A Brush with Bushsh: Chapter 2 – Spooked Out

Click here for Chapter 1

Sulekha looked at the surroundings. Unkempt fields with tall grass made her wonder what lurked within. She quelled her trembling heart and entered the colony. She looked around and felt butterflies in her stomach. She had to admit that the place looked a bit spooky. She had expected to see some activity, some children maybe, mothers, men, servants… Someone, anyone… But there didn’t seem to be a soul around. No security, no random resident, no visitor... Except them. She looked back. She could make out their car and Udit still puzzling it out.

"Mom, I want to use the bathroom," Param whispered as they moved through the passage between two buildings. Sulu's heart was beating fast. In the near dark, she saw a drain, partly covered. "Quick, do it there and let's get back," she urged.

A sudden 'bushsh' sound startled them. They stood frozen. The sound didn’t stop. White foam rose from the gap. It started small and fluffy. It was so incongruous, so unexpected that the three chuckled involuntarily. But they stared fascinated as the foam grew bigger and bigger. Suddenly, it was not so funny. The bushsh sound had amplified and it filled their ears. They saw two foamy limbs pushing itself up from the drain even as it kept growing in size. A scream froze in their throats as the foam became their size and then grew bigger, towering over them menacingly. They stepped back instinctively.

Mother's instinct kicked in. Sulekha reached out, pulling her children to her. The foam bent towards them as if examining them. Sulekha felt suffocated. She felt her children clutch her back and she felt hemmed in from all sides. "Mommy, mommy!" Param and Manya cried out. The foamy monster straightened and seemed to touch the sky.

“HHooo arrrre youuu?” asked a metallic voice. Sulu realised that it was coming from the monster, though it didn’t have a mouth. It was creepy. She looked around, to see if she could slip away with her children.

She stepped to a side. “Aaaa minnnnutttteeee lady,” the monster said, looking down, as if peering at her.

Sulu felt her throat go dry. Her hands were damp. She clenched it. The gesture reminded her of the mobile phone and she wondered if she could reach for it in her pocket without the monster noticing. She was paralysed with fear.

She put her hand into the pocket slowly.

“Nnoooo… Nnnnoooo guns pleeeeaaaassseee…” the monster said. Then it cackled. “OOOOr mobbbbile phonesssss.” She realised it was laughing. That did not reassure her.

She caught the sound of another hiss that was growing larger on a side. She glanced up and saw another monster. It was dark now, but still, the monster seemed carved against the sky, darker than the night.

For Chapter 3

A Brush with Bushsh: Chapter 1 Car Stops Suddenly (Children's Story)

Udit stopped the car. Or so Sulekha thought. But it turned out that the car had stopped on its own. Their 8-year-old twins - son Param and daughter Manya - looked at their parents sleepily. "What happened?" they asked in unison.

"The car stopped. Let me check what's wrong," Udit said, getting out of the car.

Sulekha looked around and didn't like what she saw. They seemed to be outside a housing colony - the blocks of houses looked old and dirty. It was dusk, and the dimly lit building seemed eerie. She could see no one around.

She frowned. Were they in a ghost town? She looked around. The housing colony probably had about a hundred houses. Strange that there was not a soul walking about or peeping from the balcony. She peered closely and saw that even the balcony doors were all shut. None of the houses had lights on though the common area near the entrance had a few tube lights on.

The family of four was returning from a holiday. Udit had missed a turn and urged on by a spirit of adventure, they had decided to keep driving on the road instead of returning. They had travelled on mud tracks, surrounded by farms, with houses few and far between. When the sun was shining, it had seemed fun. But clearly, they were off by miles from any civilisation.

Luckily Sulekha had packed some snacks and so they were not hungry. Fields had provided them with enough open and private space for nature breaks. But, they were all fed up.

And just as they seemed to be nearing some civilisation, the car had given up.

Sulekha got out of the car. She looked at the time in her mobile phone. 6.15. Maybe lights will come on shortly. She looked at her sulky children. "C'mon, let's explore," she invited them.

Udit looked up from the bonnet and said, "Don't be a fool, Sulu! We don't even know where we are!"

She waved indifferently. Caution was his middle name. Adventure, hers. She winked at her kids whose eyes widened in excitement. It may all turn out to be boring, but hey, it was better than being stuck inside the car.

“We’ll find out. We do need to take the right road out of this place after all,” she pointed out sensibly to placate his irritation.

“Be careful,” he called out. "I can see nothing wrong," Udit informed her, peering in again.

"Can you start the car?" he asked Sulekha. She grimaced as she sat behind the wheel, thinking it was Udit’s ploy to stop her from going into the complex. Her children giggled seeing her expression. She turned the key. Nothing. She looked at him and shook her head.

"Did you turn it on?" he asked, irritating her.

"Of course!" she replied.

He dived into the bonnet again - figuratively, of course. She quietly got out and gestured to her children to follow her. He looked up, hearing the car door shut. "Hey, where are you going?"

"To look for help," she lied smoothly. But now she was more excited about stumbling on skeletons and some exciting secret.

"Don't stray off," he cautioned. Manya snorted in an attempt to control her laugh. Sulekha pretend-glared at her.

(Clicke here for Chapter 2)

Chapak, Chapak Goes the Demon

He was an old man, with crinkled eyes, wrinkled skin and a slight stoop.

He was a young man. He was still fascinated and keen to learn.

Having lived in the village all his life, working in the fields till his back broke. Watching the sun, watching the rain and watching his land were the only things he knew and understood. He heard about the city lights, which made a day out of the night. He heard of the vehicles that moved without horses or bulls. Sometimes he saw them in village too, raking up dust in its trail. He heard of tall buildings that one had to lean far back to see the tops of.

A small, teeny weeny desire to see this place that sounded right out of a fairy tale sprouted in his heart. But he had work and he kept postponing the trip. One day, he could bear it no longer. The fascinating tales filled his ears, flowed into his brain and like a bee, buzzed only one message in his head, Visit a City.

Finally, on a day when his work was light, he went to his neighbour - an old man of the world. "Sir, I have dreamed of seeing the city for long and wish to visit it today. How should I go about it?" he asked humbly.

The old man, remembering his own younger days when he had visited the city often, tried to prepare the younger man for the surprises in store there. This further fed the younger man's eagerness to visit the city. But the old man added, "Beware, don't get lured in by the attractions of the city. Not everything is as it seems. There are many demons there that will lead you astray."

When the young old man reached the city, he found that the old man had not exaggerated at all. There was so much to see that one day seemed too little. He saw people going by vehicles without bullocks and now realised what the old man had said about demons. He was careful to avoid them. He saw people coming out from a temple and put something on their feet and start walking faster.

This was really the last straw. Having resisted all temptations of the city till now, he couldn't control his urge and slipped his feet also into these contraptions. It seemed so simple and involved no devilry.

His heart shook just a bit when it caught his feet snugly. He looked around at the others shiftily. No one seemed perturbed and he was reassured. It was not comfortable though - the feet were, but his heart wasn't. Would he have to pay a heavy price for giving in?

Soon, he became aware that he was not alone. Every time he walked, he thought he could hear the sound "chapak, chapak" near him. He stopped, looking around to see who was making that noise. The sound stopped too. No one minded him, no one seemed to take note of him or pay him the slightest attention. He started walking, and he thought he could hear the chapak chapak sound around him faintly. He looked around sharply but could detect no one around him. The sound, though, continued unabated.

He felt nervous and lost interest in his surroundings. There was something following him, and something that refused to come out in the open. He said a prayer and started walking again. The sound followed him. Oh god, the demon had caught him, he thought nervously, speeding up. As he walked through grassland, he was relieved to note the demon had left him. But the moment his feet touched the muddy track leading to his village, he heard the sound again. If he ran, the demon ran too. If he slowed down, the demon slowed down too. Fear nearly paralysed him. By now it was dusk and the oncoming night would see him standing ripe for plucking in the middle of nowhere. He decided to run for his life, but by now he was hungry and tired and the demon seemed neither tired nor hungry. Or maybe, just hungry.

He was relieved to see another villager come by in a bullock cart. He hailed the cart and was relieved to be given a ride. Seeing him limp and flustered, the cart driver asked him the reason. Shamefully he told him of being chased by a demon. "I think it doesn't like company," he said looking around him. "The noise has stopped," he added with evident relief.

The cart driver laughed sceptically. But when he dropped the villager at the corner temple and heard the demon every time the villager walked, their eyes met in fear. The villager took a step towards the cart, but the cart driver wanted none of it. He drove away fast.

It was night now and the villager stood shivering in the new contraption. He wondered if that were the reason for the demon to follow him. It had trapped him and he was now unable to shake it off. Crying, he ran through the lonely paths towards the old man's hut, wondering if he could guide him on how to be rid of this chapak chapak demon, which was also running with him. What did it want? It hadn't eaten him up yet. What was it waiting for? Its friends to join in the killing?

Tearfully and fearfully he banged on the old man's door. When the old man opened the door, the young old villager fell at the older man's feet. "Save me from the demon," he cried out pitifully.

The old man, perplexed, raised the younger man and asked him what happened.

"Wherever I go, the chapak chapak demon chases me," he said looking around him as if fearing the demon would spring on him from nowhere. "I promise you, just as you said, I kept away from every city allure. And yet it has trapped me. It follows me everywhere," he said, now bawling more openly.

The old man looked at uncomprehendingly. "Chapak chapak demon? What is that???"

"Every time I walk, it walks with me. If I stop, it stops too."

The old man shook his head puzzled. He had heard of several novelties of the city, but never of a chapak chapak demon. "I do not know what it is. But you say it follows you when you walk? Can you walk for me?"

The villager trembled. 'Do I really have to?' he seemed to ask. But with great difficulty, he brought his feet frozen with fear to move. First, the old man could hear nothing. Then, when the young man walked a bit faster, he could hear it distinctly. "What did you do in the city?" the old man asked, his eyes twinkling. "Surely you were up to some mischief?"

"Not at all!" the villager sat on his haunches, his hands together in supplication.

"What is that on your feet then? Surely not your own. Did you steal someone's slippers?"

The villager looked at the old man perplexed, then he looked at his feet. "These are slippers? I didn't steal them. People came out of a temple and wore them as they left. I did the same." Then, as if he realised something, he said slowly, "Only I didn't go into the temple. Do you think that is why...?"

The old man laughed and patted the villager on the back. "No, that is not why. It is not a demon." And when he explained what the sound was all about, the villager looked sheepish - it was the contraption, the slippers, that had been making that sound? The younger man felt foolish, laughing at himself for believing in demons.

He was cured of his fear, and he was cured of his desire to visit the city too.

Finding Her Way - Children's Short Story

Ammu lived with her two young sons in the fringes of the forest. The elder son, Somaiya, was all of 10 and acted all of 20 - responsible and helpful.

Rangaiya, though, was a brat and at age 5, needed to feel the stick on his back before he quietened down. For a while. Then his mischief would begin - climbing trees, hiding behind pots and pans, toppling them in a hurry to escape his mother's wrath.

Ammu tried hard to remember that Rangaiya was just a child. But at the end of a hard day, it was difficult. Though their needs were minimal, even to meet them, she needed to work in other people's homes when they needed her help in exchange for food or old clothes they gave her as payment. The days there was no work, she would venture into the forest nearby to collect wood, fruits and trap small animals.

At least one good thing was that Rangaiya also went to school, giving her respite. But taking the boy through the forest to reach the nearby village for the school was a nightmare in itself. He fearlessly tripped ahead of her, sometimes hiding behind trees and jumping from branch to branch to boo her from behind. Even Somaiya seemed tempted to follow his younger brother's lead, sometimes running away with him.

One afternoon, when the boy continued being high spirited despite a supposedly grueling day at school, she stopped half way. Glaring at her younger son, she said, "Will you stop it?"

The boy didn't even seem to hear her as he ran ahead and turned left suddenly. Something snapped inside Ammu. She retraced her steps silently, dragging her elder son and warning him to be silent. She took a circuitous route back home, sure that her son will find his way back home.

But all through the way, she started imagining the worst. Leaving Somaiya behind at home, she walked through the regular trail and panicked when she found no signs of Rangaiya. She paused at the point she thought Rangaiya had turned, but did not find him there. She wove her way back and turned into the clearing she had taken. She was relieved to see her son lying under a tree, and then she panicked, wondering if...

She ran to him, crying out his name. The boy got up with surprising agility, though it took him a minute to realise who was calling his name. Running to her with a laugh, he said in his baby voice, "Oh, I am so glad to find you. Did you get lost? Were you scared?"

Stunned, Ammu paused in the process of lifting her son up and stared at him in disbelief. Then she laughed, pure joyous laugh and hugged him tight. "I am very hungry now," he declared. "Do you know the way to the house?" he asked like a grown up, drawing a bigger smile.

"You guide me and I will follow," Ammu replied gamely as she carried the little bundle in her arms.

Pet Peeve

"Did you see that lady's tweet? Really a slap on these anti-beef protesters, don't you think?" Sanju asked her friend Renu, fondly petting her Labrador. "As if vegetarians don't kill life when they eat!"

"I shared a recent study on that, you remember?" Renu asked, not to be outdone. "Your vegetables scream when you cut them! That should shut them up!"

Sanju laughed. "Crazy how they want to fight for the right of the cow, but how about milk? Don't they deprive a calf to have that milk and dairy products?" she asked as she served her friend finger chips and cola. "It is none of anyone's business what one eats! I think this holier than thou, holy cow business is a bit too much mumbo jumbo. Cow, the mother, huh! Bull-shit?" The two laughed at the pun. "And who said India was a vegetarian nations? It was only with Buddha that some of the ancestors of these very protesters became vegetarians! And, even today, I know so many who eat meat on the sly? Hypocrites!" she said with righteous anger.

Renu shook her head to indicate she couldn't believe the heights of hypocrisy one could stoop to. Just then the lab got up and shook himself. "Oh! Isn't he cute!!!" She patted the lab's head who blinked and looked up at Renu with melting eyes. "I just love dogs! But my parents were quite against keeping a pet. Now I am alone, but I still can't because my house owners are against it!" she pouted.

"Oh that's the other thing I find funny! Vegetarians not giving their homes to non-vegetarians! This is discrimination!" Sanju picked up the thread again.

"Isn't it!" Renu exclaimed. I had a hard time finding a decent place! What am I going to do? Splash blood all over the house?"

"There should be a law against it!" Sanju argued. "This is a free society! People should be allowed to eat what they like!"

"I agree!" Renu replied, glad to have found a supporter. "And this recent killing for suspected eating of beef!"

"Too much! Our country is becoming unsafe thanks to these extremists!"

"We should start a petition or something, like there was one for stopping the dog meat festival! So sad that it happened despite that! How insensitive can one get!"

"That was so shocking! Can you imagine someone chopping up and eating these cutie-pies!" Sanju said, hugging the lab, as if fearing he was going to end up as meat somewhere. "Come on, they are man's best friends! So loyal, so loving! I signed and spread the word so that more like me can sign! I really wish it had driven some sense into the heads of these dog eaters!" she said with vehemence.

"As if they don't have anything else to eat!" Renu, the yes-woman nodded. "They can try chicken or beef, or pork! Why dog meat!" she protested, also petting the Lab for good measure.

The Labrador wagged its tail, its tongue hanging.

The Other Way

"Hey! We have to invite Ms Namrata Pandey as the chief guest!" Vidya insisted when the topic came up.

"Namrata Pandey! She is so hard to get!" someone whined.

"I will figure out a way if all of you are okay with it," Vidya assured them, excited about the challenge and the hope of achieving success. She idolised Namrata for her confidence, clarity of thought and speech and professionalism. Vidya had attended some of her sessions in conferences.

The self-employed women's group was organising an annual event and was planning to inviting an icon of entrepreneurial success as the chief guest. There were several names that they could think of, but Namrata Pandey topped them all. She was on the cover of all business magazines, in TV channels and was invited as a speaker to business conferences across the country. Her education venture had started small, but had suddenly grown exponentially. Investors were lining up to fund her venture, but she seemed in no hurry to take money.

In the galaxy she ruled, with her time taken up by important agenda, what value would this insignificant organisation have? But she had also started small. Maybe they could persuade her to share her wisdom on how to scale up quickly. It was worth a try, Vidya suggested.

"You have to let us know in two days," the president of the association said firmly. Vidya nodded, glad of having got at least an excuse to approach that great lady.

"Can you drop me?" Subha asked as Vidya stepped out. "Had to send my car to pick up my daughter," she added apologetically.

"Of course! Come on," Vidya said and got into the driver's seat. Subha sat beside her in the front.

"Do you know Namrata?" Subha asked as Vidya drove out of the driveway. Vidya shook her head. "She is my friend's cousin..." Subha added.

"Oh! Wow! That is lovely. Do you think your friend can help us get an appointment?"

"Mmm... I will ask. But I don't think they are in touch anymore."

"Oh!" Vidya asked, slightly deflated.

"My friend Bindiya said Namrata had ruffled many feathers in the family... I don't like gossiping, but you may want to know that her growth story is not such an inspiration as people make it out to be."

Vidya pursed her lips, irritated at the obvious jealousy that must have been at the root of this rumour. "Really?" she asked.

"It was a small venture, if you remember?" Subha asked. Vidya nodded. "She started it with her classmate, and over time, the two fell in love with each other. But her family did not approve for the obvious reasons and he moved out. They continued to see each other on the sly..."

Vidya did not react, disgusted at the personal story being aired so easily, but curious enough to want to hear more.

"She has not married... They are a couple, but not officially... He suddenly came into some money and invested in her company. They got themselves a big house - sad that it is lying locked. Cannot even enjoy the wealth openly," Subha said shaking her head slowly. "Then trouble started. Initially the family was upset that she still continued to see him. But when they got to the bottom of it, they discovered that the money was not clean... The family is an old one in the city and has a reputation to protect. They found out that he was a conduit for the education minister. It helped Namrata both ways - she got the money as well as approvals needed to reach her solution to schools."

Vidya stared at Subha incredulously. "Surely the business magazines would have found out!" she asked, interested despite reservations.

Subha laughed. "Oh she is smart. Many of the centres she opened in other cities are languishing. But she manages to show profits."

"How do you know that?" Vidya asked suspiciously.

"Bindiya told me. But I also run a business, Vidya. If you keep your eyes and ears open, you can make out... Namrata is a smart, intelligent woman. I can tell you, she would have got to where she is now if she had taken the slow and steady route. What she says at the conferences are possibilities, not her own experience, I can vouch for that. The speed at which she has grown is unbelievable...!"

Vidya digested this silently, still sceptical and disbelieving.

"In any case, I will ask Bindiya if she can help us get an appointment."

"Thanks," Vidya replied, suspicious of Subha's intentions.

She heard from Subha in a couple of days, but for a different reason. "Check the news," Subha said cryptically and waited as Vidya switched the TV on. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed in shock and disbelief.

"Business tycoon Namrata Pandey's body found. Suspected suicide" scrolled across the screen.

"Did you read today's paper?" Subha asked.

"Ye-ess..."

"Did you see the news about Arvind Sahni?"

"The man who was jailed for embezzlement?" Vidya asked.

"Yes, framed, most probably. But he is the man I was telling you about, Namrata's partner. Maybe the minister has no more use of him. Maybe they crossed some line with their extravagance."

Vidya watched silently as other people from the industry, her employees and family spoke of Namrata's brilliance and business acumen. Many expressed shock at her sudden death, some suspected foul play. "Nothing will come out, take it from me. The police will close the case as suicide," Subha asserted. "I wish she had taken the traditional path instead of this ambitious growth. She really was brilliant," she added her eulogy.

Vidya felt sorry for the woman whose photos and video footage flashed. Confidence oozed from every pore of this woman who took the mike knowing what she was about to speak. She wished Namrata had had the same confidence in her business and her skills and not take the short cut to success.

These Young People

"Did you hear?" Mini, short for Mrinalini, asked her friend Lakshmi. "Nandu's niece has left her husband..."

"Really!" Lakshmi perked up. "Why? Hadn't she run away with that man?"

"Yes, a different community too! I remember her parents were upset. Nandu had to intervene," Mini smirked and Lakshmi winked. "All that for nothing!"

"Today's youth... they don't want to spare a thought. Just jump in and jump out!" Lakshmi complained. "Even my neighbour's daughter divorced her husband because he was moving cities too often, disrupting her career." She shrugged. "Really, I don't know... I remember my mother packing bags and following my father through big and small cities when he was in government service..."

"Ya!" Mini replied eagerly. "See my own daughter-in-law! She is upset with my son because he refuses to go abroad. He thinks he is doing fine here... But she wants them to be abroad. They are seeing a counselor..." she grimaced. "When we elders try to intervene, they don't like it..."

"So what's Nandu's niece's story? Her name is Mala, right?"

Mini nodded. "I don't know. But I know he is unwell..."

"Oh! She left him because he is unwell?"

"Nandu didn't say much... Just that he has some debilitating condition. I thought it was very unfair. To marry when he was healthy and handsome and to leave him the moment he fell sick. I didn't tell Nandu anything, she seemed to think her niece had escaped in time... I was surprised, you  know..." Mini gave vent to her feelings.

"Really!" Lakshmi's eyes widened in surprise. "Hmmm... That's really sad. What happened to 'through joys and sorrows'? My husband has been so difficult of late. The lower back pain has been killing him and he snaps at everyone. Even I feel like walking out sometimes. But we have had such good times together, how can I just leave him?"

"Exactly Lakshmi! You know how my husband would shout because of stomach pain. When we discovered he had cancer, he just crumbled. He was in so much pain, I would run away! My son only took him for the treatment. I couldn't stand it, you know!"

"Ya Mini, I don't know how you went through it. You even stopped coming for kitty parties initially I remember!"

Mini nodded, her face puckered as she remember those days. "But look at girls these days... Leaving the moment they sense trouble..."

Lakshmi sighed. "Who told you about Mala?"

"Nandu only. She was in Mala's parents' home at that time. Said she was talk later."

"Did she?" Lakshmi asked, jealous that Mini should know the latest before she did.

"No..."

"Let me call her. It has been a while since I spoke to her. In case she needs any help..." Lakshmi dialed. Mini pulled her chair closer. She became impatient as the conversation seemed to drift away to their next kitty party. Finally Lakshmi asked, "So how is family. All well?"

Lakshmi made faces at Mini as Nandu spoke about her immediate family and the usual woes. Finally, unable to stop herself, Lakshmi said, "Hey, is your niece Mala still in Madurai?"

"..."

"Oh, not Madurai...? ,,, Oh, what happened? ... Really?" Lakshmi made appropriate noises. When she cut the call finally, her eyes expressed horror.

"That man... he started beating Mala," she blurted out. "As the disease progressed, some muscular disability that affected his lower part, he started suspecting Mala and would abuse her mentall and hit her if he could get his hands on her. When she ran away from him once, he flung a knife that lay next to him...! Oh the poor girl! Luckily she took it on her shoulder. Now her parents have forbidden her from returning to that man..." She looked at Mini, feeling guilty about their assumptions.

"Oh these young people," replied the indefatigable Mini. "They cannot handle their illnesses. Not once did a cross word cross my husband's lips when he was unwell," she said.

To Do As You Please

The car jolted through the roads, dipping into potholes and bumping over humps. Kani checked her watch. There was still time to reach the venue.

But as if on cue, the traffic slowed down near a main junction and the car came to a stop at the signal. She looked up at the timer as it ticked in a countdown from 45 to 0. She braced for the car to start, but the traffic didn't budge. Horns blared, to no avail. The traffic flowing from the other side had not stopped, despite it turning green. A third side entered the fray and within minutes, there was chaos, each trying to cut in and effectively. There was no traffic police and like the proverbial mice playing when the cat is away, the people jumped the signal as if they would be stuck on the road forever otherwise.

Kani grimaced, pained at this simple lack of discipline. Her driver switched the official beacon light on and forced her way through, a few people tailgating in her car's wake.

The roads were smooth till they entered the street. She had to close her nose. The sewage water was overflowing and the driver drove cautiously, for fear of getting stuck in a ditch. An SUV with a party flag drove past more confidently, brazenly, splashing slush generously all around. "Ugh!" she exclaimed.

She entered the apartment where the meeting was to be held. She was welcomed warmly, obsequiously by the residents. Her experienced eyes quickly assessed the situation. She could see people standing in loosely formed groups. Some were clearly the residents of the apartment. There were a few who looked like they had come from the nearby slum. They looked uneasy and militant. There should have been a third group, but hardly surprising that it was missing.

The secretary of the apartment association whispered in her ear, "The hospital management team that was supposed to meet got held up in a meeting and were unable to come..."

She pursed her lips and nodded as she walked towards the community hall.

The hall filled up as she took her place facing the crowd. The secretary stood up, welcomed her and introduced the topic - the overflowing sewage that had made living there and walking on the road impossible.

"Madam, after much investigation by your department, it has been found that the hospital's waste is getting into the drains and clogging them..." he submitted humbly.

The people in the audience started murmuring. "Such a large hospital, and they cannot control it?" "How are you going to stop this?" "It is an environment problem..." "How much are they paying in bribe?" demanded the educated.

"Children cannot play on the streets!" "The water enters our homes!" "The water mixes with our drinking water!" the slum people added their voice.

She got up and raised her hand to calm them. She had asked for a projector and connected her laptop. Images came up, of garbage being thrown near the drains by the slum people. One man had stuffed sack full of bricks in the manhole to stop the sewage from entering the slum area. The residents of the apartment looked shocked.

The slum people became quiet.

She silently played another set of slides. Sanitary napkins, used condoms, plastic covers in manholes clearly inside the apartment complex.

The residents fell silent.

"We provide the services. Do you want us to police its use also at all times?" she asked quietly.

She packed her laptop and left the hall, refusing the offer of coffee and snacks. The next day was Independence Day and she had to be early at the office for flag hoisting.

The Engagement Ring

She was pretty but poor. He was attracted to her, he knew that. Her calm, efficient and friendly manner were added charms. But what pleased him most was the way she held herself with quiet dignity. Only her sense of dressing betrayed her poverty.

Poornima was a data entry operator in Suresh's office, but showed a willingness to learn and assume greater responsibilities. Her friendliness had won her many admirers in the office, not the least of them being Suresh. She was the only one who teased him despite the layers that separated them. Truth be told, she made him laugh like no one else did.

But he could not ignore the chasm that separated them; and he could not ignore how the more he thought of the chasm, the more he thought of her so that he was losing sleep.

When his mother placed photos of prospective brides, it was her face that stood before him. This was madness! He called her to his room one day on the pretext of some work and slowly extracted her story - he expected it would be abhorrent and it would cure him of this infatuation. It was just as he expected - drunk father, frequent fights between parents, wayward siblings. But she shone through it like gold treated in fire. Her maturity in realising the degradation her situation could bring and her courage in breaking free...

What was the chasm on the face of such vision? He would fill up the gap, he decided. He would make her worthy of his status in life.

When he proposed, he expected her to jump with joy. What he saw was surprise, hesitation, and withdrawal. He wooed her gently, persuaded her to consider the offer and when she accepted, treated her royally. When she resisted being pampered, he laughed, pitying her for having grown up in deprivation. She smiled, and he thought he detected pity there. He brushed it off.

Their engagement date was fixed and he assured her he meant business. He assumed her scepticism was because she did not believe her good luck to last.

"I want to get you a ring for the engagement," she said and took the measurement of his ring finger.

He chuckled. "It's okay darling. You select and send the bill to me," he told her, sure that he would have to change it. She merely smiled and left.

No bill came and he wondered what she was getting him. His friends' surprise at his choice of such a bride, his mother's silent protest, his father's open criticism... he wondered if he was making a mistake. All such doubts vanished when he saw her. But when away from her, he wondered if he should give a long gap before the wedding happened.

The engagement day dawned bright and sunny. He felt elated as he got ready for the event. The event was not as bad as he had expected - her family was uncouth but maybe for her sake, better behaved than he would have hoped for. Still, they were an embarrassment - loud and flashy.

When, after the religious rites, it was time for the rings to be exchanged as per modern diktat, Suresh took the one he had bought for her out. She demurely showed her finger and their colleagues clapped as the golden petal slipped easily on her finger.

He waited apprehensively as she took out his ring. His heart sank. Was it silver or some plain white metal? He covered her hand with his. She was surprised as she looked at him. He leaned towards her and whispered, "Take the ring I got just in case."

She was holding two rings now - a golden one and the white one she had got. She clutched the two in her hand and paused. Then slowly she slipped the golden one on his finger.

She fell silent after that.

When they met alone the next time, she was playing with the white ring. "Why did you not want this?" she asked.

He picked it up and laid it on the table, between them. "I didn't want people laughing at you, Poorni."

"I picked it up with great love, because you mean so much to me..."

"Then it is better that you leave this cheappiece out of the equation!" he snapped, pushing it away. The ring bounced and fell on the floor below the nearby table.

She looked shocked. She got up, picked it up and came back to the table. "This is my lifetime's savings. A platinum ring for the unique man who loved me despite my shortcomings, I thought." His jaw dropped. "Even if it was cheap, as you think it is, if you had treated it with respect, I would have believed you truly love me. But I think you only truly love yourself, the image you have built of yourself - a magnanimous man marrying a poor girl," she said coldly.

She removed the gold ring. "It is not the gold you gave that I care for, but that it was you who gave it."

She turned and walked away, spurning the gold and the riches. They were no price for her dignity and self-respect.

Amoeba Woman

The sun shone down Amoeba Town, Moe Street, Ba Resort.

Moe - not the same Moe as Moe the street, and no descendant of the said Moe either - floated by the water, waiting to take the plunge. She loved the warm soil, but needed to move into the water for her next mission.

She closed her eyes and drifted, and... bang! Her eyes snapped open at the sudden impact and she looked up in shock. "Watch where you are going, lady," said he and floated off, leaving her furious. She was wrong and she couldn't blame him. But his attitude had rubbed her the wrong way and instinct told her he was the upper crust, the ones that invaded the brain.

Suddenly she was surrounded by the amoeba of the third variety, the dumb ones who ate each other and she swiftly moved off to another side.

She enjoyed the time in the sun before she found the next home in some digestive tract. Maybe today was the day, instinct told her, and right enough, felt herself being lifted up and passing the lips into a woman's mouth and down and, "Yippeee!!!" she screamed, elated at sliding down. It never ceased to excite her.

"Shut up!" she heard someone say. It sounded like an echo and she looked around.

"Who are you?"

"Nigel. I am trying to get something done here, and you are disturbing me..."

She frowned. "Do I know you?"

"No. And you are not supposed to be here," he replied angrily.

"Who are you to say that?" she demanded.

There was a pause. "Nigel," he said, as if that was supposed to mean something.

"And...?"

"Ssh..." he shushed her.

She could feel her host's heart beat rise. "Don't shush me!" she snapped.

There was a pause. "Hello!" she called out and suddenly saw a form sliding towards her in high speed. It jettisoned her, pushed her down and she landed on soft tissue, with the form crushing her. Nigel jumped off and glared at her. "When I shush you, you remain shushed, get it?"

"How did you do that?" she asked in wonder, and apprehension.

"I told you, I am Nigel. Haven't you heard of me?" She shook her head. "Well, I can do both brains and stomach if I want to... Helps keep our species alive. And right now, I am on a mission. I don't see why you are here. You are not part of the mission, are you?"

She was trembling as she shook her head. "Well, this host we are living in - she is going to get us to someone who is trying to destroy the planet. That guy is designing a bomb and planting it in Washington DC!"

But Moe wasn't listening. "How can you do both?" she asked.

He frowned. "That's immaterial."

"You are Jel's man..."

"Y-yes. So?"

She turned away. "No wonder."

"No wonder, what?"

"You are just like him! You chew people's brains, and have become just like them - full of yourself, feeling important, indifferent!"

"Hey! What nonsense! You can't speak like that about Jel! How do you even know him?"

Moe flipped over. "I...I...never mind how I know him."

"You are just a stomach bug... How can you know about Jel?" he demanded. When she did not respond, he said, "You are Moe!"

She was shocked. "How do you know?"

"I know. No other stomach bug can know him... You left him!"

She nodded. "He was becoming too human," she whispered.

He was silent for a minute. "And you think I am becoming like him?"

She was silent. Then she glanced at him mischievously and nodded. "All that chewing of human brain - it is bound to rub off."

He chuckled. "It has more spice than other hosts. I love the human brain. And you? How do you deal with being only a stomach bug?"

"Even that is nice and spicy," she laughed.

She felt the blood flow increasing. She nudged Nigel.

"How do we save the planet?" she asked softly.

"If I can get into his system, I can stop his brain from working... I have to leave now." He started climbing up. He paused and looked back. "It was nice knowing you."

"I am not letting you go alone," she said and followed him.

"No! I work best when I am alone."

"I can't let you risk yourself. They send poison down to kill us. I can resist them," she said as she stubbornly climbed up and overtook him. She had been a brain chewer once upon a time, but quit when Jel turned into a slimy jelly. It hurt to remember him, but this mission had given her a purpose, even if it was not hers.

Together, they chewed the villain's brain and gave him dysentery, stopped him from pressing the button to detonate the bomb in Washington and saved the planet.

They returned for recuperation and debriefing. "How did it go?" Nigel asked when he met her on her way out.

She shrugged.

"So...?"

She looked at him, and felt herself splitting in two. Her heart would break if he remained single.

And then it happened. He split and their offspring swam into the pool... Moe and Nigel laughed as they moved towards each other.

(If there can be Ant Man, why not Amoeba Woman?)

Clasped Hands

Nithya extended her hand. Sampoorna resisted. "I will manage," she said stubbornly.

Nithya pursed her lips angrily and looked at the road. The traffic showed no signs of abating. "We are not going to cross today," she complained. "I have to get back. My children will return from their classes," she complained.

Reluctantly Sampoorna grabbed Nithya's hand. Nithya was shocked at the touch, at how hard the hand had become.

She kept a foot forward and Sampoorna followed hesitantly. Slowly the two walked across, Nithya matching her steps to her mother's pace. A speeding car slowed but blew the horn near them. A startled Sampoorna clutched her daughter's hand in fear.

Nithya glared at the driver and they managed to cross. She needed to steady herself for a second as memories of her agile mother confidently helping young Nithya cross the road, holding the tiny hands in her own soft hands came flooding. Waiting patiently in the park, allowing the child to play to her fill, taking her to the doctor's, taking her to her friend's homes, giving in to every demand - memories of her mother's youth and strength. Her mother was but a shadow now, still patient, still not demanding, unable to do all that she would like to.

But even if she had demanded, who would have heard the old woman? Nithya hadn't been giving her mother time, thanks to work and family. Today had been an emergency and already the piling list of chores made her tense and upset.

Seeing the contentment on her mother's face, she dropped the list from her mind for a few minutes. They walked slowly, chatting about olden days. Even Nithya felt nice, not worrying about mundane routine for a few minutes. She took her mother to the temple and bowed before the deity with a free heart, feeling a connection she hadn't in a long while.

Maybe she would lag by a few minutes in her schedule, but she felt she needed to make time for her mother. If that was part of her schedule, it would not be a lag, would it?

Handle with Care

Shreya walked in to the party and looked around. There were many familiar faces, faces that she had avoided and run away from. But though she had made new friends and moved on in life, the tug of the old was strong.

She smiled at the first familiar face that caught her eye and walked with quiet dignity. His eyes popped out and he rushed towards her with outstretched arms. The hostess, who had met her quite accidentally, managed to tug the right strings and lure her to attend the party, also saw her and hurried to welcome her.

Shreya maintained her poise though her heart was beating very fast and she wanted to quickly hide herself again. It was wonderful to be among friends, but not all of them at the same time. She stood still as she sensed more and more people eagerly converging towards her to greet her. She glowed with warmth and at the same time she felt nervous.

A drink or two loosened her up enough to be able to chat with her friends.

"Well, well..." she heard a voice behind her suddenly and her heart leaped to her mouth. The colour drained from her face and she went rigid. She had thought she was prepared for this moment, but obviously, she had underestimated his power over her.

The person she was talking to looked discomfited and melted in the crowd as she slowly turned to face the new entrant.

She crossed her arms and looked at him defiantly. It was hard to maintain that posture. She was stunned at how her heart still went flip-flop on seeing him. But now, she hoped to use her head more.

"What have we here! Ghost or Madam Rhea in flesh!" he drawled.

Shreya flinched when Ranjan called her Rhea - it invoked an intimacy that she did not care for right now.

"Shreya," she said sharply. "Rhea is reserved for people I am close to," she added uncompromisingly.

His one eyebrow rose up a little. She set her jaw against softening.

"I thought I was one of them." He was laughing at her.

"Was... that's the operative here," she said in a low, vehement voice.

He was silent for a beat. "Can that ever change?" he said.

She swallowed, fearing she would weaken. "Trust me, it can."

She walked away, feeling all the hurt and anger returning. She was not ready yet for this. She quietly slipped into the night, heading towards the car with purposeful strides. She opened the door and heard footsteps. She paused and looked up. A shadowy form went around the car and slipped into the passenger seat. The light came on and she stared at him.

"Get out, Ranjan. Out," she said, without getting in. But he wouldn't.

"We have to talk," he insisted.

"Does your wife know you are here?" she asked, half mocking, half angry.

"If she is watching, she will..." he said carelessly.

She laughed maliciously. "She is learning fast, isn't she? Has detectives watching you?"

"Where she is, she doesn't need them."

Shreya frowned without comprehending. Intrigued, she got into the driving seat and started the car. "So you want to get away...?" she glanced at him.

He chuckled wryly but did not reply. "Where did you vanish to?" he asked instead. It was her turn to be silent. She realised she was heading towards her hideout, and did not want him to see the place. She veered the other way and drove aimlessly. "I am waiting," he said.

"You can," she said indifferently. "Doesn't mean a thing to me," she said trying to sound cool.

She heard him inhale deeply. "Yes, I know that too well. And still I come back, like a fool!" he said with unexpected bitterness.

"You didn't, I did," she pointed out.

"You left, I didn't," he retorted.

"You wanted me to leave," she said relentlessly.

He laughed louder. "I wanted you to leave, indeed... As if I could make you want to do anything."

"You were at it, all the time. Almost waiting for that moment when I would give up, would leave."

"That's just not true!" he exclaimed angrily. There was silence, heavy and pregnant. She stubbornly shut her mouth tightly, not wanting to be drawn into an argument about the past she was trying hard to forget.

"You know you are all that I cared for!" he said finally, in a voice that made her want to stop the car and hug him.

She drove with better self-control, moved to the kerbside and parked. She turned to him slowly. "What a fine way to show your care. First you came close, then you kept pushing me away, sure that I will leave, that I will cheat, that I will stop loving you. I tried not to give in, I tried to remain strong for the two of us. I knew you had your demons, your mother leaving you when you were young made you wary. When you didn't succeed, you started seeing that woman, made sure I knew about it... Pretended to be careful, but you were not, were you? You made sure I left. And now that you aren't happy with her, you are doing the same thing. You know she is watching you, and you make sure she sees you with me..."

"She is dead," he said.

She didn't understand him. "Sorry?"

"She is dead."

"Died of weariness?" she asked angrily. She didn't know what she was angry about, but she was angry, very angry. As if her death had deprived her of an opponent.

"She couldn't give me what I wanted, but she gave me something else... Assurance, which you never could."

"Because she refused to go?"

"Because she left before her time," he said. "Death took her away before anyone else could. And I realised what a fool I was. You were alive. I was alive. If only we had a chance. Before death takes us away."

She turned front, her eyes on the road. She thought of the past year, of the struggle she had gone through. She had longed and longed for this moment. And now it was here, he was here, telling her he wanted her back, telling her what she wanted to hear.

"Glass," she whispered. "Thick glass. You keep banging it on the floor, knowing it can break, waiting for it to break, wanting it to break. When it breaks, you want it back whole. Is it possible, Ranjan?" she asked softly. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with tears, her voice regretful, but her heart made up. She shook her head slowly.

He remained silent, his breathing hard, his eyes fixed ahead, his lips stubbornly silent. He looked tired, defeated.

She started the car, wanting to leave him behind before she gave in. "Where shall I drop you?" she asked, resisting the urge to go back.


Also published at: http://heroinchic.weebly.com/blog/handle-with-care-by-meera-srikant

Mother Racketwali

She sat quietly, immobile, waiting for the attack. She offered her body for the sacrifice. But she was not going down without a fight. She was armed.

Right enough, the promise of food, the scent of blood, the sitting duck lured them from their corners. In ones, twos, almost invisible in the shadows, they emerged and reconnoitered.

She waited. She felt their pincer grip but sat still. She wanted the army out, not these minions. She towered over them, and so the damage was not significant. But it was not their bite which was dangerous. It was what they injected into her system. Even one minion could poison her system, but she was willing to take the risk.

Nothing happened for a long time. Only the minions got drunk on her blood. She was getting angry now. It was not an easy call, this decision to kill. Largely peaceful as a person, she felt that she was justified in killing because she was being attacked. It was pure self-defense.

She saw the fat ones moving up closer. She swished her weapon - the electric racket - and heard the satisfying burst of the body against the electric wires. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt another one bite. Swish, swish, swish she went. Crackle, crackle, crackle she heard the response. She smelt burning bodies.

She had promised herself, she would kill only those who came to her. And that the stream had to end. But like Raktabeeja, each death caused at least two more to emerge and strengthen the attack. The frenzy to kill consumed her. She bent low and looked far. She caught the tiny bodies in mid air and swung her arm with relish.

But it was unending. 11. 11.30. 12.00. She must go to bed now. She will resume the battle the next day.

The survivors hovered, having won another day.

The Modern Goat

It was a narrow road. Shops on one side, houses on the other, and just enough space for two cars to cross each other from opposite sides.

An auto was parked next to the shop, by the side.

There came a car, a sedan, driven by a chauffer, with a lady inside.

He parked outside the shop, next to the auto, on the road. He went in, leaving the car with the lady inside.

He bought a few things, but forgot a few others. He came out and asked the lady what else she needed. She told him her grocery list. He went back in to do her bidding. So what if the road was narrow and one side of the road completely blocked?

"There is an auto parked by the shop, that's why my driver had to park on the road," she reasoned.

"Oho, poor thing! Do you realise you can park ahead, on a side?" asked one bystander.

"Mind your business," said the lady.

The driver, coming out, his hands full of things, glared. "There is enough road on the side for your bike to pass," he pointed out.

And the charioteer drove his queen away, unmindful of the disturbance he caused. This reminded me of the Panchatantra tale of two goats crossing a bridge and dying because they wouldn't give the other way.

The Man in the Mirror

He rolled down his car window for some fresh air. It was late in the night, less traffic, clearer air.

He saw billboards splashed with faces of leading actors and actresses dotting the skyline. The commercial capital ran on the wheels of commercial art - the cinema, he thought with a wry smile.

He turned the corner and inhaled sharply. The face of Jay Surana stared at him, face angled flirtatiously at the camera, a shining burgundy blazer stylishly draped on the shoulder, black trousered legs at an angle to indicate he was just walking away.

He couldn't help admiring the perfect expression on the handsome face and imagine its effect on the women in the room. He knew women loved that expression, had heard enough and more about it, seen several articles discussing just this very look threadbare. Jay Surana. He had used that very look to reach the top in the tough world of cinema.

He shook his head in disgust and rolled up the window. Popular actor but critics' pet peeve. "No stuff, all fluff" - sobriquets that Surana had brushed away with seeming ease. Women would die for a look from him. But the intelligentsia looked beyond that and saw only a man cool and calculative.

He tut-tutted. He knew Jay inside out, knew his guts, his hardships, his hardness - the armour he had cultivated over the years to get to the top and remain there. It needed ruthlessness. It was futile to discuss that point.

He grimaced in disgust. He turned the air conditioner dials to make it cooler. His mobile rang. His wife's name splashed on the screen. Mechanically, he turned the Bluetooth on, and spoke briefly. "On my way."

"You are late," she reminded him.

"Yes, it got late. Technical glitches."

"She was there?" she asked in a more hesitant tone.

He chuckled. "Of course, I told you."

"You are coming home, right?" she asked softly.

His chuckle swelled to laughter. "What a question! What did you think?"

"Nothing... I am waiting."

His smile died as the call ended. He became more aware of the pain in his chest. Not his heart...in a way, it was his heart, but not the organ.

She had been there - Shreya Samarth; the no-nonsense Shreya who did not suffer fools lightly and whose straightforwardness could cut through swathes of lies.

The moment she set eyes on him, the fire in her eyes died and they turned cold like icebergs fractionally before she turned to face her fans with her characteristic animation.

Oh they carried on with the show - Jay Surana and Shreya Samarth, Rekindling the Magic. They were veteran actors, acting was in their blood. They could rekindle the magic and make it look natural enough.

And it had strained every nerve to not show how much the fire was consuming him - striking the right balance of intimacy and yet the respectable distance of talking about a co-star. Reviving memories...

Was that a tear, making its way out? Did he still have it in him to cry?

He reached home. His wife came eagerly forward and scanned his face. His cool look was back. He patted her cheek. "I am tired. Would like to hit the bed," he said and left her behind to enter the bathroom.

When Shreya and he broke up, something else broke inside him. Or did she break up because she saw that nothing would break him, that he was beyond caring?

He looked at the man in the mirror. He realised that when he met his eyes in the mirror, the fire died and there was only coolness.

Jay Surana did not like meeting Jay Surana.

Don't Play with Fire

The stranger in the bus stop turned and smiled at her. Rinku inhaled sharply, stunned at how the curve of his nose looked just like Pratul's.

She looked away, chiding herself for being silly. She was always seeking Pratul in every man she met. Sometimes, even in women. In their smiles. In the colour of their eyes. In the shape of their teeth!

She really must stop this obsession. It was going to drive her insane. If she was not already one, Rinku reminded herself as she hailed an auto and gave directions.

As always, memories of Pratul drove a knife through her heart. She could not forget the pain he had caused her before going so far away that he could never give her any joy any more.

She had known him since childhood. He was a couple of years older, but because they lived next door to each other, it was inevitable that they should meet everyday, several times. They hopped in and out of each other's homes on work, or just like that. They had such a lovely time growing up together. How her friends teased her about him. His friends too, she knew, teased him. A soft smile played on her lips as she recalled those wonderful days.

And then, the dark cloud had cast its shadow. A new neighbour had moved in and their stunning daughter seemed to win everybody's heart, including Pratul's. It was hard to see him smile in a special way every time he saw Mahima cross. Rinku consciously kept her distance, but that was a mistake, she realised later. Because Pratul and Mahima became friends, and since Rinku had been obviously indifferent, she found Pratul dividing time between Rinku and Mahima.

They seemed to have all the fun. They started going out to all fun places while Rinku strove hard to maintain her steady, 'I am waiting for you' image. Either he did not understand or did not care. No, that cannot be true. It was Mahima who did not give him the space or the time to think about her. Rinku's lips pursed in disapproval. Oh, how she hated that girl! Always buzzing around Pratul like a bee around flower.

"We are in love, Rinku. I want you to be the first one to know," Pratul had told her.

She had slapped him affectionately. "Of course I know, you silly," she had chuckled.

"Of course," Pratul had laughed good naturedly. "You know me inside out. Probably you knew before I did that I was in love with Mahima." He had hugged her, not knowing how her world had crumbled.

The auto stopped at the entrance to her home. She looked up sadly.

Life changed after that. It seemed as if happiness forgot her, working full time at Mahima and Pratul's homes. And the worst was being his confidante, seeing his eyes shine thinking of another woman, his lips stretch in a wide smile sharing trivial nonsensical stuff.

How could he not know how her heart burned! Didn't he know her every mood, her every look? Didn't he really not know that she loved him?

"Hey," he slapped her on her back. "You fall in love soon and we can celebrate a double wedding!"

It was an insult to their relationship. She realised that he was blinded by Mahima's physical beauty. What was beauty? Just skin deep. If that vanished...?

But for it to vanish and Pratul to realise the truth, she would have to wait a long time. The more Pratul spoke of Mahima, the more eager she was to shake him up and make him see the truth.

She went out of her way to befriend Mahima. They visited each other. It burned her to have Mahima share intimate moments. She wanted Mahima to burn in pain too.

She invited Mahima to her house for tea one evening. They entered the kitchen with a warm laugh. "Go ahead, you make tea. I am in a mood to be pampered," Rinku gave Mahima way. When her attention was turned, Rinku sneaked up and let Mahima's dupatta catch fire.

Feeling the unnatural heat, Mahima squealed and threw the dupatta with a stronger flame. She threw it mindlessly away from her. It fell on Rinku's kurta and her synthetic top burned faster, the flames reaching up to her face even before a shocked Mahima could help her new-found friend.

"It's a miracle that she survived and her organs are not damaged," the doctor seemed to have assured her family repeatedly.

"Beauty is only skin deep, Rinku, You are my best friend forever," Pratul went out of his way to assure her, sitting with her after every plastic surgery to reconstruct her face.

He waited, he promised her, for her to get back to her feet. And then he married Mahima and left for Canada. Way beyond her reach. Leaving her alone to deal with her scars.

Friends Indeed

The four boys swore eternal friendship. "In good and bad times," they affirmed. With a knife, they slicked the thumb and drew blood. They picked up the four sheets of paper they had thoughtfully brought with them and wrote - 'in good and bad times'. The blood was not enough but it was the thought that counted. They looked at each other solemnly, overwhelmed by the solemnity of the promise.

At 12, the boys knew what the promise meant. They may not have money or luxuries, but they had each other. That was not to be dismissed lightly, each one knew that when he looked at the other three.

Nothing was small or big to share. Be it chocolates, juice or sweet, they made sure the others got a share. If one was compelled to partake of something without the rest, he would secretly pilfer an equivalent to atone for the mishap. The friendship was their faith, and there was no crime big enough to commit if their friendship was at stake.

The bond deepened. They repeated the ritual every anniversary. It seemed more than a ritual. It was the purpose of their life. One got the mobile, another the prepaid card, and the third and the fourth charged it in their homes taking turns. If two fought, the other two mediated. There was never any situation where there was any possibility of a break up.

Waah, the villagers wondered at the friendship. But they were also wary. United, they were strong. And their strength made them overconfident. If anyone questioned even one of them, he had to face all four. They were four bodies, one soul. They were four hearts with one mind. They were Brahma, with four faces but one brain.

Teenagers now, one question slowly raised its head. What would happen if one of them got a girlfriend or married? They laughed and joked. They didn't think one day one of them would succeed in beating the others in getting a girl to be their special friend. Was he a traitor? They watched him, the strain telling on their friendship. Did he spend more time with her? What did he do behind that tall tree, or hidden behind the bush?

He grinned and shared every small bit of his conversation with his 14-year-old 'girlfriend', but it all seemed so silly. Was he having them on? Was he betraying them? Were the girl and he making fun of them?

The mood was turning grim. It was like having a known traitor in their midst. And yet, without him they were nothing.

He was nothing too without them. He squirmed, wanting to prove his loyalty but unable to convince them, try as he did.

And then, his casual conversation took a serious turn. The girl and he, betrayed by their youthful bodies, the romantic dusk and the total privacy of the fields, went beyond mere words. He felt one with the universe as the two bodies united. What bliss!

He lay back, the girl on the crook of his arm, staring at the sky. Suddenly, he knew how to regain his friends' trust. He promised them heaven. When he lured the girl into the fields the next evening, she came trustingly, believing in the power of their love. She was hardly prepared to be the oblation he offered on the altar of their friendship. She lay whimpering, forgotten in a corner after each had tasted the promised heaven.

The four friends embraced, their friendship intact. In good and bad times, that had been their promise.

Project Status

Alka felt bored. She was in no mood for a movie, she didn't read books and her friends were all busy with various things. She called her husband Atul. "Come home early, na?" she pleaded with him sweetly.

Atul sounded impatient as usual. "You know I have a dinner meeting with some clients from abroad," he said.

Sighing, she cut the call and called the beautician one of her friends had recommended. "Can you come today? It is urgent,"  she lied easily. The lady agreed but quoted a price higher than what she normally charged, which was in itself higher than the parlour rates. That was the premium she would have to pay if she needed the service at her home, and at her convenience. Right now, it was an emergency - she was dying of boredom.

Three hours later, and a few thousand rupees lighter, Alka found herself back in the lap of boredom. Her teenager children had classes and did not need her to chaperone them. Her 47 year old husband had a career that did not brook interference from his wife. Alka's diversion came from her friends, who seemed to have conspired and left her in the lurch!

Reluctantly, she decided to go window shopping. But used to light-hearted gossiping with her friends, she felt rudderless as she peered through shop windows. She entered a shop, thinking she would look at clothes more closely. She kept a purple top against herself and peered into the mirror, undecided. She realised someone was shaking his head and glanced up, her eyes meeting those of the stranger in the mirror. She hurriedly put it away, glanced furtively at him and picked up a pink top. This time, he looked at her more openly though she herself felt shy to meet his eyes. His glance suggested this one didn't meet his approval either. He looked around and his glance fell on a rich green top. She walked across, feeling like a fool, but glad of this distraction. She kept it against herself and smiled. She nodded, went to the trial room to try it on properly and was elated - not just at the choice but this little interlude to her otherwise boring day.

She came out, paid the bill and saw the man leave with a package of his own. "Thanks," she called out. He turned and she realised that he was quite attractive. Though slightly filled out, his features still suggested a certain aquiline quality that appealed to her. She invited him to coffee at the cafe in the centre court of the shop. It was an impulsive gesture and she was pleasantly surprised at the way their conversation flowed easily. Ritvik - that was his name - was an artist, new to the city but planning to settle down here. She felt like a hostess and waxed eloquent about the places he should visit. Soon she was offering to chauffeur him to some choice places. He, in turn, promised to show her his works.

It should have ended with those empty promises. But social life no longer sustained her interest. She called him one day, unable to dismiss thoughts of him any longer. He had still not seen the sights the city offered, he told her in a tone that suggested that he had been waiting for her to do the honour. Flattered, and finding a new purpose, she drove him around the city. Over lunch and dinner, she became drawn to the fire in his belly to change the world. She had needed just this spark to rekindle her life. She adopted his causes; his interests became hers. She had something to look forward to. She found his dependence on her charming. She felt needed after a long time.

When he invited her to visit his studio-cum-residence, she went eagerly. She had no understanding of art, and his art left her confused. But his conviction about the subjects was enough for her. She clicked pictures of his works and mailed them to her friends, recommending them to buy them. She herself bought one piece that she thought she could hang in her house without feeling embarrassed. When Atul laughed at her purchase, she snapped at him angrily, "What do you know about art?"

He shrugged and buried his face in his laptop. He showed her a review of Ritvik's works - it had been ripped apart, especially the one she had bought paying nearly a fortune. She pursed her lips, resenting his chuckle. "Must be a novice writing," she replied defensively.

He laughed outright. "And you are the expert?" She did not deign him with a reply. "Looks like a good-looking chap," Atul continued. "Young, handsome, artist... Quite a potential firecracker combination. He is single?"

"How should I know?" she demanded. She hadn't really cared that much, but now she couldn't rest till she had the answer. Ritvik went still when she asked him that. "I am sorry," she said, instinct telling her she had touched a raw nerve. His break up story was quite tragic - rich girl, struggling artist, opposing family. "Oh, the poor boy," she thought sympathetically. He was not a boy, she guessed he was almost her age. But to know of the way he suffered and hid his feelings really touched her. She spent more and more time with Ritvik. He seemed to be grateful of her small gestures that were aimed to soothe him.

The more time she spent with Ritvik, the less did the life with Atul appeal to her. She watched her husband, comparing him to Ritvik. Less than five years separated the two men, but they belonged to different generations. Ritvik still had life in him, whereas Atul was fading. She felt drawn more and more to the artist and his unstructured life. She made excuses to be out with him, keeping away from the boring monotony of her domestic life.

Soon, it was not just dinner or lunch, that Ritvik and Alka shared but the bed too. It all seemed so  natural, and yet, when she really thought about it, it wasn't. That is what made it so special. Atul hardly seemed to care about her whereabouts. She wished he would find out about her affair. She wanted to shake him out of his smugness. Sometimes, she wanted to confess to Atul her indiscretion and get into a fight with him. She broke down at times, thinking back to the days when small fights would lead to making up and making love. Now, they just froze each other out.

When he returned from his trip, she chose a convenient moment to corner him and blurted out the truth. If she hoped for him to plead with her and renew their relationship, she was in for a shock. He served her divorce notice, used her admission of the affair to wrest custody of his children and left her penniless.

Thoroughly humiliated, she cut off from her friends - or did they cut her off? Defeated, she turned to Ritivik. He had packed off without a word. "He had taken the house only for a few months. He came looking to make a fortune, and he said he had," the neighbour informed her. "His friend Atul seems to have paid him for some project he undertook."

Alka felt her world slipping away. Within months she heard that Atul was getting married to a woman he had been dating for a couple of years behind her back. Alka realised she had been that project. That Atul had used her to get the divorce, keep the money and the children. And to think she had thought him blind! It was she who had been asleep with her eyes open!

Pretty Parul

"Hi Sam," Parul purred on the phone.

Sam leaned back, a smile on his face. "Hello Parul, what a surprise!" He couldn't control the excitement from reflecting in his voice. Well, why not? Any man would welcome being greeted by that husky voice. Anybody would give their most expensive iphone just to have Pretty Parul call them. Sam was neither a saint nor immune to pretty faces. And he was going to enjoy this moment in the sun, when  the very woman he had been dreaming of ever since he met two evenings ago had taken the trouble to call him.

"Did I disturb you, handsome?" she asked and giggled.

He chuckled. "You disturb me even when you don't call..."

Parul squealed delightfully. "Oh you naughty boy! I didn't intend calling you, you know," she said, trying to sound matter of fact. "But I think I mixed up numbers and ended up calling you."

"Really? And yet you knew it was me," he said, exposing her game. She laughed. "Nothing escapes you," she teasedg him.

It was the best 10 minutes he spent that day, talking inanely to this woman of his dreams. But since he was just a salesman with targets to meet, he had to get on with work and excused himself. "Have to rush for an appointment. We'll talk later."

"Oh! On the phone? Why not meet?"

Sam thought for a second. "What about this Saturday?"

"Oh, but that's almost a week away!" Parul said and he imagined her bow-like lips pouting.

He smiled. "Flattering... And I can't wait too... But," he sighed heavily, "weekdays don't work. I have a lot of projects to submit for a course I am doing..."

Parul seemed to find that reasonable. Sam found pleasure in waiting. But Parul didn't seem to believe in that. She called again two days later. "Hi handsome," she said, her voice caressing. "What are you doing?"

He glanced at the clock - a meeting in 15 minutes. "I will call you when I get on the road," he said and dashed to his bike. He plugged the earphones, dialled her number and called. The way seemed shorter, now that her voice accompanied him. "Okay, gotta go now. Meeting a client."

"A client? Put it off," she said prettily. He laughed. "See you this Saturday," he said and rang off. But she called again. "I am bored," she said petulantly. "Meet me after the meeting." He frowned. "No dear, have back to back sales meetings. Month end, targets to meet... you know the works."

She let him go reluctantly.

*
Saturday. Excitement. Meeting Parul.

Sam was on a high. He dressed carefully, made sure his credit balance was respectable. He inhaled sharply on seeing Parul dressed to kill. Even without trying hard she could have walked all over him. He felt immensely lucky at having her in his life.

They quickly hugged each other and then walked to the diner together. She took his hand in hers and he smiled.

The food was brilliant. He wished the evening had been too. But somehow, Parul and he did not seem to connect. Her conversation did not hold his interest, and what he wanted to talk about did not seem worthy of her attention.

Didn't she see, the unfathomable chasm between them?

"When next?" she asked when they got up to leave. He hesitated, but not wanting to disappoint her and deciding to give it another chance, he offered to meet her next week. "A week? Playing hard to get?" she teased. When they met again, his misgivings were confirmed. She, though, seemed blissfully unaware of the mismatch.

She was pretty and not unintelligent. But no, they didn't have the same wavelength. He decided to ease her off. When she asked, "When next," he tried to be diplomatic. "It is going to be difficult for sometime to come..."

She frowned. "As in...?"

"Parul, I don't think I am the right person for you... I..."

"You are bored of me..." she said quietly.

He took a double take. "I don't mean that... I mean, I just fear we are not cut out for each other."

"So you are cutting me out. After using me, you are saying bye to me."

"Whoa!" Sam said, shocked. "Using you? We have just met twice and I am telling you that it is better we back off now."

She wheedled, "We can make it work. I feel it in my bones."

Sam shook his head. Her persistence put him a fix. He didn't want to be rude. He said, "One more try."

"I am not your slave!" she snapped angrily.

Perplexed he said, "Absolutely."

"Then what is this about trying?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because you think we can make it work but I don't."

She leaned towards him, "I love you Sam. Don't you feel the same about me?"

He wearied of this circular conversation. "Parul, why don't we give this a break and meet if we really feel like after some gap?"

"When you say Parul like that..." she smiled suggestively.

He got up and left, hoping she got the message.

She was hoping the same. She called, and how! Morning, evening, night. If he didn't pick up the phone, there were messages. When he ignored them, she called almost every 10 minutes. Unable to bear it any longer, he answered the call. "You cheap MCP! What do you think? You can play with a woman's emotions like this! After leading me to believe you liked me, to drop me like this!"

He tried reasoning with her. But the next moment she whined and wheedled. Frustrated, he put his phone on silent if she called. Even if he could not ignore the persistent ringing, at least it did not disturb or intrigue others around him.

The messages though were hard to ignore. He was called a flirt, a womaniser, MCP and more in that vein. He was harassed, scared to even carry his phone because of the vitriol that poured out of it. It was distracting, troubling, scaring...

He changed his mobile number.

But that did not end his troubles. There she stood, outside his office, "Please Sam..." His colleagues teased him. "Oho, he has a pretty girl wrapped around his finger."

No! That was not what he sought. He just wanted some peace and quiet... But her repeat appearances despite his trying to discourage her, psyched him. He caught himself looking out of the window frequently, especially if he had to go out. She came looking for him in the office and if he were there, he had to rely on his colleagues to send her away saying he was not there. If her stalking him was one problem, their teasing him another.

Seeing no way out, he finally sought and found another job, which took him out of the city.

Of Parul, he heard nothing more.

But with women, he was more wary, earning the sobriquet 'Shy Sam'.

Eternally Young

She wore a bright red, sleeveless evening gown. The lipstick matched the colour of her dress. She dyed her hair black, a stark contrast to her bright dress. She carried a black clutch and paired her dress with black heels. Her eyes glittered black and were kohl-lined heavily, to hide the crow feet and the slightly baggy look underneath.

Her face was heavily made up - a pathetic attempt to hide her 54 years on earth. She had been moisturising her hands and feet for several years now, and yet it looked as if in a few years, the gnarled look would slowly take over. The red finger and toenails somewhat distracted from the weathered look, but not for long.

She eyed herself critically and what she saw passed muster. She would never regain the first flush of youth, surely, but nor was she out of the race. Yet.

She checked the time. As the clock struck 6, the doorbell to her suite rang. He was punctual, as she had expected. She smiled at her reflection and adjusted her lips to get it right. She tried different expressions and finally settled for what she thought was a smouldering look.

The bell rang again. She walked quickly to the door, paused, took a deep breath in, put on the smile and opened the door.

He stood there in bottle green full sleeve shirt with dark blue jeans. She realised with a pang that he didn't look a day older than the first time she had met him almost 10 years ago, when he was just 32 or so. He moved back, seeing her dressed as if playing a part. The dismay was evident on his face though he smiled by way of greeting.

She put an arm on his shoulder and reached up to touch his cheek. Reluctantly, he leaned closer.

"I have ordered dinner in the room," she said in a husky voice.

They sat across the table and she served him wine. "So... How have you been?"

He shrugged and picked up the glass. "All well?" he asked, as if saying too much would get him in trouble.

"How is your girl?"

He took a deep breath, sipped the wine and started to say something evasive when she smiled with an eyebrow raised. "I remember the day we met so clearly."

"Do we need to go there? I have got the papers for you to sign."

She leaned back . "Oh, what's the hurry. Is my presence so abhorrent now? I can remember the day you pleaded with me to marry you. Remember, that day?" He was silent, so typical. "I even pointed out the age difference, but you didn't seem to care."

"You were right then. Happy?"

She laughed, a pleasant, throaty one. "Sometimes one likes to be wrong. But looks like you were! You thought you would love me always, no matter how old I became. But you couldn't, could you?"

"Look, this is getting us nowhere... I was wrong, you were right... So..."

"You do know you will not be young always, don't you?" she asked sharply, moving forward.

He inhaled sharply.

"What a pity," she studied his face without blinking. Nervously, he gulped the drink. He felt his throat burn. He coughed. "What a pity... But no... I love you too much."

"Look," he began but choked. He coughed some more and she affectionately patted the top of his head. "I love the way you are. I would hate to see you grow old..."

He got up, clutching his throat. She leaned back, an arm casually flung across the back of her chair. "People discard you when you grow old. It hurts, hurts deeply. Especially when it is someone you love." She looked at him as he went on his knees, coughing still, eyes popping. "I won't let you grow old and wizened and weak and abandoned. I want to remember you the way you were when we first met," she said, her eyes glowing dreamily, away from his prone form, struggling for breath, the veins in the neck  standing out from the struggle. Suddenly, she got up and sat next to him. "No, you cannot grow old and be forgotten, like me." She took his hand and said softly, "I love you too much to let you hurt yourself."

He fell back limply, his body still as the final breath racked his body. "No," she murmured, stroking his hand gently. "You will remain forever young."