Thursday, March 20, 2008

510





The isolated corridor welcomed him with glee. It seemed to have befriended his betrayed soul. The sound of his shoes on floor, rhymed with his heart beat. He came to a halt- right before the door no. 510. The sight of that number tormented him with memories that he did not wish to remember, now.

The room was just the way as he’d left it. The vase remained broken. The glass table, which used to be gleaming spotless, was now covered with dust. And over it was the glass, now empty.

His lips parted- a thought which made him do so stopped him at once from uttering the name. The name did not exist.

He moved around that familiar place, eyes recognizing things that he’d used. Each of them, reminded him of the name, her name. Suchitra.

He stopped himself once again. The name was not to be said. And it was his fault- all his fault.
The room was blue, all around. She wanted it that way. But he should not think of her. But he couldn’t help it. Everything in that room spoke about her. And every single thing blamed him. They were shouting his name. and he slammed the door, shut.

He now stood facing the dining table. His chair was upturned. The kitchen was open. There shall no more be any food cooking inside. Everything was dead.

He had said to her that she never cared for him. He had blamed her for everything that happened to him. He shut the door against her. He never heard her plea. He made her leave. And now, she has left.

He sat on the couch. His eyes fell on a package. He’d never seen it before. He grabbed it and saw a familiar writing over it that had carved his name. Trembling, he opened it.

And he saw it. A watch. Just the one that he’d wanted. A note on it said, “Happy Birthday, Akhil”! The plague of the dead gripped him. Guilt, clutching his throat- throttled him, and yet, there was more on the note. He turned it. And it said- “ With lots of love, from Suchitra”!



Friday, March 7, 2008

MASTERJI


I lived in a place where the world begins with the rising sun and ends with the setting sun. A world where people smiled at one another, where people were satisfied with what they had and never wanted more than what they needed.

It was a very small village. So small it was that everyone knew each other. Our village had just two streets. All the houses were similar, except for the Big House. My father worked for the Big House.

We had to walk a distance of about 5km to reach our school; telling adventure stories, mostly concocted impromptu; we played at the fields after school; how we liked hiding our books beneath our shirts to protect them from rain! We loved using banana leaves as our umbrella! We liked the fresh aroma of the soil after the rain. The earth was our bed and sky- our blanket!

Masterji was considered the most learned man of our village. Masterji taught us math, English, about plants and planets. He would tell us stories. We all showed lot of affection and respect towards Masterji.

Father had been to the town since last week. Mother said he would bring lot of rice and vegetables and sweets from the town. And I waited everyday for him, to return.

Masterji taught us about plants outside our classroom. We had a big banyan tree in our school. We all sat under the banyan tree, while he would tell us why the leaved were green and that plants were also living beings. That day, before teaching us about fruits and vegetables, he asked each one of us to narrate what we had for breakfast. When it was my turn, I just blurted that I had onions and cabbage.

That afternoon, Masterji called me to his room. He told me that onions were not usually consumed during that time of the year and it was also not the time of year when cabbages were available. Then he called Sukumar. He was in my class and he lived in the Big House. Masterji asked him to get some extra lunch for me, from the next day, and everyday thereafter.

That evening I came home and cried. When my mother asked me why I was crying, I didn’t know the answer. But, I cried.

Thirty years later, today, I received a phone call. The voice from the other end was easily recognizable as Sukumar’s. He said, “Naveen, Masterji has left us all, today”.

And today, I cried, again!