Nanda's

That was a time when we did not have a television in our house and the only household that had a television set in the neighborhood was Nanda’s, I spent almost all of my Sunday evenings there. The next best part was his mom; she always had something to give me whenever I was at their home and I had this privilege to walk in to their kitchen anytime. I was crazy for the ice cold water from their refrigerator something else my house wasn’t to see for a while.

When I left to study from a boarding school, my visits to their house started to dwindle and almost stopped when we could afford a television, a telephone and of course a refrigerator.

This one time when I went home after almost 7 months, I for some reason wanted to go to Nanda's house. The drawing room of their house was not the same, the TV had changed and the sofa was different. Nanda’s mother made me sit on the sofa, it was new and uncomfortable because I always sat on the floor to watch TV and as always she got me my favorite glass of cold water.

Nanda's mother is a sweet woman, she was asking all sorts of questions that friends who had lost touch would, I was eager answering her because I was in a new place, living a new life and I liked boasting about it. In all the while, I couldn’t help noticing a couple of plaited coconut leaves strung vertically up to the ceiling in the room, the other side of which was a moving figure.

Nanda's mother soon left to the kitchen to make me some coffee and I was alone with only the figure behind the leaves and of course the television. I walked over to find Nanda’s cousin Tara busy knitting something. I knew her of course from our child hood days, especially this one time when I climbed up a chimney in front of her for 'god knows what' and was mashed up by my elder brother for 'god knows what'.

I asked her what she was doing and she sheepishly said knitting. I asked her what a coconut leaf was doing in the middle of a house and she only twisted her lips as if to say 'I don’t know'. All my other questions to strike a conversation only evoked single words and body language from her, like I was a stranger.

Nanda's mother was there now holding a steaming cup of coffee, and I should have known she was a little flustered. I came back to the sofa and now Nanda's mother took to single words, for a while I even thought she wanted me to leave and I left very soon unable to apprehend the situation and without finishing the coffee.

I told my mother and my brother's wife of what had happened when I walked home and before I finished they burst out laughing. It was a whole ten minutes before they stopped to laugh and tell me that it was a custom all new women followed for a few days. Tara was not supposed to talk to me, not to any man for that matter.

I did not understand much at that time, but at least that was the last time I ever went to Nanda's house.

Bizarre

How would you REACT if

A child probably not more than 8 yrs in her soiled school uniform on her way to school stops in front of you and asks you for money?

You are on the silent evening beach with friends and beer, a few feet away a guy is being beaten up by some thugs and the guy being beaten up is crying for help. These hoodlums then confront you and ask you to leave?

An old lady seeking alms at the bus stop asks you aloud if you don’t eat every day, because you told her you gave her money only the previous night?

A software engineer working for one of the software giants, his identity card around his neck tells you so, is totally drunk and lying on a platform on your walk home?

A girl who proposed you recently, was once in your room with your room mate?

It is raining heavily and a girl is walking in the rain. Her dress is drenched to a very awkward proportion, with only a plastic folder that she’s holding close to her bosom, she is visibly very queasy, you offer her your friend's leather jacket and she gives you a cold stare?

Inside a crowded bus you see a man may be in his early 20s pushing himself against a girl, her face is turning angles but she’s silent, a lot of people around you are looking at it, but are silent?

You recently made friends with a tart; she feels so close to you that she cries to you. One fine night at 11.00pm she calls you up and asks you start to a place 3 hours away, that very moment because she was leaving home once and for all?

You simply told your friend that you would be passing by her town while on a train to another place and she turns up at the station at the wee of the night waking you up?

I smiled and walked off most of the situations, except for these

I got the software engineer inside an auto-rickshaw, saw him walk by me the next day with no hint of recognition.
I stood between the girl and the guy inside the bus for the next half hour.
I did not travel the three hours that night, she hasn't spoken to me in 8 months and I do not know where she is.

The Police story, part II

My phone rang even as I was rushing to my evening classes from my office. It was my friend Jai, calling me after a while and from an all women police station.

I quickly got in to an auto-rickshaw, trying to recollect what Jai told me over the phone. He had been picked up at a famous eat-out by police women while he was returning his former girl friend's mobile phone to her brother.
I barked at him for having taken Maha's phone, for only a fortnight before she had ditched him citing family reasons only to be seen with another guy the very next day. The day before he had met her and for some reason snatched her mobile and she had left the place running.

Although this was not the first time I was visiting (or made to??) a police station, my heart beat was so loud I heard it, my legs we shivering and my black shirt didn't help the situation. I was called by my friend as a witness to the fact that Maha had in fact been his girl friend once, interestingly Maha had claimed that she had met Jai only thrice all her life and that Jai was forcing her to marriage. I had to smile, because not very long before she had cried to me, scared that Jai might ditch her!!

I walked very uncomfortably in to the station, and was offered a seat by a stern faced Inspector. The Inspector asked me a string of questions, all of them trying to ascertain the relationship, I barely mouthed words though my head shakes answered her as a smiling Sub-Inspector joined her. I was relieved when they asked me wait in one of the waiting rooms, by then two more of my friends joined me, we sat down.

I could see Maha and her parents in the waiting room, she wasn't looking at me. She was sober yet beautiful as ever but for so many other reasons I wanted to confront her, their 5 year relationship for one. Another older woman in a khaki saree (the others wore shirts and pants) bent towards me and whispered that the commissioner was a relative of Maha's and she suggested Jai be a little more regretful. She also walked two floors to fetch us a bottle of water; police women aren't what the movies portray!!

We were called back to the Inspector's room; Maha was inside. Only after, a few Photographs of Jai and Maha together and some letters she had written to Jai, were produced did the Inspector's face lose its wrinkles. Maha was only looking at the police woman, the woman was unforgiving now, telling Jai precisely and men in general to be careful about girls, I didn't like the generalising but sat tight, Maha's face was turning red while jai tried to be at least verbally regretful.

The Sub-Inspector gave us a piece of paper for a statement that we/Jai wouldn't disturb Maha, she smiled when I asked her for a pen, though she lent one.

Respected madam,

We are not/will not be responsible/ the reason for the troubles that have been/may be caused to the concerned person.

Signed.

I didn't know how correct was the sentence actually/grammatically, but we signed.

Even as we were leaving the station barking and howling at Jai, we heard some one shout my name hard, I turned back it was the sub Inspector. I slowly walked to her, she got her hands towards me hard, on my instincts I had a hand on my face in defense, my friends laughed with her while she slowly pulled her pen out of my shirt pocket.

Alumni

I was inside the old white-red rickety bus again, after a long time, the 'long' meant seven years. The bus ride from the last big town to the village which is almost occupied by a 200 acre school campus, was the same as I had felt it almost a decade before.

This time I was an alumni getting back to high school for a meet, I couldn't accept the fact that I had grown older, though I haven't much. I seemed to even remember the smell of the place as the bus crossed through the same green patches and little land marks.

There were times when I hated to get back to school, because that meant half an year of seniors mastering my every move, uniforms even through nights, the same menu all week long, not being able to visit my house and more importantly solitude as I made very little friends the first few years. But today there was longing, a kind of hollowness below my chest that wanted the school days back, my breath wasn't smooth as the bus drudged towards my school.

I pushed my face to the window of the bus, trying to see as much as possible through the little window; it was just like old times, only the once big hills and the once giant trees seemed to have grown smaller.

Vast playfields and trouser clad cadets with hockey sticks were the first things I saw of my school, well old school. Even the once majestic arch in front of the school was looking small. The hockey coach was as usual getting back from the fields he has been manning since, I don’t know when, the bald man was balder, but his impeccable English was intact. A few words with him, he had his expletives bag ready and I enjoyed it for may be the first time.

Nothing about the school had changed, seemed like it was like the way I had left it, untouched. We walked the distance I once marched all day long, to the Mess that catered almost a thousand people. We were almost ten from my batch now, large for a recent pass-out, though it was seven years since we passed out.

Ironically we were accommodated in the hostel that we had stayed at, during our first year at school; the vicinity had not changed in 15 years. That night I visited all the rooms that once was my home, I sat on the beds that I once slept upon, some strange small kid was sleeping on each one of them; I couldn't believe I would have been so small anytime in my life. Inside the cupboards of my last year room, was still the graffiti that I once made “Great men are great, because we are on our knees ". I smiled.

We must have slept for may be an hour, when the school was up and running- literally, it was the morning run that was a must for everyone, everyday and for all seven years. I decided to skip this part but my friends thought otherwise and got their shoes out and I slept for an hour more.

Bread, butter, boiled eggs and coffee, the breakfast was the same that Saturday and I did not understand why I hated it once. Khaki uniforms, maroon berets, polished black shoes and belts welcomed me to the huge assembly hall. I was wearing a formal white shirt and black pants, this time I envied the people in khakis. I occupied one of the last benches as was the custom while the older, greyer heads occupied the chairs in the front, some of them could have been almost my father's age.

The teachers paraded in soon to the stage, in long flowing black coats, each one of them reminding me of something or the other. Some very familiar faces were missing and some very unfamiliar faces were on the stage.

After the assembly, I walked the class rooms, I could not remember the benches I occupied in the years I started, but I identified some of them that came later by the caricatures and sculptures that I had left on them. In the midst of all this I met the man I owe so much; my English teacher and idol, he didn't remember my name, it hurt. He took me to the language lab, the one I remember had microphones, head sets and an audio cassette player; the lab now had computers on every table and sir was using 'Adobe flash MX' to teach.

It was lunch when I, at last met some one who called me by my name; it was the head waiter at the Mess. Through the buffet I met almost every teacher who taught me, not many remembered my name and ones who recognized me were the ones I had always been indifferent to, like my dance teacher.

The afternoon went past while I tried playing and only fumbled, entertainment lit up the evening stage while I danced amongst the audience, the night soon went and it was the Sunday morning, reminding me of the end of a beautiful weekend.

I was inside the old white-red rickety bus again; I held back my tears, it started to rain.

Mary Ebenezer

The frail old man on the next bed passed away despite the last-ditch efforts of at least four doctors and even more nurses. It was hall 201, the emergency ward, Government General Hospital. By the evening my cousin was transferred to 111, the Male ward. We had to shift him on a wheel chair, the attendant who helped us shift smiled only after I was poorer by 50 rupees. When he left I realized, I was standing beside a board that read "Bribery is a crime, please report acts of bribery to ..”

The next day morning, the doctor on duty prescribed a flurry of tests which included blood tests at three different places, a cranial CT scan and a bladder scan. The blood tests took a lot of time, there were at least 25 people at each counter, and I was almost alone amongst the mostly female queue, each of them holding at least two tubes of brick red blood.

When I reached the counter for the CT scan, the man at the counter was deep asleep on his PC's black keyboard. At least 10 minutes passed before he woke up with a yawn and asked me check out the timings for the scan with the lab. The lab is the last room inside a building that resembles a haunted house, with hanging wires, battered walls and a half lit verandah, I could hear my heart beat every time I walked to the lab alone.

A middle aged woman was lying on the floor in a night gown in front of the lab; another woman sat crouching on the floor beside her. A dark Lab attendant was howling “If you talk rules once again, you will never have your scan done". The crouching woman mumbled she had been waiting for over an hour beside her sister who needed a pelvic CT scan. A younger woman was holding a few months old child in her hands, the child's head was completely dressed on one side. Two more middle aged women sat with their teen aged children. We were asked to be at the Lab at 07.30pm that evening.

The next day morning, the post graduate student-duty doctor wanted the CT scan results, but the results were only to be available in the evening. My brother was refused the report by the same dark attendant. Armed with a written request from the doctor he went to the lab again for the scan and the reports, this time he was offered both but the report was priced at 100 rupees. When he came back he only had the scan in hand.

I was sleeping on a chair that night because my brother was with my cousin, somewhere through the night a soft pair of hands woke me up. It was the nurse on duty and I wasn't supposed to be on the visitor’s chair in the nights. Through the nights not more than one individual is allowed to attend to the patients, But Mary Ebenezer allowed me sleep inside the ward that night. Again we were alone with only women; most of them middle aged, attending to the patients, some of them stayed awake through out the night.

On the fourth day my cousin had uninterrupted attention of at least 5 doctors and 15 doctors to be. It was the Pharmacology practical examination for the final year students. Most of the patients were immobile, gaunt and almost giving me a nausea. An hour of staying beside my cousin had the better of me, I was soon talking to a few of the frail old men. Every time a 'doctor to be' was beside I had to answer a pile load of questions while he/she filled 4 to 5 sheets of paper. The doctors were almost indifferent to the patients whilst they examined the 'cases' and evaluated the students.

On the fifth day an older man beside my cousin's bed passed away, it was a lot better I thought because he needed tubes for almost everything. His wife, who had earlier stopped her son from donating blood to his own father with a stone face, was now in tears and noise. She paused for a moment, when she saw me smiling at her, before continuing with her wail.

On the sixth day my cousin was discharged from the hospital as his legs had found some movement and more importantly there was a dearth of the available beds. I wished our neighbors a fast recovery and as I was leaving, I saw the ever smiling Ebenezer walk inside the ward for her night shift. For some reason I said "See you Madam".

"Don't ever say 'see you' when you leave a hospital, always say goodbye, Now good bye, I have people to look after" she retorted.

Before I could bid her bye she was already walking away trying to silence the noise inside the ward. For the first time in almost a week I had a smile on my face.

Smile.

My brother had called me up early that morning with the news and I prayed it was just a dream.

I have known Rajiv and his family from the time I started to remember things. We went to the same school just like my father and his father (Raghunathan sir) had in 1950s. Their family was always happy and laughing, like my mother once said, I think they even laughed in their sleep. Not that they had no problems, somehow they managed to keep smiling and made people smile.

I remember the days when his father, my father and one of their colleagues (Selvam sir) came together for a silent drink in our back yard only to get noisy after sometime. I remember when my father had a stroke in 1991, Rajiv’s family had prayed for him. When he recovered we had taken a procession to the church. I remember the times when our families were not in good terms and Raghunathan sir and Selvam sir still found the way to our backyard. My father still remembers the tiny frock he got for Raghunathan sir's daughter (she is now a mother of three children with the eldest one going to college).

It was a Sunday morning when my brother had called me up and I was not very convinced that someone I had known so well could die; Raghunathan sir was no more. I left for my good old hometown and even as I was reaching their house the place wore a festive look with crackers, music and wait, was it not supposed to be a funeral? It was a funeral and in Tamil Nadu funerals are held this way.

Raghunathan Sir still carried the smile on his face, only he was in a freezer box draped in a white shirt and dark pants. I placed the flowers I had gotten for him and if not for the crowd I would have said "Morning sir" and smiled at him as always.

For the first time in my life I saw Rajiv cry, his sisters and his mother cry. I did not say a word to Rajiv, for I did know what I was supposed to say at a funeral, this was my first. His mother hugged me with her big hands and said "Look at Daddy, can't take the smile of his face, can you? Wake him up, he's been sleeping for long", my eyes were wet, when I walked away after sometime.

My father was crying, Selvam sir was, my mother was, my brothers were, my grandma was and the whole place was. Only Raghunathan sir's seven-year-old granddaughter was running around laughing with my brother's son. They both attend the same school like their grandpas did 50 years before. When my brother and his friends, who are closer to Rajiv than I am, came in with a garland that needed two men to carry it, they were dancing like mad men. When they reached sir they did not move for a very long time, when they did, they were crying and like kids. I had not known if my brother and his friends could cry.

It was time for the procession and I helped pull the cart that carried Sir a distance I would have frowned to cycle. After the rituals were over at the cemetery, it was time to place sir inside the coffin. I held sir in my hands, his body was very cold because of the freezer box but was he dead? I don’t know but in my hands he was so much alive. May he was just sleeping, may be he was even breathing, I wanted to feel his pulse, I wanted to feel his breath and all I did was to help him inside the coffin.

Sir was still smiling when his thick glasses were removed and I was asked to loosen up his shirt. Rajiv and sir's grandsons were crying unconsolably even as the coffin was being closed. I saw sir, I saw them close the coffin and I cried.

My brothers friends were there in Rajiv's house when I went there the next day. After a cup of cofee when I left Rajiv was forcing a smile at me.
May be he will smile in a few days.

One..

19.11.1982 0532 hrs,
Place: Christian medical college hospital Vellore, Kamala Nehru ward.
I was born after a cesarean. I was christened Kumar.

Some time during the early 1982,
Place: An obscure village in the Vellore Dist, Tamil Nadu
My Father's brother had a Baby boy. They called my brother Arul.

1985 July
I went to school; I don't know what Arul was doing then.

1985-1993
Every year during the summer I went to the village. And every time I went, I carried some old clothes for Arul. In turn I had the taste of the village life, running around with him to steal mangoes, to swim (although I never learnt), to fish, to..

1993 June 5
I was sent to a Residential Public School today. When I had been to the village this summer, Arul wasn't available for play; I spoke to him while he sat rolling beedis (cheap cigarettes).

1994-2000
By now I was rarely going to the village as I spent most part of the year at school, although Arul came to see me whenever I went home. We were both growing up and I always was a little taller than him but somehow he looked bigger than me.

1998 May
I had my 10th standard results, I was in the village and Arul had been sent of to work at a leather factory. I made 84%.

2000 May
I had my 12th standard and my services selection board interview results. Arul was back from the factory; he again took to rolling beedis. He had worked 12-hour shifts for a meager pay and had to almost runaway from the factory. I made 64% in my higher secondary exams and failed to clear the interview.

2000 August
I joined a college in Bangalore paying up. Arul now had learned to roll enough beedis to pay up some debts of his father.

2001 August, I don’t know the date
Arul married a beautiful young girl from the nearby village, chosen by his father, a drunkard. She was very young and looked no more than 16, my sister told me because I had stopped going to the village. I had learnt to smoke, drink and flirt.

2002 March 3
I proposed a Christian girl from another state. Around the same time Arul had a baby girl and the baby was beautiful my sister told me.

2003 February
I was placed in a private firm in one of the campus interviews. Arul had another baby girl around the same time.

2005 May 7
The last time I saw my girl friend. Arul had a third girl, his parents were supposedly unhappy with Arul's wife not giving a male heir to the family, Arul stood by his wife, but things weren't smooth in the family. Arul was sending his eldest girl to an English school.

2006 March 3
I was celebrating the day I had proposed before four years, drunk inside a bar. Arul's wife and all their three children were found drowned and dead inside a well even as Arul was playing cricket with his friends. Arul was beaten up by his wife's relatives and handed over to the police.

2006 May 7, My house 1100hrs
I was looking at the newspaper clipping that carried a photo of Arul’s wife and children lying young, innocent and dead when Arul had come to my house. He was on bail. Bearded and gaunt, for the first time he looked smaller and older than me. He kept telling me he was innocent and his baby was beautiful. I could say nothing to him, I cried with him.

2006 June 1, 1230 hrs.
I am writing a cold blog about Arul. Arul probably is in the court to mark his presence in a register, as he is supposed to every alternate day at 1230hrs.

Jones Diary

It had been an year since I saw this child like handwritting, but I did not have to open the card to really know the sender. Stupid me, I had not even bothered to remember her birthday after I had left college.

Mechanical workshops I thought were normally a 'strictly for men' area, until ofcourse I saw the huge her. Almost 5.7 and large she did not seem out of place inside my college's mechanical workshop as she carried heavy sheets of metal like she was carrying paper. Her face just had a big pair of glasses and an even bigger smile covering almost all of her face and a part of her neck.

I remember the first time I spoke to her, I was wanting a mallet and she did not seem to understand and neither did she bother to. I was so frustrated that I yelled at her and all she did was to grin at me. I walked out of the workshop frustrated and it was almost a day when I learnt she couldn't understand English when spoken or any other language that I knew. I took another day to face her and tell her a sorry in her own language. She smiled again - no it wasn't a grin this time - and gave me a pat on my back and set off to carrying the sheets.

Since I had to frequent the workshop the following weeks, I was getting my back patted a lot and started learning a new language. She taught me the alphabets and the most commonly used expressions. She, I learnt was 30+, unhappily married to someone who spoke her language -I never bothered asking his name- had no kids and lived with her parents. My pats got more frequent as we met everytime I had a boring lecture (atleast two every day), we lunched almost every day together and even spent some time in the evening before she left home.

It was somedays before I knew how to converse (I do not know if its a conversation) fluently, making odd postures and noises. I was amazed at how she could cope up with everything without saying a word. She travelled, she shopped, she worked, she fought and all that without saying a word (not that she did not want to) and She honestly hated people feel sorry for her.

Somedays when I turned my eyes away from a boring lecturer she would be standing at the windows giving me a wicked smile. Somedays she used to even sneak in to my labs and sit beside me mocking an Instructor. She hugged me -the skies would never know why- and cried the day I introduced my father to her. She enjoyed my presence so much, sometimes I felt if I was overdoing something. I loved her presence, she was full of life and had the gut to live every moment although fate had been unkind to her in every way.

It went on until It was last day for me at college, and I was surprised when one of my friends said she did not want to see me. When I found her cuddled in the basement of the workshop with her eyes wet, I broke down myself. We sat in silence for sometime, and with nothing to say, I left telling her a bye in her language- the sign language- because Jones can neither talk nor hear.

The Professor

I have seen few smarter men at his age, seventy isn't an age when soiled shoes would seriously worry you, but for this man it did. The first time I saw him, I was honestly impressed with his clean-shaven face, neatly pressed dress and shining black shoes. I was killing time at my friend Ismail's shop when he came up to me and said "Hello, I am Srinivasan, retired Professor Presidency College" before he firmly shook hands with me. Believe me with an impeccable accent that would put any 'call center' guy to shame. I thought he was there to may be pick something up from the shop but was taken aback when he asked me for a five Rupee coin for a cup of tea. Even as I was wondering about what I was supposed to do, I couldn't help but notice Ismail's disapproval of the conversation. He was already giving me hints like the old man was not in a good state of mind, simply put 'nuts'.

When I refused him the money and asked him leave the shop, he simply turned red. In a moment the old man emptied his pocket, which not only included a rich collection of coins but some heavier bills and on one of them I even thought I saw an old President of the United states.

He burst out with a string of words, (which after some home work I concluded, could be almost the filthiest you can come up with an unabridged Oxford English dictionary) but soon ended up in tears, words hardly coming out of his mouth. He proudly said his only son was in the US working for a multinational (whose name when spelt made my tongue twist to obtuse angles)and he needed no one else. He was now throwing the coins at me, yelling at me to take what ever I wanted. It took my storekeeper friend, two men from the next shop and a piece of chocolate to stop the old man. It wasn't the pain caused by the coins that hurt me (although it did that night) I somehow thought I had hurt the man. The old man left but only with a few more chocolates.

I was curious as hell about the professor and wanted to know something about him. I spent sometime with Ismail, who acknowledged the facts about the professor's son in the US. The son is married and supposedly has children but the last time he came around was almost five to six years ago although he still keeps in touch with his father through 'Western Union'(if you dont know what it is .. It is for money transfers). Ismail was largely indifferent even when he was telling me that the Professor had suffered enough anguish to get some quality education for his only son at some prestigious university in the US. Symptoms of his present condition has first appeared when the son married some one in the US and decided to settle down with Uncle Sam.

I went the next day to the professor’s house just out of curiosity, in the pretext of carrying water from Ismail’s shop. I thought his wife was too old to take care of herself, even as she busily went around with the chores. I picked up a conversation with her God knows how, and she couldn't but stop talking about her man in his prime. I left after sometime happy not just because I had a good cup of coffee but also because I thought at least there was this faithful Indian wife to stand by this man.

I almost left the house when I remembered the black cap that my girl friend had given me was inside the house. When I went back I saw her pulling the Physics Professor in a wet pair of pants to the washroom. She saw me but I pretended I hadn't seen her tears now almost on her wrinkled chin and cheerfully bid her a bye forgetting I had come to pick up my black cap.

A Dark Positive

For me this incident will always remain etched in my heart not just because it had a female playing the lead role as always.It happened when My Mom was admitted for a stroke last december at chennai.

This fine day there was very little to talk to my mother and then I had nothing to do, but roll my eyes around the ward. As my eyes went around, the third bed (My mom was on the first) I thought was unusually neat as the occupant sat on one corner looking at me and my Mom.I had seen the girl , young, in her teens, unusually thin, the bones very pronouncing and with a face that I was sure had been beautiful once. I hadn't bothered to ask my Mom about her since it isn't very strange for someone to be like her in a hospital.

Today I was curious and I asked my mom why she was in the Hospital. My Mom very casually said she had been tested positive for HIV. I thought something struck me hard on my chest. I felt a shiver run down even as I remembered that was the first time I had seen someone with HIV.I was scared to see her anymore and I sat with my back towards her.

She must have been smiling at my Mom because I saw my Mom smile towards her. Still Panic-stricken I somehow managed to look back only to see one of the most beautiful smiles I had ever seen.She stood up and walked up to my Moma's bed but stopped a little away. My Mother asked me to give her some biscuits, My face must have shown her I was scared, for she called the girl to the bed and gave her some biscuits herself. She almost grabbed the biscuits even as my Mom was telling her who I was, she only smiled at me. Mom said it was the last stages and she didn't have many days left. I too tried to smile but somehow I knew I was putting up a wretched face for I was trying to imagine how it is like to know, you only have a few days left on earth.

I lost my sleep that night but the next day I managed to give her something myself and I was almost lost when she smiled back. I also saw her father the same day who looked almost like her but for his unkempt hair and face.The next four days were the same for me in the hospital, I give her something, she flashes a smile, my mom talks with her something and she keeps smiling all through it. My Mom told me she never slept in the nights, she would simply lie down and look at the ceiling all through the night even as tears ran down her cheeks. How I wished I was capable of giving her more than just biscuits.

Next day I really was waiting for the evening to come and I even got her a small teddy. I was surprised when I saw the neatly laid but empty bed. I looked around too see if she was somewhere but only in vain. I felt my Mother's eyes were wet when she said the girl was discharged as the doctors had lost all hope and medicine was useless anymore. She would at the most see the next fortnite.
It started to choke as I felt a familiar shudder rock my body. It was sometime before I was very sure where I kept my leg. I was confused and I did not know what I was supposed to be doing. I walked awkwardly towards the bed, sat there for sometime even as my mother was looking at me surprised. I left the packed teddy on the bed and moved towards my mother. Tears filled up my eyes even as I remembered I had not spoken a word to her and neither had she.... I did not even know her name..

and to this day I am still wondering why a very weak word like 'hope' is used so synonymously with life.

11g, west mambalam

To travel in a Bus in chennai is in itself an experience.. and if you are caught in the peak hours, man!! you are really in for something. Many a times you pay the ticket for just one leg and one hand of yours travelling inside the bus. One good thing about the Busses in chennai is that the last row is exclusively for women, and for those who travel on the footboard you can simply drool through your journey.

That thursday morning I had my colleague's 'Pulp fiction' Cd(a 1994 blockbuster movie) to carry back to office. As usual I found a place for my left leg inside the bus and my 'Pulp Fiction' found its place on this girls's lap who was at the window as I couldn't hold it with me hanging. Two stops away the girl got down giving me my CD and a smile, that I thought I had seen somewhere.

The next day again, I had Tom hank's 'Philedelphia' (a wonderfully made movie.. take my word its sensitive and beautiful) with me and found just enough place for my left shoe on God knows who's right shoe and a place for my Cd at the window seat. Two stops down, the Bus is a little less crampier and then I get the CD from a familiar hand. Wait!! hadn't I seen this bracelet somewhere? that familiar smile confirmed it. And guess what? she even bid me a 'Bye'.

After long I thought I had seen a face that stuck to my head, she looked - may be 'Pretty'? just out of teens, not very fair, a little short, not a face that grabs your attention, but a face that lingers on..and it did with me through the day.

On Saturday morning I had Marlon Brando's 'God father' in my hands and this time I didn't forget to look at the now familiar window seat. She was there smiling as usual even as she took the CD from me. I understood I must have stamped someone more than once looking at the last row when I heard him howl at me. I thought damn! and went on as she kept giving me the smile at definite intervals. Two stops down, she squeezes out of the bus, hands over the Cd and says "Excuse me!! why dont you ever travel inside a bus? why dont you be a little more careful about yourself? " with a mock anger on her face. I was like Bah!! Nothing came out my mouth except what I thought was a stupid grin. And then she sports her trademark smile, bids me a bye, walks away..Believe me if only I wasn't late for my work i swear I would have walked her way.

Monday came and this time I took my planner (which had my visiting card on it!!) with 'Godfather III', spent more time on my dress and my hair than usual, went to the bus stop earlier than usual and waited for my (her)bus. The first bus I thought was too early for her timing. She wasn't there on the second one, the third either, and the fourth one had everyone staring at me as I went one end to the other searching for that lost smile.

It was 10.30 when I reached my office an hour late than usual tired and draining . The day was busy but still the smile managed to find gaps and barge my head. The whole week had my colleagues asking me If something was wrong and why I was late. I had no answer, except what I thought was stupid grin. Its been a fortnite since but I still miss a bus or two with that stupid hope of seeing that smile again for God knows why.

"unnai adigam ninaipathillai, anal moochu vidum tharunam mattum eno ninaivukku vanthuvidugirai" ethuvum kadan vangina kavithai than.. enge padichennu nyabagam valrale... rendu naal parthathukku enthe effectannu kekatheenge.. chumma oru kodu podamnule athukkuthan..