"I was alone. The colorless potion that was entering my nerves felt like it had the power to bring on the surges, not just to my body but also to my mind. I felt cheated and let down, but it was the guilt of giving my pillar away that weighed me down. Hours went on and so did my contractions and finally I was cut open and the mother in me took birth. As days went by, I also realised that that fateful day also marked my death in many ways unfathomable!!

It was my love of long years, and being honest to who I was, I made sure that it was my decision that prevailed at the end. Though all faces around me were sulking on my wedding day, I had the brightest of my smiles - I had won this too!! Little did I know that day that I had set foot on my first steps to failure.

The life of submission was like slow poison and mistaking it to be love, I pushed myself to oblivion. Life came back with a jolt when I knew there was a life inside me and again i became my own warrior. Wanting to own the experience, I convinced my better half to take the unconventional path. In that journey, I met you, my midwife, who is the reason why I am here.

Apology is the least that I can offer for betraying you that day and I beg pardon to myself and my baby for betraying us also. I had kept you awake endless nights and sought my relief in your wisdom and courage. But the day when I went to labour, I was nauseated and tired. I got in the car with hopes of reaching you but in the end the destination smelt of phenyl and scrubs...

I cried in disbelief and I was pinned down with assurances that this was chosen for me in the best of my interests. It turned to my worst nightmare and all that I worked for those 9 months went down the drain.

Today I realise my mistake of being naive and not loving myself and my baby enough to stand up for ourselves. I just want you to know that I am really sorry to have betrayed you and I also want you to know that it was you who brought me back to my life. I no more live that life of fear and I also saved my kids from living that life of terror. Thank you and sorry for everything...

Forever indebted,

Kay"

She re-read the email a thousandth time before clicking the "Send" button and closed her teary eyes as the mail travelled its way to the recipient. As she opened my eyes, she could see her baby sleeping peacefully besides her in that far away land. She sent a prayer to all the midwives who are God sent angels being there for women birthing their babies....

As if in a trance, I woke up to the beep of my phone and was intrigued to find an email at this odd hours. It was calls and messages from women in labour that usually kept me awake but this felt different. I put on my glasses and read on, whilst all those emotions of disappontment and disbelief resurged as they had 5 years ago when I was seeing that mum. As I reached the end of the email, I felt so relieved and at peace that another of the births was over and this time it wasn't a baby but a woman of valour that took birth through my hands! I closed my eyes, but not my senses and as always ready for the next call for birth...

2021 August 13

“This might be the last video which gets posted on this YouTube channel. May be you will not see my uncovered face again, won’t hear my streaming voice again.. I feel like it all will come to an end soon..”

2009 April 15 : The Butterfly

“Fathima…. Where are you?”

“Maaa… I’m here.. Look at this.. Butterflies! I’m chasing them..!”

She is amazed by their coloured wings. They fly, from flower to flower.

It is the first time these many flowers bloom together in their new garden. They moved to this place recently. There is chapter Fatima’s mom wants to forget. It was before Fatima’s birth. She always prayed, to save her girl from a life like that..

“Maa.. Can I fly like this..?”

“One day, you can, my little girl!”

2015 : The Sprouting Seeds

“What you want to become in life”

“An artist! A film maker! A story teller.. A writer!”

Fatima told her teacher. She is in 9th standard now. But her dreams had grown much beyond. The sky more clear. Her mother had told her stories about how violent was it before the Fatima was born. She lost her youth, her dreams, her womanhood. Not just her, but almost all the women around, all the artists and writers around.
But Fatima is lucky, so far. Schools have opened again. Girls can go there. New universities started. Higher education is now something that can be achieved! The mother felt happy. Sky is becoming even more clear now!

2020 : The Voice that’s Not Silenced

Fatima joined Kabul University. Things looked normal and promising. Good atmosphere. Good teachers. Boys and Girls sitting together in class. Libraries open. Weekdays are fun now. She watched movies in theaters with friends. And the old dreams again bloomed in her.  She’s much closer now. She wrote blogs about life of women in Afghanistan. She made short films. Started a YouTube channel. They got appreciations from all over the world. Her voice was all over there in the air they breath. Like a fire spreading in a dead forest.

Before I Leave

I couldn’t stop myself from chasing her. If I don’t act now, what’s the meaning of my life as a photojournalist?

That’s how I began my journey to Afghanistan with my camera. There was opposition from the press. This is something that they fund to which the outcome is uncertain.. Outcome?! I was not even certain about my own life.
A war ground is where a photojournalist have to put his skills and passion on test.
It’s not my first visit to the country. Had contacts in the Army. They took me along. Streets were mostly deserted. Sky was gloomy like it wants to cry heart out but couldn't.

The army truck moved slowly, vigilantly. It was not like the previous times. There was fear uncovering their faces. Ears were expecting gunshots and blasts.

And it happened. Our vehicle got attacked. I shot with my camera. This is my weapon. Army told me to hide behind the seats. One got seriously injured.
As the vehicle escapes from the guns, I saw those eyes, all pointing towards me.. I’m sketched.

As soon as I reached back in room, made a plan for tomorrow. Have to find Fatima. There are untold stories in her eyes. My days are counted I felt. May be her face will the last photo I take. But I’m sure, that itself will speak a million words to the world.

Things are getting worse here. Much more than anybody expected..

The day started in silence. Outside, streets were abandoned. I’m going out to meet her. I know what I have to face in between. But this a last try. I’ve stories to tell the world. But this is not the time to sit and write them down. I’ve to mine much more lines from her eyes.

This is not the end of the story. I have thousands of words more remaining to be written after this sentence. I’ve photos to show you. I promise, I’ll write them out after I reach back tonight. I have a story to tell you. Dear world, I have a big story to tell you. Will you be still silent, in the comfort of your air conditioned room, after reading that tomorrow? It’s time for me to chase stories which are hidden. Voices which are silenced. Eyes those got covered.
I promise you.. I’ll write them out after I reach back tonight. I have a big story to tell you..

“We will induce pain early in the morning tomorrow. You will have to get admitted today itself,” Dr. Radhika was quite sure that my delivery would happen the very next day. Though I knew it could be the very last regular check-up, it took me some time to let what she said sink in. A couple of hours later, I was admitted to the hospital. I was to be induced at 4:00 am the next morning.

I lay on the bed, tossing and turning all night. By the next sunset, I'd have a baby in my arms. The baby kept kicking all night, as if it was excited to see the world. I caressed my bump that always amazed me the past few months. It stretched a little more as the baby kicked, as if to reach my hand that was on my bump. I patted right where I felt the baby and closed my eyes.

After what felt like a couple of minutes, my mom woke me up. It was 3:30 am. The silence of early morning seeped into my skin and my blood froze. All my happiness took the back seat and fear kicked in – fear of the deadly pain that I was about to go through in no time. I couldn't gauge the degree of pain as it was my first time, but I knew that I have a very low tolerance.

I was induced at the exact time as we were told. In the labour room, all pregnant ladies lay next to each other with a white curtain in between. We had our privacy as the curtain worked like a wall from all four sides, leaving a little space for a bystander.

The lady to the left of me had it bad. She cried out loudly from her periodic contractions. My mom and I looked at each other helplessly, and every time I saw her through the parted curtains, I could see her putting on a brave face, trying to hold back tears. I prayed that she would get over the pain soon. The baby's movements were being monitored continuously and the heart rate was being plotted as a graph by a machine that was connected to my bump.

When the nurse came to check on me, I asked her how long it would take for the lady next to me to deliver. She said that the lady had a long time ahead and also asked me to rate my pain or discomfort level. “Zero,” I said. She smiled and told me to call her in case of any emergency.

Dr. Radhika walked in at 8:30 am and asked me how I was holding up, while going through the graph that the machine was churning out. By that time, my neighbour was screaming at the top of her voice and muttering that she couldn't bear whatever she was undergoing. I could hear the nurses trying to calm her down all the while.

The doctor came back around 10 am, dressed in green scrubs. The only pain I was undergoing was the one from hearing the constant blood-curdling screams of the lady next bed. It had been about six hours after her contractions started. They were stronger and without any gap in between.

My husband came in around that time and almost fainted listening to the heart wrenching screams from the next bed. I held his hand to soothe him. He squeezed his eyes close and pressed my hands every time she cried. His eyes welled up, so did mine. We hardly talked anything and looked at each other, anticipating the impending pain that would kick in soon.

I had a chocolate bar and fruit juice by around 11:00 am. The screams from the next bed were unimaginable, the kind that would make anyone want to rush to the person to save her life. It made me wonder if all her life would ooze out through her screams before she gave life to that baby. She cried like she was being stabbed a hundred times at once. My mother and husband alternated in being with me. All the while, I kept asking my nurse if she'd deliver soon.

Then, Dr. Radhika came to me and dropped the bomb. As the pain didn't kick in and as foetal heart rate showed a regular dip, I was going to have an emergency C-section. I looked blankly at the doctor and my husband as I heard that. The doctor was concerned that I had a meal, though a light one, because one was not supposed to have anything six hours prior to and after the surgery.

The next one hour felt like an hour out of an intense battleground game. An anaesthesiologist briefed me about the anesthesia and gave me a heads up about the slight risk that was ahead as the surgery was after a food intake. That was the last thing I wanted to hear after having been told that I won't have a normal delivery. Last night, I was trying to gauge the pain of normal delivery and now, I was to undergo a major surgery.

A nurse changed me into a blue gown and rubbed the nail polish off my toe nails. My hair was hastily tied on both sides and in five minutes, I was in the wheelchair, on the way to the operation theater. I held the armrest of the wheelchair tightly, not wanting to get up anytime soon. I peeked through the curtains of the next bed and saw a baby by the side of the exhausted lady. I was happy that the woman got to rest after having been in labour for such a long time. Her worry had subsided and mine was about to begin.

In fifteen minutes, I was shifted to the theater and topical sedation was induced at my back. I curled a bit, as I placed my hands on the shoulders of a doctor who stood facing me, as I was administered the sedative from behind.

There were about six people surrounding me. My hands were stretched out and various machines monitoring my heart rate and blood pressure were connected to me among other things. The theater was a busy place, with the beeping of machines, clinking of tools and discussion of technicalities among the doctors in the room. “One, two, three...” I heard someone count as the lower half of my body turned numb.

The anaesthesiologist who stood at my head leaned forward and told me, 'You will turn numb soon, tell me in case you feel any kind of discomfort'. I nodded slightly, the oxygen mask almost suffocating me. A screen was placed just below my chest to save me from the sight of all the gore and the surgery began in no time. In fifteen minutes, my whole body was shaking as the doctor forcefully pulled something out of me. I heard the sweetest cry soon after, and was told, “It is a girl.”

The anaesthesiologist leaned forward to face me yet again and told me, “A girl child.” I smiled through the oxygen mask. The baby was shown to me only after she was wiped squeaky clean. She was still crying and was taken out of the room. Meanwhile, I was told that I will be shifted to another bed and taken to GICU. I felt like a vegetable all the while when I was shifted to another bed and taken to GICU. I had an empty bump and a new addition-a urine bag.

My baby girl was in an infant cot next to me. I fell asleep shortly after and woke up to intense pain. I could now feel the stitches and couldn't move an inch. I looked at the baby who was sleeping peacefully. One day, she'd undergo everything that I did today, I thought.

The only relief I could find at the moment was that it was not her who was going through the pain from the fresh wound, but me. A nurse walked over to me and said, “It is feeding time,” and placed the baby on my breast. I had no power to raise my hand or hold the baby. “I am cut in half,” the pain reminded me through the night, depriving me of sleep.

The next morning, I was woken up at 4:00 am again. “Let's get freshened up,” said the nurse. “Excuse me? Didn't you just cut me open a few hours back?” I wanted to ask. She made it sound so normal that I imagined myself running to the bathroom rather than walk. She turned the lever of the semi folding bed and helped me sit up. I tried to place my legs to the side of the bed. It was then that I realized that the muscles that are involved in moving the lower body are not just in my thighs.

I moved my legs inch by inch, saying 'ouch' after every move. The nurse was of small frame and wasn't as promising a support as she hoped to be. However, she cheered me on and I got up after what felt like a walk on dying embers. The wash room was at the other end of the room, and I had to walk several meters. The nurse held my hand and we walked, one step at a time, ouch-ouching all the way.

She held my urine bag and we reached the wash room. She helped me clean myself and I changed into another gown. I couldn't stand upright, and settled to a new posture that had my torso slightly bent inward. The nurse seated me next to another patient as she wanted to have my tangled hair combed and tied. I saw trails of blood clots on the floor, from my bed to the wash area.

I placed my urine bag on the floor and scanned the room. There were four other women in the room, including the one who sat next to me. Whenever the newborns cried, one of the nurses walked up to them and took them into their arms and patted them until they fell asleep again. Thoughts of the days ahead of me worried me. I wondered how I was going to handle the pain from surgery and how long I will have to hold up before it finally goes away. I wondered if getting up often to feed the baby would be possible for me.

I took a deep breath and looked at the woman next to me who also looked like she was living in her head. “Was this your first delivery?” I asked. “No,” she said, her eyes still fixed on some random pen on the nurses' desk.

She seemed to be in pain, so was everybody in there. “Does it hurt really bad?” I asked, trying to alleviate my pain as much as I wanted to take away hers. She looked at me and smiled slightly. “Is this your first?” she asked. I smiled wider, happy that she got talking. “Yes,” I said, “a girl.”

She nodded. “Don't worry about the pain. It was a major surgery that you had.” She went on to tell me that I'll be given enough pain killers to help me deal with the pain. She had compassion and love in her eyes and a slight smile on her lips. There she was, helping me deal with the abrupt shift from a pregnant belly to a sutured belly, with a sutured one herself.

“How many kids do you have?” I saw her smile wax and wane at my question. She looked down at the floor and murmured, “None.” Until that very moment, I had believed that we were going through the same pain. By the time the nurse took me back to my bed and tied my hair, my mind was wandering through the bottomless pit of agony she was in. I wondered if I'd ever be able to be half of a being that she was, to prioritize someone who was better off before myself.

She came back to her bed, that was to my right. She smiled at me as she struggled to lie down on her bed. She didn't have an infant cot next to her, that was unlike everybody else in the GICU. We all had a happy ending to our pain, but none of us were smiling. This woman was at the other end of the spectrum and was smiling. In a span of twenty-four hours, I heard a woman cry in the most excruciating pain of giving birth to her eternal bundle of joy and another woman smile through the greatest grief imaginable- unimaginable.

“I am sorry,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “Don't be,” she said and paused for a bit and then continued. “The first miscarriage that I had was when I was twelve weeks pregnant. We had sessions with a therapist to help us get over it. Two years later, we got pregnant again. We were afraid to be happy after the first miscarriage that I had. Last night, I did not feel the baby move for a few hours. We didn't want to wait and drove to the hospital. The doctor checked and said that there was no heartbeat. I was thirty three weeks pregnant. I was almost there. ” She sighed. My heart froze as she said that.

“I had to deliver my baby normally. I was in labour for twenty-two hours. At the twenty second hour, when normal delivery meant risking my life, a C-section was decided.”

She told me that she'd do anything in the world to know how her baby would cry or smile. She had to endure all the pain and had nothing to look forward to. She had a home ready to welcome the baby, but she was going back with empty hands. She was going back to therapy, not motherhood. She said she'd trade anything to wake up at odd hours to soothe her crying baby or put up with his hissy fit; that she would be grateful that her baby was alive and well.

She smiled at me as I sat there in utter shock. I hoped that her smile didn't mean that she was losing a piece of her sane self. I scolded myself for worrying about having to get up to feed the baby with a fresh wound. I felt immensely grateful for being alive and for my baby who was sleeping peacefully. I wished I could somehow make things easier for the lady.

“It is feeding time,” said the nurse as she walked to my bed and drew the curtains. She placed the baby on my chest. This time, I lifted my hand and held my baby girl. I kept looking at her angelic face as she suckled my breast. I was happy that I could hold her, that she was crying when she was taken out of my womb. After a while, the nurse came back to take the baby back to the infant cot. “Let her lie next to me,” I told the nurse, who drew open the curtains and left.

I looked up at the bed next to me. She wasn't there. The bed was empty. I whimpered as I reached for the switch to call for the nurse. “What happened?” a nurse rushed towards me.

“Where is that woman who was in this bed?”

“Which bed, ma'am?” The nurse looked back at me after glancing at the bed at my right side.

“This one, right here,” I said, my voice shaking.

“That bed has been empty since you came, ma'am. Are you alright?”

“No. It can't be,” I muttered, her smile still fresh in my mind.

Perhaps she was my mind's way of alleviating my pain. Maybe she was someone who lost her life during those twenty-two hours of intense labour and wanted to tell me that my baby is special, that many have it worse. That is the only way I could make sense of that soul-stirring smile – her happiness of having been together with her babies.

An angel visited me last night. That was how Abbu started his final letter to Dada Jaan according to Deepa Saxena, the Inspector General of Tihar Prisons.

Abbu continued to write:

A few hours back the officials came to check my weight so that they could calculate the height of the final drop so as to make sure that I did not endure any physical suffering in the process. Bapu, I was not getting sleep. It was not because I knew that I was getting closer to the end of the journey of my life. It was certainly not because I was worried about the future of our family, for I am sure Diya is quite capable of taking care of all matters better than me. It was just because I was feeling empty. It was not my mind that was empty, if that was what struck you first. My mind was full of good memories about you, Ammi and Diya. What was worrying me was my empty stomach. I know that you will be laughing when you read this. You will be saying after all these years I have not changed. You will be saying that my son has seen many countries unknown to me, learned many things which I do not know but he still remains the same young boy who used to bother me in the middle of the night asking me to take him out to food stall of Parveshbhai to have lots of pani puri and bhel puri, of course with plenty of spices.

Bapu, I wish I could walk with you for one more night with you holding my hand tightly so that I will not lose my way. Once more I wish we could go to have the food from Parveshbhai. If you meet him, tell him that I am going to miss his spicy food.

I was sure that I was not going to get any sleep until I ate something.  I think there is special food privilege for a person awaiting death row. Doesn’t the constitution of this country say that a man or woman awaiting death shall not do it on an empty stomach? I thought I should shout at the guard on duty. Get me some food. I wanted to order him. But then I saw that he was already sleeping. Poor fellow, he did not sleep properly the last few days. It was only a few hours back that Bahadur Singh said to me about his sick seven year old son who was suffering from dengue. He was hospitalized as his condition worsened even after giving medication. As he was explaining to me about the sleepless nights he spent by his son’s side in the hospital praying every moment to Waheguru I could see a bit of you in him.

My mind went back to one of those school summer holidays I had. I know you will correctly guess which one I am talking about. You are right. I am thinking of the very last summer that I spent with Ammi. I want to take you to that hot day when the temperature crossed forty degrees Celsius and I suddenly fell down while I was playing cricket along with some of the neighbouring boys and one newcomer in the street in front of our house. Before I move on can you spot who that new boy was? Don’t you remember? It was none other than Virat Kohli, who had come there to make a visit to a friend of his father. What was his age at that time? He might have been only thirteen or fourteen years old. But what beautiful shots he played. Though I played for the opposite team I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed his batting display. He was in full flow with some majestic cover drives, flawless straight drives and exquisite flicks on his toes. What was most impressive about him was the maturity he showed at that age with not even a bit of display of aggression though runs were bleeding nonstop.

All of a sudden Virat stepped out to play a lofted shot with the intention of reaching a century with a six. After all he was also a boy and like other boys he could not resist the desire to reach the milestone as fast as he could. Unfortunately he miscued the shot. As the ball went up I started running backwards to catch it with the entire team egging me to get hold of it so as to end the plundering innings of the new boy. While everyone out on the street was focusing on your son I kept my eyes on the ball with the firm belief that I was completely in control of the situation. Suddenly as the ball began to come down I lost confidence. I felt everything around me was going round and round. Bapu, I was collapsing to the ground. All that I remember was my eyes slowly shutting down with a view of the ball sailing past me and faintly hearing the batting team celebrating with screams as the boy completed his century. I have no idea about what happened in the next few hours.

When I opened my eyes I was on a hospital bed with a drip tube on my left hand. A few feet away I could hear a doctor, who seemed not to be in such a good mood, speaking to you in an unforgiving voice. He was bombarding you with critical questions. Why did you not take precautions to keep mosquitoes away from the house? Why can’t you keep your house clean? Why did you not give proper attention to the boy? Why did it take so much time to bring your son to the hospital? I saw Ammi standing next to you wiping her eyes as the doctor said that I was having malaria and in a cruel manner stressed that my condition was critical.

I tell you Bapu, it was not your fault that I got malaria. Mosquitoes always have a special liking for my blood. It is for sure that suppose there are ten people in a room including me and a mosquito happens to make an unwelcome entry she is certain to land first on my skin to suck my blood. I also want to tell you that it was not you or Ammi’s fault that I did not get immediate attention. I was not feeling good from the previous day but I did not tell that to you as I feared that then you would not allow me to go out and play. I think no doctor should expect a boy to remain at home and do nothing but take rest during summer holidays. I also think that a doctor should not lose hope so fast in such situations as what happened when the disease was aggravating with my body not responding to medicines. As you will be remembering things began to change from the next day and within a week the doctor gave the verdict that a miracle has happened. Your son was safe. It was certainly a miracle. It all happened because of you. Yes Bapu, I came to know from Ammi how you used to kneel by the window of the hospital room in the direction of Mecca and persistently perform incessant prayers. I came to know that you prayed to Allah to remove all sickness from my body and transfer it to yours. Allah heard your prayers. Yes Bapu, I survived the fatal disease only because of your prayers. 

So I was mentioning about Bahadur Singh. Bapu, when Diya comes to Tihar to get my body, tell her to meet him and give him some money. He has been good to me. Some kind of financial help will be useful for him now.

Having said all these I have to add that my problem still persisted. But not willing to give up so easily I made one more attempt to get some sleep. For the last time I went ahead with the task of transforming the blankets into a bed and a pillow. Three for the bed and one for the pillow and then I will be left with one blanket to cover myself. That is the perfect way to do it. But such perfection is possible only in normal temperature and pressure. The problem is temperature is extremely low in Delhi these days.  Bapu, you need not come to Delhi now to get my body. Climate here will be too cold for you. Let Diya come alone. Do not worry about your daughter-in-law. She can manage everything by herself. I know you are also worried about me on how I am managing in this cold. Do not worry about your son as well. I managed to get an extra blanket that is keeping me quite warm. I am extremely thankful to a friendly prison official for doing this act of kindness. I cannot disclose to you in this letter the name of this helpful person as it could put him in trouble for breaching the rule. Since my official request to have an additional blanket was already rejected by the warden citing rules in the prison book law any identification of his nice deed could result in some stern action being taken against him.

I wished that kind hearted friend had desired to see me one last time. To tell you the truth it was not that I craved to see him once more but if he had come to my cell I could have requested him to get me some food. Yes, Bapu, food was the only thing that I had in mind while curling inside that blanket in my endeavour to have some sleep.

I do not know how much more time went like that before I felt someone touch my forehead. I opened my eyes to see the angel in front of me. She looked so young that nobody would have agreed if I had introduced her to be my mother. Bapu, shall I tell you a truth? Remember the Saturday evening walks when you used to take her to the phool bazaar to get her favourite jasmine garland. If you now walk with her to a flower shop the seller will surely ask you which garland you wished to buy for your beautiful daughter. Now I see that you are raising your hand. My dear Bapu, why should you get so angry when I am telling you the truth? See it like this. It should make you proud for being an excellent husband who has maintained his wife in such good condition even after so many years.

Now I see you smile. Talking about smile I hope you remember that Diwali eve when you took me and Ammi to Patakha Phooljhadi Gali. I was so happy that evening for you bought me a big beautiful red balloon printed with a green leaf image of Ganapathy, the elephant God. Pulling the thread of the balloon and hanging on to your hand I was talking to you non-stop on how I was going to fly high and touch the heights of the sky with my balloon. My imagination seemed to break all limits and my excitement was mounting as I was fully aware that you were keenly listening to me.  Then we met a friend or relative of yours or Ammi. I do not recollect who it was. But what I do recall is that for me at that moment he was the evilest person in the whole of earth for from the instant you saw him you lost all interest in my imaginative adventures with my balloon. I tried not once but twice to get back your attention to what I wanted to tell you. First Ammi and then you made me aware that I should remain silent as you were discussing something important. I wondered what could be more important for you than listening to your son about flying in the sky. Saying to myself how much I hated your company I wanted to be left alone with my balloon. Without you noticing I released my hand from your grip and moved ahead with me making a list to things to do with my balloon. But the excitement was short lived for I looked around to see a crowd of strange people.  Losing the sense of security that was till then present in my life I cried that I wanted to see Ammi. I wanted to be with you. I wanted you to hold me closely. Having no clue on what I should do to find you I stood there stunned. Not knowing what went through both of your minds on finding that I was no longer with you I wished that somehow you could find your way to me. Oh Allah, please help me. I looked at the balloon which continued to fly high. Staring at the image of Ganapathy I made a prayer. Before I was finished with my plea I found someone grabbing me. It was you, Bapu. Where did you run away, you naughty boy? You asked me. I smiled at you. That was the happiest moment in my life. You embraced me after thanking the balloon, for it was that which helped you to trace your son. Ammi, who stood next to you, reminded you that you should be thanking Lord Ganapathy for according to her it was His invisible hands that brought me back to her. I can never forget the way she smiled at me on that moment. 

Bapu, she still has that pure smile that helped me to overcome all the tiredness I felt of not being able to sleep on the cold winter night yesterday.

Are you hungry, my son? She asked. She had brought with her my much desired kadhi and daal which I ate till my stomach was full. Though I wanted to ask her so many questions while I was eating she did not let me. You better not talk while eating. She insisted as always. But even after I had finished she did not allow me to ask her any question for it was she who controlled the conversation.

First she wanted to know everything about Manu. How is my grandson? Who does he look like? Has he started talking? Did he say Dada or Mama first? Has he started walking? Has he cut his first tooth? Is he naughty like his father? Is he troubling his mother and grandfather? So on and so forth. I told her what Diya said to me about him. He loves to build, thump down, drain, dismantle, touch, bend and crush everything he can get his hands on. When Bapu gives him loud kisses he gives back a big smile showing his first tooth. He loves to run his fingers through Bapu’s chest, feeling the velvetiness of the white curls and then abruptly pluck one silver hair.

After I finished answering all her questions about Manu I thought she would give me a chance to ask her a few questions. But I completely underestimated her inquisitiveness for she began to shoot at me the next set of questions. This time it was about Diya. Is she managing our house properly? Is she taking care of Bapu? Is she happy to be back in India? Does she cook well? Is she employed?

The question list went on until she knew that I was extremely sleepy as I began to stretch and yawn. She slowly laid my head on her lap. She must have stayed with me until she was sure that I was sleeping. Is it not so true that mothers stay awake until they are sure that their children are in deep sleep?

When I woke up Ammi had gone leaving behind the aroma of the jasmine garland she was wearing. But I do not feel sorry that I did not get more time to spent with her because I know that it is a matter of time before I enter into a new world where she will be waiting to greet me. She will secure me to make sure that I am comfortable in the new place with the new set of rules to be followed to lead an eternal life. Bapu, having told you this I am pausing for a moment for I can hear your heart which is beating ever so fast with an increasing eagerness to join me and Ammi. Even for a moment if there is a tinge of cowardice inching into your mind coercing you to perform any act intended to end your life let me tell you an easy way to get out of that. Think about the smiling face of your grandson. Think of him reaching out his hands to you. Bapu, I want you to make a promise. You will live to see the marriage of your grandson so that when to join me in the new world you can tell me about my daughter-in-law. For now that is all from your son. There is plenty more to talk to you which I shall reserve for another time.  

That was the end of Abbu’s letter.

Deepaji said to Dada Jaan that on the day Abbu was executed he did not have breakfast.

“Madame, it seems he does not like the prison food. May be we can order some special biriyani from the Taj Hotel?” the jail warden, who had accompanied Deepaji, mockingly said.

“Stop it Ramdev.” She did not like her assistant’s tone. “You are not feeling hungry?” She turned to Abbu and asked. “Are you feeling fine?” She was concerned.

“Madame, please do not worry. I am doing perfectly fine.” Abbu replied. “I know you can hang me only if I am in good health.” He gave her a calm smile. “And Ramdevji, I do not need any biriyani. I had the best food last night. You too should have tasted it. I bet you would have loved it. I do not wish to eat anything more in this life.”

Thinking that he was making fun of the two dry rotis and bowl of dal provided last evening as dinner to all prisoners, Ramdev burst out. “Madame, you see his arrogance. This is not the way to treat such bastards. I say tie this mother fucker to a pillar and beat him until every ounce of fat is removed from his body. Then cut his body into parts and feed him to the street dogs of Delhi.”

“How dare you use such language in front of me? Didn’t you hear what I said before? If you utter a single word more you can collect the suspension order from me.” She lost her temper.

“Madame, don’t get so upset. Please allow his anger to come out. Let him open up his heart and speak.” Abbu kept smiling at Ramdev.

“Rumman, I hope you know the time it is going to take place.” After taking a deep breath she asked Abbu.

“You meant about my hanging, didn’t you? I know Madame. Exactly 9:30 am.” He remained composed.

“I will be here at 9 am. I will accompany you.”

“I will be looking forward to having your company. So see in an hour.” He once again smiled at her.

As she left he asked whether his family knew that he was going to be executed that morning. Without giving him a reply she looked at him.

The next hour just flew away. This time Deepaji arrived at the cell without Ramdev, who in spite of wanting to see Abbu being hanged had to remain in the office following strict orders from her. 

“Madame, can you please do me a favour?” Abbu asked her.

“Sure Rumman. Tell me.” She replied pressing his shoulder.

“When Diya comes here to get my body, tell her to be strong. Tell her not to waste her life mourning my death. Tell her to find happiness in life.”

“I will talk to her.” She said, pressing his shoulder. “Anything else you want, Rumman?” She asked.

“No Madame. I am ready. So shall we move?”

As they walked out of the cell through the prison corridor that led to the execution chamber a disturbing silence hung in the air. Suddenly to break the stillness Abbu began to hum a song. It was a catchy number which changed the mood of Deepaji, the second Police officer and the doctor, who accompanied him.

“It is a good song.” Deepaji commented.

“It is a popular song. You haven’t heard of it?”

“No. Who has sung it?”

“It is the Gallows Pole sung by Led Zeppelin. It has some lovely lyrics.”

“What do the lyrics say?” asked the doctor.

“It talks about a young woman pleading to the hangman to stop the execution for some time.  She hopes that her lover will come to bribe him with gold and save her.”

Although they wanted to know whether that woman was saved or not they preferred not to ask him on finding that the hangman was ready to perform the execution.

It was Deepaji who asked Abbu if he had any last wish to which he just nodded his head to convey that he had nothing more to add.   I stopped Dada Jaan at that moment. I did not wish to torment him by forcing him to describe to me how his son’s hands were tied to the back.

I hugged Dada Jaan tightly. You need not have to tell me how the hangman put the rope around my father’s neck. There is no need to tell me about the police officer who gave the signal to the hangman to go ahead. There is no need to tell me what went through my father’s mind when he pulled the lever. There is no need to tell me about the long drop.

Abbu must have lost his consciousness as soon as his neck broke and spine was severed in less than a second. That is what Deepaji said. That is what the doctor said to her. But can the doctor be sure about it? Can anyone assure me that he did not sense anything in the next five minutes before his brain stopped functioning? Can anyone assure me that he did not feel anything in the next fifteen minutes until his heart stopped beating? Can anyone tell me that he did not wish to see Ammi or Dada Jaan or me one last time?

I would like to close the disclosure to you on the events on the final day of Abbu by mentioning an official letter of importance. On the Saturday morning, shortly before Abbu was hanged, a letter addressed to Ma intended to intimate her of the exact date and time of the execution flew from Tihar by means of Speed Post- yes as the name indicates the fastest of the fast mail service in this country-and landed in the head post office of my city. But it was already evening and the clock was past 5 pm.  “No delivery of letters after 5 pm.” The postmaster declared. “Ok Sir, we will deliver it tomorrow, then.” The postman replied. “How is it possible? Tomorrow is Sunday. No public service on Sundays.” The postmaster reminded. “Of course Sir, rules are meant to be followed. We will deliver on Monday, then.” The postman confirmed. But on Monday morning by the time he reached our house after repairing the punctured tyre of his bicycle we had already left for Delhi to get Abbu’s body. So cursing all of us for unnecessarily forcing him to cycle through bumpy roads the postman returned the letter to the post office. From there it flew back to Tihar with a stamp from the postmaster that stated addressee-not-available. However before it reached Delhi we returned to our home along with Abbu.

Every day, every moment I feel like giving up, yet I don't know what stops me. It is so dark in here that I have lost track of time. I still remember when I gained my senses. I was tied up in this sack and could not move my feet. My knee was touching my chest. My hands were free but there were no clothes on me. I felt suffocated and did not understand what happened. I looked around and it was complete darkness. I was clutched by these chains around my stomach. As time passed, the only thing that kept me awake was hope, hope that one day I will be free, and I will see the one person who did this to me.

 In the initial days It was pin drop silence, and I could not hear anything except myself. The size of the sack made it impossible for me to move. Every day the only access to normalcy was when I was served food. They never missed to serve me food on time. I realized that whoever has held me captive here did not want me to die. But what about freedom? If you have been lonely, you understand what I am saying. The feeling of no access to the world, the silence that kills you, no sunlight and every moment that passes like an hour. Who could do this to me? I never hurt anyone or did anything bad to deserve this. God bring an end to my misery. Days passed and then weeks and then months. The cycle continued. The only time I could gain access to the outside world is when they served me food. I wanted to ask them, but I could not see the person who delivered it.

As time passed, I made myself stronger, I wanted to get out of this. The sack was so opaque that I could not tell where I was. Was I in a jail, a room, or some ship? I could occasionally feel the movement of water and the sack moving to and fro. Maybe I was on a ship and being moved to some remote place. Where was I going? If only I could cut through this sack. My nails were growing, suddenly I thought I could use them to try and tear off the sack. I shouted, "Hello! Can anybody hear me? Please get me out. I am Parth, what have I done? Where am I? I kept asking but I could hear nothing except myself. Out in frustration I touched my hair, but I was shocked to find that I had none, they had shaved off my hair. I thought of my family, I wanted to see my mother. How would she feel? Will I ever be able to see her?

The routine continued, and I was losing patience now. I wanted to be free. I gathered all the strength in my hands and tore the sack apart using my nails. Finally, I was free! or at least that is what I thought initially. What I saw seemed like a nightmare. I was not free I was trapped in another sack a bigger one! I could see some light, it seemed like a lot of red lights were lit up outside. The sack was translucent but was stronger than the previous one. I tried tearing it, kicking on it but to no avail. I had to think of something else. Even though I could not see the view outside I could still hear the gush of water and the ship moved to and fro. During the night, the red lights would be switched off and I would be thrown into complete darkness. I tried to sleep but the ship moved sometimes to the left and sometimes to the right. I would dash against the walls of the sack but did not hit any wall. The timely provision of food continued. The chains around my stomach made sure I could not run away. I tried to pull them, but it was stronger than I expected. All I could do was wait.

A few more weeks passed, but no one could hear me. I kept shouting but there was no answer. The ship continued to move, and it felt that I would not be unloaded anywhere sooner. I had no bath for weeks now, my skin turned reddish, there were wrinkles on my skin and my hair had grown. My nails were growing, the sound of water continued. The food was on time. Since I was tied up in this place and was consuming food without any physical work, I had put on some weight. I tried to break the shackles and the sack in which I was contained. I kicked and could not bear the claustrophobia. I decided that this is IT, I need to be free now. I started moving about and tried with full force to make myself free. I could feel that the boat was moving quickly now. I could hear sounds, a group of people talking and discussing something. Someone was crying in pain. Were there others who were trapped like me? what is going on? I cried for help but could not get a response.

Suddenly the sack started moving as if something on top of it was pushing it down. I tried to push harder in a hope that I could get out. My heart started racing and I could feel the desperation in me. The push from the top was coming in equal intervals now. Slowly but steadily the sack started to move. Finally, like a miracle I could see light. Was this the moment I had been waiting for? I pushed myself out, feet first and tried to find land to step on. But to my shock something caught my leg. I was in utter fear but could not see anything since the excessive light had blinded me. I tried to free my feet, but something more powerful than me had caught hold of it. The mysterious thing pulled me; I did not try to resist I wanted to be free. Finally, I was out, it took some time to open my eyes. I don't know for how long I had been there without light. To my horror I was held by a monster with protruding eyes staring right at me. The monster had eyes but no mouth or teeth, it seemed they were covered. He held me and made a roar, "IT'S A BOY".

Epilogue and Apology:
Like every other sane human, I understand that the birth of a new life is one of the most beautiful things in this world. Even though we as mature humans think that we are taking amazing care of the baby we don't know how the new life which is unaware of the world feels about it. I apologise in case anyone feels that the above interpretation is hurtful. My intension was to put forth one possible was an ignorant new-born would investigate the process of its entry to the world. No Offense meant.

END

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The age difference between us was really small. I was older than him by one year. So, our relationship was not like the usual sibling relationships where the older kid tells the younger one what they will do and how they will do. I never used to boss him around. We were more like twins, owing to our closeness in age. In fact, I think it is because of this absence of dominance between us that I am still not able to remember whose decision it was-mine or his. Even after all these years.

Sometimes I ponder over this question for long durations. I have spent countless sleepless nights by trying to remember whose idea it was. It won't make any difference to how things have turned out. But atleast I will know who was to be blamed for the things that had happened- me or him.

Our home used to be on the top of a small hill and everyday our school bus would drop us at the bottom of the hill. Every evening, my brother and I used to wait at the bus stop, at the bottom of the hill, after getting off the school bus. We never walked up the hill to our home on our own because we were too lazy to carry our heavy school bags during the steep ascent. So, instead we used to wait at the bus stop till our mother returned from work.

The locality around the bus stop was an almost deserted place for most of the day since it only had a small temple and an old grocery shop. The shop was open only during the morning session. The shopkeeper was too old to perform his trade throughout the day but since he had grown accustomed to being in his shop, he still opened his shop every morning as if it was some kind of ritual that was keeping him alive.The temple received very few visitors owing to the fact that there were a couple of bigger temples within 2 km radius. People have a strange tendency to visit larger temples when compared to small ones. As if the God in the larger temple will be more powerful! The result of all these was that the area around our bus stop will be a lonely place by the evening except for the few buses that occasionally passed through the road. 

The area behind the shop and temple was a wasteland with lush green grass cover but it was fairly hidden from view by huge rocks on three sides and the shop and temple on the fourth side. The rocks gradually merged with the hill on going higher. We always wondered what that place was like. Many questions were asked by us, to our elders, about that mysterious place behind the shop but none of the answers we received were good enough to quench our curiosity. Childhood can be equated to curiosity. No amount of explanation or reasoning from anyone can suffice the curiosity in the minds of a kid as much as him/her experiencing it on his/her own.

One evening, we decided (one of us might have suggested the idea and the other apparently agreed)  to explore the 'mystery place' behind the shop while we waited for our mother to return from work. There was a narrow path between the shop and the temple walls that led to the wasteland. We walked through the path till we reached the vast open space covered with green grass and enclosed  by huge rocks on three sides. The grass in the area reached upto our knees. Somehow the place seemed so beautiful and we both felt happy to have finally 'discovered' this place. The initial part of the ground was very muddy yet walkable. We started running around the place. I was chasing him and he started running into the middle of the wasteland. He was a little ahead of me when I noticed that my feet were sinking into the ground. I looked at my brother to find that he had also stopped running and was looking down. He complained that his feet were also sinking into the ground. Before we could understand that we had run into a marsh that was completely covered with grass, we started to sink into it. I tried to grab on anything that was near me but all my hands could find was grass. We started shouting for help with all our might and I can still remember the sound of our cries and the echoes it made on the rocks on the three sides. That was the last sound I had heard before I started drowning in the waters of the marsh. I only have fragmented memories of the events that followed- water gushing into my insides, desperate attempts to hold on to something, someone grabbing me by the hand, my mother's loud wailing and the funeral. 

Was it God who decided that I was to survive on that day and my brother was to die on that marsh? Or was it just a coincidence that someone decided to save me first before going after my brother. Deep down I strongly believe that he deserved to be saved on that day instead of me. I am always searching for answers- in the deepest parts of my mind, in the broken memories of that day and in the nightmares about that day. Yes, I still have dreams about that fateful day. But the dreams are not about my drowning, instead I see him drowning and I can hear the echoes of his cries in those dreams. In those dreams I see him drowning in the marsh while I stand on the side watching it.

The more I think about that day, the questions in my mind become sharper and it starts pricking my mind. Maybe it was my idea to visit the marsh and my subconscious mind chose to forget it somehow since it felt that guilt will be harder to suffer than this confused state of whether to feel guilty or sad.

Miss Scrum Master who recently completed her Scrum Master certification was chosen to travel to Mr. Billionaire's client location for a new digital transformation project, and she had to report at the client's office in two weeks' time. It was an exciting opportunity, but it was too soon for her to prepare. But as you know "Opportunities never knock twice". They are like sunrises and if you wait too long, you will miss them, and she could not afford to lose something as important as this. Therefore she decided to pull herself together and did everything in her ability to get this moving.

She reported to Mr. Billionaire's office as planned, and began working there. Coordinating with everyone in this newfound atmosphere was more difficult than she expected, as everyone had their own hidden agendas. Tools were obsolete and processes were not followed by the employees there. It was getting tougher for her.

This happened during a project review meeting which was scheduled to come up with some major decisions. People who were invited did not turn up on time. Mr. Jugaad who was the client-side Delivery Manager who spent most of his time on stocks day-trading at the office came to the conference room.

Miss Scrum Master complained in a low voice, "I am sad that people are not following processes here."
He raised his eyes from the laptop screen and murmured, "What do you think you are here for?" And then he continued working on his laptop.

That made her think! "True!, I would not have gotten this opportunity to work here if all processes were followed by everyone. I need to make a difference soon!"

She walked up to the COO's office and requested him to join the meeting. He was surprised and happy that someone is taking the initiative to bring people together!
She presented the current state of the project and requested everyone's suggestions for the next steps. It was a fruitful meeting and she came out of the conference room smiling and thanking Mr. Jugaad for nudging her to think in a positive direction!

From then whenever she had a thought of complaining about a bad situation, she started turning it around as "What can I do to make a difference in this situation!"

Yes, instead of complaining, if we all can think of a solution to that problem, however small that may be, the world will be a better place!

Today, it is a very romantic night. But let me give you a quick definition of our romantic night. It is that night when both of our toddlers sleep early, and hubby doesn’t have late-night meetings and my work for the day is done. It’s a wild combination and seldom happens together. So yes, this is indeed a very romantic night.

We started sweet-talking each other and I quickly brushed up my memory power and talked about one particular memory. It was soon after our wedding. When we visited my in-laws, they noticed a red mark on his neck and started questioning. The young generation burst into laughter while the old generation slowly understood things. It was a long-lost memory and I felt so loved by just telling him about it. But HE was sitting there without many reactions and asked straight to my face, ‘when did this happen’? I was dumbstruck, awestruck, thunderstruck and all the other synonyms as well. I could remember that as a scene in my favorite movie and here he sits thinking whether I made up the story.

So I asked him, tell me one of your fondest memory and put a sudden halt to the romantic night. He said he remembers everything and mentioned all the trips we went on. I insisted on hearing a specific memory. He thought for a while and said, ‘ohh I remember that day… In Goa… We went alone walking… It was hartal and noontime… It was piping hot and we didn’t get any food… Do you remember that?’ I was seriously in the process of getting undressed. And there goes another romantic night for vain.

A little crowd had already gathered by the time he emerged out of the woods that morning. They’d been greeting him at the same spot on the third Sunday of every month for many years now. The giant banyan tree under which they met shielded them from the sun and the occasional downpour. He could hear the kids calling out to him as he approached closer. He had reached the age where nobody really knew his name; being comfortable with the name which had passed down over generations. They called him the Puppet Master.

As the first order of business, he put his rucksack down and pulled out all its contents. He then quietly went about setting up the stage for the day’s performance. The younger members of the audience were vocal about their frustration over the delay but he was not going to start until everything was set up just the way he wanted them to be. Over the years he had told them stories of men and women, of heroes and their quests, of kings and warriors, of defeating evil and vanquishing demons. Stories filled with love, laughter, thrills, and valour. He memorized countless stories, some of which had become firm favourites with his audience. He had chosen one of those generational classics for the day.

Stories and storytelling always fascinated him. Every story transported him to a different world where he lived out every moment in the narrative, and he continued to be in that world long after the story was over. From a very young age, he was transfixed by what the puppeteer does behind the veil and often hassled the puppeteer in his village to teach him how to breathe life into these puppets. All his persistence paid off one day as the puppeteer turned around and said ‘Yes’. That changed his life forever and set him on this journey sprawled over many decades.

As the crowd was building up, he opened another box. It had four puppets which could be dressed up to look like the characters whose story was to be told that day. He believed that any story worth telling had a talking animal in it. The box also contained miniature animals who were often served as comic relief or important plot devices in his stories. He dressed up his Warrior and the Demon-lord. He collected all the props he would need from the sack and set them by his side. The stage was set and the show began…

He knew the Warrior’s quest to save his kingdom and the details of his choreography right down to the tiniest detail. One by one, the hero went about collecting the missing pieces of the enchanted Dragon-scale armour which were essential in defeating his nemesis. Every encounter during the hero’s journey was met with gasps of excitement and tangible anticipation regarding the grandeur of the final confrontation. One glance through the gap in the curtains and the Puppet Master knew; he had the audience gripped. In spite of the affirmation, something bothered at the back of his mind. His fingers and hands were not as nimble and graceful as they used to be. His voice wasn’t hitting the notes it used to. Waves of time were taking back parts of him along with it. He felt old. His body was tiring. The realization that he had more performances behind him than ahead dawned upon him. Telling stories was all he knew. Ignorance over what awaited him in a life away from all this sent a chill down his spine. He forced these thoughts to the back of his mind, continuing with the show. Maybe it was his anger over these distractions, or the overcompensating urge to prove his own skills to himself, but when the Warrior, who now wore the entire enchanted armour, jumped and swung his sword at the Demon-lord’s neck, the strings which held him snapped and the hero fell off the stage with a thud.

The old man felt an icicle grow within him. The laughter which followed the disbelief among the assembled crowd pierced into him like needles. He was not prepared for this embarrassment. He rushed to the front of the stage and apologized to the crowd. He picked up his puppet and cleared the dust off it. He held the Warrior close to his chest and apologized to him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks by then. The crowd wished for the rest of the story to be told anyway. He politely refused to grant them their wish for he knew he couldn’t. Some of them turned hostile and some of them tried to comfort him. Neither made any difference. As the crowd slowly disbanded he kneeled on the ground and dismantled the makeshift puppet stage. The rucksack was filled and all the puppets went back into the box except the Warrior, whom he was holding against his chest and still apologizing to. The baggage felt heavier than ever before as he made his journey back to his cabin within the woods.

Many have asked him why he chose to live within the woods rather than settle in one of the villages. His reply was always swift.

“I have everything I need there and it’s at the same distance from all the villages that surround these woods.”

The trail back home was beautiful. The kind of beauty that would draw out a rhyme or two from the most hardened hearts. He saw none of it now. Just a pounding heart and watery eyes. The journey felt longer than he had known it to be. He had walked quite the distance when he heard it.

“This old bastard will ruin everything, won’t he?”, the Demon-lord was speaking now.

“Quiet!!“, the Warrior commanded. “Don’t want anyone hearing us.”

“Oh, come on!! No one is listening to us…Move faster, puppet!!”

“I can hear his heartbeat from here, any faster and it will explode. Just get us home. We will worry about the rest later.”

The old man made the rest of the journey with a sense of impending doom, which he would have happily traded for that exploding heart.

Once they reached the cabin he put down the box and let out its inhabitants, who were already arguing loudly in tongues the old man didn’t understand. He walked towards a corner and locked a cuff around his left ankle. The cuff was fixed to the wall through a long steel chain. He sat on his bed, face buried in his hands, awaiting repercussions for his failure earlier that day.

Upon hearing footsteps he looked up and saw the Warrior walking towards him with an expression which could almost pass for sympathy. “We knew this day would come, it is an issue with you mortals.
I know you’ll be the first one to admit that things aren’t the way they used to be. It’s not your fault. We know that.”

Tears were making their way out of the old man’s eyes now.

“We need to tell stories and we can’t do that if the tools are faulty…“, he continued.

“So, here is what you do. The next time some starry-eyed kid expresses its desire to learn what you do, say yes!!”

“Don’t worry about yourself, puppet. We could always use new animals.“, chuckled the Demon-lord, from the background.

“This is it. This is how my story ends“, thought the old man, wiping away his tears.

“Do we really need someone? Can’t we just do it on our own?“, asked another puppet.

“People like to believe someone is actually pulling the strings… Makes them feel safer“, the Warrior replied, as he walked away.

 Its been almost midnight, Abraham is walking down a dark alley in a hood with his hands resting inside the pockets . There has been a lot going on in his life lately.Clouds drifted through the sky as doubts in his mind. He is in desperate need of money. The scene of him standing at the hallway of the hospital looking at his daughter's pale face through a tiny visible hole on the ICU door while the doctor saying" its already been too late"is flashing in loops in his head.  His young girl "Ruby", is  the only family he have, And now her  life is at stake. Rubi is diagnosed with a rare kind of heart disease. Abraham has to arrange Five lakhs before sunrise, otherwise his daughter's surgery cannot be carried out.Abraham had lost so much through the years and he can't afford to loose the only family he has.His mind is always filled with doubts and second thoughts but today its determined. 

He had asked for help to many, but none were willing. Abraham is rushing in the direction of his former employer's house hopping that john would understand his current situation. Abraham found himself standing at john's yard, suddenly doubts clouded his mind along with the fear of another turn down. The only thing he could ever loose now is in the hospital bed so he walked up to the door and rang the bell once.He couldn't wait for someone to hear it, rang the bell twice. His impatience has grown from the fear of knowing every second he spends  is a brick  to the wall which is rising in between him and his daughter. 

'Who is it' john's wife lily answered the door.

'Am abraham , i used to work for john, is he home? Abraham replied along with a question. 

'John",  someone called abraham is here to see you, he said he used to work for you' lily called out.

' Coming honey' john replied. 

On the next moment , doubts on lily's face vanished and she let abraham in. Lily's daughter is sitting on the cauch  playing with lego.Abraham sat on the cauch near nathasha and curiously watched her play.Rubi used to love building lego houses,  abraham was brought back to those memories .Rubi is only a little bit older than nathasha. john rushed through the stairs and when he saw abraham, he was surprised. Because he didn't had any follow up on abraham since he left the job without a word.

' What is it, what brought you here, if its about the job we are not having this conversion'. Said john with a bumby voice. 

'No, its my daughter, she is in the hospital bed'. With a slightly fractured tone abraham continued 'She needs surgery, and i dont have the money for that'.while abraham was explaining, he was rudely interrupted by john

 'So, thats your problem not mine infact you don't even work for me anymore '.

Abraham couldn't contain those self centered words of john.

 'Don't say that, i used to work for you for years and you owe me money that come of the allowances '.said abraham with a hard tone.

' I don't owe you shit, there are no legal closure for you to get that money' said john impatiently. 

Abraham knew john was right.lily's face is getting wrinkled and she is not happy with abraham's appearance on this peaceful evening.abraham had to step down as he is the one who in need of help.

'sorry john, i know i wasn't there for you when you needed me and i couldn't alarm you about my resignation either but try to understand, you are my last chance, the only hope to get my daughter out of that hospital bed alive ' said abraham in a pliable manner. 

'Maybe i can but i won't, go learn how to talk to your ex-boss and come back after, then i may consider your fund sanctioning ' said john with edginess.Maybe john is just irritated by abraham's dominant voice or maybe its because he is guilty of bankrolling abrahams fund illegally thinking abraham would never come asking for it.

' Am sorry john for being rude but my daughters life is at stake, lend me money, give me a loan and i will repay you with interest'...'just let me save my daughters life' abraham begged .

 But john has already taken it up to ego' i don't have any money with me and legally you can't get that pf too'.Suddenly lily's voice dominated the room.

'John, can i talk to you for a minute'.john looked at lilly and then abraham.lilly walked into the dinning room and stopped beside the door.john followed her scraching his head because he knew exactly what's going to happen next. 'John", i want that man out of our house now, give him his money or what ever you do i don't care, am not letting you have this conversation anymore infront of our daughter '.john just stood still, didn't spell a word.when lily came back to the leaving room the site she show was shocking. John is holding a gun to natasha's head. Lily didn't knew what else to do, she called out for john with a tremulous voice.john rushed to the living room and he was dismayed and furious at the same time by the sight of abraham pointing a gun at his daughters face.

'You should have understood john, Am a desperate father who would do anything to save my daughters life' said abraham with  determination.lily cautiously walked towards abraham and try to disarm him with words'abraham its a stupid thing to do, she is only a kid, put down the gun and we can talk'.In a split second abraham grabbed natasha and hold her tight towards his body with his left hand.' Just give me the money and i will let her live' said abraham. 

John couldn't control his temper 'You won't do shit, leave my daughter before i break you to the ground'.

 "John" lilly yelled with a shrill voice ' have some sense'. After giving john a strong look she faced towerds abraham 'just put down the gun, we will give you whatever you want'.

john jumped in 'we don't have that much cash with us now but we can arrange it by tommrow '. With a wicked smile on his face abraham replied ' Oh John",Don't you have any concern  on your daughters life. Both john and lily didn't understood what abraham was talking about. With a dramatic look on his face abraham continued  ' The consignment arrives tommrow and the nigerians don't accept anything other than cash, So you already have the cash with you right now'.with a deep look into john's eyes abraham continued ' i worked for you for 15 years and i know everything about you,  but you,  you dont know anything about me'. 

'Ok, ok give him the goddamn money 'said lily out loud to john.Because, of all others in the room she could really see the maniac  behind abrahams eyes and what he have become.He was not the man who walked through that door minutes ago.

When john was about to turn abraham stopped him'No, not you' He pointed the gun in his right hand towards the direction of lily and said ' You'.lily raised her arms about her chest hight and said 'Ok, ok'. 

' And one more thing, dont do anything stupid if you love your daughter' lily was warned by abraham. Lily rushed towards upstairs and came down with the money in her hand.Abraham received the money with his left hand by holding natasha tight with his right arm in which he has the gun.

'you have the money now, let our daughter go' said john.When abraham was about to leave nathasha, her bright pearl necklace stuck on his gun.Right after he saw the necklace greed invaded his mind.

All he could think was "it will look beautiful as ever on ruby's neck,it will be the perfect comeback gift for my daughter, she would love it".

 ' I want this too' said abraham wrapping his wrist around the necklace. That proposal of abraham was denied by nathasha herself 'No' she said. 

'Honey,  let him have it ' said lily. But still natasha's answer was a no. Abraham tried to snatch that necklace from natasha's neck. In the blink of an eye john jumped in and grabbed abraham's right hand and lily tried to save her daughter. Suddenly the sound of a gun shot heard out loud. It all happened during convulsions, abraham accidentally fired the gun. The bullet punched its way through john's stomach, causing a gaping hole in its way that quickly filled with blood and gushed out. John fell to the ground, a pool of blood forming around him and socked into his clothes as he chocked and blood came out of his mouth.Within a split second that room became the worst nightmare and traumatic experience for all four of them.

lily rushed towards john raising him up in her hands looked back to abraham and said 'what have you done, you monster '. Without a second thought john pointed the gun towards nathasha because now the rest of the john's are loose ends.But he couldn't pull the trigger as he saw the same fear in her eyes as his daughter, when she said" I don't  want to die daddy". The sound of her voice resonated in his ears.Abraham look at both of them back to back, hold tight the necklace in his left arm and ran out.

when he was fleeing away from john's house he could still hear the bawl of his family. Abraham ran till his stomach hurts and after that too. While he cross each ascending street light, a glimse of distressed moments he lived crossed his mind. He is full of guilt but there was something more in him that helped him to cast out the guilt."The feeling of entirety ".  

Abraham never took rest before he got to the hospital and ran straight towards the bill section. He paid the whole amount with that blood money and right after that the whole process began to pace up. Nurses and doctors fleeing towards the operation theatre. Attenders transferred ruby to the theatre just after the payment. Abraham couldn't even see the face of his little girl before surgery.  The red bulb of fate burned bright infront of the operation  theatre. 

Abraham waited outside beside the door restlessly. During this time nothing crossed his mind but his daughters innocent smile when she see's the pearl necklace. Seconds passed like hours and hours like decades, finally the wait was over with. The fate bulb has changed colour. 

Abraham dashed towards the door when the doctor came out. When abraham saw that destitute look in doctors eyes, his hopes were burned to ashes. The doctor didn't say a word but took his hand and gave an impotent look to his face.

suddenly abraham felt like wiped out of existence.he couldn't find his conscious. His eyes were flooded with darkness. Finally tears burst out.it was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hopes.he sank to his knees and then to the floor. Tears rolled down his cheeks.His gasping wails echoed arround the hallway.The pain that flowed from him was as palpable as the frigid fall wind and soon the only person at his side was his shadow. Struggling to keep his tears silent, looking out through the window he saw a nest on the adjacent building's ledge . 

He saw a bird feeding her offsprings with something, maybe trash. With the necklace in his left arm his body and mind sunk into numbness. He told himself with shivering words"what was it for, What was it all for".Just before his body became totally irresponsive, he could hear the sound of boots approaching. One thing for sure he will never know the truth that ruby was gone way before he remitted the fees for surgery.

Little Emma was waiting eagerly for her daddy to get home from work. "Mummy", when will daddy come home? Why is he so late?", complained Emma. Sally was a skinny woman, the one who always had mood swings and never looked happy. Emma's voice, her playful and happy nature never made sally gleeful. She was always lost in deep thoughts. Often, her cooked food turned out bland and distasteful. Pots and pans in the kitchen remained untidy all through the day. Emma always wondered why her mummy was sad and depressed.

The doorbell rang.  Emma rushed towards the door. "Mummy, daddy has come!! ". Sally woke up from her thoughts and reluctantly walked forward. She unlatched the door and left in a jiffy. It was Emma's 10th birthday that day and was waiting eagerly for her daddy's gifts and cake. James looked emotionless. He handed over a birthday cake to his daughter. "Mummy, please set my table! Let's cut my cake together", Emma shrieked with joy. James took a shower and pulled over his pants and tees. Sally was arranging the table. "Happy birthday my child", said James in a low tone.

Other than the little girl, the house looked deserted and gloomy. The paintings that adorned the walls of the living room, looked ugly to Sally. She knew that secret and she was the only one who knew it! The secret the made her depressed, the one that gave her mood swings. Like the gladiators of the roman empire, she and he mind fought ferociously. At times, she wanted to open up and cry forever. But, she stayed impassable. Nothing in this world made her happy, not even the innocence of her own child.

 "Oh dear God, please take this pain from me", she cried silently in her mind. James walked to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. He found half burnt banana pan cakes piled up on a plate. He banged the door and shouted at Sally. " Bitch, why did you not cook a rotten thing today?? ".

 Emma was used to seeing the maltreatment her mother had to go through. However, she still loved her daddy dearly. As like other days, her mother was beaten and whipped by a cane. At this plight, she ran away to her room and cried bitterly. Fearfully, she closed the door and prayed that her daddy never comes and knock at her door. A beautiful day turned out to be horrific and painstaking in the eyes of Emma. The little girl wept and fell asleep. Sally on the other hand was in pain. She could barely move! He anguish had made her a psychopath. She lit a cigarette and burnt few parts of her body. It was slow burning electrical sensation followed by hours of itchy burning and she enjoyed every bit of it. She was too happy pressing the lit cigarette stubs against her skin. "A lunatic! I am a lunatic, a wretched woman, a cursed one", she repeated this until sleep kissed her that night.
 

****************************
It was October 31st, Halloween day. Everyone in the neighbourhood decorated their houses. The streets were filled with  joy, hooting, clapping, music and laughter. Emma wanted to celebrate Halloween but no one befriended her in the neighbourhood. She had a witch's costume and a mask of it as well. The pumpkins, the spooky lights, the blood dripping costumes all across the street made her fearful. "Mummy, can I go out this time please? ", she pleaded. Emma was the only blood relation Sally had and she never wanted to leave Emma alone anywhere. " Mummy please, just this time? ", begged Emma. "I promise I'll never ask you again", said Emma in her sweetest tone.

"How can I leave my child alone in the street?", Sally contemplated. "No, nothing will happen today. My eyes will not encounter the misfortune event again!!", reassured Sally. It was a narrow street with dark lit pocket roads across them. Sally and Emma lived in the outskirts. Emma looked for her daddy all around the house. "Daddy, where are you ? Mummy and I are going to celebrate Halloween. Please come along with us. ", Emma shouted in a riotous tone.  She had seen her daddy entering the washroom couple of minutes ago. "Where did he disappear?", thought Emma.

In all her excitement, she no longer cared for James. "Mummy, how do I look? Don't I look like a real witch now?", asked Emma. Sally mumbled and held Emma's hands tightly. Emma pulled her mother along and plunged into the crowd. Sally's hands started perspiring, each droplet felt like blood drops. Her temperature rose, she stood still like a statue amidst the crowd. It was a mental arrest. The eddies and whirlpools of her painful memories banged her thoughts. She wanted to cry aloud. For a moment, she turned like a hard rock.

Emma, seeing other kids in Halloween costumes, ganged up with them. Sally, regained her normality and started searching for Emma. "What did I do ? Oh God, what did I do ? Where am I ? Where is my child ? How will I find her? ", she started sobbing. The music and noise around deafened her ears. She knelt down and wept. Regaining her strength, she stood up, pushed people around and started running like crazy. Her eyes looked each nook and corner for Emma.

"Girl, we hate you!", screamed Lilith. She kicked Emma out of her girly gang. Lilith's screeching made Emma disappointed. "Why am I left alone? What is my fault? Why is this curse upon me? Why do I have so many haters?", Emma cursed her destiny. Tears flowed down her mask. She did not want to return home. Aloof is all that she wanted to be. She ran away with all her force, tears rolling down her cheeks, wetting her soft cloaks. She entered a dark passage. Hardly, no lights around, no humans or animals could be seen. Panicked, she marched forward to the unseen.

A sound of pounding and scream struck her ears. Panting and dreadful, she went closer to the sound. A barren barn with old rugs - " The Mystery House", yes she saw that! "Who is crying and what is this unusual sound ?", thought Emma. She closed her mouth with one of her palms and slowly opened the door of the Mystery house - with the greatest pain a child can bear, she saw that dreadful thing!! A man with a joker cladding, masked and armed from a sight behind was ripping apart a little girl! Emma ran towards the man and hit him hard with a wooden log from behind. He left the child, naked and shamelessly threw away his mask. In a heart wrenching pain Emma saw his face and stood still - "Daddy !!!", that great idol collapsed insider her.

Ananya looks at the mirror. She is stunning in her dark blue saree with glittering embroidery. She ensures that her grooming is complete in all aspects. To give it a final touch, she uses her ring finger and takes a red sindoor, vermilion red colored cosmetic powder, from a small box and applies it at the parting of her hair above the forehead as a mark of auspicious ritual in Hinduism.

Today is her Wedding Anniversary. It's been 8 years since she got married to Sanjay. She has cooked - paneer fried rice, cauliflower manchurian and mango pudding for lunch - all of which are Sanjay's favorite picks.

The dark clouds start hiding the scorching sun in Mumbai's Bandra city and the cool breeze starts flowing through the doors and windows of her home indicating the arrival of downpour anytime soon. She walks into her room and enjoys the breeze that kisses her on cheeks through the windows followed by tiny droplets making its way out to find a place on her cute face. 

She chuckles and gets reminded of how Sanjay used to hold her from behind standing in the corridor and made her experience the water droplets falling from the clouds by extending her hand. The way she chased him in the home after he had got her drenched by pushing her out in the rain had flashed through her eyes. She then closes the windows and while she is leaving the room, a diary in the old wooden rack grabs her attention. It's Sanjay's personal diary. The diary is covered with dust and seemed as if it wasn't taken out anytime recently. The pages have become too old that mites have started enjoying them from one corner. She takes it out from the rack and wipes out the dust and the mites with the curiosity of reading through it.

She sits on her reading table with the diary and flips through the first page. The diary is 6 years old and dates to the year 2006 when Sanjay was serving in Indian Army in Srinagar. Her sharp eyes start moving to the first line of the diary. The diary reads -

"The queue of soldiers in front of Defence Telephone booth in Srinagar was unusual today. Sunday wouldn't have seen this crowd had it not been the eve of Diwali. Landlines are the only mode of communicating with our family members. Our city was placed under high alert from this week after the warning from CIA on the possibility of terror attacks.This had lowered the frequency of outgoing calls to once in two weeks. Soldiers here were excited to talk to their loved ones and enquire about their kith and kin.

I waited for my turn. I was extremely worried and had my adrenaline soar thinking about Ananya, who was pregnant. After a couple of hours in queue, I stepped into the booth and dialed 022-*** with fear. The call was answered by my wife. She couldn't control her emotions and burst out saying - "As you had wished, it's a princess." I felt as if I was the luckiest person in this universe and wanted to see and cuddle the child in my arms. I had always craved for a girl child and quite often I had expressed my wishes to Ananya about how I would take care of her and the child and satisfy all her wishes and dreams and support her in achieving her ambitions. I had then promised my wife that I would come home during the last Saturday of this month. The last Saturday is our 2nd Wedding Anniversary (I still remember ..No offence :)..)."

Ananya is interrupted by her child Deeksha who had kicked open the front door with the excitement on her face. She is back from school and look drenched. She was waiting for her grandma to open the front gate. As soon as the front gate was opened, she came rushing to her home like a sprinter leaving behind her grandma and the umbrella she was holding. Her eyes move in all directions as if she is searching for someone. When she couldn't succeed in finding, she comes to her mom and asks - "Hasn't dad come yet? Where is he? Hope he doesn't cheat on us this year." Ananya kisses her on her forehead and says - "So sweet of you darling. Take a quick shower and wear the new clothes placed on the cot. He will be arriving soon." The grandma stands still looking at her daughter-in-law and listening to the conversation she was having with her granddaughter. She then rushes towards Ananya and before she could utter a word, Deeksha holds her hands and pulls her for shower.

Ananya continues reading - 

"After the call, I went to my room. I was shocked to see that the door was locked. I wondered where Mahesh and my other two roommates had left. Mahesh had already completed his call much before I had joined the queue. I have decided to wait until he comes to throw up the surprise of me getting promoted to the role of a father. After an hour, Mahesh had arrived with a gift in hand and hugged me. I was baffled and before I could speak, he took over - "You know what..?? Today is the biggest day in our life. The day we have been craving for. Aisha's parents have given their nod for our marriage." I was much delighted in hearing this news. It had come out of 7 years of struggle to convince Aisha's parents for her marriage with Mahesh. He then said - "I have applied for a vacation and once it's approved, I will be travelling on the last Saturday of this month as our parents have fixed our engagement the following Friday." I was taken aback by his words and felt happy for him. I had the usual practice of explaining him every time about the happenings in home during the night of our call. Today, he was waiting for me to speak and when he couldn't get any hint of me opening, he asked me what had happened and enquired about Ananya. Though I tend to divert the topic, he held on to it and questioned me repeatedly. Then I opened saying that I have become a dad and Ananya has given birth to a baby girl. As soon as he heard this, he lifted me up and started celebrating with my other roommates. He then said - "Hey, there is no wait. I will cancel my leave plan for you. Go for it and meet your cute little princess and your queen." I was a bit hesitant to accept it. After a long-heated discussion, he made me apply for leave and he reverted his. He had one request for me - to hand over the gift to his Aisha as soon as I land in Mumbai. After the discussion with my higher authorities here, my leave got approved within 3 days of applying. I am starting my journey of love tomorrow early morning. Love you Ananya..!!"

Her eyes start filling with tears. She flips through the pages craving for more. When she realizes that the remaining pages had no traces of ink in them, she bursts out weeping and rushes into her room and slams the door behind her.

In the meantime, in Borivali, situated at 16 miles from Bandra, Aisha stares at a photo captured with Ananya, Mahesh and Sanjay in the main hall. She knows the importance of today and starts visiting her college memories when Mahesh had proposed her and the opposition she had faced in her home for her love for a non-Muslim guy. It was when Sanjay had accompanied Mahesh to her home and explained her parents about the love his childhood friend has for their daughter and literally begged her father to get her married to Mahesh. When her father had turned down the proposal on religious grounds, Sanjay had always been in her support as her elder brother and requested them not to lose hope and concentrate on their career. He had also assured that he will again talk to her dad once Mahesh makes it to a good position in his career. Mahesh's parents were broad-minded and had clearly stated that they would accept the proposal provided their son gets a job offer and owns up responsibilities.

A few years later, both Sanjay and Mahesh got recruited in Indian Army. The sooner they received their recruitment news, they went to Aisha's dad again to revive the marriage proposal. Her father was firm in his decision in not letting his daughter tie knot with a Hindu guy, no matter even if he is a millionaire. Sanjay had promised her that he wouldn't let their love go in vain and would get to see them married with her parents' consent one day. 

Just a few months before they were posted to Srinagar, Aisha and Mahesh had pushed Sanjay into the marriage with her school best friend - Ananya, as he was finding reasons to drop all the proposals coming his way. Ananya, a beauty with talent and a pure soul, was a perfect match for him.

Aisha then remembers what had exactly happened on this day, 6 years ago - "It was a fine evening. I had opened the door with the excitement of receiving Mahesh after 2 years. To my surprise, it was Sanjay. Mahesh was nowhere to be seen. I had welcomed him and got his blessings as my parents have accepted for my marriage with his close friend and congratulated him for his little princess' birth. The acceptance wouldn't have been possible had it not been for the constant effort of my brother in convincing my father. Though I was happy in Sanjay's arrival, I had expected Mahesh to come home as he had confirmed of his arrival the last time he had called me. I wanted to hug him with love for the marriage approval after years of struggle. Sanjay had read my mind and decided to surprise me before I turn emotional. He had opened his suitcase and handed over Mahesh's gift to me. I took it and ran to my room and unwrapped it. The gift was a crystal "Taj Mahal", a symbol of love that stands against all odds of nature. It was a symbolic representation of our love that had gone through all hardships and have now emerged successful in opening the doors of marriage. "If true love ever exists, it would bring us together to lead the next phase of life." - Mahesh's words made my eyes wet and thanked my brother for making my dreams come true. I wanted him to refresh and have a cup of coffee. But he was so much excited to meet his wife and the baby that he didn't want to spare anymore time here and took leave. On entering the front gate, he had raised his voice and said that he felt complete in all aspects and that he would come a week early with Ananya and baby for her marriage. He then smiled and bid adieu."

She couldn't come out of that shock even today.

Meanwhile, a few miles away from Borivali, there is a children's park. Mahesh is seen sitting on the park bench. He is lonely. It's been 4 years since he was transferred to Mumbai from Srinagar. This park area had remained special for many reasons. Before the corporation had built it, it was an empty land where he had grown up playing with Sanjay. They were always together, ate on the same plate, sat on the same bench in school and college, played together and even slept together in one of their homes. Their families have always treated the other as their second son. Sanjay had always been his well-wisher and considered his happiness only next to Mahesh's.

Mahesh wonders - "When he had expressed that he had become a father, how he had hidden his joy and feelings and enquired about my happiness in Aisha's parents accepting me? He still wanted me to go home and meet Aisha." He adds - "I didn't know how to repay for all his struggles to bring the families closer. The only thing that came to my mind was my annual leave. Though it's been nearly 2 years since I have last visited my home owing to a heated argument with my parents in looking for another girl for marriage, I felt sacrificing my leaves might be a small favor compared to what he did. So, I have decided to revert my annual leave and insisted him to apply for the leave as we work on the same division and two leaves cannot be sanctioned for the same period. In fact, I yelled at him and at a point slapped him when he was speaking for me repeatedly and made him to apply leave. I hugged him then out of love. I requested him to hand over my gift to Aisha when he lands in Mumbai as I wouldn't be letting her know that my leave plan is cancelled. I didn't want to hurt her saying that and believe the surprise gift would make her feel somewhat better. Sanjay left the camp with a sweet hug and forgot to carry even his personal diary out of his anxiousness to meet his family. I had then handed over his personal diary to Ananya later when I came home on leave."

When he was brooding over the past, he was interrupted by an old lady who was selling peanuts in the children's park. Looking at her grit of earning at this age for her livelihood, he bought a peanut packet from her and asked for the price.

She replied - "It's just 10 rupees, my child."

When Mahesh took out his wallet for the change, a photo of him taken with Sanjay fell on the ground. The old lady was shocked seeing the picture and took it from the ground with trembling hands and handed it over to him. He then thanked her and paid her the price and left the spot.

Tears rolled down her eyes as she sat on the park bench. She untied the knot from her saree and took a photo from it - The wedding reception photo of Sanjay and Ananya together.

She started blaming the Almighty for what had been a serious nightmare for her 6 years ago on this particular day.

She speaks up looking at the picture - "That day, I wish, one shouldn't come across in his life. I was thrown out of my home by my son in the evening for turning old and being a burden to him. I didn't know where to go. I came to railway station and sat on the floor. I was starving and didn't have enough money to buy food. With the money I had, bought a water bottle and fainted on the ground while drinking. When I woke up to senses, I could see that I have been rested on the lap of a young man of my son's age. He was wearing an army suit and looking at my condition, he took me to a restaurant and bought me food. Seeing his helping nature, I told him everything that had led me to this situation. He felt pity for me and assisted me with almost what he had in his wallet. He introduced himself as Sanjay and told me his life journey and where he is heading. He also said that he has been yearning to see the face of his beautiful wife who had given birth to his cute princess 3 weeks ago. He then showed me his wedding reception picture. I blessed him and his family from the bottom of my heart. He then looked at his wife in the picture and smiled at her saying that they have received the blessings of an old woman whom he had just met, and that is by far the most important blessings that one can receive in one's life rather than being spiritual. The very next moment he could see his train heading the station and he took leave from me. 

I wondered how a son born to me had treated me as a burden and abandoned me and how another guy, being a stranger, had showered his love on me. I started thanking the Lord for me that kindness still exists in this World.

Much before I could end my conversation with God, there was a series of blasts in the adjacent compartments of the train, about a 100 meters from the station. The same train which Sanjay had boarded. I screamed and ran to the spot praying from within to safeguard my son from this incident. There was smoke all over with some bodies torn apart and some half-burnt with bloodshed all over. There was a complete chaos with people screaming and running in all directions. I couldn't find him anywhere. Police were restricting the public from entering the spot. I cried my heart out seeing the situation. A small paper bit caught my eyes just a few steps away from the exploded compartments. As I went near, I wept uncontrollably. It was the same picture which Sanjay had shown me a few minutes ago, now with blood splash on it.

Nature perpetuates the species by switching between birth and death. 

Does it mean it needs to blindly follow its cycle without considering the deeds the humans carry out in this World? 

Do all humans weigh the same in nature's scale irrespective of the love and hatred they show for one another?

If nature is a human, she would regret for her action that day." - saying this the old lady leaves the park with a heavy heart.

Destined to the office job, he felt the need to retrospect his yesteryears. One day, on reaching home
early enough to gather some moments of solitude, he beckoned his memory cells to travel against
time hoping to uncover some golden moments in his otherwise uneventful journey.
For all his efforts, his thoughts stuck on those letters which were so close to his heart. After so many
year’s past, those letters have not lost its magic. He sensed his heart rise and fall heavily. How much
she meant to him. She had those beautiful way with words, he fell for them. He believed every word
it said. He treasured them more than his life. In return, he managed to write his heart out like never
before. Oh, how much he loved those days of passion and romance.
He never felt the need to see her, lest she rejected him on the first look. He felt he survived as a man
of letters. He was more an introvert; writing was his foray. He had multiple worries at that time, is
she the same person she expresses herself to be in those letters or she has a different approach to
life? Does she have an inclination of writing to multiple people like him to direct their full attention?
Thoughts which brought fire in his belly.
He came out of his memory lane abruptly and looked about; his wife has not yet reached home. It is
just one month into their marriage. He reached out to his old wooden box from under the bed and
underneath all his old clothes wrapped in a rich golden silk cloth rested his richest treasure. He
opened the file pulled out the letters and went through them one by one. Tears started flowing from
his eyes, his emotions found no solace. Did he hear the doorbell? He strained his ears once more,
yes, he is sure. That is his wife at the door. He cannot come clean now. The door opened and his wife
entered the room. Her eyes locked with his for a split of a second as she vanished to her bedroom.
Did she see the letters? He hurriedly put them back and sat on the couch waiting for her.
She sat next to him with cup of coffee in her hand, pleasantries exchanged. He tried not show face as
he feared of saying the truth. Later dinner served, he sat for the prayer. Soon she came close to him
and whispered in his ear.” Look beneath the plate, you will find what you longed for”. He got a shiver
through his spine. She never spoke to him like this. He slowly opened the lid. There was a letter for
him. It had the identical handwriting which he was so fond of. He looked at his wife. Tears were
flowing through her eyes. She sobbingly said,” I didn’t know you loved those letters so much. I had
written them to my pen pal whom I never knew”. When my father died, I felt lonely and that
unknown friend kept me happy and alive. So, it was you whom I shared my three years of my life.”
Hearing this, he jumped out of his chair and hugged his wife.

Their love had found a new meaning!!

It's dark everywhere..She was looking around..afraid..Her eyes are searching for someone..her brown eyes and thin short hair strands fallen on side of her face seemed like she travelled a long distance..She looked at the phone..Battery low..2%..Ya it's gonna die within minutes..wiping her face with shawl she looked around..All she was expecting was an attack and a news for next day.

She sat on the bench..it was broken at the edge..There was many white marks made by crows...She didn't mind these things..Started rewinding the whole day...I am nikita..23 year old law student..Left home because of parents who never concerned me or my dreams...It's long year's thought to leave home and lead a life of my own..Started learning law..Found a part time work at restaurant.It was not easy for me like an introvert woman to do all these things on a day..All of a sudden I changed my life into another level..I was happy? No..I was sad?..No..I can't define...At times I used to say myself looking at the mirror..Nikita you are falling..falling and falling..After few minutes the same me scolds myself and say..you are growing my dear..These switched emotions conquered the balance of my life...Am I depressed ? No..Nikita never agrees her down state to anyone..Because sympathy overrides empathy...

The day why I felt mad and ran out of the class..walked down the streets...ate all the junk foods I never liked..Breaking all the policies I made for me..I wish to fly like a bird..Some force tempted me to walk railway station..Got into the train..None came..everyone got down at their stations..I also got down..Here..At this strange place...Am I became insane to go such an unsafe place alone? Maybe!!! She was into deep thoughts...Suddenly she felt a cold hand on her back..Nikita was frozen..Am I strong enough if someone comes to rape me? She turned back..There was an old woman standing behind her..She asked nikita.."Kyom beti..andhera mein akela baitthi ho?" (Why are you sitting alone in darkness "?) Her eyes filled without asking permission to herself...She didn't knew who was that old woman..Nikita holded her hands and cried..Love doesn't need conversation..It never need bonds or friendship...That old woman's hand was running slowly through her brown thin hair strands and they spoke...

Sun light.....She was laying on the bench..Got up..People were staring...She was looking around..Where is that granny? Was it a dream? Never...Her throat dried out of pain..Someone who made her alive and disappeared...Nikita walked and found a washroom...freshed up..Standing at the counter for tickets..Her eyes was running around for that pale slim face smiled at her all the night...She didn't find...

She opened her dairy and wrote...

Whatever it happen life has to go on...If you are adamant about what you want...It will come to you in some way..Like I got yesterday...

Epic 1: Crime

On the way to office, by the left side of the road, in front of the district Jail he saw the young woman flanked by a policeman and a policewoman.   He looked again through the side window of his car. She was sort of beautiful with an impassive face and the police was taking her form jail to law court to be produced in front of a judge.
Driving past, he looked again through the rear-view mirror and saw the real criminals behind the woman.
A father who didn't care
A husband who didn't love
Bastards...
No woman of the world can be a criminal, by her own demerits.

Epic 2: Humiliation

The night was grim and silent inside the surgical ICU. Sandra was on the third shift, giving a pain killer shot to the accident victim. The young man got his spine shattered during one of those adventurous trips and was unlikely to walk for the rest of his life.
She put aside the disposable syringe and smiled at him. "How are you feeling?"
He didn't answer her question. But scanned her face and said.
"You have silky hair"
She froze for a second and then burned the rule book and said:
"Touch it...if you feel like...."
Tears sprang to his eyes and rolled down...
He hadn't handled much sympathy, in his past life.

Epic 3: Death

Prof. Jeevan completed the 4th period accountancy class for commerce students on time after perfectly balancing a Profit and Loss sheet having complicated adjustments. He was a university rank holder for PG program.
He walked out of the campus.
As usual took an auto rickshaw to the railway station.
But then, unusually checked in his office bag in the clock room.
He walked along platform number one till the end of the platform and then started walking along the side of the railway track.
Then he stepped inside the track and started walking along the track.
In a deep embrace he took the speeding train coming up against him.
His dead body was fully covered when brought home.
Complicated adjustments remained unapplied on the balance sheet of life.

Epic 4: Resurrection

Mary Magdelene saw the resurrected Jesus in front of the tomb he was buried.
She cried out in awe, "Rabboni" (Which means 'master' in Aramaic).
His feet were shining immaculately like a pair of white pigeons.
He personified forgiveness, love, grace and deep calmness. She wanted to hold on to his feet.
In loving rebuke Jesus said, "Do not hold on to me" (John 20:17)
He was in a hurry. He knew of the three persons waiting for him.
A criminal woman
A humiliated man and
A dead man
....waiting in utter distress and impatience
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One fine Sunday morning my wife wakes me up from sleep and told me that We’re going to have a baby!” she said with a gleeful smile  

I was obviously excited; I was going to be a father. Wow! It was all so new and exciting to me. I wasn’t sure how it was going to be or how I was supposed to handle it, but a FATHER?  Wow, again! My happiness knew no bounds, really. I did everything I was told to do by my mother-in-law.

Pregnant women need rest, right? A month into the pregnancy thing, I learnt the most important thing about it. As it happens, "pregnancy" is not about having a baby. It's about being sick all the time. I mean it, just ALL THE TIME. It is a series of inconveniences for the husband and wife, in the name of life-making.

Btw you're trying to understand how on earth you created something that has a beating heart and consciousness; the next moment, there is puke. It began with morning sickness. I knew that was coming, so I was mentally prepared for it. But soon it made me wonder- honestly, why do they call it 'morning' sickness? It lasts all day and night! It's just... sickness. She had nausea, and it seemed like an eternity of tiredness and vomit all over the place, all the time.  It didn’t even make her feel better! I remember how good it felt those few times I threw up after I drank too much. But apparently, this wasn’t the case here. Suddenly, I didn't understand the human body any more. I didn't understand my wife's body any more :-)
The change is not just physical, but you're constantly in the company of a very vulnerable woman- a woman whom you love so much that your heartaches, and a woman you have suddenly stopped understanding. It's the worst feeling in the world when your WIFE is crying and your arms are just not enough to comfort her any more. Isn’t pregnancy supposed to be a joyful process? I saw no streak of joy visible anywhere! That pregnancy 'glow' that all these movies talk about is an elaborate HOAX.

I’m just 28 and I’m going to be a parent for the first time. I like my alcohol, my sleep, car and my weekends. So, cut me some slack! I was new to it and yes, so was she. I don’t know how, but she seemed to be able to endure all of it without complaint. Maybe, it was just me. I don’t think men are wired to handle long-term drama and pain. Most of us can endure pain for short duration of time. Yes, I don’t have any of the biological parts required to produce a baby. But I don’t think I could have handled it even if I did. I don’t see how I could ever deal with whatever comes with pregnancy. It is just something my brain cannot handle, let alone my body. It’s one of those woman things, I guess. They have the in-built patience and resolve to take all of that pain for nine whole months. Living normally while there is human cooking inside you is not a joke; I agree. I feel guilty about giving her a cold shoulder and pretending all the while that this is completely normal; because it is NOT. It is nowhere close to being normal. I’m just glad that her mother was there to take care of her because I couldn’t bring myself to do that. For once, I felt love for my mother-in-law. I could give her the world's biggest hug even now. She didn’t seem like the intimidating and spine-chilling woman that I usually find her to be.

She went through so much of it without my support. I couldn’t be pregnant with her and I’m glad about it, but we now have a beautiful baby, all thanks to her. All I did was provide the sperm. The best I could do after that was telling her that she looked beautiful and really mean it; I did mean it.

Sleepless nights are my norm. Being highly sweet and inquisitive could be the cause. And on one such night, I ventured outside into my garden bordered by a swift flowing stream . The crystal clear Waters on which was a perfect projection of the full moon in all it's timeless glory. I edged closer to get closer view upon which I seemed to visualize an apparition beckoning me forward with a shape and body out of this world; big eyes and head and NO MOUTH, slender arms, legs and body. I was awestruck and in my momentary carelessness slipped and was falling into the swift waters when a pair of tender, caring arms gently came to the rescue. It was from the same apparition or being of earlier. I was silently and surely was being transported, out of the water and into the night sky. I had no time to think but all the time the moon was in shine growing bigger and bigger, closer and closer and suddenly the face of the moon changed to an unfamiliar terrain and features; the dunes and craters were clearly visible. Unexpectedly,  something artificial was there and on deeper pondering it seemed to be of something crashed. 

Next, for a fleeting moment my senses totally blanked. When i came to my senses, I was in a deserted space with nothing anywhere. I straddled aimlessly and in bewildered. My movement was abruptly arrested when a group of beings of the type seen earlier appeared. My instincts told me to run but I was immobilized by a command into my mind and instructing not to fear. These Extra Terrestrials (I guess) stood there all slightly differing sizes and two distinct body shapes, smiling (though I could not see that because they had no mouths), but could feel it in my mind!. It seems they communicate through a form of telepathy. They don't have to eat to get energy. Information was coming to my mind through their telepathy. They informed they know all about us and our world and they never ever have any bad intentions. They wanted to help our world and chose me because they knew I too had this burning desire from childhood. 

For a start, they would give me some abilities and powers which when implemented will immediately change the world to a far better place to live. The first installment of these powers is...guess what? The first is the ability to see into the past. Seeing into the past and being able to project that for others is definitely incredulous and world changing set up. Apart from updating most, if not all of history, it definitely rings the ending bells for most of the criminals. They know they will definitely be caught without a shadow of doubt and punished.

Only the suicidal ones will embark on crime. And what a world!! Of course, the downside is that the lawyers and policemen most of them will lose their jobs; never mind, that's a small price to pay. Throughout history, how many criminals escaped and how many Innocents punished! Such things will henceforth be no more. Fantastic indeed. My mind boggled with ecstasy and they knew it .At this point they informed into my mind for now they are returning me back with this ability installed. 

The ability to project the past view on to a screen for others to see has to be done by  myself which they were sure I will succeed and so am I. They all waved bye for the moment. Next moment I found my self at the exact spot in my compound and in time.

And being the spirited technician that is me I vowed to start work the next morning. I went to bed into deep slumber, traversing countless domains of the unfathomable universe in deep dreams.

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School was fun. 

Especially the start of a new year. Students rushing in to find their favourite spot across their best buddies, the smell of new books and a sense of excitement in the air. Being a 10-year-old starting the new school term, these were our primary mission. 

The only problem is that school wasn’t the same for me. Right from my birth, I’ve been burdened with this amusing power which is rather a constant distraction for me. I’ve personally named this unique power of mine as “The Vibe”. 

The Vibe is an unusual power which allows me to identify a person’s death just by looking at them. For example, when I see a bright green coloured pattern around a person, it means they have got plenty of years before their death & they’ve got nothing to worry about. If the colour turns Amber, it’s usually that the person might die of natural causes in a couple of days or even months. Things start to get horrific when I could feel a red coloured vibe around a person. Once I witnessed a red vibe around my teacher before he left for home from school. The next day we came to know that he was stabbed to death by a stranger for money at a nearby gas station. Personally, the red vibe creeps the hell out of me. 

Whenever I tried to warn anyone, as a 10-year-old with a fancy backpack, all I usually get is a chuckle or a “mind your own business” attitude. Life was figuratively colourful yet the red vibe always scared me.

As usual, I reached my school early that day. I went inside my empty classroom, sat near a corner, just by the window, waiting to examine each of my classmate’s fate. Almost every time, I get to see only green vibes around my classmates since we are basically kids. On a very rare occasion, I get the Amber vibe. But that day changed my life.

As my friend Erica entered the classroom, she instantly noticed my horror expression and enquired what was wrong with me. I shrugged her off since it was difficult for me to tell her that she is going to face a violent death very soon. The day only got worse as my classmates came in one after the other; all I could feel was a reddish vibe around each of them. As the last student entered and the classes were set to begin, all I could see was a red vibe throughout the classroom. I was starting to sweat profusely, knowing the fact that each one of my classmates and friends were going to face a violent death that day.

With my heart trembling in fear, as I raise my hand to wipe off my sweat, I noticed a clear red coloured pattern illuminating through my very own arms. The window reflection of myself made me realise that I was surrounded by a dark red coloured vibe like the rest of my classmates.

Is this it? But how? I was confused and scared at the same time.

It was then John, my classmate entered the room. For a particularly bright student, he came very late that day with a heavy rucksack and to my goodness, he was the only person to be surrounded by the greenish vibe I have ever seen. 

I was relieved; relieved by the fact that atleast John was going to survive that day. But the feeling didn’t last long. 

I, along with my fellow classmates let out a gasp in terror as John took out his heavy submachine gun from his rucksack and started firing mercilessly at each one of us.

School WAS fun. But definitely NOT in the United States of America. 

She was supposed to consume her sleeping pills yet for another day which already had made a clean entry to her daily routine for the past 1 year. Apart from the busy working schedules, she has nothing left behind in her life. Yeah, a workaholic, highly dedicated one. She didn't even notice her own office chair which is shuttling back & forth.

In fact, as per the common talk, her colleagues tagged her under a special category named being one among the extra ordinary creatures! The category is having solely single participant which is herself. This strongly showcases that no one is dare to beat & compete with her.

It was all in a sudden, her life put its gear to an entirely different one from the usual mode, which may not be included in all the gear boxes! The dosage of pills needs to be consumed increased each and every month. And the frequency of consumption increased from once to twice and then twice to thrice and finally to 2 hour each. Though she has to undergo treatments which was noticed lately, she still used to go for her daily checkups with the laptop on one hand and the prescription list on the other hand.

Even though her colleagues and superiors noted her physical changes, they kept mum and never minded. Since she is one among the folks who worked hardly for the company to attain & sustain its market position. And they thought like, when spotting the same to her may cause re-looking to her physical & mental changes due to illness by herself. And due to this she may lose her existing caliber to hold the baton of the company and even can face a steep loss to company.

Her manager now gradually began to shout at her due to lack of adequate outcome as expected from her recently on-wards. Even though he bit knows about her pathetic condition, he never minded and ignored all those sentimental stuffs in order to focus the company profit alone. She tried her best by convincing them that, she will complete all assigned works by depriving herself of her sleeping schedule.

Restlessly she began her additional schedule as said after reaching home. She was supposed to take her tablets today as per the prescribed dose but had to miss all of them, due to very urgent client meetings. Her pain tolerance capability needle kept on descending targeting to approach the zeroth position. And she is now able to see the flag hoisted at the finishing point of her final lap. She could also see the last sand particle inside the hour glass grinning at her by shining in reddish color which silently implies like the last bogie of a train.

Thinking about the next day’s usual 1 minute condolence silence which is somehow adjusted with the business timings by the company, she slowly took her hand from the laptop and shut the doors of her vision slowly narrowing the line of sight with her laptop by releasing the last carbon dioxide particle from her body, which will never intake the surrounding oxygen anymore.

Still the laptop murmured with popping up sounds of ping messages, mails, etc. which all kept on shouting at her -- “Hey, are you there?” , “ Are you done with that extra analysis work?” , “What about the status of that report?”, etc…

Her keypad itself silently wished to reply back to all the ping messages & emails that, “At least now, let her have some rest please.. A Rest in Peace..!!!”

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 whats 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 didnt notice such a thing.....

Ananthan was curious and wanted to explore this phenomena.... 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 an 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 " whats going on " 

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

" I cant 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 cheifs of his army. He had 11 sections of army where 11 chiefs were there. We were one.That was the time where humans lived 300years..once the emperor crossed 150years of ruling there were noice 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 you generations use this when the people are chocking again ' "

" what are those weopons " 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 its 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 cheifs.... they will guide you...As I am guided now. Son the war is on..... war for existance... 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....