Spinster Doctor / A Story - 2nd Part
Posted using ShareThis
Friday, May 21, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Shadow / A small story
She could barely see and if at all as if looking though mist what is happening around her.She has not come out of the influence of the Anesthesia given to her for a Caesarian delivery of her baby and her mother said she delivered a boy child though premature.She was assured by her mother that baby would be aright, Doctors said so and everything was taken care of.
She goes back to the anesthetic influence like a trance , she walks with him , her lover , in the narrow path of the garden as if made for the lovers hand in hand trampling the flowers strewn around by the trees on the both sides of the path.Quite a dreamy atmosphere walking with one , who she liked and loved and his fingers gripping her fingers and she felt secure in his fingers , as her future would be safe with him . He was tall,intelligent,smiling fit to the profession doing his Post graduation in Pediatrics.
Even feeling again the ecstasy of being together , again the same tender fingers touching the hitherto untouched fantasies of a flower , so tender it is for the fingers and for me and him, no reservations in anything and nothing seemed wrong to us once two hearts join together.Our minds mingled in every thing we talked , although many say body is different from mind ,our conception of the minds together is in no way see the bodies separately.I know although some say when physical intimacy and merging of two bodies is inclusive of the minds .Physical intimacy not necessarily means the minds merge into one and when minds merge, merging of the bodies is not something to feel separately.
Before realization comes to men and women everything already happened in life , immutable are the events of life.Am I right or wrong?
For some life is a neat line of events-marriage, children, for some love,marriage, children but why for some, or so many life is love,separation ,agony, marriage the children.why nothing is certain in this world? May be uncertainty is the thing of the world. If everything goes as per our planning then we become Gods eh ?.Now it is so beautiful that no body can be certain of anything and this uncertainly makes us manacled in delusion.Or I blabber out of my incoherent drug effects of sedatives.
It is as if many sophistications of lover's art had lost their charms after marriage and simply after marriage is possessing and being possessed.She has understood , she has changed.
Now he must be using fingers professionally when those fingers were only mine then; even my fingers were also his .
Now when opened her eyes slowly with the post operative tiredness and anesthetic state, she could see her babe in the next room in an incubator and she could see the babe , her mother said a boy,through the glass separation .
Her mother is happy to look at , the exuberance shows she is a proud grand mother and she is smiling down at her daughter.
'How is the boy?'
'Doctors say fine , one young doc taking care of the baby "
'Oh , did you talk to the doc?'
'No, he smiled and I feel confident he is a good doc'
After drinking a glass of some hot drink, she slipped back into sleep .Her lover's fingers are soft and sweet to feel the memory even now. How wonderful those days , meeting , walking , the feeling of elation.Like all lovers we moved our fingers on each other showing our affection . His fingers touching my chin, nose and my lips.....hmm what a feeling it was !! The college campus was full of students in their white coats,some just carrying as if walking a kid, some putting folded on one side of the shoulder , some carrying cleanly folded and hung either left or right hand.
When she came back to consciousness she could see a Doctor attending her babe through the glass separation , baby in the incubator.Nurse said ' He is a good neonatalogist , very good doc"
She could see the back of the doctor attending the baby,but fingers of the doctor even from the distance a bit familiar, her feelings?......... or really so.
Mother was standing before the Doc , just watching as an observer.She came back and said 'Doctor says baby can be taken home in a few days"
Two days passed , and she could move around and went to see the boy in the incubator. While looking down the face, fingers,and the eyes, she was thrilled as a mother and some feeling inexplicable happening inside her .Oh this is called the love of mother , she thought.
Rustling of soft sponge shoes and Nurses made her to stand aside Doctor came with juniors and trainees.One trainee carrying the clinical report and showing the Doc and he was seeing all the parameters recorded in the report. Form behind my mother , I was watching closely .Doctor was seeing the babe touching with his fingers and talked to the juniors. Without turning around to see us he asked 'Who is the mother of this babe?'
I went to the front from behind my mother and he turned around to see me face to face.......
Oh My God!!!! this is him , my former lover, now neonatalogist .A flash came to his face which I have seen thousand times, now I standing dazed. He maintained his composure and said 'Baby is alright you can take him home tomorrow and a Paediatrician's name will be given to you , You can have your consultation with him for your baby. ok.' He passed quickly with his fellow juniors.
When I went back in the memory lane , how circumstances made around me got me married to another one and now in hospital for delivery.
My mother said 'What a good Doctor, how careful he was while taking care of the baby'
Yes' I said.My mother stood perplexed looking at my face.
Is my son resembling him in any way , face, fingers,.......... or my sedatives play a haphazard role in my thinking pattern.
Does mind instigate genetic mutation or simple genetics is purely a medical science?
Genetics is a proof of Medical Science but mind..............?
She goes back to the anesthetic influence like a trance , she walks with him , her lover , in the narrow path of the garden as if made for the lovers hand in hand trampling the flowers strewn around by the trees on the both sides of the path.Quite a dreamy atmosphere walking with one , who she liked and loved and his fingers gripping her fingers and she felt secure in his fingers , as her future would be safe with him . He was tall,intelligent,smiling fit to the profession doing his Post graduation in Pediatrics.
Even feeling again the ecstasy of being together , again the same tender fingers touching the hitherto untouched fantasies of a flower , so tender it is for the fingers and for me and him, no reservations in anything and nothing seemed wrong to us once two hearts join together.Our minds mingled in every thing we talked , although many say body is different from mind ,our conception of the minds together is in no way see the bodies separately.I know although some say when physical intimacy and merging of two bodies is inclusive of the minds .Physical intimacy not necessarily means the minds merge into one and when minds merge, merging of the bodies is not something to feel separately.
Before realization comes to men and women everything already happened in life , immutable are the events of life.Am I right or wrong?
For some life is a neat line of events-marriage, children, for some love,marriage, children but why for some, or so many life is love,separation ,agony, marriage the children.why nothing is certain in this world? May be uncertainty is the thing of the world. If everything goes as per our planning then we become Gods eh ?.Now it is so beautiful that no body can be certain of anything and this uncertainly makes us manacled in delusion.Or I blabber out of my incoherent drug effects of sedatives.
It is as if many sophistications of lover's art had lost their charms after marriage and simply after marriage is possessing and being possessed.She has understood , she has changed.
Now he must be using fingers professionally when those fingers were only mine then; even my fingers were also his .
Now when opened her eyes slowly with the post operative tiredness and anesthetic state, she could see her babe in the next room in an incubator and she could see the babe , her mother said a boy,through the glass separation .
Her mother is happy to look at , the exuberance shows she is a proud grand mother and she is smiling down at her daughter.
'How is the boy?'
'Doctors say fine , one young doc taking care of the baby "
'Oh , did you talk to the doc?'
'No, he smiled and I feel confident he is a good doc'
After drinking a glass of some hot drink, she slipped back into sleep .Her lover's fingers are soft and sweet to feel the memory even now. How wonderful those days , meeting , walking , the feeling of elation.Like all lovers we moved our fingers on each other showing our affection . His fingers touching my chin, nose and my lips.....hmm what a feeling it was !! The college campus was full of students in their white coats,some just carrying as if walking a kid, some putting folded on one side of the shoulder , some carrying cleanly folded and hung either left or right hand.
When she came back to consciousness she could see a Doctor attending her babe through the glass separation , baby in the incubator.Nurse said ' He is a good neonatalogist , very good doc"
She could see the back of the doctor attending the baby,but fingers of the doctor even from the distance a bit familiar, her feelings?......... or really so.
Mother was standing before the Doc , just watching as an observer.She came back and said 'Doctor says baby can be taken home in a few days"
Two days passed , and she could move around and went to see the boy in the incubator. While looking down the face, fingers,and the eyes, she was thrilled as a mother and some feeling inexplicable happening inside her .Oh this is called the love of mother , she thought.
Rustling of soft sponge shoes and Nurses made her to stand aside Doctor came with juniors and trainees.One trainee carrying the clinical report and showing the Doc and he was seeing all the parameters recorded in the report. Form behind my mother , I was watching closely .Doctor was seeing the babe touching with his fingers and talked to the juniors. Without turning around to see us he asked 'Who is the mother of this babe?'
I went to the front from behind my mother and he turned around to see me face to face.......
Oh My God!!!! this is him , my former lover, now neonatalogist .A flash came to his face which I have seen thousand times, now I standing dazed. He maintained his composure and said 'Baby is alright you can take him home tomorrow and a Paediatrician's name will be given to you , You can have your consultation with him for your baby. ok.' He passed quickly with his fellow juniors.
When I went back in the memory lane , how circumstances made around me got me married to another one and now in hospital for delivery.
My mother said 'What a good Doctor, how careful he was while taking care of the baby'
Yes' I said.My mother stood perplexed looking at my face.
Is my son resembling him in any way , face, fingers,.......... or my sedatives play a haphazard role in my thinking pattern.
Does mind instigate genetic mutation or simple genetics is purely a medical science?
Genetics is a proof of Medical Science but mind..............?
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Pangs of Hunger / a story
Old mat,old clothes,old bed sheet and old sarees - these are put together is the bed both for me and my mother.Mother makes money by stringing together the jasmine and other flowers of daily use by ladies and for worshiping Gods and Goddesses ,almost a full time job except what we cook in the corner of the room.
Food normally is rice gruel , tapioca boiled , if fish found to be cheap once in a while in a month.
A small house,tiled .One room where everything is kept .Our working ,cooking all get finished in the room One veranda outside where we both sit for sometime to cool ourselves.No electricity.We both know what poverty means and we fight against all odds to live a life.
Flowers kept in a basket partly tied in string of cotton by our own hands and the rest is kept for doing it early morning.Ladies who sell will come and get it who are employed by the flower shop owners from whom we get our wages every week.
My mother and I were sleeping together on that old mat and whenever I feel for her I put my hand on her stomach and sleep.It is raining today and lightening also .Sound of thunder made me wake up around 12 O' clock and my hands as usual seeking my mother by my side but could feel only the saree and other clothes .
As I have been instructed by mother never to raise the voice and always maintain calmness, I kept quiet for sometime.
I felt some whispering noise feebly and I thought may be, the neighbor's house TV being watched and that house is away from us around more than 1000 feet , typical houses outside the town limit with little garden and a bamboo and shrubs separating the next house from us.
Again lightning with thunders , I am a bit afraid. I have come out to see whether my mother has come out for using the toilet which away outside the house near the compound.
I could hear whispering sound and thought mother talking herself for not getting sleep.
When lightning struck I found mother laying on the mat and another one voice in the same whispering with giggles and moaning which I could not recognize.
I slowly opened the door of my room and kept ajar for sometime........
Next lightning came and in the flash of light I could see four legs on the mat twining.I am just 11 years old girl.
Before the next lightning came I closed the door without locking and came back to the bed clutching the old clothes.
I tried to sleep..........
Food normally is rice gruel , tapioca boiled , if fish found to be cheap once in a while in a month.
A small house,tiled .One room where everything is kept .Our working ,cooking all get finished in the room One veranda outside where we both sit for sometime to cool ourselves.No electricity.We both know what poverty means and we fight against all odds to live a life.
Flowers kept in a basket partly tied in string of cotton by our own hands and the rest is kept for doing it early morning.Ladies who sell will come and get it who are employed by the flower shop owners from whom we get our wages every week.
My mother and I were sleeping together on that old mat and whenever I feel for her I put my hand on her stomach and sleep.It is raining today and lightening also .Sound of thunder made me wake up around 12 O' clock and my hands as usual seeking my mother by my side but could feel only the saree and other clothes .
As I have been instructed by mother never to raise the voice and always maintain calmness, I kept quiet for sometime.
I felt some whispering noise feebly and I thought may be, the neighbor's house TV being watched and that house is away from us around more than 1000 feet , typical houses outside the town limit with little garden and a bamboo and shrubs separating the next house from us.
Again lightning with thunders , I am a bit afraid. I have come out to see whether my mother has come out for using the toilet which away outside the house near the compound.
I could hear whispering sound and thought mother talking herself for not getting sleep.
When lightning struck I found mother laying on the mat and another one voice in the same whispering with giggles and moaning which I could not recognize.
I slowly opened the door of my room and kept ajar for sometime........
Next lightning came and in the flash of light I could see four legs on the mat twining.I am just 11 years old girl.
Before the next lightning came I closed the door without locking and came back to the bed clutching the old clothes.
I tried to sleep..........
Monday, February 8, 2010
Shoba and Vimal / a story
Vimal Kumar having finished his official work ,sitting in his desk thinking what to do ? Going home or spend more time in the office or go about loitering in the streets doing window shopping ,He could also read the half finished book in his bag just remaining in the office, mood is not conducive to reading ,hence decided to leave the office.Every day almost routine ,copying the reporters' write up, correcting and pushing the same to the Assistant Editor of News section, doing everything mechanically but due care , it has almost become a habit to him regarding correcting , forming the sentences a bit attractive to the avid news readers of the paper.This is not a problem at all , but.......
He came out started his Scooter making a hellava noise, this needs to be changed, I must ask the company for a loan or give for a service and change if need be some parts and make it alright.On the way he remembered his daughter, five year old ,stopped near a bakery , bought a few chocolates and biscuits ,started again ........ even the scooter despite making noise does not give any trouble as far functioning is concerned , then why human body making noises and not responding to our wish.
Have we become robots by unceasingly doing the job and work only not directing our mind to any other thing? Do we Indians born only to earn and make both ends meets and die like creatures?
Why so?
Why can't we live with some joy... if at all , a variation from our routine TV viewing, and emotionally charged watching serials or dancing with plastic faced judges,singing and irritatingly finding fault with the kids who come to sing and giving laborious lecturing in the name of advice; who need this kind of advice .No elementary school teacher gave advice when we started learning alphabets and sentences, they made us to practice.
Can't we be a little free from the routine of pulling the cart like the bulls?
Am I depressed? Should I meet a psychiatrist?
My God! what is happening to me?
I reached home ,stopped the scooter, carrying the little packet of what I bought in the bakery, my wife Shoba opening the door.
No calling bell needed for me, my scooter is like a retinue of a king announcing the arrival of the king.
She was just looking at me without giving way to me to enter, but I went through the gap available at the threshold of the entrance.
My wife Shoba is beautiful, a little bulky .......... 'little' I don't know, so masking her curves that too when in saari but seems a better looking lady when in churidaar.Well, I do remember how beautiful she was when married and my luck, how with all the curves ladies are proud of when looking at the mirror.She was wonderful to look with her chins,smiling eyes,bright teeth with the smile,slightly parted lips Hmmmm I was fortunate , I know. May be I have also changed physically in these six or seven years after marriage.
May be work tension,economic problems not being able to buy anything which we basically need , leave alone the wants.
I went into my room removing my pants,shirt, inner garments before entering the bath room, looked at the mirror......... slightly tired but healthy.Healthy, am I?
If so , why not function the I want to function?
Came out and sat in the sofa,doing nothing .....simply watching what was on the TV without mind on it.
Daughter came to me eating the little cake and asking some questions which I answered mechanically.My Shobi sitting silent, oh that is how I call her.
I attended some phone calls from my office from my juniors and some outside contacts .Shobi also talking over phone with her friends. How always ladies have lot of things to talk to their friends? Are men less talkative?
Or females in general better equipped to communicate than males?
May be house makers do try to get some identity if they are full time house wives not going for jobs. Their energy levels are high I think.
I could perceive some light screen separating between Shobi and me, partly ..... may be I am responsible or my tension.
There must be thousands of husbands in my position not knowing what to do.... depression or what.
Time is now 9 O' clock.Shobi and daughter already went into bed room . I went inside the kitchen to see anything there to eat.Except little rice and some curry , nothing more.I took partly and a banana went inside and slept.
Almost I slept .....morning paper my photo in black white with a caption , as journalist dead while sleeping and my name in bigger fonts.I was sweating profusely , got up suddenly in bed......... my God !!!!!!!!!! dream..........time I looked it was around 11.45 and I could not find my wife but her churidaar and inner garments were by my side.
I looked around and heard sound inside the bathroom, after a few minutes she came out with a lungi put around from her breast to the thighs.
'Oh how beautiful she is, water dripping from her hair on her shoulders,like honey dews ,wet lungi on her beautiful curves below the neck,and water soaked lungi on her body and showing the voluptuous thighs'
Something changing in me after so many months and I showed my hands spread wide towards her and she came into my fold.
Oh men don't need repair normally , only mind set.
He came out started his Scooter making a hellava noise, this needs to be changed, I must ask the company for a loan or give for a service and change if need be some parts and make it alright.On the way he remembered his daughter, five year old ,stopped near a bakery , bought a few chocolates and biscuits ,started again ........ even the scooter despite making noise does not give any trouble as far functioning is concerned , then why human body making noises and not responding to our wish.
Have we become robots by unceasingly doing the job and work only not directing our mind to any other thing? Do we Indians born only to earn and make both ends meets and die like creatures?
Why so?
Why can't we live with some joy... if at all , a variation from our routine TV viewing, and emotionally charged watching serials or dancing with plastic faced judges,singing and irritatingly finding fault with the kids who come to sing and giving laborious lecturing in the name of advice; who need this kind of advice .No elementary school teacher gave advice when we started learning alphabets and sentences, they made us to practice.
Can't we be a little free from the routine of pulling the cart like the bulls?
Am I depressed? Should I meet a psychiatrist?
My God! what is happening to me?
I reached home ,stopped the scooter, carrying the little packet of what I bought in the bakery, my wife Shoba opening the door.
No calling bell needed for me, my scooter is like a retinue of a king announcing the arrival of the king.
She was just looking at me without giving way to me to enter, but I went through the gap available at the threshold of the entrance.
My wife Shoba is beautiful, a little bulky .......... 'little' I don't know, so masking her curves that too when in saari but seems a better looking lady when in churidaar.Well, I do remember how beautiful she was when married and my luck, how with all the curves ladies are proud of when looking at the mirror.She was wonderful to look with her chins,smiling eyes,bright teeth with the smile,slightly parted lips Hmmmm I was fortunate , I know. May be I have also changed physically in these six or seven years after marriage.
May be work tension,economic problems not being able to buy anything which we basically need , leave alone the wants.
I went into my room removing my pants,shirt, inner garments before entering the bath room, looked at the mirror......... slightly tired but healthy.Healthy, am I?
If so , why not function the I want to function?
Came out and sat in the sofa,doing nothing .....simply watching what was on the TV without mind on it.
Daughter came to me eating the little cake and asking some questions which I answered mechanically.My Shobi sitting silent, oh that is how I call her.
I attended some phone calls from my office from my juniors and some outside contacts .Shobi also talking over phone with her friends. How always ladies have lot of things to talk to their friends? Are men less talkative?
Or females in general better equipped to communicate than males?
May be house makers do try to get some identity if they are full time house wives not going for jobs. Their energy levels are high I think.
I could perceive some light screen separating between Shobi and me, partly ..... may be I am responsible or my tension.
There must be thousands of husbands in my position not knowing what to do.... depression or what.
Time is now 9 O' clock.Shobi and daughter already went into bed room . I went inside the kitchen to see anything there to eat.Except little rice and some curry , nothing more.I took partly and a banana went inside and slept.
Almost I slept .....morning paper my photo in black white with a caption , as journalist dead while sleeping and my name in bigger fonts.I was sweating profusely , got up suddenly in bed......... my God !!!!!!!!!! dream..........time I looked it was around 11.45 and I could not find my wife but her churidaar and inner garments were by my side.
I looked around and heard sound inside the bathroom, after a few minutes she came out with a lungi put around from her breast to the thighs.
'Oh how beautiful she is, water dripping from her hair on her shoulders,like honey dews ,wet lungi on her beautiful curves below the neck,and water soaked lungi on her body and showing the voluptuous thighs'
Something changing in me after so many months and I showed my hands spread wide towards her and she came into my fold.
Oh men don't need repair normally , only mind set.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Thangachamy - a story
Along with my friends came out of the college campus , walking , as is the nature of the Pre-degree girls, we were talking on actors,actresses,boys, our houses and studies too.My friends belong to all disciplines in college like arts, science aspiring Medicine, engineering and some degree for some job and some only getting prepared to have some qualification for marriage.
While walking my slipper's toe ring torn off and I took both the slippers in my hand and trying to find out a cobbler .The slipper is a costly one , I can not leave behind which we normally do if it is too worn out or a cheaper one not worth of carrying.I bought this despite my mother's protest this costly one , so I have to keep it after getting repaired and polished.
After about 5 minutes walk I could see a cobbler sitting on a sack cloth with his tools like needle , small hammer,thread , glue ,and an iron thick plate which they use for tapping and make the slipper malleable and wearable .
He is sitting hunched wearing a crumbled lungi,an old shirt of synthetic make not suitable for the heat,a towel around his neck,looking for a customer for doing some repair work of old shoes ,slippers etc.,His eyes are red ,unshaven face,mustache untrimmed for months,feeble in build and cheek bones hight ,who normally everyone may opine dirty.But I could make out some spark of humane nature twinkling like a distant star doing its duty without expecting any response from any passer by.
I gave my slippers to him , he never even looked up and neither said how much I had to give,but continued stitching the torn off ring by adding a small piece of leather to extend the ring length so that could be inserted and stitched properly ,giving strength to the ring and slippers.And looked the another slipper of the pair and put few stitches to safeguard that other slipper would not torn in the near future.
'How much'
He simply smiled and again I asked , no reply.
I paid him 10Rs and tried to move but he motioned his hand and said ' child'
He lifted the sack cloth below his knee and I could see some coins inside , he gave me Rs.5 back to me.My inner mind spoke , this man was different, but I did not know.
Days rolled by , and when we went back home everyday , I used to see him sitting and doing his job.But my used to feel as if a father figure who is suffering for daily living but once crossed his place as usual mind goes on its galloping path,imagining the way any teenager imagination goes.
Slowly if any of my classmate or friends have slippers with problems, I use to take them to him and now my initial aversion to the cobbler of being ugly became normal as if one of my grand father's who is not concerned about the real world,skulking somewhere in his thinking.
As we frequented often to his place for repairs we came to talking terms , like my friends talking to him along with me about the customers and how long he worked a day.
One of the days when I was with my friend for fixing up her slipper , a girl of around 14 or 15 years old came with tea in a disposable cup brought from a nearby tea stall.Thangachami,that is his name I came to know during our visits,is a Tamilian who talks tamil interspersed with malayalam which we could understand,asked the girl to hand over the tea to me.
The girl was good looking , round face,neat sculptural nose ,bright eyes showing intelligence and above all better complexioned despite her poorness and shaggy dress.
I asked him 'Is she your grand daughter?'
'No child'
'Then who is this girl?'
'She is the daughter of a woman nearby,her mother sitting and begging about thousand yards from here'
I refused tea since I never used to take tea like this in a street although I could perceive the love of offering tea to me.But somehow I could not accept owing to the surroundings and circumstances we came though in life.I felt also bad for not accepting the tea.Little girl smiled at me and handed over the tea to Thangachami telling him to take it fast , otherwise it would become cold.
In my home when studying in the room I was talking to my elder brother about the Thangachami , his condition and his hard work etc.,My brother said,'you are going to be a writer or what , either study or sleep ,in this way you would fail in the exam and get married early.That is all..........'
My brother made fun of me to my mother, saying as if I am trying to be a writer and in her own imaginative world.
My mother advised me 'Concentrate in studies, try to gain rank in the college...blah blah ..blah'
A week passed in between and we were coming back home ,nearing the corner where Thangasamy usually sat was empty and his shop ,ransacked things were thrown all around and a group of people closing down and looking at someone ; who I could not see and out of curiosity , we asked '
what happened , where is Thangachamy'
'Thankachamy is there sitting ,he stabbed one local gunda and murdered'
We were shocked and went running to see Thangachamy ,he was sitting calm with a knife and blood dripping nearby, another crowd circling around a body in a pool of blood , whom we came to know is a local goonda , tried to molest the little girl whom we had seen bringing tea to Thangachamy.Her name is Marry ,who was seen crying .
One danger from the path of Marry has been weeded out.Now the girl is safe
Police van came and this goonda was removed to hospital.
Why someone thinks a girl is like a thing rather than a life with feelings? Why men behave so as if sitting before a non vegetarian food salivating even by looking? Don't these love ,passion belong to something more than eating ,drinking and defecating?
Even if one starved of sex,can't this be converted into positive energy which has been shown by good males,seers and saints alike?
Can't men realise the fact that man becomes really manly once he starts respecting females? It does not need something etc., it needs only delving deep into oneself.
The mind denies love and without love there is no chastity; it is because there is no love that you make sex into a problem.
It is only when there is love that all our problems can be solved and then we shall know its bliss and its happiness.
My mind started praying for the survival of the goonda,simply because her only godfather is sentenced and sent to prison , who will take care of her safety?At least Thangachami should be alive till Marry is married to someone.
Will it happen at least for someone who is almost a destitute?
God Will you listen to my prayer? Please........!!!!!!!!!!!
While walking my slipper's toe ring torn off and I took both the slippers in my hand and trying to find out a cobbler .The slipper is a costly one , I can not leave behind which we normally do if it is too worn out or a cheaper one not worth of carrying.I bought this despite my mother's protest this costly one , so I have to keep it after getting repaired and polished.
After about 5 minutes walk I could see a cobbler sitting on a sack cloth with his tools like needle , small hammer,thread , glue ,and an iron thick plate which they use for tapping and make the slipper malleable and wearable .
He is sitting hunched wearing a crumbled lungi,an old shirt of synthetic make not suitable for the heat,a towel around his neck,looking for a customer for doing some repair work of old shoes ,slippers etc.,His eyes are red ,unshaven face,mustache untrimmed for months,feeble in build and cheek bones hight ,who normally everyone may opine dirty.But I could make out some spark of humane nature twinkling like a distant star doing its duty without expecting any response from any passer by.
I gave my slippers to him , he never even looked up and neither said how much I had to give,but continued stitching the torn off ring by adding a small piece of leather to extend the ring length so that could be inserted and stitched properly ,giving strength to the ring and slippers.And looked the another slipper of the pair and put few stitches to safeguard that other slipper would not torn in the near future.
'How much'
He simply smiled and again I asked , no reply.
I paid him 10Rs and tried to move but he motioned his hand and said ' child'
He lifted the sack cloth below his knee and I could see some coins inside , he gave me Rs.5 back to me.My inner mind spoke , this man was different, but I did not know.
Days rolled by , and when we went back home everyday , I used to see him sitting and doing his job.But my used to feel as if a father figure who is suffering for daily living but once crossed his place as usual mind goes on its galloping path,imagining the way any teenager imagination goes.
Slowly if any of my classmate or friends have slippers with problems, I use to take them to him and now my initial aversion to the cobbler of being ugly became normal as if one of my grand father's who is not concerned about the real world,skulking somewhere in his thinking.
As we frequented often to his place for repairs we came to talking terms , like my friends talking to him along with me about the customers and how long he worked a day.
One of the days when I was with my friend for fixing up her slipper , a girl of around 14 or 15 years old came with tea in a disposable cup brought from a nearby tea stall.Thangachami,that is his name I came to know during our visits,is a Tamilian who talks tamil interspersed with malayalam which we could understand,asked the girl to hand over the tea to me.
The girl was good looking , round face,neat sculptural nose ,bright eyes showing intelligence and above all better complexioned despite her poorness and shaggy dress.
I asked him 'Is she your grand daughter?'
'No child'
'Then who is this girl?'
'She is the daughter of a woman nearby,her mother sitting and begging about thousand yards from here'
I refused tea since I never used to take tea like this in a street although I could perceive the love of offering tea to me.But somehow I could not accept owing to the surroundings and circumstances we came though in life.I felt also bad for not accepting the tea.Little girl smiled at me and handed over the tea to Thangachami telling him to take it fast , otherwise it would become cold.
In my home when studying in the room I was talking to my elder brother about the Thangachami , his condition and his hard work etc.,My brother said,'you are going to be a writer or what , either study or sleep ,in this way you would fail in the exam and get married early.That is all..........'
My brother made fun of me to my mother, saying as if I am trying to be a writer and in her own imaginative world.
My mother advised me 'Concentrate in studies, try to gain rank in the college...blah blah ..blah'
A week passed in between and we were coming back home ,nearing the corner where Thangasamy usually sat was empty and his shop ,ransacked things were thrown all around and a group of people closing down and looking at someone ; who I could not see and out of curiosity , we asked '
what happened , where is Thangachamy'
'Thankachamy is there sitting ,he stabbed one local gunda and murdered'
We were shocked and went running to see Thangachamy ,he was sitting calm with a knife and blood dripping nearby, another crowd circling around a body in a pool of blood , whom we came to know is a local goonda , tried to molest the little girl whom we had seen bringing tea to Thangachamy.Her name is Marry ,who was seen crying .
One danger from the path of Marry has been weeded out.Now the girl is safe
Police van came and this goonda was removed to hospital.
Why someone thinks a girl is like a thing rather than a life with feelings? Why men behave so as if sitting before a non vegetarian food salivating even by looking? Don't these love ,passion belong to something more than eating ,drinking and defecating?
Even if one starved of sex,can't this be converted into positive energy which has been shown by good males,seers and saints alike?
Can't men realise the fact that man becomes really manly once he starts respecting females? It does not need something etc., it needs only delving deep into oneself.
The mind denies love and without love there is no chastity; it is because there is no love that you make sex into a problem.
It is only when there is love that all our problems can be solved and then we shall know its bliss and its happiness.
My mind started praying for the survival of the goonda,simply because her only godfather is sentenced and sent to prison , who will take care of her safety?At least Thangachami should be alive till Marry is married to someone.
Will it happen at least for someone who is almost a destitute?
God Will you listen to my prayer? Please........!!!!!!!!!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)