The Mahatma

Dust rose above the ground as I dragged my feet on the narrow stretch of road. It was just past noon in hot, sultry Kerala during the hottest month of the year. The sun was directly over head and my fuzzy brain was conjuring images of the sun following me around, greedily drawing moisture from my body through the top of my head. My throat was parched and I could feel the onset of migraine and nausea. I raised my gaze on hearing the deep rumble of an approaching jeep. I continued walking on the empty road while my eyes took in the wild fauna that dotted the roadside.The plants wore a forlorn look. The harsh summer sun appeared to have an effect on them much like the one dementors have on magical folk and muggles alike. Even the green of their leaves was coated with dull red dust.  It was a testimony to the magnitude of my boredom that I trudged forward.

The roar of the jeep got louder as it approached. It was soon in my line of vision. It was one of those commercial vehicles that people from the village used to go to the nearest town. Public transport was highly unreliable. This was a cheap and swift mode of transport, hence popular. This particular specimen carried rowdy teenage boys hanging from its steel frame. Their banter was loud enough to wake retirees from their afternoon siesta as the jeep made its way around the village picking up commuters. I stepped aside to make way for the vehicle. I had been warned that the drivers had no qualms in razing folk to the ground.

 As the vehicle passed, the boys caught sight of me. Before I knew what was happening, the jeep came to a halt and the boys launched into a well practiced eve teasing routine. A combination of cat calls, whistling, vulgar songs, lewd comments and loud clapping was directed at me. I froze on the spot. I was all of  13 at the time and had never been objectified and humiliated in this manner. Lack of response on my part emboldened them. I wanted to turn into dust and blow away with the wind. Shame, humiliation and anger wrung my insides. Tears emerged from the ducts but I did not allow them to escape my eyes. I just stood there. My aunt heard the cacophony from the house which was only a few meters away. She came out on the road to find the cause of the commotion and witnessed this awful scene. She sprung into action instantly and shooed away the boys with the choicest expletives. She came rushing towards me and asked me if I was okay. I silently nodded in the affirmative. I knew that if I spoke, the tears would roll down my cheeks and I would break down. I did not want that. I did not want her to know how affected I was. She put her arms around me and walked me to the house.

I went straight to my room and plonked on the bed. I clutched a pillow in my arms and thought of my parents. I missed Amma. I was sent to Kerala to stay with my aunt and her family for the summer holidays. As I got older, my parents worried that I would lose touch with my roots and no longer relate  to the extended family. Ergo, come summer holidays I was packed off to this village with barely any electricity and the most rudimentary amenities. Noisy chicken in the backyard were the only dependable source of entertainment.

I was restless and desperately needed something to take my mind off the horrid incident. I went up to the book shelf and picked up the only English language book there, "My Experiements with Truth", MK Gandhi's autobiography. I went out to the porch and settled down with the book. My grand mother was sitting in her usual spot as was her custom at that time of day. She looked at me intently. I looked away. The last thing I needed was to be subject to questioning about my sullen demeanor. I hid my face behind the book and started reading. About half an hour passed in silence. Grandmom interrupted the peace with a query, " Are you reading a book about Mahatma Gandhi?"

Here I must mention that she did not know to read or write. She was over 80 years of age at the time and had never been to school. However, she valued education immensely. I was one of her favourite grandchildren simply by virtue of my love for books. She always encouraged me and I knew that she wished, she could contribute to my education in some way.

She figured I was reading about Gandhi from his picture on the cover. I lowered the book, nodded my assent and then continued to read.

" He was a great man", my grand mom said.

I put the book down.

"Yes, he was"

"Did i ever tell you, he once walked by our house with hundreds of people following him during that famous march of his?

"Really? You never mentioned. That is fascinating."

"Yes he did. I saw him with my own eyes from our verandah. He was a great man. Things have only gone downhill since he passed away"

"Yeah I guess"

"Salt was so cheap when he was alive. It is so expensive now"

"Huh? How has his death affected the price of salt?"

"Child, manufacture and sale of salt was his primary activity. Didn't you know that? Nonsense book you are reading."

My jaw dropped. I stared at her without blinking for a few moments. I tried to gauge if she was joking. She was not.

I picked up the book. Hid my face behind it and smiled for the first time that day. My grand mom's innocence had washed away the bitterness in my heart.


 

Deception

A call on his hand phone distracted him from the loud cackle of his friends. His eyes automatically scanned the display flashing the number. It was her. He had promised to return her call when she had called earlier in the day.  But he was caught up in work and then his colleagues/friends coaxed him into getting a drink at the neighbourhood watering hole. It had been a long hard day with screaming clients and impossible deadlines. He could use a drink.

Once he was two drinks down, his body and mind began to unwind. Sometimes nothing helps one de-stress more than mindless banter with random friends. The phone stopped ringing in time. He was mildly relieved and focused his attention on the guy talk. He ordered another drink. His phone came back to life, this time with an SMS. It was a message from her, "Babe, please call me. I don't feel good". He felt a slight pang.

She was feeling low, the past couple of days. He had been meaning to have a long chat with her, cheer her up, the way only he could. Tell her that he loved her. That always made her feel better.

He really did love her. He felt about her in a way that even he couldn't understand. She had saved his life.

His treacherous mind sucked him into that time in his past that he tried to get away from each day. A little over a year ago his life had crashed around him,he was boxed in from every direction. It seemed like redemption was impossible. He even considered ending it all. 

At the time, she had pulled him out of a black hole each day, brushed him down and given him the hope and courage he needed to see through the day. The next day, she did it all over again. She healed him with love, faith and hope till one day he was ready to come back to life. He was indebted to her.

Brij nudged him back to the present. He shook his head to get rid of the painful memories. Shrikant was in the middle of joke about a new female colleague who had lately been the prime victim of his humour. The group guffawed at the inappropriate joke. He smiled feebly. His thoughts went back to her. He knew, he really should call her right away. She needed him. Her never ending family problems had taken a heavy toll on her lately. He was the only one she could really talk to. He was the only one who could give her the comfort she desperately needed. 

He just didn't feel up to it. He was mentally exhausted, tired of dealing with life's problems. God knows he had more than enough of his own. For now, he just wanted to down a few drinks, enjoy his temporary state of numbness. The last thing he wanted was to hear her crib and complain for an hour and then use every last bit of energy left in him to console and comfort her. Damn! Why couldn't he live a carefree life for a day, away from all this bull shit.

His thoughts were interrupted when his phone started ringing. It was her. He panicked. It was not like her to call again unless it was a matter of dire urgency. He picked up the phone and stepped out, found a quiet corner and took the call. " Hey Baby", he said in a conciliatory tone. From the other end, he heard the sound of her crying. She could barely breathe. She must have been crying for a while. "I've been trying to get in touch with you the entire day, you didn't take my calls. I even sent an SMS. You know I don't bother you this way unless it is important. Why are you ignoring me Shiv?", she managed to blurt out in between sobs. His heart began to pound hard. What was he supposed to tell her? He couldn't possibly tell her that he just didn't feel like talking to her that day. It would break her heart. He was seriously stuck. She was patiently waiting for a response. He knew he was running out of time. Even before the idea had taken solid shape in his head, he heard these words fall out of his mouth, " I am so sorry love, You wont believe it if I told you... the kind of day I've had. It was terrible". "Tell me", She said. His instinct told him to really sell it, he just had to get back in the safe zone with her. 

"Do your remember Sid from my office? You met him at the office party."

"Yes, of course. Nice chap. What about him?"

"Babe, he met with an accident on his way to work today. Its pretty bad. I am still in the hospital. So I could not speak to you when you called"

"Oh Shiv! That's terrible. I am so sorry. Damn it! I should have known you had a very good reason for disappearing like this. And here I was working myself up, thinking you are insensitive and callous. I hate myself sometimes. Am so sorry baby..."

"Don't beat yourself up. You didn't know"

"I won't keep you any longer. Hope Sid will be okay"

"Okay babe. I'll call you as soon as I can".

He hung up .He leaned on a wall, closed his eyes and held his phone to his chest. He waited for it to sink in. What had just happened? Did he just tell her a terrible lie? Did the lies really roll off his tongue that easy?

He looked around for some place to sit. He was consumed with guilt. He was unable to make sense of his own actions. Why the hell did he lie in the first place? She was the most understanding person he knew. If he had just been honest with her and told her he had a rough day at work and needed some to unwind before he spoke to her, she would have totally understood. She had always given him enough and more space. She loved him and accepted him just the way he was, a little rough around the edges. She knew he could he insensitive at times and she always understood. Why did he lie to the woman he loved? What was wrong with him? He ran his hand over his hair and shut his eyes tight. Even then tears threatened to break lose. Somewhere in his core he knew why he did what he did. He liked the easy way out. So much easier to just lie and make an unpleasant situation go away than under go the discomfort of confrontation. He was a jerk sometimes. It was as simple as that.

On the other side of town she was lying in bed clutching the pillow under her head. Tears rolled down and disappeared into the pillow leaving an expanding moist circle. Her insides hurt as she shook with grief. She wanted to disappear into his strong arms. She wanted to hear him whisper in his soothing voice that he will heal her of this pain. She rolled over, wiped her tears and pushed these thoughts out her head. He would have been with her, if he could. He was with someone who needed him much more.
She hoped, Sid was okay.

Eat Pray Love

"A friend took me to the most amazing place the other day. It's called the Augusteum. Octavian Augustus built it to house his remains. When the barbarians came they trashed it along with everything else. The great Augustus, Rome's first true great emperor. How could he have imagined that Rome, the whole world as far as he was concerned, would be in ruins. It's one of the quietest, loneliest places in Rome. The city has grown up around it over the centuries. It feels like a precious wound, a heartbreak you won't let go of because it hurts too good. We all want things to stay the same. Settle for living in misery because we're afraid of change, of things crumbling to ruins. Then I looked around at this place, at the chaos it has endured - the way it has been burned, pillaged and found a way to build itself back up again. And I was reassured. Maybe my life hasn't been so chaotic, it's just the world that is, and the real trap is getting attached to any of it. Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation."