

Soon the girl’s teenage brother also arrived just then. He looked shocked.

‘What has happened to my sister?’ He shouted.

‘I don’t know.’ Her boyfriend answered. ‘Some spirit has possessed her.’

She struggled so hard to go to the tree that she pointed at, that she fell and with her he too. But he didn’t let go of her. Someone in the crowd proposed dousing her with water. After the water was poured Arjun asked, ‘Who are you?’

She stared at his face with malevolence and replied after a few seconds.

‘Today is her fifth day. On her fifteenth day I’ll take her with me.’

At this point Arjun had to explain to me that the fifth day meant the fifth day of her period. According to traditional belief, like how women in their periods are not supposed to enter temples, they are also not supposed to come near graveyards as they are most vulnerable at that point and can be easily possessed by a passing spirit. Apparently the Hindu burial ground was few metres away.

‘It could just be the fifth day that the spirit has possessed her. It may not be connected to her periods at all.’

He didn’t have anything to say to that but he didn’t quite agree to what I said either.

Everyone around was scared and they decided collectively to take her to a temple. On the way in the car she put up a terrific fight, but miraculously 20 metres from the temple she became completely fine. She was thoroughly confused at the number of unknown faces surrounding her and the fact that they were at a temple and that her boyfriend was applying ash from the temple on her forehead. After the handshakes and pats of relief that everything ended well, Arjun and his friends retired for the night.

The whole time he narrated the incident to me I was reminded of the very famous Malayalam cult movie “Manichitrathazhu”. It is considered one of the best thrillers ever made in India and was remade in several languages. Without revealing much of the movie for those who haven’t seen it, it talks about possession by a spirit, but explores the logical and psychological aspects of it rather than get carried away by superstitious beliefs. Now, there is a thin line between belief and unbelief when it comes to possession. I keep a foot on either side. So keeping in mind the movie and other stories that I’ve heard of I told Arjun that since the “spirit” has told that it was her 5th day and that it would take her on the 15th day, it possibly means that she had an attack previously and that there definitely will be another case or attack of possession in the future. If you look at it logically it could be said that since her mind has already told her that there would be another attack, there will be another. And also all these stories of spirits generally have a back story that probably the girl would know of and maybe personalise. Arjun was sceptical because seeing it first hand and listening to a ‘logical’ explanation from a quack is entirely different.

‘You were not there to see how horrible it actually was.’ He said to me.

I agreed. But I also told him to tell me if anything else happens. He didn’t believe that anything else would happen because she was fine now. I thought otherwise.

 

Two weeks later he called me.

‘You know, you were right. She did have another attack.’

I smiled at the other end of the phone. ‘Tell me more.’

He had met the girl’s boyfriend who said that few days after the possession on the road she had another attack by the spirit. This time the family members took her to a temple priest who along with other priests performed an exorcism ritual on her. When she regained consciousness the priest asked her:

“Do you know anyone named Pavan?”

She looked surprised. “Yes he was my neighbour.”

“Was he interested in you?”

“Yes,” she replied. “He was obsessed with me and wanted to marry me. But I refused because I loved another. He tried convincing me many times but I didn’t agree. Then one night he suddenly went missing. When the family members found him, he was hanging from a tree with a suicide note in his pocket.” She shuddered. “The funny part was that days after his death I saw him. He was sitting on his bike outside his house like he usually did when he waited for me to return home from work. I was terrified and didn’t mention it to anyone believing it to be a figment of my imagination.

“Then a few days later when I was out with my boyfriend at night, we passed through a wooded area on our way back home. On the side of the road near a tree I saw Pavan standing and smiling. And then I don’t remember what happened. The next thing I remember is my boyfriend putting ash on my forehead.”

The priest nodded. “He was obsessed about you even after his death. It was his desire to see you hang on that tree that he hung on and thus be his forever. He would have succeeded but we have driven him away. He will never come back again.”

The boyfriend went on to attest that she was completely normal when they had met early that fateful evening. They were on their way home when suddenly while passing through the wooded area she began to grind her teeth and talk in a hoarse voice. When he inquired about her, she replied that she would tell it to him when he takes her a little ahead. That was when they crossed the restaurant that Arjun and his friends were in. When she broke her chain that had an image of her god on it is when he stopped his bike. She refused to tell him anything except point to the tree ahead. That was how everything started.

‘I hope with this it’s all over.’ Arjun said.

I too assumed that it would be over with this. But a few days later Arjun called me up again to say that there was a bigger complication. Apparently someone filmed a video of the girl in the car while they were taking her to the temple. That video later circulated till it reached the police themselves. The police immediately made an inquiry only to find that nobody was making a complaint and instead were talking about “possession by a spirit”. They were stumped, not knowing how to proceed.

I too saw the video on social media. For a person who has no clue about the story it will definitely look like a serious case of kidnapping and possible rape. It is unfortunate that the girl and her family have to go through this entire trauma, all because of a malevolent spirit.

‘Maybe the spirit has just been driven away from her but not finished what it set out to do. That’s why it’s creating confusions like these.’ Arjun said.

I had nothing to say to that. Every happening has a scientific and a superstitious outlook to it. What you choose is entirely dependent on you. It is true that not everything is explained by science and that is why people delve into the supernatural arts. So you ask me if this is a real case of a haunting? Sorry I’ll pass.

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Episode 3 : Living an unfair life

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When a four storey illegal apartment came up next to our house, we were up in arms against it, fighting with the civil authorities. But the mountain of corruption was too high for us to scale; at least for the time being. Instead we took a passive-aggressive approach to the eyesore next to us and to the people living in it.

Our biggest nemesis was Suraj, the Nepali watchman, who lived there. He couldn’t keep the premises clean and stray pieces of plastic always ended up on our driveway, riling us up. We soon realised that he annoyed even the people who interacted with him. He called the garbage collector ‘fat man’, who in return addressed him as ‘motherfucker’. Every morning they greeted each other like this.

Suraj’s employers called him lazy because he didn’t like to work, preferring to load his wife instead. Bhoomika joined Suraj later, coming down from Nepal, barely a month after her delivery. Bhoomika herself dressed shabbily. And if you walked in front of her, she’ll find the monochrome houses, the sky and the treetops far more interesting than your face.

They had a daughter, who for the good part of her first year was called Chandakala till Suraj said that that wasn’t her name and that Bhoomika was mad to call her that and that his daughter’s name is now Savita. We were already used to “Chanda”. My mom even now forgets to call her Savita. She was the cutest among all the kids I knew of her age, with her smile being her best feature. She was a funny kid. She disliked sweets, and only preferred salted foods. She came to our home only to ring the first floor calling bell, eat roasted groundnuts and play on the sofa. My parents, not having been grandparents yet, enjoyed her company.

Savita wanted every opportunity she could get to come to our home. Suraj and Bhoomika would also readily let her go, to be rid of looking after her for some time. We couldn’t entertain her in the mornings, telling her instead to come in the evening when ‘aunty’ comes. It gave me great satisfaction to see her cry when denied entry into our house. It made us feel important till we realised that she did this with our neighbours too.

So life went on smoothly for two years, with an irritation here and a hiccup there.

 

One night I was rudely awakened by noises outside my window. Some lady was crying and calling out that someone hit someone. People were walking up and down the street. I woke up confused but alert. I couldn’t see anyone outside the window. Then I heard a commotion in the neighbour’s house. There seemed to be a fight and it involved Suraj too because his voice was heard clearly in the din. Then one of the apartment residents came down and there were noises again and screams. It all happened between 12:30 and 1:30 AM. I tried keeping awake but later I couldn’t.

In the morning I heard the story. Most of the people on our street had heard the disturbance at night and came out to investigate. There was blood on the neighbour’s walls and gate and on their cars.

‘Suraj broke someone’s head with a beer bottle.’ My mom said with enthusiasm. ‘He was taken at night to jail along with the other Nepalis who were with him.’

There was an argument, a fight and plenty of speculation. It was an exciting incident in our otherwise boring neighbourhood. I too saw the blood stains and wondered. There were talks on attempt to murder and such. Even Bhoomika was quiet and morose. Only Savita was unaffected. She wanted to come home in the morning to play but my dad told her to come in the evening. She went back to her mother crying.

I looked out for Suraj the whole day but he did not come back from the police station until evening. Savita came again when my sister came from work. My sister told her to come a little later when my mother arrives. I managed to get a glimpse of Savita then. She did not cry this time but went back quietly to her home. That would be the last time I would see her.

We decided to wait till morning to ask Suraj about what happened. But by next morning Suraj and family had gone. There was another watchman already in his place at the apartment building who knew nothing about Suraj. We were thoroughly dejected.

The story that made its rounds was that Suraj had a fight with another Nepali man, broke his head with a beer bottle and tried again to harm him in the night. That man lies battling for life in the hospital with a huge gash on his head. Suraj was roughed up in the police station and later sent out and told to leave. He left that same night with his family to Nepal. To top it all he owed a lot of people money and now will not be paying them back.

‘This is Karma,’ I told at home. ‘For his wrongs he is paying.’

Justifying his bad state of affairs was actually a means to soothe the hurt that was deep within us. None of us could get over the fact that they were not here; that Savita was not with us.

 

A few days later, my parents chanced upon Suraj’s friend who was riding his bicycle that he had left behind. At their questions about Suraj he stopped and told them that Suraj was in Pune with his brother. My parents, surprised, told him the stories that were doing the rounds. He shook his head at each of the stories.

‘Suraj does not drink. It was Bhoomika’s brother who got drunk and had an altercation with someone. They ended up at the place where Suraj was staying. He tried to pacify both the parties but by then the police came around and took them all. He did get a few blows there but maybe the police realised that he wasn’t at fault and released him by evening. The people in the apartment told him to leave. So he decided to go to Pune to his brother’s house. If he gets a better job there he’ll stay there else he’ll come back here.’

‘He doesn’t owe people money?’ My mother asked.

‘Suraj was earning well enough here and was quite comfortably off. His wife was also working. He didn’t need anybody’s money.’

‘How is the man doing, the one who was hurt?’

‘Oh he is fine. It was nothing serious. He’s back at work.’

‘Have you spoken to Suraj since he left?’ My father asked.

‘I have tried to but he does not lift his phone. Did you want something from him?’

My parents shook their head. ‘We miss his daughter. They did not see us before they left.’

He nodded quietly.

 

When I heard this it hurt all over again.

‘This is so unfair.’

‘His difficulties only he’ll know.’ My mom said.

‘Maybe they’ll come back soon.’ I said.

‘Maybe they will.’

It was a hurt that will need more than chocolates and a feel good movie to heal. It was a hurt that is increased by the knowledge that they weren’t wanted by us anymore than a plague in the neighbourhood.

Now all we wanted was them; her, back.

 

On a different note, our house driveway is now the cleanest it has been in two years.

Episode 2 : A question of mistaken identities

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I was waiting at the Metro station when I saw a girl I knew from my childhood. I recognised her immediately because of her face. It was supposedly similar to mine. To illustrate that let me bring out a tale from my past…

Tanya and I studied together in the same primary school in Bombay. We weren’t the best of friends, we did not travel in the same bus, and we studied in different sections. I hardly knew her. She was boisterous, smart, and studied well. I was shy, an introvert, and just about average in studies. We had nothing in common, save for a face that most claimed was similar. I didn’t feel it so and neither did she.

It was our 4th STD annual day function. I wasn’t participating in anything because I was too shy. I had resigned myself to be the audience, something that I was really good at being. Though I loved being the audience I secretly envied the boys and girls who could sing and dance and act on stage. I could do all that but only within the confines of my bedroom.

Half an hour before the function started, we were escorted by our teacher to the ground where we had our morning assembly. The function was to be on the raised stage. I was sitting on the ground, easily blending with the crowd, when a teacher waded through the rows of students towards me.

‘Tanya, what are you doing here?’

‘Ma’am I am not Tanya.’

She looked at me like I was a seasoned criminal lying about my identity.

‘Don’t lie to me Tanya just to escape responsibility. Come with me.’

‘But Ma’am…’

‘Come with me.’

She yanked me up and pulled me along with her. She took me to another teacher and together they discussed something. I was fearing the worst. I kept saying that I wasn’t Tanya to the questions of the second teacher. Finally my class teacher came looking surprised. I had never been happier to see her than at that time. She came and cleared their doubts about me.

‘What do we do now that Tanya is absent? Let her welcome the chief guest instead.’ The second teacher said pointing at me.

I was having a panic attack. Welcoming the chief guest?? I wouldn’t be able to utter a word to the guest. I wouldn’t be able to speak anything on the stage. I was having a stomach ache.

They brushed aside my fears.

‘You don’t have to do anything. Just give the chief guest a bouquet and say “Welcome”.

Before I could say anything they whisked me away to a classroom where the children were getting ready for their respective shows. They quickly applied make up to my face; a bit of rouge, a smear of lipstick and a little eye liner, and remarked that I looked like a doll. I had never felt prettier, not until then at least.

I was given a large bouquet and made to stand next to a 5th STD boy who was also in the same welcoming committee like I was. Now this boy was my primary school crush. He was the same boy who dashed into me while running between school buildings; who didn’t look at me twice while I fell on my knees and hands and suffered minor scratches. I had looked fondly at those scratches till they faded in a day or two. That same boy noticed me now.

‘Are you Tanya?’ He asked.

I shook my head and told him the whole story. We had a laugh together. Just then the chief guest arrived. I finally could not say “Welcome”. Next to me my crush spoke the right word. I could only manage a wide smile. The photographer clicked a photo just then to immortalise that moment.

I have the photo to this day.

 

Now I sit at the station watching Tanya dragging her toddlers firmly by their hands and trying to appear unruffled as she did so. We still don’t look alike. I wouldn’t have recognised her at all if we hadn’t been facebook friends for a while. I sat unnoticed, staring at the girl who was the first reason in my life to be lifted out of self imposed obscurity. ‘Fuck it!’ I said in my mind before getting up and taking a measured step in her direction.

 

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Episode 1 : The beginning of the story

“In the end we all become stories” – Margaret Atwood

 

I think I was in the third or the fourth standard when we were told to write autobiographies of things, like, a pencil, a bag, a shoe, etc. For a strange reason I loved this exercise. I came up with the wildest possible stories for the life of my pencil, including, being rescued from a dog, rolling through puddles, accidentally traveling in buses to finally reaching me, a wonderful and caring owner. I remember even receiving the highest marks in the class, and the teacher praising me for the complexities in the story.

I felt like a God, who could write and rewrite the destiny of an insignificant, lifeless thing. It was a powerful, exhilarating feeling. That is when you realise that story telling is a very powerful art. Stories have the power to remain in the minds of the people long after the characters of the story have died. We still carry them in our hearts and minds, repeating them, learning from them, educating others or using it just as means to relieve tension.

In the olden days, merchants and traders and adventure seekers travelled shores and later on returning, spoke of the various stories in their journeys. These were tales of bravery, mystery, adventure, romance; and were mostly exaggerated for the desired effect on the listeners. These were told and retold till the whole village or town spoke the same story. Thus a legend is born. The future generations who know of it, speak of the legends with reverence, but, in the beginning it was just a simple story.

Now with globalisation, nobody needs to rely on one man’s tales for stories around the world. It is all available at the click of a button or at the turn of a newspaper. Everyone has a story to tell and everyone is a story teller.

I am reminded of Eleanor Roosevelt’s famous, judgemental quote:

“Great minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, small minds discuss people.”

Ideas, no matter how great, remain ideas till they can be discussed as an event. But it is the stories about people that last longest, travelling through history to remain far imprinted long after the events have faded.

So move over Eleanor Roosevelt, this is the age of the story teller. While we can’t all be travelling bards, we can stay while the stories travel from us.

 

In the beginning was a word, the word became a story, the story became a life, and that life travels from person to person and never dies…