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STAY INSPIRED

STAY INSPIRED
B S Ajit Kumar

Saturday 26 January 2008

By lanes... a short story






It was the day before my retirement and I was sitting in my office going through the greeting cards and gift articles send by many well wishers and partners of GPS Pvt. Ltd. It was relatively a free day for me as I had already handed over the charge of my office to Nitesh, who was going to replace me. He had worked with me for the last twenty years in this office. He was more like a brother to me and I was very happy to see him occupying my chair. Amongst the cards and gifts, an yellow colored envelope struck my attention mainly because of the peculiarity of the hand writing. Large round letters with big loops, slightly slanting forward! In a hurry I opened it .It was a letter from Vivek Dubey.

I joined this office as a fresh chartered accountant, thirty years back. I was appointed in the internal audit section. Swamy was the senior accountant and the very first day I realized that he didn’t like my entry. I came through the strong recommendation from Mr. Santhok Singh under whom I completed my article ship.

Our office that time was in the mezzanine floor of our factory. All of us sat in the same hall .There were no separate cabins or plush furniture. I sat behind a wooden table, my chair made a characteristic kr rr rr sound every time I moved. Straight across my table was the office of our proprietor, Sardar Gur Prakash Singh Arora. Mr. Arora was an unusually huge man, with a big round face .His grey beard was glued to his cheeks .The ends of his moustaches were spun to a double headed arrow hanging from his nose. He never smiled, or his smile was hidden by his hirsute face. But he laughed liberally, which sounded like a roar. His red eyes were bulging out and moved in a round fashion. His nostrils were wide open as if to grasp the entire air in the atmosphere.

The first day in office was very uncomfortable. The whole of accounts department (only two people, Swamy and Trivedi) ignored my presence and passed some lewd comments in an inaudible voice. Just before the lunch break a shadow cast over my table and there stood Mr. Aurora.
In a vexation I rose to my feet, slightly trembling. He grasped my shoulders with a firm grip (which I never could release for the past thirty years!)

“Mr. Ramesh Sharma”, the lion roared.
“Sir, Rajesh Shukla” I humbly corrected
“Ben ch…. What so ever it be Paaji Santok ne bola. So I keep you here.”
“Yes sir” my weak nerves murmured.
“Gur Prakash Singh Enterprises is my company. We manufacture screws. When I put 100 rupees I want another hundred back. You know we are in to a screwing business. I don’t want a single screwing to go waste. That is what you are supposed to do. We don’t want any audit peedit here. In your free time help Vivek. Marketing is the most important section here. Never come to me with complaints. I want results. ”

When the dark shadow vanished, I was left totally confused and decided to leave the job until I met Vivek in the evening. Just as we were about to leave the office, a jovial, fair ,short boyish man dressed as a hero of Devanand movie surged in with a bulged mouth full of paan . The red syrup of betel leaves dyed his lips to a maroon shade. He had a mischievous smile. He just threw his bag onto a table and sat on the table maintained by Swamy with all sanctity. He leaned towards Swamy and imitating a south Indian slang said,
“Pattare! I screwed the deal and now it’s your turn. Do all manipulations to save tax for the monster. ” spraying maroon spots all over Swami’s table. To my surprise Swamy didn’t utter a word, just nodded his bald head and put a dirty smile on.

Vivek turned to me, held me by hand and took me out. With a smart single kick he started his scooter and asked me to board the pillion .On the way he kept on talking mostly about himself, religiously aspirating the betel syrup straight to my face. His room was in the outskirts of the city. It wasn’t a room. It reminded the office of a C grade cinema hall, with all semi nude pictures of girls. I started sharing his room and continued it till he left the company, not knowing that it was going to be the beginning of an end!

Vivek was always very happy and used to laugh loudly if needed or not. Many of his behavior irritated me a lot. I was helpless. Evenings he sat with his friends and played cards. During the game they stripped all girls known to them, evaluated their geometry, passed some obscene comments and laughed aloud. When his stupid friends parted him he used to come to me and ask.
“Rajesh why can’t you join us?”
How can I convince him the struggle of a retired railway employee who is trying to marry off his three daughters, all dreaming about his only son to help?

Vivek comes from an affluent land lord family. His father was the unreigned king of the village. When we visited him for the first time, he was sitting on an easy chair, two stout men stood by him. A girl in mid twenties, half dressed in a torn saree was strongly held by few men and she was trying to whither out their custody. She was screaming. The senior Dubey showed some gesture with his fingers. The men tied her to a pole. They forced her torn saree down to expose her buttocks. For the first time in my life I saw the bare bums of a lady. It was round, dark and shining in the lantern light that was hanging in the pole. I was excited for a moment and the next moment the whipping sound of leather falling on bare skin send a shock wave in me. She was beaten, unkind till her round, dark back started bleeding. I stood breathless witnessing this scene. Vivek held me close to him or else I would have fallen unconscious. Later I was told; she stole guava fruits from their garden and got caught red handed. The hospitality with the Dubey family was awesome. Every one in the village was scared of them. Vivek was free to do all what he felt like doing. He amazed me with many of his adventures. His mother was mostly confined to home and just before we were to part, she called me asked to take care of her son! I agreed with a weak nod.

Thus Vivek came in to my custody which he never accepted until he met my family next year. He spent time mostly with my father. They used to go for long evening walks. I couldn’t believe how easily he impressed my father and won his confidence. He returned to the office from the village as a totally changed person. His card game got stopped. His Saturday thrills came to end. He started coming with me to the nearby temple on Sundays. The life in office was also smooth until Maithili came in. She was a special recruit for the newly created personnel department. Sardar Arora introduced her to us with lots of pride as she was recommended by his son.

Maithili was a highly spirited lady with lots of wit and wisdom. She was slim and rich in femaleness. Her honey shaded skin shed a lustrous glow around her. She draped her saree carefully around her waist and carelessly dropped it over her shoulder. She walked with a tripping style, spilling sanguine vibes all around. Every one in the office liked her and secretly loved her. There was nothing much for her to do, she just moved from one table to the other, spent lots of time in the factory, inquisitively observing the machinery.


Mr. Arora knew nothing about screw, nothing about marketing and nothing about anything except profit. But his son Trilochan was not like his father. Being a graduate from Oxford, Trilochan was very much different from his father. He was always well dressed and was a pleasing personality. A kind and permanent smile brightened his face. He used to visit our office very regularly. But he never showed any interest in the company affairs. Every time he came, he sent for Maithili and discussed at length the possibility of developing the personal department!

It was after a lunch break, we heard Maithili shouting at the top her voice. It came from the corridor near the staircase going down to the factory. Vivek was standing in front of her with a pale face. Maithili had slapped him! For a person like Vivek, it was a great insult to stand. He left the company and the city. He was in touch with me for some time and slowly that too got stopped. After the sudden death of Aurora, the company management changed. The new management expanded the production line to a verity of consumer electricals.
We shifted to the new corporate office in the heart of the city. Many were forced to leave. Swamy and Maithili had left much before this decision.
I was wondering how easily people vanish from our lives. The yellow envelope was lying on my table, reminding me those days.

Nitesh came in with a stilted smile. He sat across me. Uncomfortable to look at me; his eyes were struck to an hour clock gifted to my office by some partners. He turned it up and down and pretended to be busy with his act. I pushed forward the letter to him. He went through the letter, and looked at me with a sigh of relief.

“Oh our old hero! Where is he now?”
I showed him the envelope. The detailed address of a farm in an unknown village in Karnataka was written over there.
“Sir I think you must take a break and visit him.”
“Yap. Lets see”. But I wasn’t keen.
“Sir Jaysree wants you to join us for dinner tonight. And Rithu and Gudia are waiting for your stories. ”
“Can’t we do it later? I will talk to Jaya”
“No sir. She is planning an elaborate dinner for you and madam. You know she is very particular about your tastes.”
I had to turn down his particular interest on my tastes as we had an official dinner that night.

It was only a week later I could visit them. In the evening, though I insisted Lakshmi, she refused to join me. Some how she never liked the over freedom Jaya enjoyed with me. But at the same time she liked Nitesh and his children very much. She used to treat them as her own children, unborn to her. We often forget the pain of childless marriage when ever we are with their family. This time she refused outright to join me. I had to go all alone to their home. It was just not a formal reception. Jaya was clad in a black saree with red flowers, which I had presented her on her last birth day. Rithu and Gudiya were waiting for me with cards made by them. Nitesh was nervous and gloomy. Jaya ran to reach me, held me by hands and took to the backyard, were tables were arranged. She kept on serving and talking. I did play with the children for some time and when they were dozing on my lap, intoxicated by a fairy story I was narrating to them, she plucked them out of me. Nitesh gave me company, too mechanically. Jaya came in with all apologies and cribbing about her children. She sat by me on the grass, forcing her delicacies and incessantly talking.
Nitesh was a young man when I met him for the first time, struggling to complete his CA. I liked him and kept as my assistant. I was not sure whether he completed his degree or not. But I still remember the day he came to me totally perplexed. He was in love. I went out of my way to convince his parents. Jaya and Nitesh got married. They were happy there after .I still don’t know how I happened to be a part of their life. Jaya was always a good friend to me. I enjoyed her company with out giving any clarification to anybody. Nitesh seems to understand us and never came in between us. But people in office made spicy stories and enjoyed its delicacy. Neither I nor Nitesh bothered to bother such comments. Jaya shook my legs to awaken me from my dreams.

She asked me point blank.
‘‘Boss, are you going to meet him?’’ She always called me boss and she was the only one who called me so.
“Jaya, I haven’t decided”
“I think you must go and meet him”
“Jaya, I was not in touch with him for the past several years.”
“And what about Maithili”
She asked flashing a naughty smile.
Her unnecessary intrusion into my personal life irritated me. But I turned it a loud laughter.
When I was bidding good night to Jaya and Nitesh, I did decide to meet Vivek.

When I reached home Laksmi was waiting for me. She was unusually kind and apologetic. She took me in and helped me to change in to pajamas. She bought water for me and made me to sleep by her. On the bed she held me close to her warm body. She placed her leg on me and kept her face close to my neck. I could feel her warm and moist breath. I told her about the letter. At once she got up and with all enthusiasm declared that we are going to meet Vivek!

It was not very difficult to find out his address. It seemed that everyone in the village were known to him. It was a large farm with a small house in the middle. The lush greenery surrounding the red house was picturesque. The long sandy causeway to the house led us through different kind of fruit and flowering plants. Many were
not seen before. Laksmi was struck by the rich variance of this plant kingdom. Vines bearing dark green leaves, intermittently showing off its affluence with large, bright golden pumpkins! Red roses and flamboyant butterflies, gently kissing them with admiration. Squirrels were playing on the trunk of a large tree with yellowish green foliage with bright red fruits liberally hanging down. A small stream giggled down from the nearby hill, tied a blue ribbon around this polychrome.

At the door, stood Vivek with all his charm and charisma. Just behind him, stood a lady, spilling sanguine vibes all around. In a trance I held my Laksmi close to me.
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Sunday 6 January 2008

PIETA....a short story

..................
Pieta
A short story by Ajit Kumar B S

I wasn’t sure to wait or go. I came here early morning just on the basis of a message I received from an unknown sender. All what I knew was that Hari was unwell and wanted to see me. All my attempts to contact the sender were futile. My grand son who kindly drove me here has also disappeared. He must probably be busy with his cell. I was feeling restless and a sort of irritation slowly percolated into my otherwise calm mind. I decided to grab enough courage and to approach that tough faced nurse once again. I was about to get up and she immediately raised her frowned face and gave a piercing look at me. I sat back as an obedient child.


Hari was always a phenomenal curiosity for me. My father got transferred to a remote village in northern Maharashtra and I was admitted in the only school of the village. The head master was kind enough to permit me to sit on the front bench, perhaps due to my slender looks. I could easily place my thin body on the front bench already occupied by two fair fat boys, leaving room for none else. As the bell rang, a dark thin boy with a pale smile rushed in and sat by me unhesitant! I wasn’t sure if he was sitting on the bench or just pretending to sit. I was uncomfortable as he was so cool and confident in the class.


On my way back home, exploring the alien geography, Hari was waiting for me with his pale but consistent smile. We made friends for ever.

My father was a well respected government officer and many great people came home to meet him. My mother always clad in rich silk with her lavish unostentatious elegance served them tea and patiently waited for their late departure. In my shallow sleep I could hear their cheerful parting. I had lot many toys to play with but was restricted from mingling with local children. It was a holiday and mother was busy displaying her collection of silk to her lady friends. I slipped out of my house un-noticed and walked through the unexplored village roads. I walked aimlessly through the paddy fields; noticing nothing .I was tired and hungry. To my relief, a red strip of narrow road appeared at the end of the rich green carpet. It led me through the choking aroma of burning cow dung. At some unexpected turn of the road, I met the pale smile. Hari took me to his house. It was nothing less than a shack. An old man, incessantly coughing, greeted us with a nod of his head. But the warmth inside was touching. I was served food which I never had before. He showed me his greatest possession, with a naughty smile - a bunch of white pebbles!

The day of my expedition happened to be my last day in the village; I was shifted to a boarding school.

The Tehsildar, whose daughter was my classmate, was the villain. His son was already studying in the boarding school and often he used to emphasise the need for an elite education. I secretly gifted Hari all what I possessed, expecting his valuable collection of pebbles in return; but some how he didn’t!

Life was so tough for me that the pale smile disappeared from my memories. I was in a struggle to cope up with the demands and expectations entrusted to me. The Tahsildar appeared once again in my life with a life long offer for my elite well being. I got married to his daughter Savitry. By that time her childish curiosity of acquiring stones got matured enough to possess precious stones. We were happy married mainly due to my inferiority complex and fear I had successfully inherited during my ‘do’s and don’ts training programme’.


It was a summer evening and I ventured out aimlessly through the dusty and dusky streets of Pune. My aimless rhythm of straying was abruptly stopped by a pale smile with nostalgic temptations and led me to an Irani tea shop. He hasn’t changed a bit, except that the pale smile got more consistent. All what he spoke about was his paintings and an exclusive exhibition of his paintings which soon he was going to organise. His eyes were wandering as he was speaking. Probably he must have noticed my deficient aptitude of artistic appreciation. Somehow I didn’t feel like taking him home as I wasn’t sure how Savitry would take it. The whole meeting was incomplete and left me with a kind of irritation for many days.

My grandson hurried in with out the slightest sense of remorse. He loves me a lot and sparsely listens to me as if he was doing a big favour to me. He looks exactly like his father but more patient and wise than my only son.
“Grandpa, can we go?”
“Hmhmn... Did you eat some thing?”
“I am late for an important appointment”
“Well you may go on. I will manage to go back home”
To my surprise he vanished in to the cloudy crowd. Poor fellow must be tired. I tried to adjust my thick glasses to follow his act. Gathering all optimistic spirits I got up against the will of my reluctant numb limbs.
But I could see the atmosphere around the nurse growing benighted.
I wasn’t sure to wait or go.

Savitry is a woman of great substance though often she sank to a melancholic mood. She always expressed herself a bit more than needed, whether its love or hatred. She wanted our son to be the best. She wanted everything the best or all what she possessed was the best except me. She had countless energy when it comes in settling a score over anyone. At times it was scary looking at her furious face and the very next moment I could feel the warmth of her bosom pressing against my back. Just before the annual examination, my son was sweating in her custody, and I was pretty sure that any movement from my end would blast the volcano; I sat out side wearing a monk’s inert mask. Of a sudden she appeared in front of me with all blooming spirits, holding a news paper sheet. Right in front of my bulged eyes I could see letters getting focussed to my name printed on the paper for the first time. The best painting of the year, Hari’s bleeding hearts was dedicated to me as I was inspirational for it. I couldn’t believe. It was a murky painting where Jesus, lying on a lady’s lap and looking in to her ‘about to drip’ eyes, with all kindness of the world condensed in to a point. Simply I didn’t like it. The very next second we religiously fought over it, making the whole day murky for all of us. But she represented me before the media people and spoke at length appreciating the painting which she had never seen in real. It was all because of a blind faith. I loved it in general.

That night I experienced my lost youth again. She drove me to the pinnacle of ecstasy where I lost my conscience and was just wandering aimlessly in the paddy fields.

At last to my relief, a nurse woke me up from my life. She had the same face as that of the woman in Hari’s bleeding hearts. She handed over to me a small packet which Hari wanted to give me. I stood looking at that dirty packet which was stinking sweat. And came Hari, clad in all with a white robe, lying still. He hasn’t changed a bit, except his pale smile has become permanent.

I walked aimlessly, and as a desire of destiny I reached the asylum where Savitry was waiting. She was standing near the window staring at the twilight sky.

I stood by her and she turned her face to me. The yellow light, sieved in through the window panes, gave a divine grace to her face. She looked like a golden statue painted with light and shade. I didn’t speak a word neither she. I remembered that I didn’t get anything for her. I opened the small packet in to her receiving hands. Through my thick glasses I could see the pouring white pebbles sparkling in her eyes.
The sun set and there was only darkness.