India Unaltered

              India Unaltered                                                                                                                                                                                                    

                                                          

                      At 10:48 PM on 16th July 2014, Pipeline road of Tilak Nagar in Mumbai was partly busy. Though the clock was about to strike Eleven O ‘clock in few minutes, the road was awake, occupied with commuters, buses, light-motor vehicles and auto-rickshaws. An auto-rickshaw with a title “Bambai – Wala” on its back, found its way to the entrance of Lokmanya Tilak Terminus.  

                    From it, Sowmya who was in her thirties, descended first and then she helped her 5-year old son, Govindh, in getting down. Govindh was covered with ash-colored hoodie and a thick-blue jeans. Govindh’s mother had pulled the hood up his head to protect his ears from the cool breeze. Auto driver who turned behind from his seat, had taken the portmanteau and placed it on the road before Sowmya started to scrabble her shoulder-bag for auto fare.  After collecting the fee and putting it into the pocket, driver turned his auto-rickshaw behind and followed the same way back in which he had come. Sowmya, now zipped her shoulder-bag and positioned it properly. She held the portmanteau in her left hand and started walking into the mouth of the railway station. Govindh who was only 3 feet, curled his little fingers tightly around the forefinger of his mother’s right hand and moved along with her. However his eyes were inclined towards the red, tiny Lightning McQueen toy present in his right hand. 

                   An announcement was being made at regular intervals for the departure of Mumbai – Secunderabad Duronto Express. Digital time indicators were suspended from the roof at periodic distances of the station. They all bore 22:58 on their display screens. Sowmya and Govindh went towards the 5th  AC-3 tier car of the halted Duronto Express on the platform.  The couple boarded the train only with a very little effort. Sowmya was happy as they were relieved from the hustle and bustle of the station. She strode decisively in search of the berths reserved for the duo by holding the portmanteau and tickets in her left hand.  Govindh was merely following his mother from behind by holding her right hand. Being a weekday, this train was bleak and desolated. Nevertheless, there were few passengers shattered here and there.

                Sowmya’s face was lit with relief when she found their berths. Their seat numbers were 41 and 42.  41 was a window seat in daytime and lower berth at night. 42 was a middle seat in daytime and middle berth in the night. She didn’t bother about the 43rd, as it was an upper berth and apparently not theirs. However there was a half-filled water bottle and a small travel bag with a magazine on top of it, lying on 44th seat that was on the opposite section of 41, 42 &43. She pushed her luggage under her seat and sat down taking Govindh in her arms. She made Govindh to sit beside her and removed the hood covering his head. He was rotating the wheels of his toy car as the train started moving. Through the glass window, Sowmya noticed that the time was 23:05 on one of the digital boards. 

                     An elderly person, probably in his sixties, came casually and sat on the 44th seat facing Sowmya and Govindh. He was traditionally dressed, having a Taqiyah (Muslim’s sacred cap) above his head and wearing quaint glasses to protect his eyes. He broke the ice to initiate a small talk and by leaning forward, started interacting with the kid.  

“What’s your name?” he questioned the kid with a smile for which the kid replied in a very cute manner only to impress the latter.

Sowmya prompted her son to ask the elder person’s name.  

Govindh raised his head and asked the elder person “What’s your name?” 

“Abdul Rahaman”, the elder said joyfully. Kid nodded his head and again started to play with his toy. 

“Are you both setting off to Secunderabad?” asked Abdul looking at Sowmya. 

“No sir, we will be getting off the train in Pune when the train halts for some technical reasons” answered Sowmya with a decent tone. 

“Oh! If it is Pune, you must have preferred bus to train “exclaimed Abdul. 

“This is unplanned and moreover our destination is pretty much near to the Pune Junction where the train halts” replied Sowmya with a broad smile. 

“Oh, even my journey is totally unplanned”, he expressed with curiosity.

 Their conversation progressed along with the train’s motion. 

                    Sowmya thought to request Abdul to take up 42nd seat and allow them to use the 44th seat, so that mother and child both could sleep on the lower berths. She hesitated to request him and while she was pondering on this thing, her mobile started ringing. She requested Abdul to watch Govindh for some time and went towards the door to speak over the phone. She spoke to her husband about the departure details and other usual stuff. Then she returned to her berth after about thirty minutes.  

                Sowmya was astonished to see the present situation. Govindh was sleeping peacefully on 44th seat, with the car still in his right hand. Beside him, Abdul was seen sitting and patting the back of Govindh. Sowmya was deeply touched by this kind gesture of Abdul. However she did not thank him. Nevertheless, Abdul smiled at Sowmya as she returned to the berth and told her that he will sleep on the middle berth.

Having told that, Abdul Rahaman climbed on to the 42nd berth to sleep as Sowmya wished him good night. 

She continued “Sir, we would get off the train before you wake up in the morning. I wish you a safe journey”, and lied on the lower berth after putting off the light.  

“Oh !, nice meeting you both, take good care of the little fellow”, he replied from the top. 

No sooner had Rahaman climbed up, than his mobile started to ring.  

Abdul answered it and spoke “Yeah, I am about to sleep” into the speaker of his cellular phone.

“No, I don’t have anything left with me for the pre-fast meal. But I will somehow manage and abstain”, he continued. 

“Don’t worry, I will either try to manage or break it for tomorrow. And Yes I have also set the alarm”, responded Abdul for something asked by the caller and hung up his phone. 

                       It was around 4:10 AM in the morning when Rahaman’s mobile started alarming him. Rahaman woke up, put off the alarm and descended down. He noticed that the 2 lower berths were empty. Assuming that his co-passengers had alighted in Pune Junction, he went to the rest room to refresh himself from his sleep. Train was running at a speed higher than he expected. He hardly had a clue about the current location of the train. 

                          Rahaman came back to his berth with some irregular water droplets splattered over his face. Now, he was feeling better from the grogginess that his sleep had brought. He was contemplating on whether to begin his fasting or not because he had nothing to consume in his pre-fast meal. During the holy month of Ramzan, each day before dawn, Muslims observe a pre-fast meal. After stopping a short time before dawn, Muslims begin the first prayer of the day. At sunset, they hasten for the fast-breaking meal known as "iftar". 

                  So Abdul was wondering, without  the pre-fast meal, if he could abstain from eating till sunset. He told himself that Allah would help him manage and switched on the light. To take his holy Quaran, Abdul crouched before 44th berth to drag his bag that was lying under the seat. 

He was surprised to see his bottle completely filled with water and a plastic-cover with few apples and dates inside it. There was a small piece of paper lying above the fruits.
                 The paper read “dada, eat these fruits and begin your roza - me and my son Govindh”.
           Rahaman was speechless. He was left surprised with moist eyes. The restless-duronto express which didn't know anything about what had just happened, started to blow its whistle as Rahaman had a baby-like smile on his lips.

Conceived and Written By

Jayanth

          

                          

The Right To Fight

The Right To Fight

The 17^th Cross of Banker’s Colony in South Bombay was impressively clean and wide. At 16:35 Hours, there was hardly anyone on the street except for a fruit vendor who was pushing his old cart that had sundry fruits.

There was one floored independent house encompassed by a 7-feet compound wall at the heart of the street. The continuity of the wall was interrupted by an exquisitely designed gate which opened into wide and empty area where thin grass sprung from the ground. The main door of the house made a slight squeaky cry as Radha opened it from inside and stepped out. There were sounds, possibly of a television program, which soon vanished as the door shut itself leaving Radha alone outside. She ascended the marbled stairs that led to the terrace. Several clothes, after being washed, for the purpose of drying were clipped to the strings connecting the extreme ends of the terrace. The Sun, however, was not at its zenith. The clothes started swinging, for the atmosphere was only little less than windy. Slowly, Radha started unclipping the clothes one by one and slung them across her shoulders. After accomplishing her task, Radha started descending the stairs but only after noticing that someone had opened the gate and gained entry to the house.

Radha’ s descending came to a sudden halt as she was blocked by someone. She was baffled and her skin went cold with this sudden surprise.

 Radha was only few feet away from the living room door and spoke frantically “ Yuvi, when did you come ? “

“Just a while ago”, Yuvi answered nonchalantly.

Yuvi had a charming and jubilant face with deep black eyes. His jet-black hair was groomed perfectly.

Before Radha uttered a word, Yuvi held her right hand in his and shouted “Radha, you are mine.”

The steel gate was slammed wide open with a clang to claim Radha’s immediate attention.

Radha yelled a mild cry “ Darshan, stop right there.”

Darshan rushed to the spot where the duo were already standing and immediately freed Radha’ s  right hand from Yuvi’ s strong hold.

This time Darshan took hold of Radha’ s hand and effused “Radha is mine.”

Darshan was also as charming as Yuvi but with thicker hair. Nonetheless, Darshan had infuriating eyes at the moment.

Yuvi who was already sulking, hustled Darshan’ s tidy shirt to show his dejection and wailed out a loud cry saying “ I came here first “.

Soon there was a verbal war with heated arguments between the two intruders.

Radha was exasperated by the unexpected act and tried to suppress her anger that was slowly mounting.

She was about to exhibit her suppressed annoyance as a motor vehicle forayed into the compound through the gate, leaving a haze of petroleum fumes behind.

As the vehicle neared the door, a voice reached the three living souls  “ Radha,  Who slammed the gate wide open ? “

“Its your twin sons. I am done for the day.. Gopi , now it’s your turn to take care of these 6-year old little rascals.” , alluded Radha and sped fast into the living room with a broad smile on her face and few clothes on her shoulders.

Darshan and Yuvi ran towards the motor-cycle where Gopi was still busy in parking it.

 

“Gopi is mine……..”, effused Darshan and Yuvi simultaneously in wild excitement with each of them catching hold of Gopi’ s right hand.

Conceived and Written By

Jayanth,

The Master Loot

                                                                                                                           

    It was Sunday on 2^nd March,2003. By this time of the year, winter had almost driven itself away from the small town of Rampur. It was as early as 4:45 AM when Kabir took his Hero Cycle and started riding at high speed towards the bus-terminus. After reaching the terminus, Kabir hastily parked his cycle and ran into the bus bay where some other people also were waiting. There weren’t any buses present in the stand. Kabir went and greeted Pandey, his owner with a good morning.

      “Has the Ranchi bus arrived ?” asked Kabir for which Pandey nodded his head. Kabir heaved a sigh of relief and soon noticed a bus coming in. Bus with a  name board “Ranchi-Rampur” came to the stand and halted. The driver sprang up from his seat and walked towards the chai shop. A person from inside the bus waved his hand to Kabir and dropped a big bundle of newspapers  which were tied tightly. Kabir carried the bundle to Pandey and finished untying it. He separated some newspapers, rolled every set, tied a knot around each paper, put all those rolled ones into a bag and bid adieu to Pandey.

                   

                                     Kabir hooked the bag to his cycle and started riding. As usual, he took every paper-roll carefully, shouted “paper, sir” and flung it into the subscribers compound/balcony/lawn. It was around 5:30 AM when Kabir entered Lakshman Singh street. He threw the paper into Mr.Mohan Das’s balcony and sped fast.

             

                Krishna, 11 year old son of  Mohan Das woke up immediately after hearing the words “paper, sir”.  Krishna disclosed himself from the blanket and got out of his bed without making any sound.  He slowly took his school bag from under his bed, sat on his bed as he unzipped it. Krishna, then tiptoed till the drawer that was adjacent to his study-chair. He opened the drawer and made his fingers scout for something inside it. After being successful in finding what he wanted, Krishna slowly unlocked his room and came out.  He knew his father, Mohan Das was still asleep in his room and his mother, Kamala Das was busy washing some utensils inside kitchen. Now he thought this was the perfect time and headed out. After 5 -6 minutes , Krishna strode back to his room and locked it from inside.

                                  At around 6:40 AM, Mohan Das sauntered towards the empty space in the balcony where a teapoy and few chairs around it were present. Mohan Das placed the hot coffee cup that he was holding on the teapoy and went to the corner of the balcony to collect his newspaper. He came back and sat down in one of the chairs and started unknotting the string around the paper. Mohan was little amused and surprised at the way this knot was tied. However he unrolled the paper and opened it.  He multi-tasked sipping the coffee and reading the paper. Being Sunday, Mohan was bit casual and slow in reading the news. After skim reading through some incurious sections of the paper, he turned to the last section of the paper that titled  Sports Column.

       Mohan Das was shocked to see that page. There was a huge vacuum in that particular page. It seemed that an image was clipped(cut) away from an article.

Just above the clipped-image there was a heading that read  “Tendulkar paves the way for India's celebration at Centurion in the World-Cup’s historical game against Pakistan “.

Now Mohan got up hurriedly from his chair and carried the paper to kitchen where Kamala was present.

  

“ Where is Krishna ? ” questioned Mohan.

“ Today is Sunday and hence he is still lying on the bed. Why, What happened ?” asked Kamala with a surprised tone.

“ Oh ! you really think he is sleeping. See what your son has done.” told Mohan and showed Kamala the paper.

 “ How do you know that Krishna has done it ? “ cross-questioned Kamala showing her motherly attitude.

 “ No Paper-boy in Rampur uses his shoelace to tie a newspaper. Your beloved son has ripped off the usual thread that was used in tying this paper with scissors,        unrolled the paper after he clipped off Tendulkar’s photo.

 Then he rolled back the paper and now found nothing to tie it back as the thread’s  been ripped off.

 So he used his shoelace to tie the paper-roll“ told Mr.Das.

   Kamala burst into laughter as Mohan Das stood with a pale face.

  Inside the room , our kiddo Krishna silently crawled deeper into his blanket.

           That’s how the little master(Sachin) had been looted.

  Believe me, this is how a typical Indian kid behaves. They love and get inspired from their super-heroes. I grew up watching Sachin Tendulkar and this is my small tribute to the Legend who made my childhood  amazing and interesting.

 #ThankYouSachin for inspiring generations and making millions smile. Kudos.

 Conceived and Written By

Jayanth

Epic-2013

On 16th November 2013, I watched this animation movie "Epic" with Karthik, my cousin in Madanapalle .

  

The story is about the tiny leafmen trying to protect their forest from the boogans.

I loved all the characters in the movie. Few of them are Mary Katherine (MK), Nod, Ronin, Mub , Grub (Slugs) and the bad guys Mandarake and Bufo.

Watched on HP laptop at Karthik's home.

My favorite quote is as below :
Ronin to Nod : Many leaves, one tree. We're all individuals, but we're still connected. No one's alone.

Why Ramu never bunked his school ?

This is my first ever short-story .  The names used in this story are purely fictitious.

I wrote this story for an event called HATT ( Have A Terrific Thursday ) at Infosys on 24th October 2013.

This is a story of a boy named Ramu.          


          That day was very special for Ramu. He got out of his house with his heavy school bag, unwrapped the plastic covers from his new gifted  bicycle, hooked his lunch-box to the cycle’s handle and started cycling to his school.  Ramu’s school was around 3 km from his house and all the way long , he noticed people staring  at him for he was riding a new cycle with a school bag . His face exhibited immaculate smile , yet he was nervous. Ramu forayed into  his campus , parked and locked the cycle before silently keeping  the keys  in his trousers  pocket. After entering the classroom, all the students were amused at seeing him . Ramu suddenly realized that he was in the  wrong  classroom  and walked out with sheer nervousness. Now this time, he correctly went to  classroom with the label “ V - STD ” and walked forward watching the usual  subject- related charts hanging to the walls . He quietly walked to the last  bench(C-group)  of the classroom and placed his lunch box and school bag  under the desk. All the students were waiting for the teacher to come. As soon as the teacher stepped in, the whole class stopped making noise and all the students  shouted with a loud voice  “ Good Morning Bindu Miss”. So did Ramu. There was a quick morning prayer followed by the question and answer session.

Bindu miss started asking from Peter (A-group first bench student ).  Peter  did not answer and hence continued to stand while Miss Bindu passed the question to fellow students for which none of the A-group kids had answer.  The question soon reached Charitha( of B-group ) who started rubbing eyes instead of answering. Within no time , the whole B-Group was on their feet. Ramu noticed that Malathi, Sindhu  and few other girls who were standing, put their heads down in shame. Some C-Group students were glancing at their wrist-watches every now and then in anxiety waiting for the next teacher to come in. Soon the question was passed to C-Group . The whole class was puzzled when even Riyaz, the class leader had not given the proper answer. The process of making students stand continued.  In next 10 minutes , the question reached Gopal (the last but one sitting next to Ramu). Finally Ramu was asked to answer after Gopal continued to stand with gloomy face. Ramu was confident of the answer and started to open his mouth as he felt  someone patting his shoulder hard from behind.

“Get Up you lame duck , its already 6:00 AM . Go fetch the milk from the booth“ , the person shouted.                           

 Ramu  got up from the old Indian mat on which he was sleeping , opened his sleepy eyes , rolled in the mat as he realized that the school-thing was only a dream. He fetched the milk and gave it to his master . After sometime Ramu started  serving  “chai”(tea) to all those who were reading newspaper sitting on the long wooden bench placed beside the rusted signboard .

Then he took a dry cloth and started wiping the signboard  that read “Saleem Chai – Biscet ”.  By then it was 7:30 AM. Ramu stopped wiping for a while and watched few school students in tidy uniform carrying their bags and cycling on the road. He quietly called his master and told , “Bhai, next time if the painter passes by our shop, ask him to change the name Biscet to Biscuit  on the signboard ” and  resumed wiping the board.



Ramu never bunked his school because he never went to school.
I dedicate this to thousands of Ramus who only DREAM of going to school.

Absorb the theme and ignore the grammatical mistakes.


Conceived and Written By
Jayanth

The Musgrave Ritual

Whose was it ?
His who is gone.

Who shall have it ?
He who will come.

Where was the sun ?
Over the oak.

Where was the shadow ?
Under the elm.

How was it stepped ?
West eight by eight, South seven by seven, West six by six, South five by five and two by two and so under.

What shall we give for it ?
All that is ours.

Why should we give it ?
For the sake of the trust.

Alumni Meet

16th January 2013 was definitely something special. My beloved school Elena Bettini had organised a gathering for alumni. Former students from 12 passed out batches were the expected attendees. I belonged to the 2005 batch. My class comprised of 47 students in the year 2005. But surprisingly only 10 of us turned up for the alumni meet. I was accompanied by Yusuf, Akram, Wilson, Hemanth, Lokesh and Rajesh to the school. We met Charitha, Haritha and Shabeen Taj in the school.
All the former students were asked to assemble in the auditorium.
         
               Sister Lousie , Sister Marry, Sister Shanthi and Sister Mercy were present in the hall.
My teachers Marry Job (Social Studies) , Nirmala (Telugu), Srinivasulu (Mathematics),  Neelima( Hindi)  were also invited.
They were greeting and welcoming all the incoming students to the auditorium. We met some of our seniors namely Gowtham, K.V. Mahesh, Mani Kanta, V.S.Rajesh, Paul Vinod. We played pranks among ourselves as long as we were inside the auditorium. As usually, we were addressed with some moral values and life tips by our teachers . Finally after all , we were gently asked to stand up and sing the school-anthem "Love, Loyality and Service" . All the attendees were served lunch. Majority of the alumni were deeply immersed in capturing photos with their old buds. And so were we. 

After our lunch we went towards the basket-ball court for some gaming. We started playing by dividing among ourselves. We wrapped up the game after playing for almost an hour. Later we went on to meet our HeadMistress Sister. Shanthi. She sought into our current positions. We spoke with her for some time and bid adieu to her and the school.

In the end before we left , we all were very happy about the meet. We embraced each other and felt happy for this day.

                                              

School Emblem on the podium by my DAD...

 

 

With Sister Daisy

My Dad's Signature on the podium..