THE BIRTHDAY - A Short story.

“When a dream is born,

It searches for and finds its creator.

If it discovers a true desire in him,

It starts to love his heart and mind.

When it sees its creator nearing an end,

With hopes abound, it gives its own life to the creator;

Thus making him rise again howbeit,

Weaving into shape, his broken spirits.

And what happens to the dream?

Will it die?

No, it won’t.

A dream doesn’t die.

It is revived once again,

Through the same creator’s desire and mind

-           Rebirth”

The clock struck 11.00 PM as Rishab opened the ‘Concise Oxford Dictionary’ application in his mobile and typed: ‘birthday’.

 ‘After all the searches, finally I had to look up you?’ he thought to himself and smiled sardonically.

The dictionary read: “The anniversary of the day, which a person was born”. He smiled to himself yet again - but this time on, with tears rolling down his cheeks. As if trying to suppress the upsurge of emotions in him, he let out his breath, and lifted his head up with closed eyes.  He felt the heaviness of the lump that had formed over the last few hours in his throat, and swallowed it.

“On this 25^th birthday of mine, I am going to give a new meaning to my ‘birthdays’ yet to come. It will be – the anniversary of the day that witnessed the end of Rishab’s long and tiresome journey carrying a bag full of idiotic dreams” Rishab said to himself.

Rishab was alone at home. His parents had left for Bangalore the previous day, where they worked. On a weekend, Rishab, who usually stays with his parents in Bangalore, had come along with them to their native place in Orissa, where they owned a house. But after the weekend, he had decided to stay back while his parents left, faking the need of his presence out there to run his errands; whereas in real, his intention was just to get some lone time.

With a pair of eyes which would overflow any moment with tears, Rishab looked at the framed image of his parents in front of him. Moving the picture from its usual location, he kept it on the top of the laptop table in front of him - he wanted to see his parents close to him when he leaves…

His visions were blurred for the eyes, but clear for his memories. Placing his right hand over the frame, he said,

“Dada, Moma… I am sorry that I failed you and I know that I should have listened to your words.

It’s too late for me now, to retrace my steps or build something new, as I am too tired of fighting. This life has become a war zone for me. 

I can do only this much for you – I won’t write again, I swear, and you will know that this would be my last work.

I can’t stay here anymore”  

With this, he brushed aside with the back of his hand, the transparent film of tears around his eye-balls, took his pen and writing pad from the shelf, and placed it on the laptop table. With the focus light ‘ON’, windows closed and lights turned off inside the room, his eyes riveted straight into the white paper clipped on the pad.

His hands started to race forward in its magnificent and royal font.

He started to write:

‘THE LAST NOTE:

Dad, Mom, I was living in a fool’s paradise till now. You were right. I should have secured my life with a safe and sound career before I ran behind my dreams. In spite of hearing your wise and experienced words, I fought against the odds; like a dramatic hero in some movies and stories. But at present I know how different real life is from those dramatic feats.

Yes, I realized it.

I couldn’t even complete my degree since I was hell bent on writing. I was trying to build a stand for myself, which was never mine to achieve. Dreams, farther from even my highest reach, was what that kept my motor running. I never knew or rather accepted that I wasn’t good enough.

You spent all that you had earned on me, and I still see that you are still struggling. All that you saved with meticulous planning and care, were put into my studies and welfare. I can’t believe that even at this age, you two are working in Bangalore when it’s high-time for your retirement.

I was an ignorant fool who never gave thought for the stress and strain you took in, trying to make my life successful. The rebel in me, even after knowing the truth, persuaded me to go for what I dreamt of and not even for a moment for the one that you had dreamt of since I was born.

Like an immature boy I wandered about the roads to my dreams, which were in reality, the roads never made or even better to say as roads that were never meant for me. I thought that I had the power. I thought I had in me, an intellectual point of thinking. I believed that I had the capacity to turn ink into beautiful blood, which would pump any man’s heart on following its strokes.

But on the face of truth, I have been a moron throughout!

There are some questions: Why didn’t I ever turn back and look at my failures? Why didn’t I scrutinize the results of my past? Why didn’t I introspect into my values?

I guess, the answers to these questions sums up to the amount of maturity I have had in me. Today, no miracle happened that changed me. Perhaps, if I had given life to these questions which were inside my head, but never allowed to pop up for my mind’s adamant nature, it would have made a difference in the past for every one of us. I would have lived for real. I wouldn’t have lived, allowing myself to imagine that clouds could be used as grounds to walk.  

“Chasing my dreams” – Huh, What a justification for intransigence that caused my own fall!

I didn’t even attend my arrear exams since I had thought that fame and acknowledgement would hug me and make me say, “That shit was never meant for me” 

And now? My last chance is gone to attend those exams and I will just remain as one 12^th grade pass till my last breathe. 


Am I famous? Am I a celebrity? At the least, a freelancer? Yes, I was one of every one of these in my ‘dreams improbable’ of my future days. But those future days never came to me at all, and the saddest part is, I knew it all along.

I was indulged in writing a novel that took two years for me to complete. And when I say two years, it means a hundred percent, barring the time I slept and ate. I saw every sentence that I wrote as beautiful, and believed that my readers would fall for the magic hidden in my words. I had this intuition that it’s a work which would get me recognized in the distinguished world of literature, that I thrived to be a part of. I was living under the shade of a world that I created on the paper, with my ink and time. I had thought that my work would be my ticket to freedom.

These beliefs were incessantly running in my head, until the day I realized that months had passed without even a single reply from those to whom I had sent my novel for publishing. None responded. No one saw what I had seen in my works.

Today, I know for certain that no publishers would have gone past even the first page of my so called ‘ticket to freedom’. It would have been just another item for their recycle bin, I guess. But for me, it was chunks of golden words, valuable enough to be stored in the safest locker of all the worlds. It was my sweat and blood. It was my joy and pain. It was my tears and laughs. It was my body and brain. It was ‘me’…..

But….. All that it gifted me with was a powerful realization that I was smug dreamer, a nobody….

When blind faith in something that I never had in myself was taking its toll over me, I received another blow.

I had loved one girl. You were the one to whom I first talked about it Dada. Like a hero, you supported me and advised me to make sure that I secure a good job after completing my graduation. You had also warned me that if I failed to do so, I would have to lose her at one stage of my life, no matter what my talent would have in store for me in future.

Her love for me was what I had believed as the perfect example for  the word ‘divine’. She had given me her body and soul.

An unconditional support was what she offered me, for my attempts to venture into the world of literature. But at a point when she started to realize that she may have to lose me for my precarious stand in life, she begged and cried to me. She pleaded to me that I search for a job. When her support turned into pressure, my love for her turned into a momentary irritation, which I never knew had the power to wreck the sails of the spirit in me. She had cried a lot. But I never paid heed to them. I showed my obstinacy over her gentle love and I started to see her as an impediment to my future dreams. My anger warded off her phone calls and my selfishness locked the gates to her love. My brain tried to reason with me, but I had closed my eyes so tight that its attempts rebounded off me. Now, today, I am closing my eyes even tighter, but for a different reason – to somehow stop her memories which are pounding my heart. They are blaming me. The image of her tear-filled eyes has started to flash in my head in every passing minute of my days. Dad, as you had said, I have lost her. Only when I saw the ‘grand’ reception of my novel, I got to know the magnitude of what I have done. I can never go back to my days of past and get her back.

I made a big mistake, and I am aware of the reality that her heart and body belongs to someone else now. But I need her and I miss her now…. And I have no idea how to put a barricade to these thoughts. What do I do? I am helpless.

Even as I write this letter, I can see her face in this white paper. Her tears are taking revenge on mine.

I am Sorry Dada. I am Sorry Mama. I never thought I would let you down like this. I have lost my face in front of you and made you lose your faces in front of our relatives. You earned respect and prestige with your hard work and ethos in this society. And I put them to risk, never knowing its real values. I should have listened to you and made things right.

I wish if I could edit my past, I wish if I could rephrase the happenings. My wishes are as impossible as the wishes of the trees living in a city, to go and be a part of the jungle.

You have never scolded me but I have seen you shedding tears silently. I wish I could undo those moments. Never have I felt guilty or anything wrong, whenever I faced you. I was engaged in my writing.  Every time I saw you sad or worried, I convinced myself saying, ‘Wait till you see how this is going to end’.

This is how it is going to end and this is how it has to end. Never have you missed wishing me on my birthdays. This time, you are not here with me. I created this scene deliberately, as I can’t do it in your presence - the horizons of your love and bondage are too strong to pass.

I will never have the strength to make up my mind to do this when you are near me. So, I have taken this chance as a cue for me, sent by God to Quit and surrender my life. I will never ever live as an obstacle for you. I will never live as a mistake in your life. The day I turn 25 will put a stop to my heart beat. I will lock the doors inside my heart which led me to fructifying my passions once and forever. I had so much to tell; so much to confess. But…. You know that am an egoist. I am an idiot. I am a coward.

I now know that I am a sinner, for only a sinner deserves such a treatment in life. Since long back, I knew that I was an unlucky guy. But I believed that there was something inside me that could make things work out afresh, like the spirit of a phoenix. Now I realize they were all ostentatious reasons to just live on; to move on, neglecting the truth. I should have known that I am just a mediocre guy who got bonuses here and there. I can’t blame anyone. I can only blame myself and for that I am ending this once and forever. I am leaving you all. I am leaving behind everything that I dreamed about once.

And now, the time has come - It’s 11.59 PM. I need to stop here Mom; I need to stop here Dad or else this letter of mine would become just like a wet towel with ink bloated all over it. The last thing I have to say is… Dad, I………

This was when Rishab heard his phone ringing. It read ‘Dad Calling..’ He put his pen down and looked at his mobile. He hadn’t expected it. The tremendous pressure and the culmination of emotions on reaching the final part of his letter, in a moment, turned into fear and anxiety.

Rishab, with trembling hands, attended the call. He managed to sort out his shivering voice and said, “Dada… Uh… What’s up?”

His dad said, “Rishab, son, I thought of calling you only in the morning to wish you. But……for some reason that I don’t know.. I just made this call.. I am feeling so uncomfortable out here without you……. The truth is that I couldn’t wait…… Now, leave all those things behind…..”

Rishab’s dad continued in an excited and a bit nervous tone, “Just do one thing. Go and open the chest beneath the table in my room. And then give me a call”.

Saying this, his dad abruptly cut the call. He sensed some rare nervousness in his dad’s voice and was confused.

He thought, ’Did he know?’

Rishab looked at the direction where the bottle of poison was kept. He then thought, ‘OK Dada, I get it. The last present, I suppose. I will open it up for you….

The last bit of satisfaction that I can give you’

Tiny drops of sweat had formed all over Rishab’s face by that time. His knee joints pained as he rose from his chair, like he had just unmounted his bike after a long drive. He slowly walked towards his father’s room. His head was fighting over his conscience. Rishab just couldn’t believe that he was about to get a present from his dad when he was all set to put an end to his life. Presents meant nothing to him then.

The door to his father’s room creaked open as he pushed it. He followed his father’s directions and reached the spot where the chest lay. The usual enthusiasm of a person, who is about to open a gift, was absent in him. Now that it felt like a burden of some sort to him, he wished to wrap up the show as soon as possible.

With fingers which hardly gave any sensations of touch, he opened it.

Inside the chest was one medium sized rectangular box, of the size of his hand, wrapped in silver gift paper, with writing over a red sticker above it. It read ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON’.

None of this was helping his mind which was stuck on his next move to end his life somehow. He opened the gift paper, and he was a flummoxed in doing so.

He didn’t know what emotion was running inside him. He felt like hot lava has been poured into his mouth which left him perceptible to the burning touches that it made inside his body.

Although he couldn’t quite figure out what the emotions were, it started to hit his mind like a hailstorm. His chest was burning as he un-wrapped it.

HIS EYES STARTED TO GLEAM - like a glass reflecting the early morning sun’s crescent outfit.

He saw his present. In front of him there was another cover tightly packed around some box, in such grandeur that his eyes actually stopped messaging his brain as to what he was seeing with it. He was wondering if it was a dream.

On top of it, it was written ‘MontBlanc Boheme Royal’. The next moment, his eyes started to search for what was inside, though he knew the name and its reputation very well.

He was a bit frantic and was trying to open the cover packet with jet-speed. As speed took control, the brain lost its power. He did not understand how to properly open it, as he started to fumble over it.

He stopped and sighed, trying to release the pressure, and started all over again. Finally, it was opened. Now, he had to open only the black box in front of him to get his present. His lackluster was history, ever since he read the name ‘MontBlanc Boheme Royal’.

He slowly opened the box, as if some feeble material made of glass lay in, which would crack into pieces, even for a slight bit of pressure on it. As his soft and gentle fingers opened it, he saw…. A pen sent directly from the heavens!

Rishab was stunned. He was breathless. Never had he seen such finesse and artistry in any other pens in his entire life. It was made of white Gold, he learnt from the description of it on the cover. He always wanted to own such a pen, but he knew not what to do with it, when his hands touched one. He kept it in the box and sat on his haunches. He then pressed his hand against his head, and started to scratch it. He was calling on his mind to come back and help him get a grasp on what he was thinking of. But his conscience was playing its trick and the present moment, which had him shocked and made him reach cloud nine, was ruling his actions.

Beneath the box, there was one single piece of paper, kept folded. He took it and opened it up in haste. He was wondering now as to what might hit him next. He could hear his own heart beat, which was running at its ‘all time best’ pace.

It was his Dad’s handwriting. It read:

‘Son… first of all, we are sorry to have not supported you enough by your dreams. You have always had that flair and talent in you.

It’s just that our eyes weren’t that good at convincing our hearts. 

Forgive us... We are old folks, son……

Rishab could imagine his Dad chuckling when he read that. He continued to read from it.

We have had fights and arguments over these years. I contemplated why most of it happened. Son..... I am tired of trying to carve you into shape. Like a tree, you will grow up on your own. We did our part of taking care of you when you were young and vulnerable to persuasions. But now, we can’t decide on what you would become and how you would look like, when you grow up.

We want to see you happy and if writing does that, then yes… We would like to see you write till we die.

You are our only son and we are proud of it. And when it’s only one, it better be special. That is every parent's dream. 

And yes, you are special and gifted.

You have the capacity to conquer this world with your pen and thoughts, and we have faith in you. We will stand alongside you and see you win - I can bet my entire savings on that.

Do not worry about time and age – I say this, because nowadays I see you brooding over the days that pass by. 

Son, Days can’t be lost as days were never ours to lose. But a day can be made. And your name can be written on it. 
Remember that, Oh writer!

So, cheer up. If you really wish to, join Arts colleges and do a degree in journalism or literature. We are ready and we don’t have any problems with that. You are young and you have time. But don’t waste your time thinking about how you wasted your time in the past. Just keep the dice rolling and one day you will win the jackpot. We know that we can’t talk you through some engineering or MBBS. It was our mistake to have not given a thought properly, as to what you really wish to become. And now, we have decided to straighten things up.

Let’s start afresh son. These decisions from our end are not because of pressure or helplessness - But in fact, from tiredness of being the cowards trying to gag the society, or hide from it. We wish to face it. They didn’t finance our daily bread. So, to hell with them!

Without his knowledge, a smile dawned in Rishab’s lips.

To make the busy and chaotic world notice you, you have to shoot your talents at it as non-stop attempts. As the world is big, perhaps it might not get the impact with one single attempt from you. But then, try again. If it doesn’t notice, try again and again till it realizes and rewards your perseverance and will power; and also, you will see that you improved. The world will surely honor you one day, by portraying your face as an example of success, attained through hard work and fortitude, to all the people living in it.

 Lend your ears to what the world says about you, and never despair and get controlled by them, because winners are made from their failures and experiences. 
And God won't hear your cries, unless you tried.  

“EVER TRIED.  EVER FAILED.  NO MATTER.

TRY AGAIN. FAIL AGAIN. FAIL BETTER.”

These are words by Samuel Beckett. Remember them.

All the very best my dear son! Smile….. and be happy. That’s all we want to see.

Hope you liked the present.

You are our treasure. 

GO, Start writing.

Love,

Mom and Dad’

Rishab’s dad had already started calling him to his phone. His phone was vibrating and ringing throughout. He didn’t pick up the call. He stood in the same spot for some time. Then he walked, holding the still-ringing phone in his hand, like a spectre in his house, up and down. He went to the hall and sat in the cushion knowing not how to respond or what to do. He wept silently. At times, he gawked at the tiled floors with an open mouth. His dad kept on calling him. But, he never picked up.

After some half an hour or so, Rishab got up, brushed aside his tears and with a resolute mind, went back to his room. He had to end what he had started. ‘I should not waver anymore’, he thought. Minutes of silence had given him the strength to carry out his task – he had decided. He had made up his mind to say goodbye to the failures of his past.

All that his dad had wrote in his letter, kept on playing in his mind. His heart was beating very fast.  He started to focus on his letter.

Rishab kept aside the pen which he had used to write till then, and took out his new pen that his dad had presented him with. And he held it ready to write.. 
The nib of his new pen was ready to engage on its first flight, and the final combat of the day. He was seeing the calls in his mob. Also his landline was ringing. He did not pay any attention to them and decided to write the last sentence of his note to his parents.

He had firmly decided and was convinced that no force would be good enough to persuade him to change his mind again - a change of decision was impossible for him now.

He heaved a huge gush of air. And with a stern heart and mind, he wrote the remaining of what he had left behind, before going to fetch the present.

He looked at the pen for a few seconds. Silent tears dripped from his chin and his eyes forgot its usual instinct to blink as it searched for an image to focus on...

His bearings looked stern and steady and he retained his writing posture.

‘This is how it ends’, he thought, with lips which wore a smile, curled to one end.

After keeping the pen in the same spot for a while where he had stopped before, he wrote the last line:

“Yes, I change the meaning of my 25^th birthday - The day I was reborn….”

Writing this, he tore away the letter into pieces and immediately took the mobile in his hand to call his dad back…. He dialed, and his dad picked up the phone within literally no time….

Rishab heard his dad panting.

“R.. Rih.. Rishab where were you… what happened to you and… we tried calling you for……”, Rishab’s dad on attending the phone said, stammering and tensed.

Rishab cut short his dad’s words and said in a soothing and gentle tone,

“Daaada… Listen….

“I love you two and I ……………… and….. I,AM BACK, ALIVE”

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                                                                   THE END

KULFI AND THE BEREAVED SOUL - A SHORT STORY

“To the small eyes, it’s but seldom seen.

To the innocent mind and small heart, it’s hard to ween.

Inside it resides and inside it waits,

For the years to work on the strings it should play.

It can’t be concealed forever,

And it comes out in one way or the other.

Sometimes, things can’t wait,

Being a part of His grand master plan.

And tragic it might be, but

 Often it chooses to shoot out as a plaintive twig

- Love.”

CHAPTER ONE:

“Moma, she is not getting up from bed”, Elsa yelled at the top of her voice after wearing down her hands on her desperate attempts to wake up her 4 year old sister, Catherine, from bed.

Under the thick woolen blanket, Catherine’s eyes were wide open even as she purposefully stretched and yawned, in a sluggish manner, to win her scene. She had wrapped herself tightly with the blanket, tucking the loose ends of the same to her body parts touching the bed. This was done in order to ward herself off from her sister’s scathing ground attacks. There was no way whatsoever for Elsa, her 13 year old elder sister, to find a route to her bare skin, she knew.  Catherine’s Christmas holidays had started, and for that reason she had all the time in the world to stay put in bed and wait until the rays from the sun rose high on her windows. She always loved to see the thin ray of light entering her room and spreading on her forehead softly, as if it was afraid that a full scale entry from its side would ruin her mood - Nature was her best friend. And thereafter, like having received a message from the sun, her mother would enter the room and plant a kiss on the same forehead where sun light had already left its mark. This was how she woke up on holidays, feeling fresh, ready for adventures.

Elsa, on the other hand was running out of time to catch her school bus as her attempts to wake up her sister were not seemingly helpful at all. And adding to the misery, like a final call for surrender, her mother Sara’s shout echoed from the kitchen, “So what Elsa? Let her sleep. What is bothering you so much? I wake her up every day and haven’t forgotten that today. I have kept your lunch box by the dining table. Take it and leave Elsa, before you get late for the bus” Elsa grinded her teeth and decided to resort to her final plan. She was not going to give up that easily.

There was silence in the room and Catherine was not sure if Elsa had gone from her bedside. ‘Have I won?’ she asked herself in her mind. She slowly twisted her legs a bit, loosening her grip on the blanket, to take one peek at the situation.

This was when Elsa, who was hiding by the bedside leaped on to the bed and pulled the blanket from her little sister’s body. She then pinched Catherine, using all the power of her fingers, on the buttocks and ran away. Catherine screamed in pain, tears welling up in her eyes. She was furious with anger. She jumped from her bed and ran behind Elsa. She shouted, “Elsaaaa…….”

In the living room, Robin was sitting on the settee and reading the newspaper. He was shocked to see both his daughters running madly in front of him across the room. He kept the newspaper by his side and called, “Elsa, Catherine. Stop!”

Elsa stopped as if frozen by the power of Robin’s words, and Catherine bumped into her and fell down. Elsa, being cleverer of the two, was the first to respond before any questions arose from her father. “Dad, she pinched me and is not allowing me to go to school”

Robin looked at Catherine, who had her eyes fixed at Elsa, for an answer. Catherine was breathing heavily, waiting to strike upon Elsa with all the vengeance her little heart knew. She was sitting on the floor, silent and still, only for the fear she had for Robin. But the urge was uncontrollable. Robin shouted at Elsa in a commanding manner, “Elsa, look at me. Is that true?” Before Elsa could say anything, Catherine started crying and said, “Dad, she is doing this to me every day” Before Elsa had her chance to understand the seriousness and anger in her dad’s face; as she hadn’t looked at Robin at all till then; Catherine’s words magnified and passed through her ears, like the blow of a trumpet, and she lost her control. There was a cup of tea placed at a table near to the settee. Catherine sprang forward from her sitting posture, took the cup in her little hands and brandishing her hands, splattered the tea at her elder sister’s direction. Due to lack of power, ill will and concentration the liquid landed upon partly on Elsa’s school uniform and rest on the floor and the wall behind. This was when Robin lost his cool and brought forward his huge hands, in a thundering fashion, to Catherine’s buttocks. Catherine fell on the floor with this hit even as Elsa’s phony cries turned real for the way her neatly ironed uniform looked dirty, because of tea stains. “Dad, my uniform. She ruined it” Elsa shrieked.

This was when Sara came running into the room from the kitchen and saw her little daughter lying down on the floor, trying to get up. “Oh Jesus! What’s got into you Robin? Why do you behave like a beast to your daughter?”

“Ask her what she did and then you won’t be saying this” Robin replied, in the same serious tone.

“She tried to burn me, Mom” Elsa complained, sobbing.

“Oh, Shut up and cut the sob stuff. Will you? Little drops of semi-hot tea won’t burn you down into ashes. Go to your room, change your dress and get ready soon. Your school bus will be here any moment” Sara, with her eye - brows raised, told Elsa.

“Why do you always support her Mom?” Elsa asked, with tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Because she is just a kid and you are a big girl. You, rather than protecting and caring her, are trying to hurt and win over her always. Come back from school and I will make sure that this competition of yours ends today. Now get going” Sara said. “You look like an angel and behave like a little demon” Sara mumbled under her breath.

Elsa had gone by her mother in her looks. She was lean, tall enough for her age and had a pair of blue eyes which made her look like a little angel sent from heaven. With these attributes, Elsa was easily the prettiest girl in her class. Adding to that she also happened to be the class topper, which gave rise to tremendous amount of pride in her. Though she had gone by her mother in her looks, her character was very much similar to her tall, grumpy and ex-body builder dad. Catherine on the other hand was very unique. She was, like her father, short-tempered, and like her mother, kind and loving. She had dark eyes and thick and curly hair. She had the cheeks of the color of strawberry and a face carved into shape like that of a pumpkin. Catherine was beautiful in her own way. She was dreamy and had all the characteristics of a future rebel given her naughty acts. She would do anything possible to be done in the earth to get what she wanted. For this, her mother supported and dad fought her. Sara had her reasons for that. Sara used to dream of becoming a teacher, when she was little. But after her marriage with Robin, she had to dedicate herself completely into the living of a house-wife. It was never like she was not happy with her life. She was just not satisfied with her position. For this reason, once when Catherine had told Sara that she had dreams of becoming a school teacher one day, she became Sara’s favorite, and ever since then Sara started to see Catherine as her second chance and  stood by her side for all her wishes.

Robin was facing Sara, who was tending to her daughter. “Now, you are pampering her. You are spoiling her” his voice was rising “I love her too, just like you do. But that doesn't mean I will stand by everything she does. I will not tolerate this kind of character from my daughter. She needs to know. She needs to be treated properly for that”

“The last thing I want is my daughter be treated like a slave” Sara blurted out.

It was like someone shelled Robin off guard, from the neighborhood. He was shocked at hearing this. But he decided to keep quiet, being very much aware of his wife’s arguing abilities and the way it could ruin the entire week’s food quality. “I don’t know what made you say that. But, it is wrong and I am telling you…. You will realize one day” He said at last and sat on the settee.

“No, it is not I who will realize. You. You will realize. You will regret for not having loved her enough. My Catherine is a princess. And she will excel more than Elsa. I know her. But, she needs time and space. Let her play at least now. Let us spare her from the understanding of love and life, for now”

Catherine cast a quick glance at her Mom and then at her sobbing sister who stomped her way into her room. She didn’t understand a thing of what her Mom had told in the end. And she thought, ‘I know what love is.

I love you Mom.

But I hate Elsa and Dad. But I like them, of course’

CHAPTER TWO:

December 26<sup>th</sup>, 2004:

It was a cloudy morning in Velankanni and Christmas celebrations were at its peak inside the Church compound. As it was Christmas Eve, Robin and his family had come to Velankanni to pay tribute for Elsa’s success in her 8<sup>th</sup> grade examination. They had, after attending the mass, come to the beach side to enjoy the cold breeze; the news of which was spreading inside the Church like wild fire. The combination of dark clouds and a rare cold morning breeze with a slight drizzle now and then, was spreading the aura of that of a holiday spot in Velankanni beach by the Church side. The family was having a great time out there in the beach.

After some time, Catherine, on making sure that her elder sister was busy playing with her dad in the beach - side, slowly got up and prowled away from where she and her mom were sitting together. Her mom was keenly watching Elsa and her dad play with the little waves from the sea, with a smile around the corner of her lips. Catherine, knowing that it was the right moment, slowly crawled backwards from her mother’s side and succeeded in stealing one 10 Rupee note from her Dad’s shirt pocket which lay on the sheet of cloth, on top of which she and her mother were sitting. She was not playing with Elsa and her Dad for she was grounded, for not listening to anybody and also for making a cranky scene for buying one Kulfi Ice Cream. She was shunned of Kulfi as she was vulnerable to tonsillitis and she was too small to understand this fact. She, after throwing a quick glance at her family to check on her safety to execute a plan that was born in her mind just minutes before, ran at her top speed towards where the Ice Cream guy vendor, with his vehicle, was standing. She gave him the ten rupee note that she had successfully taken from her dad’s shirt pocket and asked for one ‘KHULFFHI’,  without bothering or rather not knowing anything about the price, to the vendor. This was her first time in a direct purchase. The Ice cream vehicle had caught her attention when they had come to beach after the mass. The poster of a pink girl smiling and licking a Kulfi in her hand was what which had attracted her the most. Once she got the Ice cream from the vendor, she ran back to her Mom, holding tight the Ice Cream Box to her chest, like it was some sort of treasure. She didn’t even bother to collect the change that the vendor had extended to her. She had succeeded flawlessly with the initial steps of her plan. Now, only the ‘opening and licking it just like the pink girl’ part was pending. Of course, It was a well planned move, but only until she had won the Kulfi. She succeeded in opening up the cover in which the pink girl smiled at her, after tearing it down wildly into pieces. Catherine started licking the Kulfi lusciously with her little tongue. With her heads held high and lips touching the icy juicy part, she enjoyed it like it was her freedom. She didn’t notice where she was standing. She couldn’t recollect anything from her plans. She thanked Velankani Mother Mary in between for making her dream come true for she had just prayed to Her shrine for an ice cream one hour ago. Because of tonsillitis, it was a long time before that Catherine had last had her ice cream. And it was one among her favorites, second only to ‘Kinder Joy’. For this reason Catherine was happy with Mother Mary. But Mother Mary had other plans that she had never envisaged, or rather….plans that she never had the power to envisage.

She felt, out of nowhere, a paining lash on her buttocks. Her Dad was shouting, “Didn’t I tell you to stay put beside your mother. And how dare you steal my money”. Saying this he snatched the Kulfi from her hand and threw it on the sand and hit her one more time with his strong hands (again to her buttocks). Catherine started crying. Her Mom, who was walking into the scene said, “Oh Robin, don’t be so harsh. She is just a kid” Looking at Catherine, she said, “Leave it. Catherine dear, you come with me”

Robin passed an astonished look at Sara and shouted at her, “She stole money. How bad is that? Huh! Let’s not pamper her. I am warning you again and again”.

“No, she wouldn’t have done that”, defending her daughter, Sara said. She then tightly hugged her crying daughter and said to her in a childish tone, “Don’t cry my dear”

“I saw her taking the money from dad’s pocket” claimed Elsa in an energetic tone. She delivered a wry smile to her younger sister. Her blue beautiful eyes were shining.  “She always does this”, she continued.  Catherine looked at her elder sister with moist eyes. Grinding her teeth, she ran towards her and threw some sand and whatever she could grab with her little hands from the ground.

 “See…”, Robin shouted and walked in furiously towards Catherine, with the demeanor of that of an angry monster. Just before Robin raised his hand, Sara quickly dragged Catherine by her hand, to save her from the hit. “Don’t worry Catherine”, she murmured to Catherine’s ears. “I will get you some good toys to play with later. For now, you have to stay away from Kulfi. And when you are alright, I will buy you as many as you want”, saying which she kissed her daughter’s forehead. Catherine wiped the tears flowing from her eyes and walked along with her mother. And the duo walked towards their Beach umbrella. They then sat there under it and Sara hugged Catherine tight again. She said, “You are my little princess. Now, stop crying and sleep. You woke up early today for the mass right!”

Catherine rested her head on her mother’s breasts. She mumbled on throwing curses at her sister. “She is always like this”, she complained to her mother and kept on crying. Then she turned around and shouted at Elsa, “I hate you”.

For some time Catherine wept sitting under the shade of love from her Mom, and the real shade of the Beach Umbrella. She was slowly falling asleep and her head swiftly moved its way from Sara’s breasts to Sara’s lap. Meanwhile, Catherine never stopped cursing her elder sister Elsa in her mind.

Within no time, Catherine fell asleep. In between, while her eyes were closed and dreams towed her toward them slowly, she heard her dad coming and saying something, kissing her forehead, which she couldn’t comprehend due to her drowsy mood. She thought, ‘Um.. A kiss to you too Dada.

But I hate you Elsa. I hate you’

…………………………………………………

Catherine woke up shocked and frightened, hearing her mother scream. “Robin……. Elsa………” She heard the sounds of a big commotion around her.

Sara took her daughter Catherine in her hand and started running towards where the Church was situated. To Catherine’s half-opened pair of eyes, in her mother’s shoulder, it was visible - people were scurrying helter-skelter and a Giant transparent-blue Mouth was coming towards them with a roaring sound. ‘It is as tall as the coconut trees’, she thought. Before she could notice anything else, the giant transformed into wave first and water second, smashing them with full force, throwing them away. She felt the full stress of the powerful water in wave form on her face and body. She drowned, she drank water. She tried to cry for help. No one attended to her. And she didn’t have much time to ask for it as well. Before she could take guard, if any, she started to dream again.

 The Giant mouth, Tsunami, gulped the coast with its brutal force…….

CHAPTER THREE:

Catherine woke up.  In her half-sleep she whispered “Mummy…”

She started to cry for it was her wont to do so once she woke up on her own.  She used to stop, only after her Mom comes and lifts her up on her shoulders. She always loved to wake up in her Mom’s warm and caring shoulders. So she cried for a while, never opening her eyes, hoping that her Mom Sara would come and lift her from bed. After crying for a while, she opened her eyes with great difficulty. She moaned, “Mummy….” Catherine felt very tired and exhausted. She started to feel a bit groggy in her head and wondered if she had overslept.

Catherine saw that she was inside a tent.  She woke up from the cot in which she lay and started walking towards the opening in the tent from where the daylight was entering the room. There was only one table, with piles of papers lying on top of it in disarray, and a chair inside the tent. She wondered why there was sand and not tiles on the floor. None of this made sense to her. She kept on crying and started walk towards outside. Catherine couldn't recollect anything from what had occurred. The way her nose pained while she breathed gave her a wild memory of water gushing and its gigantic force that she felt on her body. Still, Catherine was under the impression that her Mom would come any moment to give her, her usual morning kiss and tooth brush.

Her eyes were still semi-closed as she walked her way out of the tent. There was a pungent smell all over the place. She could hear cries all around her. She looked up, and amid the scorching light from the sun, she could see vultures circling above the sky. A lot of people were standing, walking and running about her. There were some big machines in two three places which were making strange tractor-like noises, but in an ear-splitting manner. They were too sharp and loud for her to bear. She closed her ears with both her hands. In a few seconds, when silence took hold of her, she started to get a better view of things. She kept on walking, slowly, gaping at everything, as everything happening there was bizarre and new for her. The realization of something strange was dawning in her - It felt like a nightmare to her. She was getting afraid with each passing moment from then on and wanted to go back to the tent where she came from. But when she turned around, she realized that she was too far away to actually discover or remember where she came from. She had walked for quite a long time. People were all around her. Her eyes widened and hands started to tremble. The aura of something grave, beyond her comprehension yet sad and frightening caught the better of her. Bending her shoulders, using her full power, she howled “Mummmyyyy….. Mummmyyyy…..”

While she was crying aloud, from the odd group of people walking about her, a strange and weary dressed man came to her. He was thin and had a shabby look with his face. He had a stubble and hair on top his head combed in an unmethodical fashion. He said “Hey.. baby.. Hey.. You are looking for your mother. Aren’t you? I will take you to her. You look so tired my dear”. She wiped her tears and looked at the guy. The man extended his baby finger towards her, expecting her to take hold of it and offered her one ‘Fruti’ drink with his other hand. She had always loved Fruti and was feeling very thirst indeed. “Drink this and you will feel fresh. Don’t be afraid, I know where your Mummy is and I will take you to her” the man said promisingly in a smooth and caring tone.

She looked at him. She couldn’t see his face as her eyes were filled with tears. Suddenly some lady darted in from behind and shouted “Hey…. Bug off you asshole”. She had a lathi in her hand and she swung it at the guy with full force. She had a whistle as well, tied around her neck, using which she kept on blowing while she was in action. The guy took to his heels quickly and ran away like his life depended on it. The lady had worn a khaki dress, Catherine noticed.  Looking at Catherine with concern and sympathy in her eyes, the lady asked “Are you OK dear?” She was about to take hold of her hands, but that was when someone communicated something to her, through the walkie- talkie tightly clipped by the belt on her hips. Catherine was frozen with fear. While the lady had taken her eyes off her, like a lightning, she bolted away from the lady. She never stopped. She kept on crying throughout her run. She was feeling the cold atmosphere as she had no costume on her body, except for one pink trouser, fully drenched in mud and for that reason then brown. She was feeling the damp ground as she had no footwear to protect her small feet. It was completely like a nightmare. She fell down hitting the thighs of a few people; she was small; but she worked herself into the ground and somehow ran again, finally reaching a place where people were standing in a circle around something. Her legs were paining and her eyes were wet with tears. Her lips were stretched sideways and were tremulous with fear. She stopped and she saw the same big machine with big and huge iron hands which were held high in the air, at the other end of the circle. Instead of fingers, it had but sharp teeth.  People were crying and were looking inside the circle with their faces covered with some cloth or the other. She knew not where to run. She was eagerly in search of a face; that of her mother’s.  Without any further thought, she just rammed into the circle and sneaked inside. The cries and the pungent smell were growing bigger. She kept on pushing people and squeezed in more and more; she slipped somewhere as she was doing this and suddenly fell down………

She rolled over the damp and wet sand and landed up some twenty feet below in some sort of a circular pit. Her body was paining. Blood had started to come off from her knees and hands.  She started to cry after standing up, knowing nothing, her eyes searching for something. She slowly walked ahead rubbing her eyes with sand smeared hands. Her eyes were red out of pain. She fell down again but managed to get up and walk. The ground was uneven like a place filled with roots of big trees. Once again, she fell. This time, she wriggled frantically and caught hold of something that she could next reach to. She, after managing to stand up, realized that it was a hand which she had caught hold for support…. Her eyes were still half-closed due to pain and sand particles struck inside. She heard people shouting from behind, “Get the kid up…… Get the kid up…… She is too small…… OMG…… Get the kid up……”

Catherine was panting. She then somehow opened her eyes with strain and stood still. There, she saw, dead bodies lying littered. Some had their eyes open. Some had them closed. Some had their dresses torn. Some had nothing on them to cover their naked skin, now dry and withered like pieces of meat kept in refrigerator in her house. Blood stains were there on almost most of them. She walked through them…..crying all the while….”Mummy……Mummy” She was screaming in fact…… She could feel her throat soar… She fell down two or three times again. Her tongue tasted salt. The pungent smell was piercing her brain. Her head was swirling. Her eyes were spiraling. She fell again.

All the energy in her had drained out. Hope was not there. She knew not why she was there. She wanted solace. She wanted to go home. This time she couldn’t get up from her fall. She opened her eyes one last time. Catherine was lying on her back and on lifting her head with great effort, she saw one set of hollow and familiar eyes open next to her; blue they were and their blank gazes were aimed straight at the bright sky. She shook her head, lifting it higher, and looked at the body she was lying above. She cried, “Elsaaaaaa…….”

Catherine hugged Elsa’s body tight and cried with all her might. It was a cry that could devastate the goodness in any living person’s soul. Half of Elsa’s body was inside the wet sand. Catherine hugged her even tighter and tried to drag her out of the sand with her little hands. She was in a state of frenzy. She scratched her. She then tried to loosen Elsa’s body from the sand, thrusting her fingers deep into it. It wasn’t working. She groped her hands above what was visible of her sister’s body. Only her hands pained and nothing else happened. Catherine was physically and mentally immersed in pain. She couldn’t concentrate. She couldn’t understand. She knew not who to call. Her head felt heavy to her and her lips were parched. She was blinking to get rid of the burning sensation in her eyes.

Elsa had worn a jean jacket which was the only thing on her body now. Catherine knew not what death was but she doubted if Elsa was dead. She cried, “Elsa, Come back” While she started to try pulling Elsa’s torso out again from the ground, she accidentally put her hands inside her wet jean jacket pocket. She caught hold of some sort of cover inside that pocket, drenched and wet. She took it out as someone from behind took her aside. She didn’t have enough power to fight back or ask them to leave her alone. The ground seemed to rotate for her, as her eyes were giving up. But her fingers hadn’t. She had one last look at what was inside that transparent plastic cover clinging by her finger tips, which was tied above with a knot, before she fainted and dropped it.

 Inside there were two disfigured and crushed boxes, with two similar looking, but obscure, pink girls smiling at her - something similar to the Kulfi box, she had bought from the beach side.

THE END 

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Dedicated to all those who lost their lives in the wrath of nature and those who live, shedding tears everyday for these lives lost.

God Bless.