Child’s Lullaby

                       At around 3:50 P.M, Laxman pulled out the class diary from inside his school bag. Apparently his school bag was lying under one of the wooden desks placed inside a classroom with a plaque “III STD” on it. One corner of the blackboard had all the homework for students. This activity of putting up the homework (for the day) on blackboard was done by all the teachers just before leaving the class. Every day, students copy down all the activities from the blackboard into their diaries. Laxman opened the page which had 28^th JANUARY , 1999  watermarked on the header section. He jotted down that day’s homework, put his class diary back in the bag and ran towards the main gate after the long bell rang.

                              It was exactly at 4:30 P.M. when an auto-rickshaw arrived before Sumithra’s home. Sumitra was 32 , wife of Dasarath and mother of Laxman. She was embroidering one of Laxman’s hand-kerchief when the auto arrived. She saw Laxman dragging his bag which had the face of Scooby-Doo printed on it.

Laxman came to his mom, saw her and yelled  “ maa, I reiterated that my hanky must have LAXMAN on it. Not LUCKY . “

“Lucky boy, I will have LAXMAN embroidered on your 4^th- grade hanky. Now go and refresh yourself. I will have the milk boiled for you.”

Sumitra had packed Laxman’s bag and prepared him for his tuition before Dasarath came home. Dasarath came home at 5:15 P.M. He bespattered his face with water and tidied up himself.

“Are you ready Lucky ?”,Dasarath enquired.

“Yes paa”, Laxman replied frivolously.

“Sumi, I will leave Lucky at his tuition and meet my friends “ told Dasarath.

“Should I pick him up at 8:00 P.M. after his tutelage ? “, asked Sumitra.

“No my dear, tonight , I will have him picked up .” responded Dasarath and walked out along with Laxman.

                               Laxman hung his bag to his back as his father had him seated on the baby seat of the old fashioned Hero Cycle. Then Dasarath rode the cycle away from his residence. While Dasarath sped fast across the streets, Laxman watched through the roads as he did regularly. At 5:45 P.M., Dasarath’s cycle entered the front portion of Gulshan Theatre. Laxman was surprised to see the poster of Toy Story -2. The poster was wide and very large. The poster had the characters Woody, Buzz Lightyear and many others on it. Laxman was excited as well as surprised by looking at it.

                               Dasarath bought Laxman down from the cycle and made him stand on the ground. He parked the cycle at one corner and bought two tickets while his son was busy staring at the poster.
Dasarath came to Laxman, stretched his right hand and knelt before him saying “ Now promise me that you won’t speak a single word about this to your mom.”

Without a single tint of hesitation on his face, Laxman hastily placed his hand on his father’s and smiled – “Love you paa.” Later the duo walked into the theatre. Laxman was utterly gleeful because he had skipped his tuition for his favorite cinema. Laxman had watched Toy Story-1 on television. Since then he had developed a special interest on all the characters of the movie. Particularly Buzz Lightyear.

Usually, the theaters of Dasarath’s hometown never screened animation movies. Even if they do, the screening would last only for 2 days. And today being the last day of the screening, Dasarath hardly wanted Laxman to miss this opportune moment. And he knew that Sumitra would turn down this request if he asked her. Hence this sweet conspiracy.

                           Just before the movie started Dasarath thought – “My son has bunked his tuition even before he learnt the meaning of the word BUNK.”

This thought brought a broad cheer on his face. During the movie, Dasarath noticed Laxman watching the 70 mm screen attentively with sheer dedication.

“Does he exhibit the same interest while watching blackboard ? ”,Dasarath wondered.

After the movie Dasarath rode Laxman back to home and behaved as if he had picked Lucky only from the tuition. Both father and son were very careful all the night. After supper Sumitra helped Laxman in finishing his homework and put him to bed.

                  Next day morning at around 8:30 A.M, Sumitra stood at the porch of her house, carrying Lucky’s school bag. Dasarath was busy tying the shoelaces of his son’s tidily polished shoes while Laxman relaxed in a chair. They were waiting for the auto-rickshaw to arrive.

“So which movie did your father take you to ? “ asked Sumitra by looking down at Laxman.

Laxman stared at his father before he opened his mouth. He noticed that even his father’s face was as baffled as his.

Later they both stared at Sumitra with a puzzled look on their faces which read “ How the hell on earth did you find out ? ”

 “I found a little popcorn packet in Lucky’ s bag with  ‘ Gulshan Theatre ‘  imprinted on it “, Sumitra cleared the air.

“paa, now I see why you keep saying - maa is not only beautiful but also intelligent “,Laxman spoke turning his face towards his father.

“But Lucky, why didn’t you complete your popcorn in the theatre ?” Dasarath enquired.

“I thought I could distribute it to my friends at school. And moreover they won’t believe me that I have been to Toy Story -2  until I showed them some solid proof “ Laxman responded immediately.

“Hmmmmmmm !! So your popcorn testified both of us”, Dasarath sighed as the auto revved its engine in front of his house.

Laxman watched his mom and asked her to come to his face. She came to him asking “Now what !! do you want to say sorry ?”

Laxman came close, kissed her on the cheek and whispered  “ MOMS ARE TOUGHER THAN MATHEMATICS “. Saying that he slid with jet speed into the auto.

Sumitra, with her eyes wide open, watched his little son get into the auto as Dasarath asked her  “Should I also do the same to cool you down ? “

Conceived and Written By,

Jayanth

Alcoholic Melancholy ?

                                                                                                                                                                             

To scare me out, my childhood friend Syed Yusuf told me the below story in the year 2005.

After almost a decade I have altered, reshaped and presented this in written format.

                            In the summer of 1994, on one sultry night at around 10:30 P.M, Lokanatham walked out of his house. His four friends Raghunath, Subramaniam, Shafiqullah and Manikyam were waiting behind the banyan tree outside Lokanatham’s  house  for him to come out.  Lokanatham silently opened the main gate that guarded his house and signaled for his friends behind the tree. Later the five of them strolled in the East direction towards the end of their village. The whole village seemed to be sleeping while these five  set afoot from their shelters. 
With his lungi uplifted, Lokanatham who ought to be the cynosure of the 5-member gang led his friends to “Sri Rambha Wines” which was far but reachable from the village. Lokanatham, the former sarpanch (head of the village) of his village, bought his friends the liquor they wanted. They packed all their drinks and stuff in a cover and sauntered down the road till they reached Lokanatham’s farm. They all helped themselves to sit under a coconut tree which stood tall in one corner of the farm. The night was no more young and it got darker even before the boozers commenced the consumption.

                 Though the village did not have a medical shop that could provide medicines 24 * 7 , it had a liquor shop that operates around the clock. They all felt pretty happy for this reason. They merrily consumed their drinks and babbled on about things happening in and around their village. Suddenly one of them brought up the topic that someone had witnessed a ghost in Ghori Thota ( kind of graveyard that had bad spell on it ). Ghori Thota was on the other side of Lokanatham’s farm and several villagers feared going that way. Lokanatham wrangled that there weren’t any such ghosts and he could prove that fact right away. This turned into a heated conversation and Lokanatham agreed to hit a nail (using hammer)  into any one grave inside Ghori Thota and come back unscathed. Manikyam disposed the empty bottles while others waited outside the small store room present in the center of the farm. Lokanatham came out from the room with a hammer and few nails.  The five of them perambulated up the farm and reached the road that leads into the Ghori Thota.

                       

                                The night was in its darkest avatar as Lokanatham had gotten very high with the booze. Moon seemed to be the only spectator of the incident that was going down.  Without any second thought Lokanatham asked his friends to point them the grave that was to be nailed. They all pointed their fingers towards the one which was raised 0.5 meters above the ground and gleamed with ghastly look. This grave was for sure the farthest of all the graves from the road. Lokanatham seemed to be game for the challenge and asked his friends to wait for him right here. He lowered his lungi and carried the hammer and nails into the Ghori Thota. He cleared the bushes which were blocking the entrance and forayed into the graveyard. His heart started pounding heavier and faster than usual and for a moment he thought of running back. But the booze in his stomach put him in the race and made him to face the challenge.

                           Lokanatham reached the grave and turned back to look for his friends who were halted on the road. From very far the four of them beckoned him. He climbed on to the grave and pushed away the dry leaves and flower-petals. Sharp and high toned chirpings coming from the tall and bushy trees nearby made the ambience more appalling. With a heart that was heavily pounding and speedily racing, he started hitting a nail with the hammer he brought. Lokanatham felt his sweat flowing down with every punch he put on the nail. After punching in the nail he hastily turned back and moved, but unfortunately he couldn’t. He experienced a warm breeze up his neck and felt that someone was pulling his lungi very tightly from behind. He started shouting out loudly. Watching his torment, his friends ran away from the place where they were halted. Lokanatham noticed his friends running away and in order to save himself, he undesirably  removed his lungi and jumped off the grave. As a result he shattered his sandals and threw away his hammer and left-over nails around the grave. Lokanatham scrambled with bare feet across the graveyard without even caring for the thorns those were pricking his feet. He was horrified when he reached the road. From there Lokanatham ran with full pace towards his home sweating and shaking like a maniac.

                                   Next day, early in the morning Raghunath, Subramaniam, Shafiqullah and Manikyam who were also horrified at last night’s incident  gathered near their usual meeting spot - the village pump set that supplies water . With wanting to know the plight that had come up on Lokanatham last night, they went to his house and were surprised to see few neighbors seated at the porch. They went inside and were shocked to see Lokanatham on the bed down and out with fever . His feet were injured with thorns and spines. The four of them told  the neighbors with a fearful tone on what had happened. Everyone around there were terribly shocked and decided to go to the graveyard with the current Sarpanch. They insisted the Sarpanch to set a fencing up around Ghori Thota and abolish it from entering.

When the Sarpanch, relatives and neighbors of Lokanatham entered the Ghori Thota, they all could see the bushes scattered. Lokanatham’s sandals which were lying distantly could be seen as they all approached the grave.

                                        As the crowd came closer the anxiety of every person pumped up very high. All the visitors were awestruck and spellbound while watching what had happened.

Lokanatham had actually " hit the nail through his lungi into the grave ". People burst into laughter and so did the four friends.

Listened, Amended and Written By,

Jayanth

 

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,