After a decade I read a Hindi novel and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The novel is based in the pre-independence era, though published in 1954. The kind of characters it has described are difficult to find these days even in villages, but when you think of a village it is these kinds of people who come to your mind; simple, impulsive, can easily be swindled if someone asks for something in the name of god. Though the people have changed a lot, the poverty that has been described in the novel is still prevalent in that part of Bihar. The Koshi river continues to create havoc in that part and it was that very area that was worst effected in the floods of 2008 in Bihar. I remember the lines from my school text book that said that as Hwang Ho River was China’s sorrow, Koshi River was Bihar’s sorrow.
The novel tells the story of a village in eastern Bihar. At one side of the village is Nepal and a few paces away is Pakistan; some part of the story goes after partition as well and at that time it was Pakistan only, not Bangladesh. The terms that are being used in the novel are completely indigenous to that area and I think anyone who has no idea about Bihari lingo would be able to grasp it only after finishing at least 75 pages.
It starts with the usual caste politics and how people are not willing to sit with the people of so called lower caste. Then a doctor comes to the village whose caste could not be determined as the people who looked after him had found him abandoned in earthen pot in a river. The daughter of the head of the village falls in love with the doctor and in the course of time the relationship couldn’t remain platonic. But in the end everyone accepts the relationship and the novel ends on a positive note.
If you are looking for a lot of twists and turns then the novel is not for you but as far as the description of that era is concerned, it is highly recommended. You read the novel and you would come to know how difficult the life was during those times and how superstition ruined the life of people.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
FAITH, A STORY
Kabeer went inside the lab, several times, and whenever he was inside, he found no reason not to believe his remarkable feat. But the moment he came out, he grew impatient, to see it, to feel it again and again. It was only after looking at it so many times that he could assure himself of his accomplishment, for when a cherished dream comes true our subconscious realizes a sudden vacuum in itself and reluctant to tread a new path.
It was the moment Kabeer was dreaming since childhood, but at the moment of his glory he didn’t even know how to express himself. At one moment he was crying, at another he was making a triumphant roar and unknowingly expressing his joy in true sense, for expression of joy has no definite form; a deer gamboling or a man in reverie, quite apart they appear, quite alike their substance. He was like a fledgling who has just taken her first flight, flitting from one branch to another, expecting someone to report to her mother: Hey! Go and watch, your little kid is ready to rule the sky.
When he hit the road, his car, unconsciously, steered towards Arpita, his girlfriend’s apartment, as some heavenly force was guiding his wheels to make him be with his peer who could really complement his achievement. He was feeling like a victorious emperor who was eager to be with his empress who was waiting on the rampart to take the first glance of the victorious king.
When he reached there it was 2 A.M already but he couldn’t resist himself from calling her.
‘Kabeer! Calling at this hour?’ Arpita asked surprisingly after picking the phone.
‘Just come down dear, I’m waiting at your condo’s gate.’
‘Whaat!’
‘Be here fast’, his exultant voice left no room for further conversation on phone.
‘Hello crazy man,’ she said with a smile while coming out of the gate and stood facing him.
They stood facing each other but uttered not a single word, for no word can give shape to a divine conversation. The exchange was only of radiance emanating from their faces. The tranquil moonlit night was providing rhythm to their silence; celestial music for the divine conversation.
‘Give me a hug my empress,’ he said asking for a terrestrial pleasance. When her breasts pressed against him, she could feel his heart pounding as if wanted to come out of the body and dance around, expressing its joy.
‘Come up,’ she said pressing his palm between hers as she felt it her duty to share the joy of the man she loved; she respected.
He was sitting on a sofa when she came with two cups of frothy coffee and putting them down on the table she asked, ‘Tell me Kabeer. I’m eager to listen to the accomplishment my man has achieved.’
He took the cup and was looking into it as if trying to find something in the froth and said, ‘As you know I am working on a project to use the solar power to its maximum possible efficiency to generate electricity.’ She nodded but said nothing and he continued, ‘Solar cell arrays that we use now a days are very costly and it requires a vast area of land to be covered with theses arrays to tap the solar power; you have to cover an area of four times that of Delhi to generate one hundred thousand megawatt of electricity.
‘Neither we can use that much of land nor we have that much of money to generate power based on today’s technology.
‘With the technology I’ve invented we can generate that much of electricity by covering only point zero one percent of the area with solar cell arrays and the cost would be reduced to only one percent of today’s cost.’
She looked at him, spellbound, as if what he said had nothing to do with science but a mystical melody was creating an aura of ecstasy. She moved towards him and kissed him, fervently and soon they were in bed. Lust took no part in their lovemaking; it was her votive offering to the creator. The man who could withstand the enervating process of adding new things to the world with his sheer passion, deserved her reverence.
‘How elegant his name sounds, “Satya Prakash Maurya”; with genius of a man and so elegant a name,’ Kabeer looked at his chief’s name for a while before entering into his cabin.
‘Come my boy! You have made me proud, made our nation proud,’ Mr. Maurya corrected himself and left his seat and patted Kabeer on the back.
Both of them took their respective chairs and Mr. Maurya said, ‘Kabeer we all talk about the generational leap taken by our society. But I must say, taking over by progeny can not be called a generational leap. It is people like you who have the ability and passion to transform the society for a better tomorrow should be called our next generation. Generation doesn’t change with newborn but with new thoughts.
‘You deserve my wholehearted respect my boy.’ Mr. Maurya looked at Kabeer for a while before continuing, ‘Kabeer, I think it would take at least seven to eight years for us to make our product available to cater to all the requirements. How you think it should be utilized to serve our nation in the best possible way, especially with the limited availability.’
‘I think we should focus on catalyzing economic activity, be it small scale industries, big industries or agriculture.
‘Once a job is in hand, a person can take care of all his needs; he is not depending upon the dole money from the government.’
‘Kabeer you are not only a scientist but a visionary. You can think about the pragmatic use of your inventions and that takes you far ahead of your official peers.
‘And good news is that the government has already given its nod to implement the project the way you’ve just mentioned,’ Mr. Maurya said taking out a sheaf of papers from an envelope.
Kabeer was still there when a peon came and informed that Mr. Dixit wanted to see Mr. Maurya.
‘Send him in.’
‘Sir, I’m going to check the settings of the arrays that we are going to use at the time of launch,’ Kabeer said getting up from the chair.
‘Creators love to check their creations so many times,’ Mr. Maurya said with a smile, ‘I’ll be there too when Mr. Dixit leaves.’
A grim faced man of medium height entered into the cabin.
‘Good morning Mr. Dixit,’ Mr. Maurya welcomed him.
‘Hello,’ the man replied frigidly and sat facing Mr. Maurya.
Mr. Dixit was looking down and suddenly made a point raising his head as if he is in a hurry, ‘Mr. Maurya, we have to make some amendment in the earlier approved project.’
‘What does that mean?’ Mr. Maurya asked with a frown.
‘The government has decided to install the project first in the backward villages as the community power supply centre for houses. We are providing uninterrupted power supply for free to these backward villages.
'We think that it’s time for social justice and the poor section of society has the first right to get hold of the new breakthroughs in our country.’
‘Sir, aren’t you aware that we could supply very limited power in the initial years? And we can serve our nation better by supplying it to agricultural and commercial establishments in those very areas for the benefit for those very people,’ Mr. Maurya addressed him in his stentorian voice.
'But power supply in their houses can uplift their moral. They can feel enlightenment in their soul.’
‘Enlightenment without food?’ Mr. Maurya asked sardonically.
Mr. Dixit knew that he himself was arguing on fallacy and said veering from the argument, ‘We have decided on some backward villages in a few states. Please assign a team to visit them.
‘Also send a report about the cost to my office. I’ve been directed to get the project launched on priority basis.’
Mr. Maurya just looked at him, furiously as if he was reciting some expletives. Suddenly a thought stuck him and he said in a piercing voice, ‘Certainly, it must be launched before the election commission issues the notification for election to those states.’
Mr. Maurya got up and let his chair swivel and started looking out of window, for he couldn’t bear the sight of the administrative office he was bound with.
Mr. Dixit said nothing and moved towards the door. At the door, he turned and said, ‘We are only a minuscule part of the whole system.’
Mr. Maurya looked at him and he did look like a minuscule creature, for the courage to stand on what he thinks right differentiate a man from other living creatures.
Mr. Maurya was sitting, head in hands, and thought, ‘Oh my god! Theses mindless vote hungry louts are going to control we creators? And how about the man who has a grand vision to serve humanity with his invention? Why should he suffer?
‘Just because he is a part of a system where he himself has no control over his invention. And these parasites have got the right to suck our flesh and blood and that also in the name of social justice.
‘What they know about social justice? Victimization of a man by providing him with the perennial agony of reminding him every time of his caste?
‘Social justice is equality in terms of mindset; in terms of nurturing of talent. Social justice is when people look at their fellow workers as their peers, not as a sucker of someone else’s benefits.
‘Theses petty minded politicians are drum-rolling the term ‘social justice’ for the chaos they are bringing in the country. And that only to get back to power.’
He was drenched in sweat and turning his head from side to side he closed his eyes. He was looking down when he heard a voice: Satya Prakash, wake up! It’s time to act; it’s time to prove your patriotism.
He looked up but couldn’t find anybody and suddenly realized, ‘Oh! It was me, it was my conscience.’
He got up and whizzed out of the room.
Local trains serve as a place where people usually hold their glasnost and the recent happenings in the country made it inevitable for everybody to discuss issues pertinent to the nation; i.e. pertinent to themselves.
A man holding a newspaper looked aghast. He said, ‘look at this’, thrusting the newspaper towards his fellow commuter, ‘They have created so much of hoopla about the solar power project and what is the outcome? The project is another failed venture.
‘And what a ridiculous explanation, “It was the brainchild of an overzealous scientist who later found to be not in the normal state of mind. Although doctors couldn’t ascertain the reason for his abnormal behaviour, they say that his overindulgence with the project might be the reason for his abnormal behaviour.”
'And now, nobody is accountable. It’s taxpayers’ money they have thrown in the drain. And we could just read in the newspaper about crazy things they do with our money.
‘We are not going to tolerate this; it’s time for an upheaval!’
Although Kabeer was playing the cymbals for the first time, villagers were amazed at his adroitness and matched it with their percussion instruments. The chanting ‘Hare Rama- Hare Krishna’ was reverberating in the atmosphere, creating an aura of spiritualism.
After so many days of hard work to install the solar-cell arrays in the village to supply power for the tube wells, now was the time of rejoicing and the villagers insisted on the participation of the people who had even brought disrepute to themselves to withstand to their belief.
Although Mr. Maurya didn’t play any musical instrument, he couldn’t resist himself from singing Bhajans and even Mr. Siddhartha Bajaj, the businessman who funded the project was singing with him.
After the celebration, they were to move towards a nearby area where Kabeer was to install the solar cell arrays for the factory of Mr. Bajaj.
Mr. Maurya was looking at Kabeer’s face and he could see the ethereal contentment on his face. The contentment that comes with accomplishment and he refused to miss even a nuance of that spiritual expression.
It was the moment Kabeer was dreaming since childhood, but at the moment of his glory he didn’t even know how to express himself. At one moment he was crying, at another he was making a triumphant roar and unknowingly expressing his joy in true sense, for expression of joy has no definite form; a deer gamboling or a man in reverie, quite apart they appear, quite alike their substance. He was like a fledgling who has just taken her first flight, flitting from one branch to another, expecting someone to report to her mother: Hey! Go and watch, your little kid is ready to rule the sky.
When he hit the road, his car, unconsciously, steered towards Arpita, his girlfriend’s apartment, as some heavenly force was guiding his wheels to make him be with his peer who could really complement his achievement. He was feeling like a victorious emperor who was eager to be with his empress who was waiting on the rampart to take the first glance of the victorious king.
When he reached there it was 2 A.M already but he couldn’t resist himself from calling her.
‘Kabeer! Calling at this hour?’ Arpita asked surprisingly after picking the phone.
‘Just come down dear, I’m waiting at your condo’s gate.’
‘Whaat!’
‘Be here fast’, his exultant voice left no room for further conversation on phone.
‘Hello crazy man,’ she said with a smile while coming out of the gate and stood facing him.
They stood facing each other but uttered not a single word, for no word can give shape to a divine conversation. The exchange was only of radiance emanating from their faces. The tranquil moonlit night was providing rhythm to their silence; celestial music for the divine conversation.
‘Give me a hug my empress,’ he said asking for a terrestrial pleasance. When her breasts pressed against him, she could feel his heart pounding as if wanted to come out of the body and dance around, expressing its joy.
‘Come up,’ she said pressing his palm between hers as she felt it her duty to share the joy of the man she loved; she respected.
He was sitting on a sofa when she came with two cups of frothy coffee and putting them down on the table she asked, ‘Tell me Kabeer. I’m eager to listen to the accomplishment my man has achieved.’
He took the cup and was looking into it as if trying to find something in the froth and said, ‘As you know I am working on a project to use the solar power to its maximum possible efficiency to generate electricity.’ She nodded but said nothing and he continued, ‘Solar cell arrays that we use now a days are very costly and it requires a vast area of land to be covered with theses arrays to tap the solar power; you have to cover an area of four times that of Delhi to generate one hundred thousand megawatt of electricity.
‘Neither we can use that much of land nor we have that much of money to generate power based on today’s technology.
‘With the technology I’ve invented we can generate that much of electricity by covering only point zero one percent of the area with solar cell arrays and the cost would be reduced to only one percent of today’s cost.’
She looked at him, spellbound, as if what he said had nothing to do with science but a mystical melody was creating an aura of ecstasy. She moved towards him and kissed him, fervently and soon they were in bed. Lust took no part in their lovemaking; it was her votive offering to the creator. The man who could withstand the enervating process of adding new things to the world with his sheer passion, deserved her reverence.
‘How elegant his name sounds, “Satya Prakash Maurya”; with genius of a man and so elegant a name,’ Kabeer looked at his chief’s name for a while before entering into his cabin.
‘Come my boy! You have made me proud, made our nation proud,’ Mr. Maurya corrected himself and left his seat and patted Kabeer on the back.
Both of them took their respective chairs and Mr. Maurya said, ‘Kabeer we all talk about the generational leap taken by our society. But I must say, taking over by progeny can not be called a generational leap. It is people like you who have the ability and passion to transform the society for a better tomorrow should be called our next generation. Generation doesn’t change with newborn but with new thoughts.
‘You deserve my wholehearted respect my boy.’ Mr. Maurya looked at Kabeer for a while before continuing, ‘Kabeer, I think it would take at least seven to eight years for us to make our product available to cater to all the requirements. How you think it should be utilized to serve our nation in the best possible way, especially with the limited availability.’
‘I think we should focus on catalyzing economic activity, be it small scale industries, big industries or agriculture.
‘Once a job is in hand, a person can take care of all his needs; he is not depending upon the dole money from the government.’
‘Kabeer you are not only a scientist but a visionary. You can think about the pragmatic use of your inventions and that takes you far ahead of your official peers.
‘And good news is that the government has already given its nod to implement the project the way you’ve just mentioned,’ Mr. Maurya said taking out a sheaf of papers from an envelope.
Kabeer was still there when a peon came and informed that Mr. Dixit wanted to see Mr. Maurya.
‘Send him in.’
‘Sir, I’m going to check the settings of the arrays that we are going to use at the time of launch,’ Kabeer said getting up from the chair.
‘Creators love to check their creations so many times,’ Mr. Maurya said with a smile, ‘I’ll be there too when Mr. Dixit leaves.’
A grim faced man of medium height entered into the cabin.
‘Good morning Mr. Dixit,’ Mr. Maurya welcomed him.
‘Hello,’ the man replied frigidly and sat facing Mr. Maurya.
Mr. Dixit was looking down and suddenly made a point raising his head as if he is in a hurry, ‘Mr. Maurya, we have to make some amendment in the earlier approved project.’
‘What does that mean?’ Mr. Maurya asked with a frown.
‘The government has decided to install the project first in the backward villages as the community power supply centre for houses. We are providing uninterrupted power supply for free to these backward villages.
'We think that it’s time for social justice and the poor section of society has the first right to get hold of the new breakthroughs in our country.’
‘Sir, aren’t you aware that we could supply very limited power in the initial years? And we can serve our nation better by supplying it to agricultural and commercial establishments in those very areas for the benefit for those very people,’ Mr. Maurya addressed him in his stentorian voice.
'But power supply in their houses can uplift their moral. They can feel enlightenment in their soul.’
‘Enlightenment without food?’ Mr. Maurya asked sardonically.
Mr. Dixit knew that he himself was arguing on fallacy and said veering from the argument, ‘We have decided on some backward villages in a few states. Please assign a team to visit them.
‘Also send a report about the cost to my office. I’ve been directed to get the project launched on priority basis.’
Mr. Maurya just looked at him, furiously as if he was reciting some expletives. Suddenly a thought stuck him and he said in a piercing voice, ‘Certainly, it must be launched before the election commission issues the notification for election to those states.’
Mr. Maurya got up and let his chair swivel and started looking out of window, for he couldn’t bear the sight of the administrative office he was bound with.
Mr. Dixit said nothing and moved towards the door. At the door, he turned and said, ‘We are only a minuscule part of the whole system.’
Mr. Maurya looked at him and he did look like a minuscule creature, for the courage to stand on what he thinks right differentiate a man from other living creatures.
Mr. Maurya was sitting, head in hands, and thought, ‘Oh my god! Theses mindless vote hungry louts are going to control we creators? And how about the man who has a grand vision to serve humanity with his invention? Why should he suffer?
‘Just because he is a part of a system where he himself has no control over his invention. And these parasites have got the right to suck our flesh and blood and that also in the name of social justice.
‘What they know about social justice? Victimization of a man by providing him with the perennial agony of reminding him every time of his caste?
‘Social justice is equality in terms of mindset; in terms of nurturing of talent. Social justice is when people look at their fellow workers as their peers, not as a sucker of someone else’s benefits.
‘Theses petty minded politicians are drum-rolling the term ‘social justice’ for the chaos they are bringing in the country. And that only to get back to power.’
He was drenched in sweat and turning his head from side to side he closed his eyes. He was looking down when he heard a voice: Satya Prakash, wake up! It’s time to act; it’s time to prove your patriotism.
He looked up but couldn’t find anybody and suddenly realized, ‘Oh! It was me, it was my conscience.’
He got up and whizzed out of the room.
Local trains serve as a place where people usually hold their glasnost and the recent happenings in the country made it inevitable for everybody to discuss issues pertinent to the nation; i.e. pertinent to themselves.
A man holding a newspaper looked aghast. He said, ‘look at this’, thrusting the newspaper towards his fellow commuter, ‘They have created so much of hoopla about the solar power project and what is the outcome? The project is another failed venture.
‘And what a ridiculous explanation, “It was the brainchild of an overzealous scientist who later found to be not in the normal state of mind. Although doctors couldn’t ascertain the reason for his abnormal behaviour, they say that his overindulgence with the project might be the reason for his abnormal behaviour.”
'And now, nobody is accountable. It’s taxpayers’ money they have thrown in the drain. And we could just read in the newspaper about crazy things they do with our money.
‘We are not going to tolerate this; it’s time for an upheaval!’
Although Kabeer was playing the cymbals for the first time, villagers were amazed at his adroitness and matched it with their percussion instruments. The chanting ‘Hare Rama- Hare Krishna’ was reverberating in the atmosphere, creating an aura of spiritualism.
After so many days of hard work to install the solar-cell arrays in the village to supply power for the tube wells, now was the time of rejoicing and the villagers insisted on the participation of the people who had even brought disrepute to themselves to withstand to their belief.
Although Mr. Maurya didn’t play any musical instrument, he couldn’t resist himself from singing Bhajans and even Mr. Siddhartha Bajaj, the businessman who funded the project was singing with him.
After the celebration, they were to move towards a nearby area where Kabeer was to install the solar cell arrays for the factory of Mr. Bajaj.
Mr. Maurya was looking at Kabeer’s face and he could see the ethereal contentment on his face. The contentment that comes with accomplishment and he refused to miss even a nuance of that spiritual expression.
Review of The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Waller
The saga of love, passion and sacrifice takes the reader into a world where no logic of society can define the relationship between a man and a woman. A chance encounter that left the most indelible impression on the life of the two and they spent their whole life cherishing those four unforgettable days.
The story unfolds with a photographer asking for the way to a bridge to a woman and when both came face to face; at that very moment they knew inside their respective hearts that this was the person they were looking for all their life. Though she was forty-five, he fifty-two, their liking for each other was so intense that they went to bed on their second encounter itself. And they made love, with animal intensity and grace at the same time.
Her responsibilities played their part and they had to part ways, but it was only their physical separation, spiritually they had created another being with their conjugation. The being was nowhere to be seen; it was surrounded by a spiritual aura that bound them even after being miles apart. Even when death approaching they were just thinking of each other. In real sense they were never apart; their love uplifted itself to zenith where just the feeling of each other gives you the power to face all the obstacles that come along your way.
I can say wholeheartedly that anyone reading this book can certainly feel the love inside himself. And I would like to add here that this is the second book in my life that made be sob; the first one was Bracken.
The story unfolds with a photographer asking for the way to a bridge to a woman and when both came face to face; at that very moment they knew inside their respective hearts that this was the person they were looking for all their life. Though she was forty-five, he fifty-two, their liking for each other was so intense that they went to bed on their second encounter itself. And they made love, with animal intensity and grace at the same time.
Her responsibilities played their part and they had to part ways, but it was only their physical separation, spiritually they had created another being with their conjugation. The being was nowhere to be seen; it was surrounded by a spiritual aura that bound them even after being miles apart. Even when death approaching they were just thinking of each other. In real sense they were never apart; their love uplifted itself to zenith where just the feeling of each other gives you the power to face all the obstacles that come along your way.
I can say wholeheartedly that anyone reading this book can certainly feel the love inside himself. And I would like to add here that this is the second book in my life that made be sob; the first one was Bracken.
Review of The Global Soul by Pico Iyer
The book tries to portray the changing global scenario and how boundaries are being blurred by people that are on their way to find the place where they really belong. To some extent the book is really able to describe the dilemma of a wandering soul but the way it is written certainly makes the book a pathetic reading; the writing itself is as confused as the wandering lead character. The ideas he wanted to express are certainly there but it would have been better if he would have taken care to give those thought a proper shape; he should have written them in more coherent manner.
The book is about a character who roams around the world from Japan to Atlanta, from Barcelona to Hong Kong and Singapore and found himself to be a foreigner where ever he goes. He makes a trip to Toronto in Canada also and while he was interacting with the Indian origin people over there, he was alien among them as well as he could not understand a word of Hindi and that was a big surprise for those people; they were even questioning his Indian-ness.
In some of the pages he gave good ideas about how Olympic Games are being fixed and how freebies play a big role in deciding the venues of the games. But other than these occasional good thoughts there is nothing new that you can find in the book and I would emphatically say that the book is not worth reading. I want to take liberty of the medium and would like to suggest the publisher that if you want the book to find a response that can be considered as even ‘worth discussing’ then you must edit the book as it seriously lack coherence.
The book is about a character who roams around the world from Japan to Atlanta, from Barcelona to Hong Kong and Singapore and found himself to be a foreigner where ever he goes. He makes a trip to Toronto in Canada also and while he was interacting with the Indian origin people over there, he was alien among them as well as he could not understand a word of Hindi and that was a big surprise for those people; they were even questioning his Indian-ness.
In some of the pages he gave good ideas about how Olympic Games are being fixed and how freebies play a big role in deciding the venues of the games. But other than these occasional good thoughts there is nothing new that you can find in the book and I would emphatically say that the book is not worth reading. I want to take liberty of the medium and would like to suggest the publisher that if you want the book to find a response that can be considered as even ‘worth discussing’ then you must edit the book as it seriously lack coherence.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Ceremony
The house can stand up to any standard benchmark of beauty, if there exists any, and its inhabitants take every care to keep the beauty intact. But aesthetic sense is a concept alien to the people of Mohanpur; they call the house ‘a doomed one’.
In murmuring small towns of India, where neighbour’s concerns are the prime concern of everybody, it is inevitable for a house to have a detestable reputation whose owner is retired since ten years and has five daughters; neither of them is married nor involve in any profession.
It was the evening of summer and the merciless sun had just reprieved itself to appear again, the next morning, with more ferocity. The girls, all five, were on the terrace; the only time they came out of the house, although not literally. All praise to the worsening power situation, otherwise, they would not have the pleasure of the open sky even for that brief period.
It was a knock, rather a hit, on the gate that made Aparna, the third of the five sisters, come to the railings to find the outsized, perennial lady of the neighbouring house at the gate.
‘Oh! It’s quite difficult to go out of the house in this intolerably hot season,’ the lady remarked taking a glass of lemonade off the tray. ‘Although we live so close, but seldom we see each other.’
Aparna’s mother nodded drearily and all the girls giggled in the adjacent room.
‘Any of your daughters is pursuing anything?’ the lady asked and continued without waiting for the answer, ‘What I intend to say is that my nephew has started a school and, if you want, I can force him to employ at least one of your daughters as a teacher.
‘The school is very close; not more than five-minute walk from here.’
‘I’ll let you know in a day or two,’ Aparna’s mother replied with same dreariness
‘OK. But don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.’
In professional terms, it was not a school; classes were conducted under thatch-roofed rooms; the teachers, all four, were there for the reasons other than teaching. One of the teachers was the owner’s father and another was the father’s friend; both were there because they had nothing else to do after retirement. One, Bhavesh, hailed from a village in adjoining district, was pursuing his Master’s at Mohanpur. He had his quarters in the school-campus and he could save on rent by teaching for few hours. For Aparna, it was an opportunity to get rid of her humdrum existence.
Old people think it there right to be treated as the privileged group and the two gentlemen were no less. They left the school, always, before the students, and the owner, who designated himself as principal, was on the prowl, most of the times, in nearby areas to enroll more students in his school.
Aparna was about to leave after all the classrooms were locked when she heard a
joyous roar of a mob outside the campus. Bhavesh reported that it was the victory
celebration of a legislature who lived nearby. He advised her not to leave the campus at least for an hour. As all the classrooms were locked, he invited her to sit in his quarters.
Seldom they have interacted with each other for long and it remained so on that
occasion too. As taciturnity is conducive to close observation, Bhavesh started looking at her, even though furtively.
Her face looked vacuous, as if cloistered for years, always wanted to see the outside world but frightened to come out. A deep anguish enshrouded her rather beautiful eyes. She looked like one of those talented people who never get support to achieve what they think they are capable of. But they never accept their defeat; their intrinsic haughtiness doesn’t allow that. They feel that unfair treatment has been meted out to them, but are proud enough to admit that.
Bhavesh felt it proper to talk something but wasn’t able to frame his questions, and he asked suddenly, ‘When did you finish your graduation?’
She looked at him for a while and answered shuffling her thoughts, ‘Last year,’ for she was embarrassed to admit that it was ten years since then. He noticed her
uncomfortable body language and dropped any conversation altogether.
All that hour she was thinking of the question. ‘Oh! Why did you ask this! Didn’t
you have anything else to talk!’ The more she thought the more she grew pale.
'It was not his fault. He cared for me; he made me sit here to save myself of any
mishap.’ Suddenly, she started thinking high of him, for even a little concern for a
suffering soul makes an indelible impression. In few moments he became a man full of
virtues.
It took more than an hour for the situation to get normal and he accompanied Aparna
to her house.
It was Sunday but Aparna was ready at the time of her school.
‘Aparna your school runs on Sunday too?’ her mother enquired.
‘No mother; it’s teacher’s meeting today to finalize the question paper for the next term,’ she lied and left in a hurry.
Bhavesh was engrossed in his books when he heard a knock at the door. ‘These
damn friends!’ he got up with an annoyed look to open the door.
‘You’re here on a Sunday?’ he was pleasantly surprised to find Aparna at the door.
‘Yeah! I came to meet one of my friends, but she has gone out somewhere. So I
thought, “Let’s meet Bhavesh today!”’ She replied in not so usual ebullient voice.
‘Please come,’ he invited her and he could guess she was lying but could hardly fathom the intent of her visit.
They sat for a while, he on his bed, she, on a rickety chair close to the door. He
noticed a prismatic change of emotions on her face; it was a whirligig of joy and agony. Suddenly, he felt an uncontrollable surge of emotions in himself. His body stiff; his face contorting, and he got up, almost impetuously, making a thud on the bed with his hands and closed the door.
He grasped her by the shoulders and she could see his intense eyes but uttered not a single word. When he pulled her towards himself, she didn’t protest nor comply. She was like a mound of clay that can be moulded at potter’s wish. The moment he put her in bed, she found herself sweating and all the entrenchments built around her, for years, had been shattered in a moment. She thought herself unprotected on a vast open land. But she could find no enemy in the sight; the
whole world was free for her to roam around, and she pulled him upon herself.
The lovemaking was not out of love; she found an avenue to show her dormant power. She had the feeling of an accomplishment. She found herself on a summit and looking downward, felt pity towards her two elder sisters.
She spent a whole month in bliss as they lost no opportunity to enjoy their ecstatic
moments. But lately, she noticed, he was trying to avoid their intermingling, but she put aside even the thought of his avoidance, for obsession never cares for minor scruples. Also, whenever she touched him, he forgot all the reasons to avoid her.
It was weekend and Bhavesh, after a gap of a few weeks, left for his village, but didn’t turn up on Monday, which made Aparna grow anxious. She visited his locked door, daily, in anxious agony, and every unsuccessful visit made her want him more.
It was Thursday and she was in classroom when she saw him, in the veranda, shaking hands with the principal. ‘Usually our principal doesn’t meet with the teachers so
cordially,’ she thought, ‘And that too after the gap of three days; it’s surprising!’
When she knocked at the door, Bhavesh took a long time to open it. He didn’t react
to her smile, and she entered into the room uninvited. He was looking down when she
came to him and put her hands onto his shoulders. He shoved her and said harshly,
‘Aparna, we should understand the reality. What we were doing was immoral. We must
not continue with the sin; we should part ways.’
She was shocked at the rebuke, for she was at her ebullient best at the thought of owning him after the gap of so many days. But he continued with his reprimands, ‘And,by the way, I’m engaged to be married. So please, don’t come to my house again.’
The ground was giving way under her, but her eyes were transfixed; onto him. The movement was of tears; spouting from her eyes.
She tossed and turned, the whole night, but her agony was hard to console. Her world
was shrinking and she was hurtling down from the summit, but could do nothing; she was helpless before destiny. She closed her eyes and found herself sinking, in a deep trench. Her every effort to stay afloat was in vain and she was slipping; deeper and deeper.
All her life-events were started rolling in front of her, in sequence, and she could find only gloom. She was about to turn her head aside from those harrowing events when, all of a sudden, she found herself rejoicing; it was the end.
Suddenly, she found herself coming out of the trench; withered, but a victorious
aura was there on her face, and she couldn’t keep her eyes closed anymore.
Though it was night, she could see the roseate glow of dawn, for only the perception is pertinent while deciding the dawn and the dusk.
On that whole day she taught the students with a new zeal. She answered in detail every little question of theirs; even they were perplexed at her new-found enthusiasm. She sat half an hour extra after the students left; preparing the topics to be taught, the next day.
When she entered into Bhavesh’s room, he stared and bewildered to see an aura of
confidence in her demeanour. She addressed him looking directly onto him which made
him look away, ‘Bhavesh, don’t feel ashamed. You have committed no sin. Whatever
happened was mutual, I better say it was tilted in my favour.
‘We have a tradition to organize a ceremony to mark all the significant changes in our life. To enjoy the bounties nature has showered on us. ‘But some people are so much enshrouded in gloom that they can not even think of celebration; they fear to enjoy. And when fear creeps into a person’s heart, death is of no consequence, the person is already dead.
‘You made me relive my life and made me enjoy the month long ceremony to
celebrate my womanhood, which I was denied for all these years. Feel no guilty, feel no shame. You have acted manly and I adore you for that.
‘But every grand ceremony must reach its zenith before it ends. And I want to
own you one last time; the most grand of our acts, which I can cherish for all my life and feel proud of my conduct.’
She started undressing him and he was spellbound. But he could notice her face; it was so radiant; so content, completely refuting the appearance when he saw her for the first time, and he couldn’t distract his eyes.
In murmuring small towns of India, where neighbour’s concerns are the prime concern of everybody, it is inevitable for a house to have a detestable reputation whose owner is retired since ten years and has five daughters; neither of them is married nor involve in any profession.
It was the evening of summer and the merciless sun had just reprieved itself to appear again, the next morning, with more ferocity. The girls, all five, were on the terrace; the only time they came out of the house, although not literally. All praise to the worsening power situation, otherwise, they would not have the pleasure of the open sky even for that brief period.
It was a knock, rather a hit, on the gate that made Aparna, the third of the five sisters, come to the railings to find the outsized, perennial lady of the neighbouring house at the gate.
‘Oh! It’s quite difficult to go out of the house in this intolerably hot season,’ the lady remarked taking a glass of lemonade off the tray. ‘Although we live so close, but seldom we see each other.’
Aparna’s mother nodded drearily and all the girls giggled in the adjacent room.
‘Any of your daughters is pursuing anything?’ the lady asked and continued without waiting for the answer, ‘What I intend to say is that my nephew has started a school and, if you want, I can force him to employ at least one of your daughters as a teacher.
‘The school is very close; not more than five-minute walk from here.’
‘I’ll let you know in a day or two,’ Aparna’s mother replied with same dreariness
‘OK. But don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.’
In professional terms, it was not a school; classes were conducted under thatch-roofed rooms; the teachers, all four, were there for the reasons other than teaching. One of the teachers was the owner’s father and another was the father’s friend; both were there because they had nothing else to do after retirement. One, Bhavesh, hailed from a village in adjoining district, was pursuing his Master’s at Mohanpur. He had his quarters in the school-campus and he could save on rent by teaching for few hours. For Aparna, it was an opportunity to get rid of her humdrum existence.
Old people think it there right to be treated as the privileged group and the two gentlemen were no less. They left the school, always, before the students, and the owner, who designated himself as principal, was on the prowl, most of the times, in nearby areas to enroll more students in his school.
Aparna was about to leave after all the classrooms were locked when she heard a
joyous roar of a mob outside the campus. Bhavesh reported that it was the victory
celebration of a legislature who lived nearby. He advised her not to leave the campus at least for an hour. As all the classrooms were locked, he invited her to sit in his quarters.
Seldom they have interacted with each other for long and it remained so on that
occasion too. As taciturnity is conducive to close observation, Bhavesh started looking at her, even though furtively.
Her face looked vacuous, as if cloistered for years, always wanted to see the outside world but frightened to come out. A deep anguish enshrouded her rather beautiful eyes. She looked like one of those talented people who never get support to achieve what they think they are capable of. But they never accept their defeat; their intrinsic haughtiness doesn’t allow that. They feel that unfair treatment has been meted out to them, but are proud enough to admit that.
Bhavesh felt it proper to talk something but wasn’t able to frame his questions, and he asked suddenly, ‘When did you finish your graduation?’
She looked at him for a while and answered shuffling her thoughts, ‘Last year,’ for she was embarrassed to admit that it was ten years since then. He noticed her
uncomfortable body language and dropped any conversation altogether.
All that hour she was thinking of the question. ‘Oh! Why did you ask this! Didn’t
you have anything else to talk!’ The more she thought the more she grew pale.
'It was not his fault. He cared for me; he made me sit here to save myself of any
mishap.’ Suddenly, she started thinking high of him, for even a little concern for a
suffering soul makes an indelible impression. In few moments he became a man full of
virtues.
It took more than an hour for the situation to get normal and he accompanied Aparna
to her house.
It was Sunday but Aparna was ready at the time of her school.
‘Aparna your school runs on Sunday too?’ her mother enquired.
‘No mother; it’s teacher’s meeting today to finalize the question paper for the next term,’ she lied and left in a hurry.
Bhavesh was engrossed in his books when he heard a knock at the door. ‘These
damn friends!’ he got up with an annoyed look to open the door.
‘You’re here on a Sunday?’ he was pleasantly surprised to find Aparna at the door.
‘Yeah! I came to meet one of my friends, but she has gone out somewhere. So I
thought, “Let’s meet Bhavesh today!”’ She replied in not so usual ebullient voice.
‘Please come,’ he invited her and he could guess she was lying but could hardly fathom the intent of her visit.
They sat for a while, he on his bed, she, on a rickety chair close to the door. He
noticed a prismatic change of emotions on her face; it was a whirligig of joy and agony. Suddenly, he felt an uncontrollable surge of emotions in himself. His body stiff; his face contorting, and he got up, almost impetuously, making a thud on the bed with his hands and closed the door.
He grasped her by the shoulders and she could see his intense eyes but uttered not a single word. When he pulled her towards himself, she didn’t protest nor comply. She was like a mound of clay that can be moulded at potter’s wish. The moment he put her in bed, she found herself sweating and all the entrenchments built around her, for years, had been shattered in a moment. She thought herself unprotected on a vast open land. But she could find no enemy in the sight; the
whole world was free for her to roam around, and she pulled him upon herself.
The lovemaking was not out of love; she found an avenue to show her dormant power. She had the feeling of an accomplishment. She found herself on a summit and looking downward, felt pity towards her two elder sisters.
She spent a whole month in bliss as they lost no opportunity to enjoy their ecstatic
moments. But lately, she noticed, he was trying to avoid their intermingling, but she put aside even the thought of his avoidance, for obsession never cares for minor scruples. Also, whenever she touched him, he forgot all the reasons to avoid her.
It was weekend and Bhavesh, after a gap of a few weeks, left for his village, but didn’t turn up on Monday, which made Aparna grow anxious. She visited his locked door, daily, in anxious agony, and every unsuccessful visit made her want him more.
It was Thursday and she was in classroom when she saw him, in the veranda, shaking hands with the principal. ‘Usually our principal doesn’t meet with the teachers so
cordially,’ she thought, ‘And that too after the gap of three days; it’s surprising!’
When she knocked at the door, Bhavesh took a long time to open it. He didn’t react
to her smile, and she entered into the room uninvited. He was looking down when she
came to him and put her hands onto his shoulders. He shoved her and said harshly,
‘Aparna, we should understand the reality. What we were doing was immoral. We must
not continue with the sin; we should part ways.’
She was shocked at the rebuke, for she was at her ebullient best at the thought of owning him after the gap of so many days. But he continued with his reprimands, ‘And,by the way, I’m engaged to be married. So please, don’t come to my house again.’
The ground was giving way under her, but her eyes were transfixed; onto him. The movement was of tears; spouting from her eyes.
She tossed and turned, the whole night, but her agony was hard to console. Her world
was shrinking and she was hurtling down from the summit, but could do nothing; she was helpless before destiny. She closed her eyes and found herself sinking, in a deep trench. Her every effort to stay afloat was in vain and she was slipping; deeper and deeper.
All her life-events were started rolling in front of her, in sequence, and she could find only gloom. She was about to turn her head aside from those harrowing events when, all of a sudden, she found herself rejoicing; it was the end.
Suddenly, she found herself coming out of the trench; withered, but a victorious
aura was there on her face, and she couldn’t keep her eyes closed anymore.
Though it was night, she could see the roseate glow of dawn, for only the perception is pertinent while deciding the dawn and the dusk.
On that whole day she taught the students with a new zeal. She answered in detail every little question of theirs; even they were perplexed at her new-found enthusiasm. She sat half an hour extra after the students left; preparing the topics to be taught, the next day.
When she entered into Bhavesh’s room, he stared and bewildered to see an aura of
confidence in her demeanour. She addressed him looking directly onto him which made
him look away, ‘Bhavesh, don’t feel ashamed. You have committed no sin. Whatever
happened was mutual, I better say it was tilted in my favour.
‘We have a tradition to organize a ceremony to mark all the significant changes in our life. To enjoy the bounties nature has showered on us. ‘But some people are so much enshrouded in gloom that they can not even think of celebration; they fear to enjoy. And when fear creeps into a person’s heart, death is of no consequence, the person is already dead.
‘You made me relive my life and made me enjoy the month long ceremony to
celebrate my womanhood, which I was denied for all these years. Feel no guilty, feel no shame. You have acted manly and I adore you for that.
‘But every grand ceremony must reach its zenith before it ends. And I want to
own you one last time; the most grand of our acts, which I can cherish for all my life and feel proud of my conduct.’
She started undressing him and he was spellbound. But he could notice her face; it was so radiant; so content, completely refuting the appearance when he saw her for the first time, and he couldn’t distract his eyes.
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