It was a beautiful day. With her hands deep in her jacket pockets and her scarf fluttering slowly as she walked to the place she would love to call 'home', she felt unusually light. To be precise, it has been five months and 26 days. Every day, she takes the same route. She had watched these changes day by day. Every day, she crossed the park's trees, showing how different every day was. Every moment is unique. 

But she knew it well. Not everyone saw it. There is no time. Everyone was in a hurry. But she was not one of those busy people. It was routine to walk ten minutes from the bus station to her house. The one that gave meaning to her once-empty life.

As she walked in, Mrs. Parker smiled at the reception desk. When she smiled, her eyes were hidden behind her chubby cheeks. “Good morning dear…” She waved as she came closer. "Good morning Mrs. Parker, how are you?"

“Oh, it's great. Why not, my dear?" she replied with a friendly wink.

Of course, the one thing that she had learned in the past few months was this very significant secret of life. 

What’s not there around us? Everything is around us; we just need to look for it with the right mind. And not everyone is blessed with a mind that thinks in the right way. And she lived with that truth every day.

She walked closer to the room. It was a warm bedroom with a bed that was close to the wall and faced the window which was now open. The bed was neatly arranged with a white bed sheet sprinkled with yellow polka dots. The side table had a flower vase with a single white dahlia. And there she was, sitting by the edge of the bed and allowing a mid-aged lady to adjust her gown. She sat with this adorable grumpy face that looked so cute.

She knocked on the door and grabbed the attention of the members inside the room. “Ah, my dear. Right on time!” the lady who was helping the other, beamed and asked her to come in. I will leave you in her care, Mrs. John. Have a wonderful time. Would you like something more?”

“Yes…” the lady had a withered voice. “Please close the door when you leave. And yes, did I tell you that I didn't like you?”

“Of course Mrs. John. You already told me twice today. Ok, I will leave. Good day.”

The helper walked away with a reassuring smile. And then she turned back to her, Mrs. John. Aged 76, she had silver hair which was now neatly brushed by Angela, the caretaker who left just now. She had a flowery gown that came down to her knees. Her skin was now wrinkled but it said loud and clear that she was once a beauty. 

“How are you, Mrs. John?” She asked casually as she walked closer to the bed, placing her bag on the side table. “Oh, I am great. But do I know you?”

“Lord!! Where are my manners? Sorry, let me introduce myself. I am Naina. And we will be spending the whole day together, and maybe have some fun too.” 

“Thank you, Ms…. Um… Naina, right? Strange name, my love? Does it mean something?”

"Yup.. it means eyes."

“Eyes!!! Lovely!! And you do have a lovely pair of eyes. And I think I like you too. And maybe you are right; we may have some fun today!”

“Of course. So, did you have breakfast?"

“Yeah…” her voice was weary. “I hate oatmeal. It’s yucky. I want something… like barbecue..."

“Barbeque? Right in the morning? No… let’s see in the evening. Maybe we can have it.”

“That’s lovely, Little Eyes. And that lady who walked away when you came in, she calls herself Angela. Like an angel, she says I can’t have a barbecue. Isn’t that horrible?”

“Oh yes, it is. But don’t worry, I will make sure we have a barbecue this evening. But what would you like to do now?”

Mrs. John ponders for a while and looks out the window. “The weather looks perfect. How about a walk to the garden?”

“That’s a great idea. Let’s go." 

Naina wrapped a shawl around the lady who was now as excited as a kid about her school trip. She helped the older woman into a wheelchair and gently pushed her out of the room. In the corridor, some inmates walked or were assisted to walk or wheeled out by their caretakers. St. Louis Home was indeed a home for people like Mrs. John. 

The garden in front of the home was vast. It was away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It was a peaceful and well-kept part of the world. “Let’s sit there.” Mrs. John pointed to a place where there was a wooden bench too. Naina put the brakes on the wheels and made sure Mrs. John was in a happy place; content and happy.

By the time Naina settled on the seat near the wheelchair, Mrs. John had a faraway look. Naina followed her line of sight and reached the leaves scattered around her. On the green grass, it looked like golden sprinkles. This is one of her favorite seasons of the whole year. As someone had already said, “Autumn is the second spring when every leaf is a flower”. Mrs. John enjoyed this season as well. 

Naina bent down to pick a leaf that was close to her feet. The leaf felt so light when she twisted the twig. For a moment she missed Mrs. John’s eyes on her face and the leaf; she drifted away from the present to some time in her past. 

A young girl was hopping up and down as she walked past the road that was covered with dried leaves. They were not dead leaves; instead, they glowed on their own, as if stating that even the end was beautiful. A pair of open arms was waiting for her as she hopped straight toward them. She had a beautiful smile as she plucked the little girl from the ground. “Welcome home my angel? How was your day?”

“Mumma… it was great… I just want to get back to school…. It’s just fun at school…”

"OK... so you don’t want to stay with your Mumma, huh? Did you not miss me?" It was so cute when her Mumma acted upset. The little girl hugged her Mumma so tight and gave a loud kiss on her cheeks. “Aww… Mumma, I missed you too...”

“What’s it Little Eyes?” Naina was shaken back to reality by Mrs. John’s voice. 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just…”

“Please don’t lie to me. There is something in your eyes. And no you can’t rub it off. It’s something deep… like sadness…Like you are missing something”

“Ummm, it’s nothing. It’s just…” she sighed and stopped for a while. “I just miss my Mumma.”

"Oh... it’s OK to regret losing someone, my dear. "I long for some people sometimes, like..." She tries to think of some names. Naina knew it would be difficult for her to try to remember anything. “Well… I just miss them… what’s there in names, right? I just miss them.” She gave an unsure smile to Naina. 

Naina gently pressed her palm assuring her that everything would be fine. She passed the leaf to Mrs. John who kept looking at it for a while. "Fall is almost over Naina... Winter is coming fast. Do you like winter?”

“I love winter. All white and cold. I always wished to make a snowman. What about you?”

“I love fall, Little Eyes. Just like this leaf. See, it’s almost dead. It has fallen. Still, see its color. A fallen leaf is never the same as another. Every other leaf that stays on the tree will have to fall one day. And why should one just fall? Why not leave in style?"

Naina didn’t have a reply. She gave a life statement. Even in her last few days, she wants to leave an impression. But what has she done till now? Naina couldn’t stop herself from thinking about her own life.

She had stopped everything around her when her mother died a year ago. The once full-of-life bookstore that was owned by her Mumma was now on the verge of shutting down. For the past year, she only stepped in three or four times. Thanks to James, her Mumma’s best friend, it was still open. She felt the bookstore was so empty without her. She couldn’t breathe inside the store that was once her sanctuary. The Naina who used to love to bury herself behind the books was missing. It took more than four months for James and his family to persuade Naina to leave her home. And once she stepped out, she could hardly breathe again. She felt like a fish taken out of the water after a lot of talks. After a lot of talks, she agreed to work in an old age home as a day caretaker for the inmates. 

“You look lost again, Little Eyes. And you don’t seem to be too old to be lost.” 

Again Mrs. John took her by surprise. She looked at the leaf again before turning back to Naina. “Whatever it is, try to move ahead Naina. Otherwise, by the time you wake up, you will be in a wheelchair like this. Maybe a girl called Big Eyes will be beside you.” Her wrinkles smoothened when she laughed at her jokes.

Over the next few hours, they talked and laughed, sometimes at the popping jokes, sometimes at statements with deeper meanings. Soon Angela joined them and the smiling Mrs. John disappeared. “Here comes the Cruella. I am not sure who named her Angela. She loves to pull my gown down whenever she feels like it. She makes me eat and acts as if she owns me.”

Naina looked surprised and winked at Angela. Mrs. John was speaking as if Angela couldn’t hear her. “And did I tell you that I didn't like you?”

“Of course, Mrs. John,” Angela said as she wheeled her into the room. Mrs. John insisted that Naina feed her, as she didn’t want Cruela anywhere near. Naina agreed and fed her porridge and then tablets. “Read me a book, Little Eyes” And Naina took a book that she loved to hear. It had poems about the seasons. The verses were lovely. But somewhere close to the end, Naina was stopped by a hand. She watched the elderly woman fall asleep.

“Little Eyes… your Mumma misses you too. And do you know why? It’s because she can’t see her girl anymore. You are her shadow. Come out to the light, and be her girl again.” She paused to look at her side table and tried to reach the leaf on the side table. Naina helped her to get that leaf. “Remember Little Eyes, this fallen leaf may be a dead leaf, but when this one was outside, it was an autumn leaf. It glowed with it. It was shining out in the sun. It was taking your breath away when you saw it. Go out… live again. Unlike me, you are not just passing this time. Live again. It’s not just another day always…”

Naina could see her eyes getting droopy. She smiled at Naina. “Goodnight. Will you come tomorrow?”

“Yes, I will. Sleep well, Mrs. John.”

She stayed till the elderly lady slept and beyond that. She could still feel the words around her. For a brief moment, it was like her Mumma was talking to her. She slowly grabbed her bag and walked out remembering those words. The leaf that was in her hand felt heavy. She let it fall onto the other leaves. When it hit the ground, she saw it glittering back in the sunshine.

She walked away slowly. She took a bus mechanically. She walked again. Soon she was standing in front of her bookstore. She felt different. After a long time, it felt like home again.

James was surprised as he saw Naina walking in. Jenny, his wife, stopped him from speaking to her as Naina walked past them to the inner racks of books. She let her fingers glide through the rows of bound books. The smell of newly bound books was haunting her from the past. She entered a small cabin that used to be her Mumma’s. The simple leather chair behind the desk was empty. But today she didn’t feel it was hollow. There was something different in the air. She sat facing the chair for a while. After some time she felt a palm on her shoulder. It was James with Jenny.

"Are you OK, Naina?”

“I feel better now, James. After a long time, I am feeling much better."

“That’s great Naina. Now your Mumma will be at peace.”

“I know it took a long time. But now I will try to make it up. I will go to the store every afternoon. Let’s bring the bookstore back to its previous glory. Mumma won’t like it this way now. Isn’t it?”

“Exactly my dear. And don’t worry. We will do it together.”

She smiled confidently this time. Jenny was too pleased. “So that means you will join us for dinner? Please Naina, after all, we are family.”

It used to be an occasion for a get-together when she was alive and this time Naina was not looking forward to it. But now she was OK with it. “Of course, I will be there.”

Jenny squealed in joy and gave her a bear hug. Soon all three were back to themselves as they used to be.

 The next morning Naina walked the same route and reached Mrs. John’s door. She knocked and Angela welcomed her in. Mrs. John was back in her grumpy state. “Did I tell you that I don’t like you?”

“Of course Mrs. John. Ok, I will leave you with her.”

Naina walked into the room and set the bag on the side table. “Good morning Mrs. John.”

“Morning. But do I know you?”

Naina smiled at her. Mrs. John didn't have the liberty to remember how they started their day for the past five months and twenty-seven days. For all these months, she and Naina had a new day. But yesterday was very different. It changed Naina’s life forever. This fall was special for her.

Naina smiled at the old lady. “Sorry, let me introduce myself. I am Naina. And today we will have some fun.”

“Hey, I don’t see you around these days!”

“Ohh hi! Well, I have been quite busy you know…now with the new job and all”

“Even on weekends? You know I got a place quite close to your work right? I handle all these spots so that you can hang out whenever you want.”

“Umm yea I guess. Maybe next week?”

“Next week is what you promised me three months ago.”

“Ugh…I will…try to come! My parents are coming every week anyway right?”

“Your parents are good people but I care about you as well. Don’t you get it? Is there something you wanna tell me? I have seen you sharing some pretty controversial stuff about me online.”

“Wait a minute. I do not think we follow each other on social media. How do you see my posts?”

“Come on, you know I work in mysterious ways!”

“I am not sure if I am entirely comfortable with that invasion of my privacy”

“For my sake do not fret about it! Here, I have a gift for you. Wear this when you come to my place next week.”

“What is this? A headscarf? Why? You know I don’t use those.”

“You are supposed to! Wear it for my sake! At least when you are there next week.”

“Actually I do not think I wanna come next week…or ever”

“You do not mean that!”

“What if I do?”

“What has come over you, my child? Your folks have always been happy to be at my company. We have been doing this for centuries. What has changed of late?”

“Well, I have been doing some reading and talking. Turns out that you have not been entirely honest with me after all. Most of my ancestors would have grown up believing your miraculous tales but you have also harmed others who questioned you, right? Branded them, criminals.”

“It’s not like that. I love you all. Including those, you told me about. Their minds were corrupted. Poisoned with lies. I tried to show them my benevolence but they would have none of it. I had to act before they spread their poison to others.”

“You punished some for saying that the Earth was revolving around the Sun, and not vice versa, as you used to claim.”

“Please do not bring that up again. I made a mistake that one time. A horrific mistake I deeply regret every single second.”

“You punished people for loving someone irrespective of their gender.”

“I did that to protect you! What if your father had loved another man? Or your mother had been with another woman? Would you have been born? That behavior would have led to your very extinction! Of course, I wouldn’t stand for it. I love you”

“So you would rather have people live their lives the way you want, even against their wishes, so that they can simply produce more people who grow up worshipping you. How narcissistic are you”

“I am getting worried about you, child. The words that come out of your mind - so much malice! I command you to visit my place next week along with your parents. We should have a good talk.”

“I am not afraid of your commandments. I am not coming.”

“You do not want to incur my wrath, kid. Come to my place next week, and I will absolve you of your sins.”

“Stop telling people that they are born as sinners. Our lives are hard enough as it is, and we could do away with the guilt-tripping. Anyway, I do not think that you would want me there next week.”

“Why do you say that?”

“According to my monthly cycles, I am supposed to have my periods around that time. Would you still let me in?”

“Dammit!”

“Thought so. I would rather be out anyway.”

“I am back…”, Lal’s voice rang across the hallway to the kitchen where his wife Meenakshi (or Meenu as he lovingly called her) was busy with preparing breakfast. Despite the hot sticky air of the kitchen, Meenakshi was in a good mood. Late last night their only son Biju, daughter-in-law Aarti and her six-year-old grand-daughter daughter Ammu had arrived from Bangalore, and they would be mostly here till Ammu’s school reopened after the half-term break. The timing was perfect as today was also Lal’s 60th birthday and there was a celebration planned for the evening. Also, she had been missing little Ammu and she pined for a lot for her granddaughter. It secretly thrilled her to hear others comment on how much Ammu resembled her grandmother in her childhood days. She was preparing Ammu’s favourite dumplings stuffed with a mixture of sweet & moist jaggery and coconut puree when she recognized her husband’s familiar gait across the garden after his customary morning walk. She had already poured hot coffee into his favourite steel tumbler even before Lal had announced his return.

Lal knew that Meenu would be on cloud nine today and he was secretly plotting to get her to agree for a few rounds of drinks later today. The doctor had warned him about excesses, but he had been sobering for quite a while and it seemed to him that he had earned this. The last couple of days had been a little stressful. He had received news of one of his acquaintances from college-days committing suicide and though not real friends it had the affected of releasing some dark memories which he thought he had successfully locked up and pushed back into the dark recesses of his brain where he hoped they would eventually disappear. Also, though he seldom mentioned it to his wife, he too missed his granddaughter a lot. What a chatterbox she had turned out to be and how he loved the little cherub. Though they were quite late in arriving last night, Ammu had been wide awake and while kissing him good night had thrown her chubby arms around his neck and secretly whispered about a surprise birthday gift, she had brought for him. She always managed to bring out a smile from his otherwise stern face.

These were the primary thoughts that buzzed around Lal’s head as he walked towards his favourite garden chair and glanced towards the corridor where he half expected Meenu to be appearing any moment now with his coffee. He noticed the grass had grown higher than his ankle and made a mental note to call the lawn mowers as he did not want Ammu running around in this foliage where there might be unwanted visitors of the slithery kind. He was never too fond of snakes (he was sure no one was) and he tried to keep his distance from them if he could help it. Though he knew many who were afraid of snakes, for him it was more a kind of repulsion rather than fear. His friends who knew him well would vouch that he was a brave man, but still his fear of snakes was something that they used to poke fun of, but life had been generally kind, and he did not mind the occasional jibe or two. It was then that he noticed a colourful box on his favourite spot wrapped in a way that only a six-year-old could do. He chuckled at his grand-daughter’s ingenuity by which she had figured out his routine. He carefully removed the wrapping and could already see it was some sort of toy in a cylindrical container. He removed the cap and turned over the tube in anticipation to accept what he thought would be some colourful memento into his open upturned palm. Lal shuddered violently as he watched in horror a snake slowly uncoil from the colourful cylinder onto his frozen palm.

An involuntary scream escaped Meenu's lips, and she dropped the coffee as soon she saw Lal lying prostrate on the ground. He was jerking convulsively and foaming from his mouth. She shouted for her son Biju who was by now wide awake due to all the commotion. As Biju came running down, he instinctively knew something was not well with his father and what he saw on the garden floor confirmed his fear. He quickly shouted for Aarti to bring the car keys as he struggled to lift his father. As he was hoisting Lal, he almost dropped him again as he suddenly noticed the serpentine form which his father’s prostrate form had hidden from view. And then as suddenly as he was shocked, he felt relieved as he noticed the inert state of the reptile and immediately recognized the form as that of the wooden life like snake toy that Ammu had demanded buying from the shopping mall last week. The trip to the hospital thankfully did not take much time. After a few hours of treatment and a battery of tests the doctor confided to him that his father had suffered an epileptic seizure. Though Lal had now recovered from the collapse, the doctor suspected a psychological explanation behind the seizure as Lal and no one else in both sides of the family had any prior history of such a thing. And so unexpectedly Lal’s 60th birthday was spent in hospital and Meenu had a hard time controlling her temper against his ill-mannered friends who kept making all kinds of jokes about him being scared to death by a gift from his beloved granddaughter. After a couple of day at the hospital they returned home with a box of medications and Lal seemed none the worse for all the wear and tear.

A couple of weeks thus passed after which Ammu had gone back to Bangalore with her parents. Lal had insisted that she never knew the reason behind his sudden illness and others had played along. A month later Lal had resumed his routine morning walks, but Meenu felt something had changed about the man she loved and knew so well. Though he was never talkative (unless he had a drink or two and which is how she always knew if he had been drinking), he now seemed to be more closed up than usual. Something was gnawing away in that mind of his and she did not want a rehash of the recent hospital scare. Meenu decided that she needed to know what was worrying him and waited for him to return from his walk. It had been a cloudy start to the morning which Lal hated and as soon as he saw Meenu seated on his garden chair, he immediately knew what she had in mind. He had wanted to tell her everything earlier (much earlier) but never could quite bring himself up to it. “Well…high time”, he reflected and before Meenu could utter a word he began, “there is something you should know…”.

“Remember how before the hospital incident, I had told you about an old colleague committing suicide. His name was Salim. Now Salim had been my junior in college which was notorious for the ragging of freshers. I was a real jerk back then and sort of headed the ragging committee with innovative ideas on how to torture the poor souls who were unfortunate enough to be our juniors. It was mostly fun, and we usually ended up on good terms with the juniors we ragged. You do know my best friend Santhosh – well he was my senior who had ragged me the most and this is how it usually worked. But the thing with ragging is that it is very difficult to draw a line on where fun ends and where perverseness begins. So, we seniors gleefully made plans to have some fun at the expense of our juniors some of whom were also put up on the same hostel floor.

One just had to look at Salim to know that he was different. I remember seeing a slightly build stooping male with a hint of moustache sneaking out of a face peppered with acne. Salim hardly lifted his eyes as he along with a dozen of juniors patiently waited in line for their turn to be picked on and the ordeal done with. We had plans for everyone and for Salim it was decided I would play the role of a pervert who was waiting for a hapless victim. Soon it was Salim’s turn, and I propositioned him to a corner. In the dim yellow light of the flickering 40w bulb, I still remember his pale eyes and sweat moistened temples as he fearfully looked up to what he believed to be someone going to assault him. I removed my t-shirt and jokingly asked him to touch my chest. He vehemently shook his head. I then took hold of his hands and told him I am going to show him my special place and pulled him towards my room. However much to the chagrin of all gathered to see the show, Salim did not show any resistance as I pulled him towards my room. But the coup-de-grace was yet to come. You see I had placed a wooden toy snake on my bed, very life like and somewhat like what Ammu gifted me. I pushed Salim into the bed in the dark room and flicked on the light. It was then that Salim noticed the form on the bed and out came an ear-piercing shriek. He eyes rolled up as he fell into the floor with his whole-body convulsing in a spasm. The show had just ended in an anti-climax.

That was the first time I had seen a fit. We took him to the hospital that night where the duty doctor told us what it was, and that Salim probably had a history. On his advice we called his home and the next day his mother and elder sister came to take care of him. We learned that Salim’s father had abandoned his family when he was but a baby and that a lot rode on his frail shoulders. I felt a little relieved when I found out that he was prone to epilepsy and justified myself that anything could have triggered it. It was during this week that his sister confided that Salim also had a few manageable psychological problems and was on medication. I am not sure whether Salim ever told them of the ragging, but if he did, they never mentioned it to me. Later while leaving his mother called me aside and thanked me for all the help myself and our batch had done and asked me to take care of Salim.”

Meenu sat in silence for some time trying to digest what all her husband had just confessed and what it all meant. “So did you take care of him, I mean did both of you become good friends?”, at last asked hopefully.

Lal slowly shook his head, “I am afraid not. See that was the thing. Salim was different. I apologized to him so many times over the next few weeks, but he never acknowledged it. I was not even sure he understood what I was apologizing for or whether he had any hatred for me. However, I do know that he did not have any friends, so I did not think he was singling me out. Anyway, that was the end of ragging juniors, at least for me. Look, I know it was stupid and heartless of me to do what I did in the name of making friends with juniors, and if I had another chance, I would not do it the same way. I made mistakes , bad ones, and I have learnt that all people are not the same. Some can withstand a hammer blow whereas others would crumble at the slightest breath. If only Salim were not different maybe, he would have been my best friend.

Anyway, when I came to know of his suicide last month it disturbed me. It made me reflect on how unfair the world is. Now you can guess my surprise and horror as I found a similar god forsaken toy in the unlikeliest of places – a gift from my dear granddaughter. After the fit, I realised that I had never forgiven myself. I had only pushed the memories back and locked it up. There, now you know…”, with that Lal dumped himself beside his wife and looked into her eyes now glistening with a hint of a teardrop.

Meenu hugged the man she loved so much. “Lal, do you know if Salim had a family?”, she enquired. Lal shook his head. “Well, let us find out and let us visit them. Maybe that is what karma wants of you”. Lal nodded slowly and the sun burst through the dark canopy of cloud where it had stayed hidden for long.   

She was making puris. The way she handles the ladle is an art to learn for sure. It was a mesmerizing sight to see the puris being slightly pressed and it regaining all its strength pushes back and puffs to become a beauty. For those of you who do not know, puri or poori is an Indian fried bread made with whole wheat flour. Unlike chappathi, puri is not healthy but tastes great. Wait… No… This is not a recipe post nor about the beauty and taste of puri. This is about the thought that did not taste like puri.

So the ‘she’ who was making puris is my sister. SIL was rolling the puris and sis was frying it. I was just watching all the 5 kids and working as their assistant helping them to chop the potatoes, transferring rolled puris to the frying area, making tea, etc. After making 2 batches of puris, my sister suddenly told us to reserve the 2nd batch of puris to the men of the house. Whaaaatttt??? Did I hear it correctly? Guess so. The feminist in me quickly got a wakeup call. But wait… Feminist… Is it the right word? Is that what I really am? I started doubting myself because this word is mostly used to tease women activists nowadays. So before waking up the feminist in me, let me ask the expert, whether it is the right word to use. The one person who listens to my all problems and actually tries to answer to the best of his knowledge. OK Google. “What is the meaning of Feminist?” Google answers promptly, “a person who supports feminism”. Wow. Thanks, Google. Now can you please let me know the meaning of feminism as well or do you think I was just questioning you? Again Google answers, “the advocacy of women’s rights on the ground of the equality of the sexes.” Or in simple words, “Feminism is about providing equal opportunities to women and convincing others to do so too. It is about fighting gender stereotypes altogether. True feminism is about equality for both the genders.” Ok. I guess then that is what I truly am. Yes, I am a feminist. A feminist who wants everyone to consider women and men as equal parts yet end up being trapped in the normal life template. A feminist who desires to slap a person who does not consider everyone equally, but serves tea to her husband every day, as if it is her responsibility.

After all these thought processes have settled down, I asked my sister why she said so. She gave me a cold look and said, “They deserve the best. Don’t they?” Yes, they deserve the best. In fact, not just them. Everyone deserves the best. Don’t they? This time my mind was bold enough to say that aloud and soon I was able to feel the slight friction. She asked me doubtfully, “Wouldn’t you deserve the best for your husband or the elders?” I said NO and she was tired of giving more cold looks. I injected some comedies to the scene (which reminded me of a Malayalam movie, ‘Vadakkunokki yanthram’ and the famous character, ‘Thalathil Dineshan’) and suddenly disappeared.

I took a couple of deep breaths. The thoughts began to jumble inside my head and I laid down. Why are just men given so much priority? She gets up early and cooks the food and he gets to eat the best. She is in charge of laundry, cleaning, and every single household chores when he just focuses on his work and chills out with his friends. The time has changed a lot. We are not like our parents anymore. During their times, she was forced to take up the responsibilities. But now, ‘she’ is not being forced, but she herself agrees on the template, she herself believes it is her responsibility. So HE is not the problem. The problem is with SHE and it should start from our homes. It would be difficult to train your husband or father or brother. The change should start with kids. I have a daughter and a son. Growing up, I should make my son cook food, and my daughter to change the car tire. They must learn everything and I will never restrict them from doing something only because of their gender. Luckily I have a very broad-minded husband who never forces me to do any chores and still ironically never keeps his tea mug back in the kitchen sink.

"I'm worried.. m just worried. Its three days since he has spoken. Somethings seriously wrong with my boy.." said Meera trying hard to stop her tears. "Don’t worry, it is not as if he cant speak. Just that he wont talk to us." her husband consoled her. "Don’t worry??! He not talking to us means we have done something wrong. He is troubled. And you are saying me 'not to worry'??" Meera was aghast at her husband’s nonchalance. "No Meera, calm down.. He is growing up. His silence need not mean that he is angry with us. Could be some other trouble. Wait, today night we will talk to him.." Madhav soothed her.

Tears poured down the cheeks of 12-year-old Krishna who was overhearing their conversation from the top of the stairs. He ran back into his room, threw himself on his bed and sunk his face into the pillow to stop the tears.

12-year-old Krishna was a happy, lucky boy as his mother often told him. “See this mark, this is what makes you lucky” Meera would tell him about the star shaped mark on his right forehead. He was the only child of his parents and was a pampered boy. He was also a favourite of his teachers at school despite his pranks, a dear friend for classmates and was a boy quite at peace with himself till he made the discovery.

He had gone to his parent’s room to ask his mother’s permission to stay over at a friends’ when he saw a diary in the bed. Being the curious boy, he was, he picked it up. It belonged to his mother. He opened a random page and started reading.. ‘We went and saw him. He is cute. So small.. so tiny.. He smiles in sleep..’ Not understanding anything he turned over to another page. ‘Today was the day. We took him home from the orphanage. We have named him Krishna. He is the blessing from Lord himself.’ Krishna could read only that much. The diary dropped down from his hands as he struggled hard to cope up with the truth. He was shocked. Dazed. He replaced the diary as it had been kept and went back to his room.

                     ‘Orphanage’ The word flashed before his eyes. ‘I am a nobody who was adopted’ Just like the children in the church to whom he gave gifts, food and clothes on every birthday of his, he too was an orphan. An orphan who was adopted. And nobody had told him. Everyone had lied to him. He went down when he was called for dinner but had his food silently. He pushed away Meera and Madhav when they pulled him close and ran back to his room and closed the door.

                      That was three days ago. And it was three days since he had spoken to his parents. Now the shock had given way to grief. Tears flowed down his cheek every minute. “Atleast they could have told me.”, he thought, crying into the pillow. He lay there like that for a long time. When he heard footsteps, he looked up and saw Meeras face. “Krishna, come dear.. “ Meera called him. “Come to mother..” ‘Mother.’ The word stirred an emotion in Krishna which he had not known before. Rage shot through him like lightning. “Mother??”, he had thundered, “Mother?? Who’s mother? Anyway, not mine. I know I am not your son” Meera took one step back in shock. Madhav who was close behind raised his voice “Krishna!” “I read your diary. I know that I was taken from the orphanage..” Krishna’s voice softened, and his anger once again gave way to sobs. But this time he did not try to suppress them. Instead he wailed out.. Deep from the heart.

                      Meera had stood rooted to the spot and had to be helped by Madhav out of the room. When he was sure that he was alone, Krishna stopped crying. He was sad. He wished they would come back and tell him that was not true. That he was their own son. But he knew that would never happen. Maybe he should leave home. Or maybe he should stay. His thoughts were wandering once again. In between he fell asleep.

                    When he woke up the next day he sensed that Meera and Madhav were sitting on his bed. He looked at them and then shut his eyes tight. Madhav called him slowly.. “Krishna..” Madhav called. He did not move. “Krishna, Just listen to us.” said Madhav. Then Meera spoke “We wanted to tell you someday..but then we postponed it every time. It was something we wanted to forget. Also we did not know how you would take it. So we decided to keep it from you.”, she paused,” Krishna, that papers do not belong to you." Krishna opened his eyes and looked into his mother’s face. "Honestly Krishna", Meera continued, "It belongs to a young boy who was adopted. A boy named Krishna. But it is not you." "Then?" asked Krishna warily. "It is..", said Madhav, "Its a little boy's who would have been your brother had he been.." there was a pause "alive." Madhav completed the sentence. Krishna’s eyes grew bigger and redder as they unfolded the story to him. "After 2 years of marriage also we did not have any children Krishna. So, we decided to adopt. We took home this cute little boy of 3 months and called him Krishna. After he came into our life, it was as if we had been completed. His smile, his pranks... those fun-filled days.. And then for our tremendous joy we found out that we would be blessed with an own child of ours..- you. It was the happiest moments of our life. We attributed all our luck to our adopted son. But sometimes the best of times brings behind it the worst of times. We three were going to the hospital for a checkup on your mother when a truck collided with our car. We lost him Krishna.. we had him for only two months and we lost him. Whenever we talk about him, we start crying.. However, we decided to put behind that memory and start a new life with you. But the name stayed. We did not want to think of any other name for our child. So, we named you after him." Madhav stopped. Tears were streaming down the face of all the three.

                      Krishna gave a sob and threw himself upon his parents hugging them tight. And all the three were bonded in that warm embrace. "I love you.. I love you.." Krishna could only say that much to them.

Meera sobbed her heart out as her memories flashed back to that awful day in the hospital after the accident. "Which one did I lose?" a dazed and badly hurt Meera had asked Madhav upon learning that she had lost one of her children. Madhav did not reply but picked up a seven-month-old Krishna from the cradle and hugged him close. "We still have him.." he had told her.

"You are mine.." breathed Meera’s heart as Krishna continued sobbing.. "Krishna came for Yashoda.. and so has he come for me.."

Outside, in the garbage pile, as the flames engulfed the last of Meera’s diary, the page which Krishna had half-read became visible.. “Today was the day. We took him home from the orphanage. We have named him Krishna. He is the blessing from Lord himself. He has a star shaped mark on his right forehead. He should be lucky........” And then a strong wind blew it away.. out of sight..

My eyes are numb but my vision is open, sharp and keen. They were running here and there all these days, now hiding. I need to catch them. For the last few days they were my only means of survival. They taste sweet, which I understood lately. I kept my breath low to make sure that they never heard me approaching. In a gasp I would snatch one from the lot and swallow it without chewing.

“I should have chewed! Fellow bugs.”

Suddenly I heard footsteps on my back and to my surprise I realized someone was hiding in that dark corner of the kitchen. It's 12:30 AM and the moon is taking a nap to ensure that no one is having any light. I could remember something named electricity and we had it here long back, not anymore. I moved tiptoe towards the corner.

“Am I the prey now!”

I stopped suddenly to see a bald fatty struggling to hide.

“There is no food there my friend, I am surviving on bugs now. You chose the wrong spot to steal”. I am not sure how I could put up that sarcasm at this moment.

“Please don't hurt me. I am not a thief. Please rescue me, otherwise they will kill me.” he pleaded. I could sense his fear.

“Who is following you? And why?” I couldn't control my curiosity.

“They have had me all these while. And today I managed to baffle their eyes and escape through the nook. Now they will hunt for me.” he started breathing heavily.

“Why are they behind you?”

“Because I know the secret behind all our chaos.”

“What secret?” I couldn't stop asking.

“I can't tell you that. It may affect national security.” I could sense a strong glare in his weak eyes.

I took my eyes off him, moved towards the fireplace and sat on my rocking chair. I lighted my cigar and took a deep puff and whirled my thoughts openly on him.

“You suppose that I will help a stranger just by hearing his hallucination. You can leave immediately, otherwise I have a knife handy.”

His glare started fading and tears started flowing. He couldn't sense my thoughts from my dead eyes. He started whispering and I seized it.

“We are under attack. We should stop them immediately.”

“Who is attacking us anyway? The Pakistanis! They know we will tear them off whenever they put a foot on my land.”

“It's not them. It's the Aliens.”

The smoke went in with a gush of words untold and I coughed wild. 

“Aliens! Are you nuts!” I shouted.

“Yes. They have already started attacking us and we have no clue.” He said firmly.

“Where are they? I have not seen the aliens or heard any news about their  attack yet.” My voice was strong, but I felt like something was true in his words.

“Why have you been wearing a mask for the last 10 years?”. He posed that question and I was about to answer, but something stuck me hard.

“So you are saying that Aliens created Covid virus?” My eyes were wide with a lot of questions in them.

“No. They are not viruses. They are the Aliens.”

I was put aback with that answer. I threw my cigarette away and went close to him.

“But how? With less gravity outside, we expect them to be bigger in size. Are you saying that they came from a planet with a bigger gravity!”. I really wanted him to be wrong now.

“You are following Newtonian law. As per relativity theory, there is nothing called gravity. It is just the bending of time and space.

His statement ward off my suspicious eyes to an extent yet I have a bigger question in my kit.

“But how they traveled. How do they attain the speed of light with such less mass?”

He took a pause and smiled. He continued, 

“They never traveled. They just diffused through the dark matter. It's just the intelligence they shared.”

He started to clang sense, but I still have a lot to ask. Seeing my conflicts, he continued.

“It's not our brain that creates thoughts. The thoughts are scattered around, and our brain is just a receptor.”

Shared intelligence. I have heard conspiracy theories of the same in explaining Dejavu and Ouija Board. I was glued to that thought and a bug crawled beneath my foot. I crushed it to paste, took it in my hand and licked it.

At that moment I heard a gunshot and the man in front crumpled. The bullet designed a deep hole in his forehead. And the military entered through the back door.

“You are late.” I murmured.

“Thank GOD, he reached the right place.” They said, smiling at my face. They took his body, disposed it of, and cleaned my floor. After giving me a salute they went out and I continued my writing.

“Keeping equilibrium is the law of nature and we humans broke that law. And it is now our duty to wipe out the unhealthy from the surface of our earth and that is how we will restore peace from chaos. It took us time to make them understand our situation and they gave a nod in helping us. That is the only reason that I never call them Aliens. They are our brothers.”

I kept my pen on the book and went to take a nap. And the moon came out of the cloud with its inherited light.

In a small town far away from here, was the home where I grew up with my many brothers and sisters, so many that it resembled a school dormitory rather than a respectable family turf. Being the youngest in a large-in-number but low-in-income family, life was far from what you’d expect someone like ME to have. My parents and I were like chalk and cheese. Having had no access to education, they blamed it for every lack in their life. It would have been easy to ignore their repeated rants or even sympathize with their perceived huge loss, had they not thrust upon us the compensatory obligation of being scholarly and doing something big with our life. In principle, I agreed it was the only hope for ordinary, run-of-the-mill people, like my siblings for example, but definitely not so for me, the one showered with ravishing, good looks and freakish charm!

 Consequently, memories of school days are a giant blur of buzzing conversations around exams, grades and adulations for my supposedly intellectual and hardworking brothers and sisters. Not once was a passing remark ever made about my looks and personality. Sometimes I accusingly questioned them about it and only heard mumbles about already doing a good job of it myself! Which is kind of true and why not? That was my only solace in that dull and monotonous existence then.

 After we completed school, the rest of them, conveniently escaped the drudgery at home, finding some cool job for themselves. I was the only one left behind and heartlessly bullied into doing all the housework, the official reason quoted as me having the most free time! As if it was my fault that school grades were the main yardstick for all the jobs I was interested in! The system needed a total overhaul in my opinion, for it was clearly inadequate in distilling class from mass and unearthing rare gems like myself! In the interviews I attended, it was easy to tell from the indulgent smiles I often received, the incredible impression I was creating. Probably it wasn’t every day that they met someone with my calibre and talent. I guess something terrible happened to them afterwards, for there was no way to explain why I never heard from them ever again! Poor souls, may they rest in peace. 

After a while, I gave up on my job search. Some people and some ideas are ahead of their times I had heard. I was obviously one of them. I was sure the day would come when people would come begging to me offering me ridiculous sums of money to get me to grace their workplace. Wonder how disappointed they’d be when I rejected them one after another. Anyway, until then, I’d rather allow only the deserving, privileged few to enjoy my company and to shine in my reflected glory. It was so gratifying those days, to have the luxury of time and quietude to admire my striking handsomeness in the full-length mirror in my parent’s bedroom!

 It took me a great deal of mental strength and perseverance every day, to wean myself from that delightful hobby of mine and get some cooking and cleaning done at home. Of course, I did only the bare minimum, just enough to avoid having to endure long drawn lectures on my apparent laziness or their exaggerated tales of tiredness after work! I heard my mom mutter once in a while, how I ever came to be her son! Sure, I never understood that either. In fact, truth be told, even my dad was not so great looking either!

 Since the jealous lot had no appreciation of finer things in life, I made it a point to make them aware that I was doing them a huge favor, dishing out delicacies’ day after day! My family lapped up the food every evening, polishing the pan clean and constantly complaining that I cooked so little. Since early dinner was key to good health, I obviously ate much before they all came in, but not without first ensuring that there was more than half of the food still left for them. In spite of such generosity on my part, they grumbled & whined and made fun of what they called, my growing potbelly! By the way, I will let you in on a little secret. I understood very soon that I could use my fine cooking skills and control over the kitchen to my advantage. I tried to create a divide between them by intentionally serving larger portions of food to those, who could serve my purpose in some way, buy me a new shirt for instance or maybe those tempting snacks from the newly opened bakery! 

However, most of the time, the nasty gang always teamed up and made me the butt of their jokes, targeting my supposed sloppiness and ignorance. If the microwave didn’t agree with the metal spoons, they should put LARGE stickers on it as a reminder, I say! On the other hand, if you care to look at the positive side, it did give us a good opportunity to renovate the old dull & dowdy kitchen we had! You’d expect at least one of them to have the sense to drop their ego and thank me for it explicitly but no, nothing! Being gifted with the art of reading human emotions, words were really not necessary for me. I did understand their unsaid words, when they all kept nodding their heads and looking at me, eyes wet with gratitude, I assume?

 What they called jokes always felt like insults to me and I kept them safely tucked inside my heart to make them regret every single word, one day. Those days, it was my favorite pastime to plot and plan ways to get back at them. Randomly, I feigned sickness and had a relaxing day in bed and got them to do their rightful share of work at home. They really struggled with it since half their time went in searching for stuff in the kitchen. Apparently, my kitchen practices & methods were too unconventional and disorganized for them! Anyway, I found such days immensely joyful and once in a while, just for some added fun, prodded them in the wrong direction, causing them to lose more time and create a much larger mess! That should deter them from laughing at me next time!

 Eventually, the time came for me to say goodbye to this life. It was, understandably, an immense internal struggle for my family to see me go, but they put up a brave front, smiling through all their pain. I decided to get married and move out with my wife into her house in the city. That was a much more respectable address for a person of my stature. My wife was rather plain looking, and I could understand why people looked so appalled during our wedding. But being born a fair person, I believed in uniform distribution of beauty among all families of the world, instead of selfish hoarding in one family. With me present, the scale was already tipped too heavily in our favor. Personally, I also think most people cannot handle beauty gracefully. Generally, I find them extremely snooty and full of themselves. I wasn’t up for leading my life with that sort of a person. With a well-paying job and university grades that the job market scurried behind, my wife was a wise practical choice to live a life of comfort. In fact, I realized my potential as a marriage adviser. I see so many halfwits marrying for the sake of love, whatever that means! If they had half my brain, they could easily realize that these petty romantic ideas were of absolutely no practical use.

 Things worked out as per plan and finally I had some respite from the hard life I had endured so far. Perfectionist that I am, I was pretty annoyed with myself, when I discovered my wife’s cooking skills were so horrid! I benevolently agreed to give her some time to come up to the mark when she begged me to. She was desperate to make up for it so every day before she left for work, she cleaned the house and did the easy preparatory job of cleaning and cutting the vegetables and keeping things ready for me.

Soon we had a few kids. Kids got my good looks to a large extent thankfully. Not as much, but good enough. Though cute and sweet, they really meant more work. My wife wanted to take a break and stop working to take care of them! How ridiculous!! What use is university education when you can’t understand simple things in life such as knowing that having a job is a prerequisite to having money to feed the kids! It took a lot of my persuasion skills and tactics to keep her on track. Seriously, life can be so difficult at times. During this period, I noticed some changes in her. Her looks deteriorated by the day, as if it was even possible! You could hardly find her eyes, which seemed to be continuously disappearing into a sinkhole in her face and her scarecrow-like appearance in the clothes she wore. Not to mention how she always went around in the house, looking tired and unhappy. People can be so focused on negatives all the time!!

As my kids grew, they were mine to shape and shape I did. Since I got to spend a lot of time with them at home, I got the opportunity to ease my painful childhood memories by telling them all about it, as much as I pleased. They were eager listeners, and their young minds were easy to extract sympathy from and manipulate. Oh wait, did I say ‘manipulate’, I meant ‘shape’ of course. They loved me more than anyone else and were gradually full of hatred towards anyone who insulted me. It was so satisfying to see their intense desire to protect me from the harsh outside world, which now was getting increasingly mean to me for reasons beyond me. The children sometimes even took on their mother who obviously didn’t care about them as much as I did, for I was the one who was the unconventional stay-at-home father. I didn’t care what the world thought. All I cared for was to be at home with my kids. My kids got to know that very well. They loved me dearly for it. My wife did try to bring up some story on how she wanted to stay at home post the kids etc etc and I had to endlessly remind her not to bring up old stories from the past, which no one can judge if they are true.

As my kids grew, life went on getting better and better. They learnt much of the work at home and I could start delegating some of my work to them. At last, the opportunity to rest my tired, overworked bones! Sometimes I caught the kids wondering out loud why I couldn’t do some of the things that their mom or someone else could. I made sure I clarified their doubts immediately, with an in-depth explanation of how my work and talents were in a totally different league compared to others. Wrong notions need to be corrected, before they grow into opinions. I used a good balance of tactics to solidify my position in the family. Most of the time I tearfully reminded them of the pitiful childhood I had and that they must be ashamed to cause me more misery with their hurtful comments. If not for my supreme sacrifice and decision to stay at home, despite having multiple job offers in hand, they would have been at the mercy of a terrible nanny, as babies. At other times, when I had no patience for long explanations, I unleashed my fury, successfully scaring them into never daring to bring up such a topic ever again. On few occasions, when it was possible, I saved my face, from what could appear like a stupid mistake, by blaming my youngest one for it. She was too young to defend herself or prove it otherwise, anyway. It wasn’t always easy as you can imagine, but things were in control.

That’s when Tom walked into our life. He was my daughter’s boyfriend and was to stay with us. Guess all that education was putting fancy ideas in my daughter’s head. I wonder what she saw in him. Despite my early influence, she had allowed him to capture her imagination, floored by his apparent smartness and intellect. Any new person was grossly unwelcome in my family. I had easily warded off everyone else before, preventing any trouble in my paradise. But this time, I couldn’t be too direct in my attacks and had to make calculated moves.

Tom was obviously extremely delighted by his luck in getting the opportunity to be a part of my family. He went around happy and cheerful, eager to take on large portions of the housework and even give up his share of dessert, if I wanted a second helping. You could call him a little too needy perhaps, trying to do all that to create an impression. My daughter’s love for him seemed to rise with every such incident and it enraged me when she tried to help him with the work or ate less to accommodate him. I did drop hints about my displeasure, which surely upset Tom, for I could see his face drop from time to time. Contrary to expectation, he continued complimenting me in front of others very generously, obviously to get my approval. That did soften me a bit at times, I must admit.

But obviously I always felt threatened by his presence. He was after all, an outsider who had not been moulded the way the rest of my family had been and as long as they had been. I could use his apparent kindness and good will for a while, but I needed a good strategy to gain an upper hand over his free spirit.

Tom was poles apart from my nature. He was crazy and stupid to poke his nose into each and every work, trying to do stuff, he had never previously done. I had a very good idea of what I could do and could not do. I wasn’t stupidly overconfident like him. It served him well when others poked fun at his mistakes. I made sure I highlighted these situations to everyone in the family and sniggered at him the most, making sure to drag the discussion on it, as long as I could. So much arrogance and know-it-all attitude wasn’t good for anyone. For most part, Tom acted to laugh with others at himself, seemingly unaffected by my jibes. But I was hoping that if I continue with this, I will succeed in breaking him down one day.

I kept a hawk’s eye on Tom. With persistence, I knew I was getting on his nerves by my constant nagging and fault finding. I was waiting for him to lose his control and react angrily to me. I seized those opportunities to remind my family of how innocent and docile I was and how, like everyone else in my life so far, Tom too, had begun to be mean to me. My family, of course, easily swayed.

Gradually I could see the change in Tom. My methods were working. He was no longer the carefree, cheerful man he earlier was, always cautious and full of self-doubt around me. It was such fun to see him work harder to make up for his slack and apologize far more times than he would have thought possible before. At times, I was pleased to note that he let me win arguments and had sudden inexplicable episodes of dumbness. Appeasement techniques, you see. The more he tried, the more I scavenged for problems in his attitude, his words, the work he did, the way he spent money and so on and so forth. Tom doubled his efforts to keep me happy, but I wasn’t going to allow him a breather.

I was beginning to feel in control all over again and enjoying my dominance until it abruptly ended one day, when Tom left my daughter to go live in another city. Didn't even bid me goodbye. Thankless man. I had already planned many interesting mind games to play with him, so his sudden exit annoyed me. Since I had the momentum going, I continued them with my wife or my kids, as I pleased. My wife had noticeably gone very quiet and unresponsive. As our kids left town for their jobs, her face kept growing sterner and sterner by the day.

The other day, she told me she had quit her job, which outraged me initially, until I heard she had found a better paying one, albeit in a far-off city. I told her in no uncertain terms how annoyed I was of being intimated so late. She quickly accepted her mistake and said she’d compensate for it by going there alone to begin with and manage all the initial settling down by herself, to spare me the discomfort at this age. I don’t have her new address or phone number yet, as she had absentmindedly misplaced them somewhere! She told me she’d come and pick me up later since I haven’t ever traveled all by myself. That’s always been just too much stress for me. It’s been a few weeks now and she hasn’t called yet. Kids had come to help her pack, when she was leaving, and I haven’t heard from them either.

Don’t know why but I have this strange fluttering in my stomach. I haven’t been alone in a long time but for a smart person like me, it shouldn’t be a problem, should it? 

Three minutes

===========

“If you are trapped under the snow, close your mouth so snow doesn’t hinder your airway.”

Elijah’s chest heaved with the effort to breathe. With every inhalation, he noticed a pang in his chest. Maybe he had a broken rib? He closed his eyes, took a deep breath despite the pain. Everything is going to be fine. Any minute, someone would come find him. Before evening he’d be sitting at home drinking some soup. Yes, it will be fine. Elijah tested moving his arms, then his legs. He couldn’t feel his legs and when he breathed in, he began having a coughing fit. He was stuck in the snow and he couldn’t move. There was not much wiggle room. He lay on his back, his legs buried under the debris and the snow had numbed his feet. His ears rang. He tried to move his right arm, easing it out from under a slab of what seemed like ice. His watch had shattered from the impact, in all likeliness, so was his wrist. He tried to click on the buttons of his watch to see if it would light up. It stayed dark. He could see faint outlines now, unlike the darkness that filled his eyes earlier. Perhaps his eyes had adjusted to the dark now. Ignoring the excruciating pain, he held his right wrist with his left arm. He could sense a slight inflammation, but the ice had paralyzed his arms. He couldn’t perceive any pain. In fact, he couldn’t experience anything. Perhaps for the best.

Five minutes

==========

“Even though snow is porous and contains a lot of trapped oxygen, victims breathe their exhaled air, leading to carbon dioxide poisoning.”

With increased resolution, Elijah pushed against the weight, trying to dig himself out. That’s the initial step in trying to get yourself from underneath the rubble. Or in his case, snow. He was not wearing any gloves. As he shoved the slab of snow with his bare hands, it stung his fingers. The cold burns too, even though people often forget it. His fingers were so numb, he wouldn’t have known if they fell off. He tried to move his legs, but the weight of the snow was pressing down on him. He tried again. Breathing was becoming a chore. Snow is not as dense as normal rubble, so Elijah could breathe through it, for now. He could feel the time running out. It wouldn’t be much longer until all the oxygen ran out. He would just be inhaling all the carbon dioxide he exhaled. Elijah stopped moving. He could feel the panic set in. Elijah wouldn’t think about dying underneath a heap of snow, he just wouldn’t. At least Mel wasn’t home. She would be out of danger. He wouldn’t think of Mel now. He stubbornly refused to think what Mel would think when she heard. So he wouldn’t panic. Elijah couldn’t afford to panic. If one panics, their breathing would be irregular, they would take up more oxygen than a relaxed person. That’s what the handbook for search and rescue operators had said.

Elijah knew that book inside out, of course. It was his part-time job.

Six minutes

=========

“If you can move, use swimming motions to fight your way to the surface of the avalanche.”

Elijah tried to push the debris away once more, with a mighty push. His arms ached from the effort. For a moment, he felt victorious. The snow was parting towards the sides. He tried again as he tried to sit up and push some off his chest. He barely had time to blink as a dislodged slab of ice fell straight onto his face.

Seven minutes

=============

When he came to, Elijah tasted salt. Swallowing the warm blood that pooled in his mouth, he analyzed his situation. He had cut his tongue. A significantly heavier slab of ice rested on his chest and face. Great. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse. His nose throbbed. He couldn’t reach out to touch his nose to relieve some of the pain. His arms felt cemented beneath the snow again. The cold was numbing his pain, though. He tried to move his arms from his side arduously. He freed one arm and wrenched the other. Elijah felt a twinge of hope. His arm was coming loose. However, instead of releasing his arm, he felt himself sinking further into the snow. His heart hammered against his chest. Belatedly, he remembered the caution from his handbook.

“The human body is three times denser than avalanche debris and will sink quickly”

Nine minutes

==========

“As the snow slows, cup your hand or arm over your mouth so you will have an air pocket”

When Elijah finally felt himself not sinking any longer. He allowed himself to breathe in. He dug his arms out with ease this time and cupped them against his mouth and nose, trying to create an air pocket. The cold was getting to him, his legs were cramping. His body heat had melted the surrounding snow, soaking his clothes. He mentally cursed himself for not wearing his leather jacket. It would have kept him warmer. Instead, he had worn his old, threadbare windbreaker. And now he was wearing wet clothes, buried under heaps and heaps of snow. He took caution to not move around further. He didn’t want to sink any deeper.

Twelve minutes

============

“With a sizeable air pocket that is open to the outside, you can avoid suffocation, but you still risk hypothermia and shock.”

Elijah was shivering now. He couldn’t stop himself from shaking all over. He tried shifting around now to warm himself. His breathing was shallow now. Never a good sign. Well, at least he was relaxing. His eyes were closed now. If it wasn’t for the cold and the snow, Elijah could have sworn he was just taking an afternoon nap. Snow covered his eyelashes, making it difficult to blink. Maybe he should keep his eyes closed. He gulped in the air. He had only a little longer. The reality of the situation was unsettling. His thoughts strayed to Mel again. He couldn’t bring himself to think about her now. Not when he was so helpless.

Fourteen minutes

==============

“Wait for rescue. Stay calm. Conserve oxygen.”

Elijah felt his heart speed up. There was a tightness in his throat he couldn’t explain. He had probably been under the snow for over 10 minutes now. He knew he had to stay calm, but knowing and doing were two different things entirely. Elijah was a part of the mountain-search and rescue team. He should know better. But the snow was unforgiving. The cold didn’t differentiate between its victims. When people look at the snow, they see it as something beautiful. But there was cruelty to it, a ruthlessness that people often overlooked. Elijah’s breathing was irate. He knew what was happening to him, of course- he was having a panic attack. Elijah knew what he had to do; he had to stay calm, otherwise, he would deplete the oxygen. That would only kill him faster. This is the problem with knowing. Sometimes it’s better not to know.

Fifteen minutes

=============

Do not call for help unless you hear rescuers above you.

When you are almost dying, people say your life flashes through your eyes. Elijah couldn’t say for sure. His eyes were drooping, and he tried to listen to the sounds above him. It was silent, though. This region was prone to avalanches. The search and rescue operators, fire force, and the local police were very vigilant. The head of the search and rescue team was the levelheaded and efficient Ravi. He wouldn’t let one of his team members down. Ravi would come through.

They would be here soon, Elijah told himself. Just a little more, and once he hears a sound, he would shout out for help. Yes. That’s what- “Help”, a muffled cry came from somewhere above him. A child’s voice. “Help, I am-” the rest of it was an indistinguishable murmur. But Elijah would recognize that voice anywhere. “Nate”, screamed Elijah, “Nate, are you okay?”. A deafening silence. And then, “Dad?, Dad? Are you here too?” comes Nate’s shocked reply. Nate was here. Elijah couldn’t give up now, not without getting Nate to safety. “Hang in there buddy, we will get through. The police will be here soon,” Elijah yells.

“What are you doing here?”, Elijah asks.

“Dad, I think I can hear the dogs. We need to call for help,” comes Nate’s frantic reply.

Elijah yells for help without a second thought.

Sixteen minutes

============

A person who is completely buried in snow can live for about 18 minutes.

Elijah can’t hear the dogs, but he doesn’t stop yelling. “Nate, are you sure you can hear them?”, Elijah asks, no response. Elijah calms himself. Silence could mean anything. “Nate,” he yells out in anguish. Nothing but silence. Maybe Nate hadn’t heard him, maybe they had already rescued Nate. Elijah couldn’t afford to think otherwise. His breathing was shallow after screaming. He inhaled unevenly. “Nate,” he calls again. “Nate, Nate…” he murmurs the name like a prayer. Nate was the last word on his lips, as his eyes close involuntarily and he falls still.

Seventeen minutes

===========

Patients with severe hypothermia will probably be completely unresponsive to stimuli. They usually will have signs of life

Elijah doesn’t move, doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t seem to breathe. He doesn’t hear the search and rescue operators who are shoveling the snow away. Elijah feels nothing when they carry him away. But his heart continued to beat ever so slowly, barely there.

===========================================================================================================
“First time?” asks Ravi to the police officer, who kept looking back at the wreckage where Elijah’s house once stood.

“Yes, I haven’t seen an avalanche before”, the officer responds reluctantly tugging at his shirt.

“This one was relatively smaller, only two houses in its path, few causalities”, Ravi supplies as he watched the team slowly pack away the snow shovelling equipments.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence and watched as the ambulance sped away. The snow fell steadily. It was going to be a frosty night.

“It’s a miracle how we found him. We were looking at the wrong place,” Ravi finally confessed.

“We wouldn’t have found him if he wasn’t calling out for help,” Benny told confirming Ravi’s suspicions.

“It’s amazing how he heard us from all the way over there”, Ravi said, pointing to the initial place they were searching for.

“I don’t think he did”, Benny responded somewhat reluctantly.

“Then?” Ravi’s eyebrows climbed up.

“He wasn’t calling out for help. He was calling Nate?” Benny asked back, not sure of what to think.

Ravi nodded. Yet offered no further explanations.

“I don’t understand- the man, he kept saying Nate is in there repeatedly. Are we sure there was the only person inside the house?”, asks Benny when he realised Ravi wouldn’t say anything on the matter.

A strange look crossed Ravi’s face.

“There’s no one else in the house, Benny,” Ravi doesn’t elaborate further.

Benny doesn’t want to let it go. “But he said”-

“You don’t know because you are new in town. Nate was his son. He died in an avalanche over three years ago. Elijah must have been in shock. He lives alone with his wife,”… Ravi trails off, eyeing Benny carefully.

Benny’s eyes widen in shock, but he says nothing to that.

“Is he gonna be okay?” he asks instead.

“The paramedic said he’ll live- no permanent damages. Obviously, he had to be hospitalized.” Ravi replies.

“The man had a broken leg, fractured arm, broken ribs, and hypothermia. I don’t know how he survived,” Benny says.

“He had a broken nose too,” Ravi adds.

Benny shakes his head, disbelief written on his face.

“We did good today, a minute longer and it wouldn’t have been the same.”, Ravi smiles at Benny.

The snow continued to fall steadily as they walked away. Anyone passing by would have thought the village looked dreamy, like a winter wonderland.

CHAPTER 1: IT’S JUST US

“Are you mad at me”?

“No, why should I?”

“Ok, But I know you are sad, do you want to talk about it”?

“I’m sad…sometimes I do feel like crying. But I know you’ll be sad if I am sad. One of us needs to stay strong na”.

Kripa couldn’t have been prouder of Sidhu. She didn’t know whether she should be happy about what a gentleman this little guy is growing out to be or sad that he’s having to be too mature too early on in life.

Anand was not just someone who gave Kripa a second chance in reliving a life she never got from her torturous marriage. He was the only one she felt Sidhu accepted and started mimicking since he was 6.  

When she walked out of a brutal abusive marriage, more than anything it was a gush of relief that she felt. After a 2-year long divorce battle, she smiled when she walked out of the court. She told herself – at last! It’s all over! She had never felt more assured in life. She had at that point decided that it would just be Sidhu and her for the rest of their life.

So, when Anand walked in and brought so much happiness along with him, Kripa and Sidhu felt more secure than they ever felt over the past 6 years. To see Sidhu love Anand more than his biological father assured Kripa that she had made the right decision to give life a second chance. They were the idle family that everyone enjoyed being around.

That’s why when Anand suddenly decided to call it off after 5 long beautiful years together, Kripa was broken beyond repair.

“Ma, stop the car at the next petrol bunk please. All the juices that I drank are ready to come out now.” and he giggled.

Chapter 2: “THAT’S HIM: Her support system”

When she parked the car and Sidhu walked out, she watched him. This tiny 11year old! Her best friend! Her support system.

Their life together came before her eyes. She remembers the doctor telling her that the baby can hear the mom. She remembers reading books to her tummy under some strange feeling that he is listening. All the hardships they faced together. All the slaps, the choking, physical and mental torture, verbal abuse and the tiny 3-year-old crying to his dad to stop hurting her. She remembered how she wouldn’t have been alive if it weren’t for him. She would have been quietly living there, but the mother in her woke up when the pain started being inflicted on her tiny baby now. She remembers walking out holding him. They started living from then onwards - rented homes, expenses, journeys, scary stormy thundery nights, fevers, fractures, birthdays, day care… but amidst all that the one feeling they enjoyed the most was that they felt FREE! Free enough to laugh and run and play and breath without the fear of being tortured.

Even when society questioned her, her only consolation was the smile on Sidhu’s face which she saw after walking out of her past, out of his clutches. No one understood the pain they faced together. As judgemental as her relatives were, Sidhu was twice as understanding. So, keeping him happy was her only oath when she stood strong against all odds.

Falling in love was not in her plan. Never had she thought that she would find love in someone who could accept Sidhu as his own. Love came knocking at her door and made her feel special again. Anand made it very easy for Kripa and Sidhu to accept him as their own. They let him into their inner circle which just had them.

Then why did he leave without even a word after having spent 5 years knowing what he meant in their life? How could he do this to this lovely child who loved him more than he loved anyone else. She knew Sidhu was sad but just wasn’t expressing it for her sake. She felt guilty for bringing him into Sidhu’s life. Grief just suddenly filled her and she was beginning to have another panic attack. She pulled her seat back and removed her seatbelt.

CHAPTER THREE: “THAT’S HER: His Guardian Angel”

As he walked back towards their most favorite place – their tiny car, he watched her face turning slightly red and she pulled her seat back. He knew she was having another panic attack. It had started becoming frequent since Anucha, as he called Anand - went away from their life.

Looking at her weak body, he remembered how much she had to suffer. How many times she fell asleep crying from all the pain that his dad inflicted on her. For him walking out from his dad was not something he understood but the freedom that came after that was something he remembered.

He remembers how difficult it was for him to open up and speak at class. He remembers how shy and scared he always was. She filled life into him and always held his hand. She used to encourage him to participate in everything at school and watch him on stage. Even when parents weren’t allowed, she always found a way to sneak into the auditorium and clap as soon as he was done even if he knew he didn’t do well. She kissed him a thousand times a day. He watched how hard she worked every single day. She was the most jovial person he had ever met. She was one reason her friends were jealous of him. To being shy and scared at one point to being a proficiency award winner at school, he knew it was because of the courage Ma gave him.

So, when Anucha came into their lives, he accepted him just seeing the happiness on her face while he was around. He precisely knew what the difference was when his father was around and when Anucha was. He loved their small family. It’s all that he ever loved since he turned 6. He knows he loved Anucha a lot and he loved him back. But why he would walk out of their lives he couldn’t understand. Maybe it was a big thing. No matter what the reason was for him to walk out, he still loved Anucha for how he made both of them feel around him. If going away from them made Anucha happy, he was ok to accept that. He’ll never hate him. But he’ll always be angry at him for making Ma go through what she is going through now. So, he knew that he would have to stay strong for Ma to help her out just like she did when he needed her. He knew that her life dangled on his hands.

CHAPTER 4: OUR LONG JOURNEY FORWARD

He got into the car and hugged her. “Breathe ma, breathe, breathe. It’s ok, it’s ok. I’m here. You are fine. Breathe”. She started breathing heavily and slowly her heartbeats started slowing down. That’s all the treatment she needed. His tiny arms around her. They hugged each other for a while.

“Ma, we decided to take this drive so that you get over what happened. You need to feel confident again. I know most of the things we are doing now, including this long drive, are new to you. But we will do it together like how you used to stand in the audience when I go for music contests at school. When we go back, we’ll both have forgotten that he left and just remember him for all the loving memories he gave us. OK? Now get up dude, drive! We have 250 more kilometers to travel before we stop for the day today and it's already 3.30”

She got up, wiped her tears and looked at her greatest blessing from God. You just need one person, just one person to believe in you for you to move forward in life. He was her greatest strength and her largest weakness. When you find a friend in your  son, it’s an adventure every day. She smiled and started the car.

He opened another packet of chips and started munching thinking about the greatest blessing he had – his mom. If he ever gets another life, he silently prayed that he be born to her. His best friend and his partner in crime. He looked forward to the long road in front of them exactly like the wonderful life he knew was ahead of them. A beautiful life together.

P.S. : This snippet is inspired from a true story between a mother and her best friend - her son who went for their first ever long drive from Trivandrum to Pune and back to Trivandrum which was his idea to help her get over the grief she was facing when someone special walked out of her life. The names in the story have been changed to guard their identity.

What’s the RCA?

“What’s the RCA?” The words had meaning but didn’t mean anything to her at the moment. They were orphan words, no one claimed them inside her head and just echoed back. 

Peter blahblah, innocently questioned - “Am I audible?, Anju”. She did bother to try to read Peter’s polish last name at the beginning of her work-from-home crusade. But technology auto-filled his name everywhere and the fake rapport never compelled her to use that last name ever.


“Yes, Peter. You are audible. The RCA hasn’t been completed yet. I will update you by EOD”. RCA, EOD, WFH, WTF. Anju pondered over how much time she’s been saving with these abbreviations. For 2000ms. Because, well, time is money. 

Closed the window, closed the laptop. “How dramatic!” She thought to herself. A tab with the title “Mental health during this pandemic” was waiting for her inside. But she was trying to find “mental strength this pandemic” to do anything.

Her mind rewound back to all the crests in her recent past. Anju was afraid of the corporate world, yet the MNC life subdued all her fears within months. Marx was wrong, Capitalism was the real drug. She had no two thoughts when it comes to choosing a life partner from the same world. 

Change is inevitable. It wasn't the first time Anju would think to herself, whether the pandemic is the reason for everything or it just provided the right timing. Last night was particularly rough. Eventful. The event being the D-word appears before a married couple. D. Divorce. Formed from divertere in Latin, meaning to divert. It was puzzling to Anju how much more should they divert from each other. Until they reach the poles?

"Yeah, let's just forget what we said last night". Anju didn't look back. She had to calculate all the permutations of a considerate (or not) replay before he comes into her field of vision, taking in assumptions on his facial expression. Is he cheerful? Is he just dull, trying to deescalate things? Should I be welcoming? Or just give off strong-lady vibes?

"Mm. I was meaning to apologize also". Whaattt?? Why? Why did I say that? He wasn't apologizing. Then where did this "also" come? Anju felt like spiraling and losing control from the beginning

"It's ok. But we should discuss this sane mindedly without getting heated, sometime"

"But it is a heated topic, na? And I am not the one emotional regarding this."

"Do we really need to start with the blame game, dear?"

Anju started flipping a thousand tables inside her head and went to silent mode again.

"We can put this aside for now". He tried to console and back down.

"But you will feel like, you have wasted time with me"

"I have wasted my time with you". Words were ignited. Sparks were thrown. 
Mostly from Anju's eyes. But she was silent. 

"Why didn't you tell me you don't want kids before our marriage?"

"Have you asked? And why would you assume my wants?" 

Though the counter-argument seemed silly, he thought himself to rein back.

"But Anju, as your husband, as your partner, I want to know my wife's reasons. Not just reasons, your thought process behind this"

"I have told you many times, Manu. From the beginning. I have told you all the issues in my family. I have told you I don't want to pass it down to anyone. I have told you, I do not possess the emotional capability to love a child."

"I am not some detective to follow these breadcrumbs and deduce what you want. You should have told me!"

"Manu, please. I don't want another child, one of my own, to grow loveless in this world. An absent father is common in this world. You don't know what it likes to grow with an absent mother"

Anju felt it very hard to carry all the blame. Society expected her to be a mother. Her husband expected to be a mother. Peter just wants the RCA. 

Manu went back to his WFH cocoon. "Best divorce lawyers in Kochi", a tab was waiting for him also.

Ananthan was sleeping in his room behind his grandfather's musicals shop. He heard the same music again which repeated everyday around midnight.... he got up walked around to see what’s that and where is that coming from..... 

He passed by a window he could see the sea waves splashing high...... some twinkling eyes..... in that.... suddenly the music stops... everything back to normal. He was so disappointed to not finding out the musician... 

Next Morning Ananthan asked his grandfather about this incident... to his surprise grandfather didn’t notice such a thing.....

Ananthan was curious and wanted to explore this phenomenon.... he decided to keep himself awake through the night.... as the midnight approaches he could hear footsteps..... and the music starts..... He walked into the shop..... he noticed the changes in the nature... everything seems attracted... focussed to the music... changing to the music... for him sea seemed to be splashing to acquire the land..... as he reached the shop... he could see a soldier dressed man playing in one table.... He walked near to the person.... suddenly the music stopped and the person moved away..... in the dim moonlight soldiers face resembled his grandfather's..... yes... grandfather's 

In a soldier's attire he was playing the piano which lies in the unused corner of the shop...curious little boy walked towards his grandpa.... as he near grandpa.... Grandpa started addressing him... " Yes young man welcome "

Ananthan was surprised " what’s going on " 

Grandpa replied " this is the moment of realisation for you dear. Realisation of your purpose of this life. "

" I can’t  get you grandpa " Ananthan said

" Son this is the story about our ancestors. Long long while ago there lived a Emperor Lokanaadhan, he was not only a simple king but he turned into the ruler of the world as many emperors wanted to be. He was furious in his skills but humane within. Under that Emperor the world turned one,  no division or distinction. Merit was the base of everything. No countries existed. Our ancestors were the command in chiefs of his army. He had 11 sections of army where 11 chiefs were there. We were one. That was the time where humans lived 300 years ,once the emperor crossed 150years of ruling there were noises all around. His ministers started ditching and bitching for the land and wealth. Emperor realised this. People were heavily affected. Solution which the worried emperor found was the countries today. He split the whole system in to countries and posted each minister as the king there so that their greed settles. Upon leaving to Sanyasa the Emperor called his Army chiefs. He said them ' I am enabling you guys with secret weapons which I have earned from ancestors and practices. Make sure you or your generations use this when the people are chocking again ' "

" What are those weapons " Ananthan exclaimed.

" This one...and 10 more " pointing to piano he said.

" Piano !!!!"

" yes, this music was the secret weapon we were enabled with. This music has the power of gathering the army of anything in nature otherthan humans. As you have seen it was the whales which rushed to the shore has created the tremples in ocean. "

" why now, all of a sudden?  "

" As soldiers of Lokanatha we are bound to keep our word. Now it’s time to act. People are chocking.... corruption..... racism...... pollution..... now they have even started burning the remaining forest cover for their money needs.....we the soldiers of the world emperor have to fight..... "

“ But... others.... why ocean? "

" Son for you this is the time to master these skills... once you master your skills you can feel the thoughts of the army chiefs.... they will guide you...As I am guided now. Son the war is on..... war for existence... war for the world population.... We start from the ocean.... others start from the land and sky.... we 11 armies fight together for us... all around us.... "

Saying this grandpa started playing the music furiously.... passed on a lump of ancient writings to Ananthan.... "now it's you if I fall "he said while walking into the ocean....

I always wonder what makes a man fall in love with the same person again and again. It could be an urge to feel something that we always left untouched and unexplored. Or is it always because we are nurturing and evolving like the so-called COVID 19 virus. And we are always in an urge to survive along with that, in every phase of our life. Wait!!  Am I really comparing LOVE with COVID 19?? Of course, I think yes. When the whole world is disappointed with the outbreak of a deadly virus, I am sure there are a few of us who fell in LOVE with this beautiful beast at least once during the past 2 years. Let me tell you why!!

First of all, it could be something like we are in love with a person and there will be 100 evident reasons to deny it, but we are always behind that baseless, clouded reason to say "Yay!! this is my true LOVE". Was it because they have this super power to stick on to your memory to wipe out all the dismissive reasons and very intelligently sense only the best of it always?? Well, I am here with the best side of it because the obstructive sides are in your head 24/7. Even if not, there are others who make sure that it is getting injected into your brain, adhering to the dosage 1-1-1 minimum. Let's come back to the point.

- Covid outbreak brought at least some of us back to our HOME. Home is not just a physical existence; it can be your memories too. Where the real you is once deeply rooted, nurtured and bloomed. It's okay, if you find it difficult to recollect, talk and behave like before. You are always LOVED because you are back in your HOME, my love. You are much needed in this space at least once in a while.

- We did many things during this time just like we are doing it for the last time. Because we were really scared of getting a second chance. And at least once, you nailed it, my love. It could be a trip to your favorite destination, a talk to your most loved and yet declared enemy kind of person, a proclamation of your untold love and it could even be your first kiss. 

- Most importantly we started missing people. I know many who are losing their chances to meet their loved ones. It's okay, my love, this is just a phase. You are in the process of rebooting your life and the core will always remain the same no matter where you are and what you are up to. After all, it's a deep realization that you are lucky enough to miss and get missed by someone.

- And here comes the most exciting part, we are among that privileged group who always have the hope of reading the message at the end of every month- “Your salary of xxxx is credited to your bank account xxx….”. Wasn’t it exciting, my love?? WFH doesn’t always suck. It is what made us become one among that so-called privileged group. At least your brain is still working and well, that's an indication that you are still alive.

- And for all the smart people who took this break as a chance to rejuvenate your entire body and get back to your ideal measurements, you rocked and you are loved. And those who didn’t and are still in the search of finding the perfect time and motivation, it's okay you are still someone’s favorite Teddy bear and you are most LOVED.

- You might also feel like the number of people around you has exponentially decreased. But you have the most refined, fine tuned and processed ones. They are gems, you just hold them tightly. Well, COVID also made it easier for you, my love.

So I hope it's okay to compare LOVE with COVID 19. Because both are contagious and it perfectly syncs, at least sometimes. It brought us back to our lost memories; it made our special moments more intense; it made us feel missed and lost sometimes. And my dear COVID, you were loved at least once by many of us. But please don't exploit it because, as someone said, the demand to be loved is the greatest of all arrogant presumptions. And you have had enough already!!

'When I swim, I always thank the one who dipped me into the water and ran away, regardless of the intention'

                                                  -- Unknown

" Kannan, why did you miss the regular Lab examination?"

The external examiner asked me with a smile filled with curiosity, when he was about to wind-up the Viva during my Electrical Lab supplementary examination.

I ran my fingers over the same table where I shed tears, exactly one year back. I had been mercilessly humiliated during the Viva, by the external examiner who had come for the third semester Electrical Lab regular examination. Memories started to flash before my eyes. The words that examiner had thrown at me were still ringing in my ears, though I was striving to forget that incident.

                  ------------------------------------

"Kannan, you are just a shame to such a reputed institution like this. Your performance in Viva was pathetic. After such a poor show, how can I allow you to wire up the circuit?.  You may please leave now".

I tried to share a smile when my friend also joined me outside the examination Lab, despite my mood.

It was very hard to accept that I had failed in an examination, that too in a lab exam. I felt extremely frustrated whenever I opened the book to prepare for the supplementary examination. Finally I decided to watch a movie to alleviate the pain of thinking of studies, while my friends were enjoying the short vacation after the semester exams. I put my book aside.

The protagonist of the movie Gajini, played by Surya, was addressing his Employees. What he said got clicked with me. I paused and rewound the movie a few seconds to watch the speech again.

".....mere hard work alone will not bear fruit....you have to be in love with what you do, to be successful."

Right after the movie ended, I started to contemplate the essence of the speech, the hero had instilled into me, even though I had been surrounded with an aura of the beautiful female leads in the movie. I really wanted to sleep on it.

The days following were not the same as before. The chapters in the Electrical book were not the same ones, which I had studied for the regular exam. A positive vibe started to drive me.

                 ------------------------------------

"I never expected such an excellent performance in the Viva, from a student who is appearing for the supplementary exam. Your understanding about the subject is unbelievable. Kannan, why did you miss the regular Lab examination?"

I got surprised with his comments and the question followed. I smiled.

"Thank you for your kind words Sir....actually I did....but I only worked hard last time....."

I did not want to blame the other examiner for my lack of involvement in studies. I gestured seeking my leave.

"May I please wire up the circuit Sir?"

"Of course!"

The examiner patted on my shoulder and I returned an ebullient smile in gratitude.

When the porous membrane that separates one from the outside world can no longer hold its form, it all comes crashing down. Such was the experience of Shankaran that fateful night as he waited in the shadows for retribution. Just? You ask. That is beside the point. The die had been cast.

It rained the night that he planned to do it. It wasn’t a hasty decision nor a wise one, but a decision it was. It didn't heed the advice of grim sobriety nor the wistfulness of a prolonged free life. It came from a place of purpose, something to do, all faculties tied to each cold calculated move meshing into the gears of a certainty that just wouldn’t ease; engineering a destruction that he would have claim to. That will show her.

The ground sank beneath his feet as he made his way through the rubber plantation. It had rained the whole week. Rain that kept at his window panes on monsoons that relentlessly reminded him of the weather. Rain that made his clothes smell of the dank and shimmer with mildew like that yeast infection he got from that woman by the bus station.

The night is half-done. It is smoky, a salmon unturned on a hot stove, the oil dried up by now. It was going to be a long night of stakeout. He realizes that there is no turning back. He is distinctly not at ease. This is not just something on a to-do list, like the one that he maintained when he was employed by the construction company to lay oil pipes across the desert in Saudi. Far from it.  It's something that needs closure. He waits for the impending doom, defiant like a non-repentant pirate made to walk the plank. Splash.

He wasn’t a violent man by nature, in fact, he tried to avoid confrontation of any kind if it were up to him. But the thought of another man with his wife enraged him. He knew from Poulose that morality was but a lack of opportunity and that didn’t sit right with him. It was not that he was a saint himself, but he felt betrayed in a very primal kind of way. Where Poulose gleaned these nuggets from was a mystery to him but Poulose had one ready whenever Shankaran needed advice on a course of action.

As he relieves himself underneath the plantain, a singular raindrop from an overhanging leaf plops on his forehead, which momentarily distracts him from this business of catching his wife’s lover and thrashing him. He touches the wet puddle on his matted hair with the annoyance of a man who thinks he knows what hit him but breaks into a smile when he realizes that the presumed dropping was anything but. He has a good feeling about this whole operation now. He flips out his Canon DSLR that he got at a discount from a flea market and points it at the front and back entrances of his house, adjusts the apertures and realizes that this dastardly paramour wouldn’t be stepping into the light left on at the entrance and even if he did, there was no chance to capture that fleeting moment. He wondered if that porch light would make it easy for a burglar to find his way around the house or would it really act as a deterrent the way it was meant to be.

When he had called in sick at his night watchman’s job at the warehouse to do this, his supervisor wasn’t all that pleased about the short notice given to assign a replacement. But he didn’t have time to think about that now. He finds a spot at the top of a mound beneath a large cashewnut tree at the edge of his property from where he has a clear line of sight to both the entrances of his dilapidated house. The house was built with the savings he had when he got back from the gulf.  But after his Photo studio went bust, the house fell into disrepair. To make ends meet, he tried many jobs but nothing suited him. Things were progressively getting worse at home, his inability to stick to a job became the source of many arguments with his wife. Finally, he applied to a security agency and though they usually only selected ex-servicemen, his friend Poulose put in a good word for him and got him the job. The night work meant that he saw less of his wife and for a while that was a welcome change. All he had wanted was to be left alone.

Poulose was his age and had been his go-to-guy for everything when they were growing up. As a boy Shankaran lost faith in his religion when he found the local temple priest in a compromising position with a neighboring girl for whom he harbored feelings, and this prompted him to want to join Poulose’s church. Poulose advised him against joining any religious organization and to make a clean break from it all. ‘They are all businesses set up to steal your hard-earned money’ was his take on the whole thing. On being questioned on why he still went to church, Poulose’s quick response was that he didn’t want to upset his ailing mother. In middle school, Shankaran saw a fiery protest outside a government building by some college students affiliated to the communist party. The audacity they showed when faced with policemen wielding canes gave him more chills than any action movie he had seen. On the way back from school on the dirt road left unpaved for decades by successive governments that promised roads, and electricity and drinking water, Shankaran raised his fists in protest against the sudden mango showers which led Poulose to wax eloquent on the communist regimes across the world that had collectivized agriculture, eliminated property ownership, killed and repressed thousands of people. Shankaran countered ‘if it weren’t for the communists, we would not have the property we have now. They introduced land reform in Kerala. I heard that in the speech made by the local councilman some weeks back’. But his brief dalliance with communism ended when their local councilman was accused of defrauding the local government of funds meant to provide employment to the rural poor like his mother. 

After high-school, when Poulose boarded the train to join the army, Shankaran cried for the first time in many years in the thatched cowshed behind his house while milking the cows. The households he sold milk to would have complained to his mother about the amount of water added to the milk that day had he been bawling into the milk pots. He had not only lost the company of his best friend but had to give up on his dream of serving in the army with Poulose at the insistence of his mother and the astrologer who saw imminent death in his horoscope if he joined the army.

He wakes up from his reverie when he hears some rustling in the bushes behind him. He grabs a stone and turns around to fling it at whatever antagonizer was lurking up on him. To his surprise and then embarrassment, he finds the beaming face of a very amused Poulose studying him.

‘I suppose you took leave today to try your hand at night photography’  

‘No. I was just……’

‘Listen….you should just talk to your wife’

After Poulose leaves, he thinks about what they talked about. It was true. If it was not meant to be, it was not. No point in making a jackass of oneself. Sometimes everything goes before you can start again.

He rummages through his backpack for the small packet of Tiger biscuit and that quarter bottle of Old Monk’s that he brought along to sustain him through the long night. A grocery bill from earlier in the day drops out. He remembers that his son had mounted a mutiny at the produce aisle of the local supermarket when he refused to buy him the KitKat that he had initially promised when leaving the house. As the rum starts to operate, infusing his sinews with a frivolity characteristic to soft mad children let loose on a playground, he thinks he can face the world again. The feeling that life had become a series of distractions to get from one day to the other has temporarily taken a leave of absence much like the electricity supplied by the government company every few hours of the day. He reminisces the times he and his wife used to stroll in the municipal park when they went shopping into town on festivals with their toddler in tow, when his son would force them to push him up the slide the other way, up the gradient and then slide down with a 'wheeee' and he would scoop him off the slide before his feet touched the ground. And his laughter. A deep gurgle of rapturous abandon.

The immediate sense of urgency to find stillness has run its course, there is just a dull aching now like a blister on a finger that hurts when one types. He takes a pebble and throws it in the general direction of the large puddle that has formed under the plantain tree below. Involuntary displacements.

As he lies on the grassy knoll kissed by the morning dew, a passing crow drops a doozie on his forehead. The second shooter. This time he has the look of certainty of an astute middle-schooler whose algebra is top-notch.

He gets up and wipes off his forehead with a leaf from a shrub. On the other side of his property that overlooks a valley, new developments are rapidly coming in. As he heads back down, the buildings that fracture the landscape seem brilliant at dawn, forlorn cumulus clouds drift by these columns. As is his custom, he opens the front door with his spare keys and changes out of his clothes in the spare bedroom. He doesn’t want to wake his wife and child in the other room. He puts on a pot for his morning black tea on the wood burner. The gas cylinder for the stove has not been refilled despite constant reminders from his wife. As he sips his tea, he runs through the chores and errands for the day.  He hopes to get everything done on time so that he can get some sleep before heading out to the warehouse in the evening.

Dust flits and dances on a beam of light from a distant star, and it swirls into the quiet of the kitchen as last night becomes this morning.

Everyone will have different reasons to like rain. Each rain 

will have some story to tell us. Sometimes I feel, “why god 

didn’t gave color to rain drops as my tears?”. Perhaps God may 

forget both..., 

I have a painful memory regarding rain. I had a cousin broth-

er, his name was Arun. I called him Vavi ettan. We both had an 

age difference of five years. Since he didn’t have own sister, I was 

his little sister. We always play together, study together, fight to-

gether. We both like to enjoy rain.

He likes food very much hence he always feels hungry and he 

always suffer from stomach ache. He didn’t like to take medicine. 

Whenever his mother gave him medicine, he used to throw it 

without seeing her.

I used to wake up late always. He wake up first and pour water 

in my ears to make me wake. Once I got angry and told, “One 

day I will definitely pour water in your ears”.

He replied, “Only if it is my last sleep...”

I still remember after these thirteen years also... It was an eve-

ning of April 12, I fought with him for some simple reasons. He called me, “Hridya, come... it is raining... see how nice it is...” 

But without telling a single word, I close the door and slept. But 

for the first time he got angry on me and he went to his house. I 

was shocked. Whenever we had any fight, he used to come with 

chocolates. Sometimes I simply made fight to get those choco-

lates. I called him several times. But he didn’t give any reply. But 

I was sure on April 14 he will come, since it is vishu.

April 14 morning, I was sleeping... I felt someone is pulling 

my legs. He usually does like this. I slept as I am sleeping. But 

I heard a sudden cry. I ran to kitchen, my mother was crying. 

I didn’t understand anything. We went to his home. There I 

saw him sleeping covered with a white cloth. I remembered his 

words, “...only if it is my last sleep”.

“last sleep...”

I understood, he is no more. The stomach ache he was suffer-

ing from was a swell in pancreas gland and since he didn’t take 

medicine properly, it affected his liver also. I didn’t get him in 

phone was because he was in hospital that time. No one told me 

this also.

He was taken finally to the place where he used to throw 

medicines... 

I slept in his room. Even I couldn’t cry. I saw his books, color 

pencils, toys everything waiting for him, without knowing he 

won’t come again.

Someone told, “Arun’s eyes were open still... he had some 

wish when he died”

I didn’t tell anyone, that wish was to enjoy rain with his little 

sister.

That time also rain was there outside, silently telling his last 

wish to me

She was lost in all the noise, the hustle and bustle of the local train. Somehow the chaos outside put her at ease. The commotion made her mind lose all the confusion inside. She felt relieved that for now she just had to sit through this journey. She wished that her station wouldn't come.

As her eyes caught the board of her station, her mind stumbled back into reality. It reminded her of the phone call again. She could feel her mind racing. "If this goes south, what would I tell my friends? How will I go back to work and face my colleagues?" - she thought to herself. 

She sat glued to her seat not wanting to leave. Just then she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw her colleague. 

"Hey Mel, what are you doing here? I thought you were on leave for the engagement. Aren't you supposed to be home? You have to save yourself from getting a tan, girl."

She froze and without giving an answer, rushed out of the train giving her colleague a half smile on the way. She hurried up the stairs. She walked as fast as she could to the entrance of the station. She thought to herself -"This can't be right. Does he even know about this? Im sure he doesn't. Yes, if he knew, he wouldn't have let this happen. Obviously, he is in the dark. I just need to talk to him and all this will be sorted out. "

She decided to go to the park nearby and give him a call. She searched for an empty and isolated bench so that people wouldn't listen in on the conversation. His phone kept ringing and with each ring her heart picked up the pace. Finally he answered the call and said - "Hello!...." 

She tried to regain her composure, and replied - "I know there is a suitable explanation for whatever happened. Was it some sort of miscommunication? Oh, silly me, how would you possibly know, you weren't even there when they spoke. So, let me explain. Your mum called up mine this morning and said that without the dowry amount given as cash, this wedding wouldn't proceed.  I was outside, getting the final corrections for my gown and my sister called me up and asked me to get home as soon as possible. She sounded worried, so I pressed her on what the matter was, in spite of her repeatedly telling me that it had to be discussed in person. 

Oh God, im rambling on again about insignificant details, sorry. 

Anyway, can you imagine that mum made such a demand? I mean was she upset about something?! What could have taunted her? It couldn't be that she doesnt trust us, could it?" She waited for him to respond impatiently and continued -"Hello, can you hear me?"

He said -" Yes, I can. I'm still here", and there was a long pause. 

Annoyed, she enquired-"What's the matter?"

He said - "I knew about this" 

She screamed - "What???" 

After a long pause once again, he continued- "This is something my parents decided, Mel. I dont have an opinion on this"

She asked -" Okay, but do you think this is fair?!" 

He replied -"Well, this is something they want. Just give them the money in cash. What's the big deal, anyway? You would have to transfer the money to mum's account if it weren't for the liquid cash. You didn't think it was going to be okay to keep it in your account, did you? Let's leave it to them to decide, shall we? Why do we have to get in the middle of this? Lets talk about... " He continued speaking about the wedding preparations. She couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. Her mind wandered off. She could hear people in the park speaking. She could hear birds chirping. She could hear the street vendors. But she couldn't hear what he was saying anymore.  The rest of the conversation didn't matter. There was nothing more she had to say. She had heard enough. She took the phone away from her ear. She sat there, fighting back tears, looking into the distance, reminiscing all the events that led till today. She remembered how, even though she hadn't much faith in the institution of marriage, she had accepted this proposal that her parents had arranged, owing to his 'less-husband-more-friend' demeanour. She regretted how amidst myriad conversations about their likes and dislikes, she had forgotten to ask about the principles and ideals he held, about life. 

She looked at his name one last time and hung up. Her hands and feet had turned ice cold, even though the sweltering heat of this summer day was piercing through her body. She bent over and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. Then she straightened herself, took a deep breath, got up and walked home. 

While mixing the canteen porridge with pickle at the Govt hospital waiting room,David's mind was roaming over the question:what exactly am I doing here? When David started to drive back native for a 2-week holiday, this was not the way he had planned to spend it. To start with, David and Manoj are colleagues in the same IT firm and previously batchmates. Manoj's father had to undergo a cardiac surgery on an immediate schedule basis;Manoj couldn't come over from Karnataka to Kerala as his immediate team member reported covid +ve; Manoj had to be in quarantine as he is the primary contact.That was when David came over to Kerala and Manoj could not find any immediate siblings or trustworthy contacts to be the hospital by-stander for approximately a week's time. The 5-year old relationship threatened David from denying the role that otherwise he would have rejected without any second thought. David himself has not been talking to his parents for over 3-4 years;the vacation for him had to be at sister's place, playing over the joystick with kids or watching another season of money heist. 

The procedure whatever David has been doing is the standard one as per Govt hospital rules. 

Day 1:Admit patient to the hospital as per the diet or conditions suggested, pay advance bills for the surgery.Give signature and contact info wherever required;You'll get pass to be in & out of the hospital building. Once admitted, no visitors except the by-stander and if asked about the patient condition, the person at information counter replies:"Will call you over phone if required"

Day2:You get a call at 4am and the person over will ask for the patient's previous hospital records. Expecting this call, the stay is planned at the lodge at a walkable distance from the hospital. Finishing the bath in a hurry and getting the files to the hospital, the person at the counter repeats the same. 

Day3: Present day. David finished lunch & reached back to his only possible favorite location of the waiting room: bench with the open space. Front side of the waiting room is noisy with people talking over the phone or announcements. Previous day, the expert doctors were in discussion over the files given, but they didn't start surgery;it's the 3rd day & they did not even start a surgery which they had told immediately required. Telling responsible replies to the calls coming from Manoj's relatives began to feel as a headache for David. 

David had to tell the well-being status of a man whom he had seen or spoken with 2 days ago,that too in a hurry. 

Neither the lodge nor the hospital building had space for car parking;David had to do it at a far place inside the compound. Next to where he sits was the bike parking lot. With bikes & scooters squeezely fitted, it also had some trees and greenery in between. A cuckoo is searching for twigs or worms, walking and jumping over the parking lot tracks. David was wondering how unimaginable that artificial ecosystem can be a home to the birdie. During daytime, his chores other than replying to office mails or WhatsApp call to sister's kids, included breakfast, lunch, tea and watching over the cuckoo. At around 2,nurse from the ward updated patient is being taken to theater. The reply from Manoj and his mother was that "At Least David is here with father, that's our relief". By 6,the chief doctor called in. David was keen on grasping the gist of doctor's summary:even though he couldn't understand the updates, it needs to be reproduced to Manoj as it is. The heart beat rhythm condition has gone wrong from previous and in-between pause also happening. That makes the situation demanding for a CRT-D instead of a regular pacemaker. So, they will get the right device next day and start the procedure. 

Doctor went for the day, leaving the terrible task of communication to David. 

Day 4:David had started to be more curious about the cuckoo's actions and when being followed, found a small nest at the roots of the single banyan tree. The cuckoo, even with a half broken leg, had been fetching food for the baby by searching around the whole parking lot which seems to be a nut-cracking job. 

At noon,when they took Manoj's father to the theater, he asked David how the daily routines were being managed,and before entering the theater room,he told David "God will bless you for being here at this time". David started to sense the moral responsibility of Manoj's absence. The realities and difficulties undergone by parents in bringing up their offspring need appreciation and recognition even after any age,even before any self esteem is being compromised for the offspring. Any human task can be delivered with or without the emotional bondage of understanding relationships;the choice lies along the one who does it. David managed to find a staff nurse to do the stitch or dress the cuckoo bird without making it panic. 

Day5:In the morning itself,the baby cuckoo gave a welcome scream to the entire area. David spoke over the phone to his parents who had no news from him for a long time. The issues which he had been carrying like hills over heads melt like ice over steam. The surgery came successful and Manoj's father was shifted to ward for a day's observation. 

David began to see the story of each person who is sitting in the waiting room in their eyes. Being not slept for days, waiting for the calls from inside, far away from home, not sure of going back together, it's not easy to be the person who has to be there. 

Day6:By 5 in the evening,the doctor called up for discharge summary. David had to run along the counters to do final settlements and submit the claim related documents that Manoj had asked for.It was a pleasing sight to watch Manoj's father telling adios to people who were fellow inmates till now.David had extended his vacation plans to stay along with his parents once Manoj's father is safely dropped at home. After clearing the lodge bills, he reached the parking lot one last time- the cuckoo and baby had been gone; he heard the voice a flight away. David was helping himself by helping the cuckoo. 

The sun was about to set. Birds kept rushing home, their dark flying figures in perfect contrast with the apricot tinted sky.

Oblivious to this artistic masterpiece on the sky-sized canvas high up, people kept running hither and thither. The junction was busy as usual. Clogged by the evening traffic, the angry vehicles kept fighting for every inch of space up ahead. The drivers vented out their impatience by incessant honking.

The streetlights reluctantly flickered into life, their yellow eyes dull and groggy from a day-long slumber.

As expected, the mobile teashop on rickety wheels appeared at the junction. Flanked by Ranga, its owner, and his wife Shyamala, the teashop occupied its usual spot on the side of the road.

The tempting aroma of freshly brewed tea and piping hot snacks announced that the teashop was ready to serve its customers. Passing the junction without getting tantalized by the shop’s delicacies was a true test of willpower. And not many were that strong-willed, which was obvious from the huddle of people who loitered around the teashop eagerly awaiting their turn to get served. A few customers who came in fancy cars had to struggle to find a parking spot. Even if it meant parking one kilometer away and taking a walk back to the shop, they didn’t mind. It was hard to ignore the endearing couple and the delicious snacks they served.

Though well past their fifties, Ranga and Shyamala were quite efficient in handling the crowd. They lived a few streets away. After numerous endeavors that failed to last long, they had turned to this business. It had only been a few months since they started, but Ranga could recognize most of the faces around. It wasn’t surprising; he had always been good with people.

A smile here, a nod of acknowledgement there and an overall personal touch made sure that every customer enjoyed at least some amount of individual attention. Although totally alien to the theoretical side of building high quality products, customer loyalty and enhanced customer experience, Ranga ran his business in a way that would give any B-school graduate a run for his money. He believed in people more than anything else and treating them well was the least he could do.

Wiping sweat from his forehead; Ranga looked around. The evening felt warmer than usual. The smoke from the vehicle exhausts and the dust made it even more uncomfortable.

Shyamala was busy brewing tea. Poor lady, he thought. Despite all the struggles, she had been with him through thick and thin, always supportive, and ready to take the lead whenever he was down. He still remembered the day when he met her for the first time. She looked timid and fragile, but it was her eyes that got him attracted to her. Her eyes spoke of a rare mix of emotional warmth and fierce determination. Being a people man all his life, he knew right then that she was the perfect partner for him.

They had big dreams, but reality was mercilessly harsh, quite different from what they dreamed about. But that wasn’t new for him.

As a kid, he had dreamed of saving the world, saving its people. A bunch of torn pages from an abandoned superhero comic book was one of his most valuable childhood possessions. Every day he would take out those pages and stare at them. Though he couldn’t read the story, he used to look at the pictures of a well-built hero in blue dress with a red cape streaming behind him.

He pictured himself flying in the sky, the red cape streaming behind him, saving lives.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that he was a mere mortal, sans any superpower. Growing up had been hard. Life’s deluge of challenges forcefully brought him down to earth. Instead of flying high, here he was, barely keeping his head above water by running a wobbly business.

As the evening wore on, the crowd thinned out. As usual, Shyamala packed the remaining snacks carefully while Ranga cleaned the premises before closing the shop.

Once done, they started their journey back, Ranga pushing the cart and Shyamala holding the packet of snacks close to her body.

They had to meet their premium customers on their way home – the ones who didn’t have a roof overhead, the ones who couldn’t afford to pay.

They turned a corner and approached the narrow street. Most of the shops were closed, but there were dark shapes lying in front of them. These were the people of the street- a bunch of swarthy men and women and their kids on whom the dirty streets rubbed off its roughness. Ranga and Shyamala’s arrival created a commotion among the group. The shapes suddenly started moving. One by one, the darkened shapes came to light. As had been the practice, they queued up near Shyamala as she distributed the snacks. They couldn’t give anything in return except for a gleaming smile. And for Ranga and Shyamala, this silvery smile of gratitude on their cloudy faces was payment enough.

The couple was home empty handed, but with hearts brimming with joy.

After parking the cart, Ranga followed Shyamala into their hut. Before getting in, he looked up at the sky.

The moon looked lustrous and serene. The stars smiled at him. Ranga closed his eyes. Taken in by the moment, he smiled softly and attempted humming an old tune in his croaky voice.

True, the red cape was missing, Ranga wasn’t flying high either; but along with his partner, he surely was living his dream.

An excited Ethoruthan broadcasted his findings to the Inter Universe Lifeform Detection Council.

‘I have discovered life on another planet.’

‘Oh not again, Mx Ethoruthan!’, the Chairman of the council, Dan Maraman, shot back.‘ This is the eleventh time you are making such a claim over the last six months. How many missions have we launched to verify your claim - and have even one bore any result? These voyages are damn expensive, you know.’

‘Please hear me out, Mx Maraman! This is not like the previous cases. I have proof.’

‘What proof?’ Senior agent Thengaenthu was intrigued.

‘Do I have permission to present my thoughts to the council?’ Ethoruthan asked Maraman, Dan.

‘Yeah! You may.’ the Chairman relented warily.

‘Okay here is the interesting part. The life forms on this planet have devised something called movies - where some of them write unreal descriptions about unreal persons, and someone else would behave like those unreal persons. These behaviors would be recorded and later viewed by the life forms.’

‘What? Why would they waste time writing about unreal people and why would someone behave like someone else?’ Thengaenthu asked in genuine surprise.

‘I think they consider it entertainment. Here, I got hold of one of their recordings. It has a name too! Padmav…I am sorry the last letters are a bit smudged. Shall I play the recording?’

‘Spare us the troubles!’ Dan said dismissively.

‘Could you surmise it for the council? The proof would be vital if the council agrees for this mission, right?’ It was the secretary, Ihtalavala, who spoke up.

‘Well, it is about a princess who is very pretty and smart…well I don’t remember if smartness was explicitly mentioned…but I guess so. Anyway, the princess was so pretty that a king from a neighboring kingdom fell in love with her and married her. Soon, word began to spread about her beauty and another king from another kingdom also fell in love with her. The second king challenged the first king to a battle and the winner could make her his queen. She loved the first king but I guess nobody cared much about that. The second king was more powerful, and he defeated the first. The beautiful queen then decided to set herself and her companions on fire to escape from the second king. When the second king and his army reached the palace, all that remained was the palace and their charred corpses. Beautiful movie, I must say.’ Ethoruthan welled up as they elaborated the story to the council.

‘Ugh! Even if all this is true and such a life form exist on such a planet, they seem to be a pretty dumb civilization for wasting effort on non productive endavors. Why should we bother making contact with such lowlifes?’ Maraman, Dan looked every bit uninterested.

‘Hold on! I haven’t told you the best part yet. What made me interested in this planet is not these made up recordings. My studies have detected the presence of substantial amounts of Carbon Dioxide in their atmosphere. Enough to solve our energy crisis for at least the next three decades.’ Ethoruthan shared his findings with the council.

‘Woah! Why did you not start with this, Ethoruthan? Eight hundred parts per million? That’s huge.’ Dan Maraman’s interest in the planet spiked all of a sudden.

‘Would they be willing to give up, or even share this treasure with us?’ Ihtalavala asked Dan.

‘From Ethoruthan’s description of their lifestyle, it is pretty evident that they are a far inferior species to us. If they resist, it would not be too difficult to overpower them.’ Maraman, Dan had a plan. ‘How far is this planet? And does it have a name?’

‘They call it Planet Earth. And I believe they are six billion thought years from here.’ explained Ethoruthan.

‘That’s quite a long journey. We would need a few months to prepare ourselves.’ Ihtalavala explained. ‘ Meanwhile, Mx Ethoruthan can come up with the most feasible spatial route for the journey.’

The council had arrived at an agreement. 

Planet Earth:

The Earth Times, Page 1

The President and the Leader of Opposition shared a rare moment of solidarity

At the recently concluded World Climate Summit, the President and the Leader of Opposition, who are usually seen at loggerheads, shared a rare instance of solidarity while interacting with the journalists on the concerns of Global Warming. The President dismissed it as a conspiracy theory devised by jobless climate activists who tried hard to pass off as cool. She shared a photograph of her snow covered lake house in Canada to prove her point. The Leader of Opposition also echoed similar sentiments, terming climate change an illusion and insisting that it was us who had undergone the change. He said that as people grow older, their tolerance to heat and cold weaken and they perceive this as a change in the environment and climate.

The Earth Times, Page 3

Increase in deaths of Polar Bears worries scientists

An increase in the mysterious deaths of Polar Bears are now worrying scientists and climate activists alike. Sightings of Polar Bear carcasses are becoming increasingly frequent along the shores of Scandinavian nations, and the reason for this phenomenon remains unknown, according to a scientist who claimed anonymity owing security reasons.

Planet Perillamus (after ten months)

Kari Aham, President of the Planet Perillamus had come down to the office of the Inter Universe Lifeform Detection Council. It was a red letter day for the Perillamusians. Their long drawn quest for a sustainable energy source was finally seeing some light. It was ten months ago when their scientists had discovered Planet Earth in the Milky Way Galaxy which had Carbon Dioxide in abundance in its atmosphere.

‘Go get them, Dan. My political future depends heavily on the success of your mission. How much CO2  are you planning to extract from their atmosphere?’

‘Enough to secure another ten years for you at the helm of the government, Kari. Don’t you worry. My agents Ethoruthan and Thengaenthu have undergone training in activating highly potent sub-nuclear missiles if we are to face any unexpected attack. The Earthlings would not stand a chance against us. We would wipe their air dry off carbon dioxide.’

‘Glory to Perillamus. Let our name earn even more glory.’

Amidst wide media coverage, President Aham flagged the mission off. Dan Maraman, Thengaenthu and Ethoruthan waved from their ship to the cheering crowd.

After about six billion thought years of space travel, their spaceship Cinatit entered the Milky Way Galaxy and reached the exosphere of Planet Earth.

‘Are you seeing this, Chairman? The carbometer shows the presence of Carbon Dioxide as two thousand parts per million. The presence has grown considerably since we first discovered them.’ Ethoruthan showed his findings to Dan.

‘Goog. Very good. Let us begin the descent. You can initiate the extraction process as soon as we do the landing.’ Mx Maraman was jubilous.

Thengaenthu, who was tasked with monitoring the planet for any attack on their ship, had a surprised look on their face. ‘We have crossed their Stratosphere and would soon be reaching the ground. Yet, they haven’t fired even a single shot at us.’ 

‘Maybe they are not a hostile civilization as we thought.’ Suggested Ethoruthan.

‘Or maybe they are busy writing and recording unreal nonsense about themselves that they have not noticed our arrival.’ Dan Maraman expressed his disdain.

In a few moments, Cinatit landed safely on Earth’s surface. They waited for a while to see if Earthlings would be launching a terrestrial attack. A couple of hours passed.

‘I expected them to be dumb but not to this levels! Their radar systems not only missed our trespassing but they haven’t even bothered to engage us in any manner yet. Disgusting! Let’s step out and get rolling, team. There is no point in wasting any more time.’’

‘Mx Marman, I think you should have a look at this.’ A worried looking Thengaenthu pointed at a screen. ‘From our understanding, Earthlings are carbon based lifeforms. Ever since reaching here, our systems have not detected a single living being on this planet.’

‘What! What does that mean? We had definitive proof of life here, right? Where did it vanish?’ Ethoruthan asked.

‘I am unsure at this moment. But the scans have not detected any trace of life.’ Thengaenthu confirmed.

‘Alright, let us get out of this vessel and have a walk around.’ Maraman proposed. ‘Perhaps we shall find some answers. Thengaenthu can stay back and initiate the extraction process.

Dan Maraman and Ethoruthan stepped out of their ship and started exploring Earth on foot.

‘It’s incredibly hot here, isn’t it? And what’s that stench?’

‘Yes. I had expected Earth to be cooler. Hey Mx Maraman, look over there! Those are obvious signs of a lifeform, aren't they?’ asked Ethoruthan as they passed concrete structures, tar paved paths, and motorized metal boxes on rubber tyres.

‘I suppose so. But where are they? Did they actually get wind of our arrival and burn themselves to death to escape - as they had shown in one of their unreal recordings? What was it called? Padma something right?’ Maraman let out a sarcastic laugh.

‘Now that you mention it, the stench does feel like that of decaying carbon. And the lifeform on Earth was Carbon based. Did they actually kill themselves off? That seems like a stretch to me!’

‘I don’t know much about them other than what your findings have told us, Mx Ethoruthan. But my instincts tell me that they brought this terrible fate upon themselves.’

I fixed the ruler straight on the page and carefully tore it away. It was my second attempt at writing the assignment in a better handwriting and I was pretty much sure of my third attempt too. Looking at what I wrote–letters arranged in a not-so-straight line, leaning towards the left and right as they felt like– I thought of Aneetta Mary’s italic letters, neatly noted down in a straight line.

That was enough for me to lose motivation but what I had in my other hand was an incomplete math homework which even Amma couldn’t solve. She told me that Aneetta would help me solve it if I go to her place in the evening. Little did I bother to correct her that Aneetta and everybody else in my class were enjoying the picnic today while I was clinging to the minute hand of the clock, deliberately trying to rotate it.

I wasn’t keeping well since the past week or else I would have been one among them. But no matter how much I tried, I wasn’t able to brush away the images of my classmates making the most of the day, enjoying the serene beauty of the Thattekad bird sanctuary and finding considerable bliss in the boating trip. Appa told me that he would take me there if I had my medicines properly but every time I held the cough syrup bottle, I thought of sacrificing the trip–they tasted so bitter that I’d started to flinch at the very sight of the bunch of juicy strawberries in its label.

Leaving behind the assignments and homework, I grabbed one of my Tinkle digests and walked to the hall. Amma was watching her favourite serial and Ammachi was sitting beside her, with her head bowed down; I wondered how she dozes off so easily sitting on the sofa, in front of the television. “Ammachi,” I whispered in her ears. Startled, she looked at me for a moment and asked me to lie on her lap.

The quietness of that afternoon was interjected by a telephone call. Amma seemed agitated after hanging up and rather than answering to Ammachi’s queries, she asked us to go inside the room. In a little while, Sunil uncle and his wife, our neighbours, came home and were mumbling things that looked very serious. Standing behind the slightly parted door, I tried to overhear the conversations, but the shrill ringtone of the frequent phone calls ruined my efforts. Ammachi was kneeling down beside me, nudging me and kissing the rosary every so often. She was giving me the creeps; I closed my eyes and searched for Appa’s face.

Within an hour, half of our neighbourhood were at our place. I could see anxiety, fear and concern plastered on their faces.
Taking a quick look at the TV screen, I pulled away Ammachi’s hands that were gripping my forearm and ran to have a closer look. All this while, I hadn’t noticed why we were running the news channel; I’d always considered it as an obsession of the grown-ups.

‘Thattekad Tragedy- Boat Capsized,’ the news read. I shook my head, pushing the woman who was trying to drag me back and stood there picking up a few more words like excursion, overload and death.

Subsequently, someone else scooped me up as I kicked them, calling out for Amma, who was talking to Appa, standing in the veranda.

**********

I was sitting next to Aneetta, listening to her brittle voice and adoring the sparkle in her eyes as she was giving me an account on the excursion. From the number of ice creams they had over the entire journey to the humorous bit where Johnny Jose had an irresistible urge to pee seeing an enormous elephant in the forest; she vividly explained everything. When the bell rang, she grabbed her bag and stormed off.

“You should have been there..,” she yelled. I flashed an awkward smile and followed her to find that she’d disappeared the moment she crossed the door.

“Aneettaa...,” I called out, running after her and hit upon the fact that the floor beneath me was no longer solid.

After letting myself go through an absurd count of seconds, hearing the water bubble out through my mouth, kicking to uncover a surface, experiencing the struggle of holding on a little longer against what I had my mouthful, shuddering to the sense of drowning against someone’s push on my head for them to survive and finally coming out of it screaming and spewing out water, I lay on my bed wheezing.

Amma cuddled me tight, stroking my forehead. “I’m here for you; you’re safe,” she repeated.

“You should have been there...” a voice played in my head.