**Short Stories by 120shal - Page 2

Posted: 12 years ago

Marriage

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes.
'
Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly.
She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why?

I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man! That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Jane. I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her!

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company.
She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved Jane so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now.

The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.

When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.

In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.

This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day.
She requested that every day for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request.

I told Jane about my wife's divorce conditions. . She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully.

My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mommy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; don't tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outsidethe door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me.
On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Jane about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger.

She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily.

Suddenly it hit me' she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head.

Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mom out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day.

But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy.
I drove to office'. jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind'I walked upstairs. Jane opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.

She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Jane, I said, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart.
Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away.

At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.

That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I run up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed ' dead.
My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from the whatever negative reaction from our son, in case we push thru with the divorce.' At least, in the eyes of our son' I'm a loving husband'.

The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. Do have a real happy marriage!

If you don't share this, nothing will happen to you.

If you do, you just might save a marriage.
Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up

 

Edited by 120shal - 12 years ago
Posted: 12 years ago
THERVU

Antha navina meen marketil salesman velaikku iruvar vanthanar. Sumaar naanku kilo iruntha periya meenai eduthu kodutha supervisor, "oru customer oru kilo keddaa, ore veddileye eppadi pirippingga?" enraar.

Mudhal aasami veddi electronic machinil paarthabothu oru kilovum 100 gramum irunthathu. Aduthavar sariyaaga oru kilovai veddi eduthaar. 

Manager mudhal aasamiyidam keddaar. "unggalaale yen correctaa vedda mudiyala?"

"Customerkidde, '100 gram jaasthiya irukku sir, paravaayillaiyaa?' nu keddaa kandippaa marukkamaaddaar. Salesleyum laabathileyum pathu percent athigam sir" enraar avar, panivudan.

"Very good, naalaikke vanthu velaiyile serungga" enraar, Manager.
Posted: 12 years ago
AINOORU

Kallaavil udkarntha badiye panathai enni kondirunthaar Sivaraman. Ethiril bill panathai selutha oru periyavar ninru kondirunthaar. "Sir...neengga thaan intha hotel ownera.."

"Sollungga periyavare."

"Ungga hotella ippa nei thosai saappidden sir. Avvalavu piramaatham. Ippa kooda antha nei vaasam yen kaileye irukku sir." kaiyai ippadiyum appadiyum kaaddinaar.

"Yellaam ungga aasirvatham sir."

Periyavar sendru irunthaar.

Kallaavil irunthu ainooru rubaiyai eduthu than paiyil vaithu kondaar. Nere aduppanggarai nokki sendraar. 

"Thambi Ganesa.. Inthaappaa ainooru rubai."

"Ethukkunne..."

"Annanum oru kaalathula serveraa irunthuthaan innikki muthallali aayirukkendaa...yennai marubadiyum serveraa thadde thookka vechudaatha Ganesa.. Thayavu senchu neiyai konjam parthuselavu pannu..."

Muthalaali poivida 500 rubaiya paarthu athirnthu ninraan Ganesan.
Posted: 12 years ago
HUSBAND 

'Aluvalagathil power cut aagi minvisiri nirkave, viyarvaiyai otri edukka pant pocketil irunthu kaikuddaiyai eduthaar Sundar. 

Athan oru moolaiyil iruntha mudichai paarthathum, 'ninaivu vaithu kolllunggal' enru manaivi athil mudichu poddathu ninaivukku vanthathu. 

'Coffee podi vaanggi vara sonnaala? Asthma maathiraiyaaga irukkumo? semathiyaaga avalidam vaanggi kaddi kolla neridume' ena bayanthavar, alivalagam viddathum coffee thool, maathirai, thailam enru anaithayum vanggi kondaar. 

Veeddil nulainthathum, vaanggi sendra porudlkalai ovonraaga eduthu mejaiyil adukkinaar.

"Yennathu... irukkirathellaam vaanggi vanthirukkiriingga?"

"Ille... vanthu ithile ethuvo onnu venumnu thaane..."

"Naasamay pochu ... neeggalum uungga marathiyum ... mookkuthile ennai iranggi irukku ... suthapaduthi varacholli mookkuthiye kaikuddaiyile vachu mudinjen. Prichu paarkalaiyaa."

asadu valinthaar Sundar.
Posted: 12 years ago
SWETHA

"Swetha-vukku veeddil 'vaalaa veddi' enru peyar. Office-il avarukkum MD-kkum thodarbu irukkinrathu enru saka ooliyargal kisukisuppu veru. Aanal Swetha appadi paddaval alla. Ithanaal vaalkaiye veruthu poi tharkolai seithu kolla vendum enra mudivukku vanthu viddaal. 

Iravu 12 mani. Thookka maathirai bottle-lai edukka ethanitha neram. Swethavin cellphone sinunggiyathu. 

"Hello, yaar pesuringga?"

"Naanthaan un paaddi parimalam pesuren."

'Intha nerathula yen paaddi phone panre?"

"Yenna marathuddiya, innikku un piranthanaal. Nee pallaandu magaraasi-yaaga needuli vaalanumnu un paaddi vaalthurendi."

Swethavin kannil neer muddiyathu. Puram pesum makkalukku naduve intha paasakkare paaddikkavathu vaalnthu kaadda cendum ena thookka maathiraigalai toilet-il koddividdu nimmathiyaaga thoongga ponaal.
Edited by 120shal - 12 years ago
Posted: 12 years ago
👏
Originally posted by 120shal



At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until death do us apart.

very nice...  realy unexpected ending... 👏




 

Edited by kishore1490 - 12 years ago
Posted: 12 years ago

The Queen of Diamonds

Amooma gently picked up the thirteen cards that lay in a loose pile on the low table in front of her. She stacked them up before carefully opening them like a fan. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the cards and rearranged them in her hands. Ace of Diamonds, King of Diamonds, no Queen of Diamonds, Seven of Clubs, Eight of Clubs, no Nine of Clubs... She quickly glanced at what the Joker was. Queen. The Joker was a Queen. Not a single Queen in hand. Not a single Joker. No natural sequence either. Doesn't look good.

She studied the faces around her. To her left was twelve-year-old Anju. Angelic Anju. Anju of the wide innocent eyes. The same innocent eyes she had inherited from her father, Amooma's only son. Amooma studied those large eyes that were fixed intently on the cards in Anju's hand. To Amooma's discomfort, Anju's face did not betray the cards she held. To Amooma's right was snooty Sanju, Anju's elder sister.

"Don't look at me like that," barked Sanju, "I bet you are trying to read my face and guess what cards I have. Amma warned me you are very good at face-reading," Sanju's dainty eyebrows, which were pierced at the far ends with ivory studs, curved angrily.

"Sanju, don't make up stories," Lalitha said sharply and then turning to Amooma she added in a defensive tone, "I never said anything like that, Amma, this Sanju, she is very good at making up things."

"I know you wouldn't, dear Lalitha. After all you have such great respect for me," the sarcastic stress of the word "great" did not escape Lalitha's ears. She chose to ignore it and shifted her attention to Anju.

"Come on, Anju," Lalitha said, "your turn. Hurry up."

"Talking of stories," Amooma suddenly said, her furrowed face breaking into a kindly smile. "I will tell you one. After all, how can I be a good grandmother if I don't have a story for my grandchildren!" Amooma gave Anju one of her loving-grandmother looks.

Anju yelled "Yaay!" excitedly to which Sanju snapped, "Stop your yaaying and play the game, stupid! Can't you see she is trying to distract you with her silly story?"

"All right. If you don't want to hear my stories I won't tell a word," Amooma managed to sound hurt.

"But I want to hear your story, Amooma. Just ignore Sanju. She is angry with everyone, especially Achan for not allowing her to stay back in Houston and hit the malls with that Blake boy," Anju pleaded.

"YOU," yelled Sanju as she sprang up to hit her little sister.

"Sssit," hissed Lalitha at Sanju and then added tapping her forehead resignedly, "I have had it with this girl."

"Let's hear what the majority opinion is," Amooma looked straight at Lalitha's eyes.

"Yes, yes. I also want to hear your story, Amma," an unsure smile quivered in Lalitha's lips. "Please do go on."

Anju took the Jack of Spades that was open to her and threw out a Nine of Clubs. Amooma grabbed the Nine before it even hit the table like a swooping gull grabbing a jumping fish. Sanju glared at Anju with an expression that said, "See, I told you so".

Amooma looked pleased as she began, "Once upon a time long long ago in this very same Thiruvananthapuram city, there was a poor and pious pattar, by the name of Ganapathi Iyer. He lived with his young wife and baby in a tiny one-room house just beside the walls of the Sri Padmanabhaswami temple," in spite of Amooma's eloquent narration, she was deftly rearranging the cards, making new combinations in her mind before throwing away a useless Three.

"What a dumb game!" remarked Sanju seeing the Three. "We don't play Rummy this way in the US. Whoever heard of no quitting midway!" Sanju slammed the cards defiantly face down and said, "I quit!"

Amooma looked at Sanju blankly and turning to Anju she asked, "Anjukutty, whose house is this?"

"Your house, Amooma," Anju replied innocently.

"And whose cards are these, Anjukutty?"

"Your cards, Amooma."

"And in my house you play by whose rules, Anjukutty?"

"Your rules, Amooma."

"Anjukutty, tell your sister, if she doesn't play by my rules in my house, I will make her Achan clip the wings of that flat eagle in her pretty little passport. She will spend the rest of her miserable teenage life going to college in a sweaty, packed KSRTC bus, and getting groped by lepers and fishermen."

Fear flashed through Sanju's eyes before she picked up her cards and said crossly, "Okay, okay. Why should I be the one to spoil your fun?"

"Aah! Where was I, Anjukutty?" Amooma's smile was back.

"Ganapathi Iyer living beside the Padma-something temple walls," replied Anju eagerly.

"Padmanabhaswami temple," corrected Lalitha, "It is a very important temple here. I have taken you there when we were here last. Don't you remember?"

"I was a baby when you were here last, Amma!" said Anju.

"Ah, yes! Ganapathi Iyer," Amooma brought her cards close to her chest and gazed fondly at the whirring ceiling fan. "He earned a living teaching Sanskrit to the SSLC boys of Model School. He was also a good astrologer. Had a handful of regular customers, all poor like him, who threw him a rupee or two during their occasional visits to fix a Muhurtham or do a Prashnam. Unlike today, in those days sinners were rare, things were predictable, and so astrologers made very little money."

"Her young wife, let us call her, say, Subbulakshmi, was eighteen years younger to him. She was a typical pattar wife: docile, devout and domesticated as the temple cows behind those high walls."

"Now, we do not know whether our young Subbu had dreams and desires like the young girls today. But whatever she had was tightly locked up under the layers of her thick black hair."

"It may have been Subbu's vegetarian cooking full of fiber and lentils, or it may even be the difficult age in which he was, you know, when men bloat in the middle with a belly full of gas. Anyway, the fact was our Iyer man developed a serious and embarrassing case of gas trouble. It was so bad that his Sanskrit lessons had a grammar of their own, often punctuated by extraneous sounds that resembled starched cotton mundus being ripped apart. He would often try to mask the sounds by the sound of chair-shifting and loud throat-clearing. But his students were smart pattar students. Their giggles grew louder..."

"Waitaminit Amooma, are you talking about farting?!" Anju squealed curling her nose. "What a dumb question. Isn't it obvious, stupid?" Sanju snapped and then turned to face Amooma. "Amooma, go on, now your story is getting interesting," she kept her cards on the table and smiled at Amooma.

"Ewww. Gross!" exclaimed Anju holding her nose.

Lalitha covered her mouth and smiled at her mother-in-law coyly. "Sanju, your turn," she said looking at Sanju from the corner of her eyes.

"I want to listen to this, Amma," Sanju was adamant.

"Ganapathi Iyer was greatly troubled," Amooma went on. "In his tummy and in his mind. He tried all kinds of remedies his slender purse would allow him. Gelusils, Pudhina leaves, diet control... All had very little effect to calm the winds in his tummy. Finally, it was a neighbour who suggested the adsorbent qualities of the humble charcoal. The effects were miraculous. He started religiously consuming a moderate piece of charcoal after every meal. His face was happier and his Sanskrit lessons were quieter. Things went on like this for a few years until one day our good Iyer developed a terrible pain in his lower abdomen. The doctor did the usual tests after a worried Subbu pawned her only gold chain and promised the Pattala Ganapathi of Pazhavangadi ' the god not the Iyer ' three coconuts. 'Suspect it is a kidney stone,' the doctor had told her. 'Don't worry. Nothing serious. Can be flushed out with some medication.' But the following week the pain grew unbearable in spite of the painkillers Iyer had. He was rushed to the emergency unit and the duty doctor discovered that one of his kidneys had failed completely. He was immediately operated on and the offending stone removed. The young doctor passed the blood stained stone to Subbu who was waiting anxiously outside. 'Make a ring out of it,' the doctor had jokingly remarked."

"Subbu took the stone home and washed off the blood. Though the stone was irregular in shape, it was clear and Subbu noticed a fire sparkling in it. Her heart raced as she recognized it to be the same fire she saw in her rich neighbour's diamond nose-stud. The following day she took the stone to a trusted jeweler. The jeweler studied the stone and confirmed her suspicions. 'A fortune!' he had exclaimed, 'at least two carats after cutting. You are indeed fortunate, sister.'"

"The next day, when Subbu went to the hospital, the senior doctor took her aside and told her that she had to bring back the stone for them to determine the composition in order to prevent recurrence. Subbu quietly told the doctor they needn't bother. 'It was a diamond,' she said to the doctor's disbelief. 'This has never happened before. Never ever,' the doctor repeated as he studied the stone. After enquiring about Iyer's diet, the doctor was positive that it was the rich 'carbon' diet that caused the diamond formation in his kidney. Somehow the carbon that settled in his kidneys had turned to diamond. 'But anyway, you must stop giving him any form of carbon. He has already lost one kidney. He will surely lose the other if he takes any more coal,' the doctor had warned her gravely.

Iyer was discharged the following week. Subbu did not tell him about the stone. Every night after the Iyer was sound asleep, she would take out the stone to admire the fire in it. She would hold the stone against her earlobe and look longingly at her reflection. The fire ignited a silent storm in her mind that slowly built up with every passing night. Finally after a week of recuperation, Iyer noticed a small tumbler with a lump of charcoal beside his morning iddlies. To his questioning look Subbu replied, 'For your gas... Have you forgotten? Your Sanskrit lessons are resuming today.'"

Amooma laughed heartily as the other three looked at her with questions in their eyes.

"Then what happened?" asked Sanju.

"The story ends there, child. Don't know what happened next" replied Amooma.

"Amooma, your ear studs. Are they diamonds?" enquired Anju.

"Yes, Anjukutty. Two carats each," replied Amooma proudly.

"Amooma," Anju continued, "I don't want your studs after your death. You may leave them to Sanju. She likes body parts best."

"Cool," said Sanju excitedly.


Notes

pattar : local slang for Brahmin, the priestly class in India
mundus : white cotton sarong popularly worn by South Indians
Muhurtham : auspicious time for any important event
Prashnam : astrological inquiry
iddlies : a breakfast dish common in South India

Edited by 120shal - 12 years ago
Posted: 12 years ago

The Marriage Bed

As he climbed into bed next to her and whispered "goodnight" into her hair, she felt the familiar sense of dread overwhelm her.

She had been lying in the darkness for the past hour, awake, but desperately willing herself to relax into sleep. She had failed again. Every creak of the floorboards, every whirr of the air-conditioner, every footstep and whisper beyond her door, even the sound of her own heartbeat, the sound of her own breathing, had amplified into her ears and had kept her awake.

He thought she had fallen asleep, but she had not. His hand curled into hers as he snuggled into his pillows. Within minutes, he was asleep. She knew he was, and not just from the sound of his breathing as it slowed into a contented purr, and then to quiet snore. She knew he was, and not just from him breathing through his mouth when he had fallen asleep. She knew because he would twitch when he fell asleep. It was as if dreams came immediately to him, and he was reacting to that world to which she would always be a stranger. His fingers, his arm occasionally, would fidget as he tumbled into the realm of slumber so elusive to her. And still, she remained awake.

She was livid with envy. She had been wriggling around in the covers, trying to find a comfortable position, or at least one which could fool her body into sleep, for the past hour. But every time she turned, something bothered her. The ends of her hair poked into her face. Her pyjamas twisted into an uncomfortable coil. Her underwear rode up and needed to be adjusted. And he, in three minutes flat, had beat her to sleep. She could not understand how. How, no matter how rested he was, he could fall asleep anywhere. Sprawled on a sofa in a friend's living room after a dinner party. In the car when she lurched him home through the rush-hour snarl of traffic. In the cinema on a creaky chair during the thrilling portion of an action movie. Chatter and babble, honking and swaying, surround-sound gunfire and car chases, these could pelt him mercilessly from all directions, and still he managed to sleep, oblivious.

She, on the other hand, could be kept insomnolent by the noise and traffic of her own thoughts. Yoga class was useless, she thought. She tried to recall what her instructor had said about relaxing each part of her body, but the more she concentrated on relaxing her toe, or her foot, or her thigh, the more she was aware of some discomfort in that area. Her toe joints desperately needed a satisfying crack. Her foot was bent uncomfortably. Itchy skin crackled from each pore. And each crack and crackle became more pronounced as she concentrated on sleep.

Gently wriggling her hand loose from his, she crept out of bed to the toilet. She could not sleep unless she had a completely empty bladder, she had convinced herself over the years. So she wandered from the bed to the toilet, opening her bladder to release the few meagre drops of water which she convinced herself were the culprits of her wakefulness. To and from their bed she wandered, haunting the corridor like a ghost in her white foamy nightgown.

She stood at the foot of their bed, staring through the darkness at his sleeping form on the bed. The clock ticked. The air-conditioner hummed. He slept. She was awake.

Posted: 12 years ago

Pot of Water

Nalini could see a long line stretched ahead — red, pink, blue, violet — snatches of a tattered rainbow littered in a haphazard line on the road. She placed her yellow and green pots at the end of the queue. She was late. Normally her pots would be somewhere at the beginning of the line or at least in the middle, but today they were more or less at the end. Ammini, her neighbour and good friend, stood almost at the centre, the place where she too would have been standing if she had woken up early.

Last night she had come home late. There was a party at Sarika Madam's house, by the time Nalini reached home it'd been eleven. Ramesh, her ten-year-old son was lying on his mat reading his school book. A small steel bowl stood at the corner with a few grains of rice swimming about in traces of translucent pink starchy water. He jumped up when he saw her, he knew she would be bringing home tasty food when she came this late. It had been almost twelve when she finally spread her mat next to his and lay down to sleep.

Now as she hurriedly walked to the place where the lorry was parked Nalini marvelled at the bleached brilliance of the sky. The new day had hardly begun, but the sun's blaze could have fooled anyone to believe that it was noontime. The lorry stood under the canopy of the raintree, a scaly tube as thick as a python snaked out from the lower portion of the barrelled lorry gushing out water. The driver stood aside amidst tendrils of curling smoke while his assistant worked the lever to control the flow of water and chatted with the women.

The crushed sarees and frazzled hair of the women gave away the fact that most of them had got up from bed and had come straight away. Some yawned continuously setting off a chain reaction while some scratched their heads or drew patterns on the ground with their toes.

Nalini hoped she would get her quota of water for the day. Her mother-in-law would be irritated if she did not get the water; Nalini knew Amma was planning to cook something special for her son. Ravi was expected to reach home by about eight at night. He would first drop off the cargo at the warehouse then go to the main office to get his wages, only after that would he come home.

The queue was only half way through when loud voices rose up in agitation from the front. She craned her neck in an effort to find out what the commotion was all about. "What do you mean only one pot! How come? Only half of us have taken water," Ammini was shouting red in the face, "you people want to sell the remaining water, that's what."

Nalini frowned. She saw the lorry driver flicking the lever shut before he turned and addressed them, "Look here, if I stop now there is nothing you can do. Take one pot and go." His words scaled down the angry mutterings of the women to sullen looks. The driver had connections in the ruling party; if he decided not to come at all, they wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Nalini sighed, she would have to get water from somewhere else, but where?

Earlier when Ravi was driving the school van he used to get water from the school. The Principal made it clear that he would not tolerate it on a regular basis, but once in a while was okay. The relocation of the school to its permanent premises on the other side of the city not only robbed Ravi of his job but also their alternate source of water.

After Ravi lost his job, Nalini also looked for ways to earn some money. That's when she decided to accompany Ammini to the salvage dump nearby where garbage lorries arrived by the dozen, piled high with the refuse thrown out by city dwellers. Ammini taught her how to tie a piece of cloth around her nose and mouth and also to look out for things like iron bits, plastic bottles and packets. Sometimes her feet would get cut, but that problem got solved when they found some discarded footwear. Some days she did not get much, but sometimes she got good stuff, a discarded iron spatula or an iron box, once she even got a full knife set. Whatever she picked up, she learnt that getting money from the scrap dealer required nerves of steel and a quick tongue. The forage brought her about Rs. 50 every day, not much, but then every bit counted.

Now as she entered the house, Amma glanced at the empty pot sitting lightly on her fingers and asked, "You got only one pot?"

Nalini broke in, anxious to stop a full-fledged tirade, "Yes, but don't worry Amma, I will try and get one more pot of water from somewhere." She hurriedly stepped into her room to change her saree — the room was nothing more than a space cordoned off by a cane divider in the single room tenement. She had found the divider in the dump; it was almost intact except for a few places where the cane strips had given away from the crisscrossed design. Ravi had repaired the gaps using fallen twigs, he had wanted to paint it bright blue but she fancied gulmohar orange. She argued that the orange would brighten up their house. Inside the drab interior of their home, the orange screen was the first thing everyone noticed when they ducked their head through the low doorway and entered. Her neighbours and friends were envious of the privacy she had managed to carve out in the small space.

The dump yard had given her many things besides the screen. When she had first come as a bride, the floor of the hut was bare, a dark brown colour, the wooden threshold just a demarcation between the ground outside and the inside. Then she discovered broken ceramic tiles piled up on one side of the dump and used them to line the floor from wall to wall. True she had to fit tiles of different shapes, colours and sizes but together she and Ravi managed to cover the entire floor without any gap. Everyone who had come to see their new flooring agreed that it lent a touch of glamour to their humble dwelling. Taking cue from her, others had started salvaging for discarded tiles and now almost all the huts in the area had tiled floors. Of course, the burst of construction activity on the main road gave them access to fancy tiles in a range of colours and designs.

The construction boom not only gave them access to fancy tiles but also opened out unimagined avenues of work. Ramanna, who lived in their colony got a job as a watchman in one of the apartment complexes. Ramanna had been Ravi's father's close friend and though Ravi's father was no more, he came home often to enquire about their well-being. One day he came to their house with the news that the ladies in the complex where he worked, were looking for housemaids. When he heard this, Ravi urged her to go, "At least one of us will have a regular job."

The first person she met was Sarika Madam. Nalini stood at the threshold of the lady's apartment distracted by the number of doors that led from the hall. The hall itself was twice the size of her hut; the walls on the sides had a door each, possibly leading to bedrooms, on the left side of the wall opposite the main door was a passage that led deep inside and dissolved into subdued light, probably leading to an open terrace or a balcony, and on the right side was a room, which she realised later, was the kitchen.

Sarika sat on a huge sofa and reeled off the job requirements, "Sweeping and mopping the house everyday, washing clothes and dishes besides cutting vegetables." Nalini was to go in the morning and in the evening, for all this the lady of the house mentioned a sum which was less than what she expected. Nalini stammered and asked for a bit more but Sarika's forehead creased, "No this is all I can give." She added a second later, "You can take home food that is left over." Nalini thought for a while and nodded her head, she really did not have any choice but she did not want to seem too eager either.

At that time she did not know that cutting vegetables would get stretched to cooking food, that morning would become late afternoon, that evening would melt into nights especially when her employer threw parties, like last night.

She hurried down the narrow path to the main road. Once there she would have to cross the four-laned highway to reach the entrance of the private road that led to the monstrous white apartment complex. She quickened her pace, the school bus would come at eight and she had to make breakfast and also lunch for Madam's son to carry to school. As she entered the compound, the mesmerizing blue of the swimming pool in the middle arrested her gaze. At this hour, it was empty but for a few men who were furiously going up and down the pool whipping up a frenzy of water. Later in the morning and in the evening, through the kitchen window she would spy women and young girls lolling in the pool. Now it reminded her of the extra pot of water she needed to get to see her little family through the day.

Nalini busied herself in making food, she did not really mind this part of her job — a snip here, a quick toss into the pan and food was ready. At first her eyes had popped when she saw the contents that tumbled out of the colourful packs — she had seen such packs in her rag picking days, empty and hollow, having long outlived their purpose of existence. Now she found that the amount of covers emptied in the house almost rivalled the number she used to pick from the dump. Even now Ramesh who went to the dump after school in the hope of making some extra money, brought only a quarter comparatively.

Madam had instructed her early on to stuff empty packs into a tall bucket kept for this purpose in the storeroom. Now the container overflowed and she had to press down hard to shut the lid tightly on top, she often wondered what Madam planned to do about it.

The sun was high in the sky when Nalini finally sat down to eat her first meal of the day. She ate quickly, but her mind was on the conversation she had with Sarika a few minutes earlier.

"A pot of water?" Sarika had enquired with her eyebrows raised to her hesitant question.

Sarika tilted her head and pursed her lips, then she said, "No I don't think so Nalini, even we have a water meter you know and we have to pay for the water we take," she shrugged, "you understand don't you?" Her eyes were narrowed even as her hands played with the jingles on her dupatta.

Nalini nodded and turned. Her shoulders drooped as she went back to washing the dishes. The bell rang and a few minutes later, Sarika called out, "Nalini please bring the big bucket from the store room."

Nalini rolled the bucket over to the sitting room. She was surprised to see the scrap dealer sitting on the floor near the threshold. A pile of newspapers lay at his feet and he was busy weighing them. Sarika had settled her ample frame on the huge leather sofa, a tall glass of cold coffee stood on the glass-topped table in front of her. Sarika gestured to Nalini, "Empty the bucket."

"There are a lot of packets besides two months worth of newspapers this time; you must give me a good price." Sarika told the man.

Nalini scooped out a handful of packets and put it on the floor beside him. He started segregating the colourful wrappers. After a while, he looked up and said, "I'll give you Rs.100 Madam." Nalini's eyes almost popped out, one hundred only for paper waste.

Sarika raised her voice, "You cheat, this is two months paper waste and you are offering me only Rs.100. Give me Rs.200."

Nalini watched as Sarika alternatively sipped her coffee and bargained with the man. She held on till they agreed on Rs.150 and he handed over three crisp fifty rupees notes. Nalini watched her as she folded the money in half and proceeded to make a hollow tube out of it. Sarika rolled the money tube on the sofa continuously as she instructed him to come again next month without fail.

After he left, she got up reeling off instructions, "Nalini I am going to sleep now. Close the door when you leave. Don't forget to throw the garbage out."

As Nalini turned to go back into the kitchen, a movement caught the corner of her eye. Sarika had forgotten the money on the sofa, the rolled up notes tethered on the edge for inestimable seconds and then fell down.

Nalini bent and reached for it, "Madam..."

But Sarika had already gone inside the room and closed the door. Nalini unfolded and smoothened the rolled up currency notes and placed it on the glass topped centre table. She took a crystal figurine from the side table and placed it on top of it to prevent the notes from flying off.

Nalini took out the garbage bag and went down. She heaved the bag into the bin at the edge of the wall. As she was returning, she saw the gardener at the far end of the compound. He was standing on the lawn and unhooking the hose from the tap; water flowed out of the tap at full speed spraying droplets all around. A minute later, she saw him fill a bottle with the clear water. He did not belong to their cluster but was known to everyone in the vicinity. His loud voice and distinct smell alerted everyone to his presence especially after sun down. She stood hesitantly and wondered whether to approach him.

His faced was screwed up with the perpetual scowl he always had. She put aside her doubts and decided to try her luck. By the time she reached the edge of the small lawn, he had closed the tap and was now lighting his beedi. He did not look up at her approach, instead he sucked deeply and blew a puff of smoke into the air.

'I need a pot of water — can I take from here — I can pay you money.' Nalini began.

He looked at her up and down, then took a puff again. "How much will you give?" he asked amidst a cloud of smoke.

Nalini coughed, a reek punctuated the ashen haze billowing around him and she stepped back a little, wrinkling her nose.

"You tell me sir..."

"Ok then — for one pot of water give me Rs. 50"

Nalini inhaled sharply, she had expected maybe a 10 or a 20, but a 50? She shook her head in disbelief.

"Please, that's too much — I'll give you ten."

"Fifty or nothing," he turned away scratching his head.

Nalini walked back to the apartment, the folds of her cotton saree swished and wound around her legs more than once forcing her to slow down. She went into the kitchen and wiped the counters. Nalini placed her plastic tiffin box filled with the day's leftover breakfast and walked to the front door. She stopped near the glass-topped table for a while and looked at the money lying on it. The crisp notes fluttered in the slight breeze coming through the window. She lifted her eyes and looked towards the closed bedroom door.

She let herself out of the apartment and walked towards the gate. Ramanna came out of his tiny grey coloured wooden cubicle and asked her, "Why were you talking to him?" he jerked his head towards the gardener.

"In the morning, some of us got only one pot of water today, so I was asking him whether I could take one pot from here..."

"And — what did he say?"

"He wants fifty rupees."

He looked at her and shook his head, "That fellow is not the helping type."

He looked past her to the horizon for a minute. Then he scrunched his eyes and pointed to a glinting dome in the distance, "There is a hand pump in the cluster next to the bus stand, I don't know if water is available through out the day, but you could try there."

Nalini knew the bus stand was a good half hour walk away, but her shoulders lifted at this piece of information. The intercom buzzed in the watchman's cubicle and Ramanna hurried inside. Nalini shielded her eyes and stood looking at the dome for some time. She squared her shoulders and walked out of the place. She decided she would go home and take the empty yellow plastic pot, then she would go to the bus station.

Posted: 12 years ago

Why was you absent?


 "Maulik Kulkarni". Shamsudheen called out the attendance.

"Present, sir"

"Mohammed Rifath"

"Present"

"Mohammed Shahbaz"

"Yea, Present". I said, bored.

HE: You were absent yesterday,you know Shahbaz"

ME: (I was the one absent, so ofcourse I would know dumbo!) Yes sir

HE: Why was you absent? Because you need to have a reason you know"

ME: (I'm really starting to consider that he did give bribe to get the posting, no one in their right head would select someone who's so weak in english) Er… sir I was absent… um.. because I wasn't feeling well

HE: What you mean not well?

ME: (you want me to check the oxford dictionaries definition for that or what) I was sick sir

HE: What sick?

ME: (Sick of the goddamn school, the goddamn syllabus, the teachers, and most of all, you!!!) Well, problem with stomach sir…

HE: What problem?

ME: (How much does he have to delve into the details? What's he training to be? Sherlock Holmes or something?) Er… Truth to be told, I was not even able to get out of the toilet yesterday, sir.

HE: You were locked up in it or something, you know?

ME: (What a nitwit!!!) No sir, I was absent because… um… of some reason which could shake the very foundation of physics… (Shit, Why did I have to say that? Now he'll think I'm a revolutionist!)

HE: (With his face screwed up, I mean screwed up than usual, with interest) What is it..?

ME: (DAMN!!!) Well, um… (making up)… er… my stomach was not er… agreeing with the um… theories behind the um… Laws of Motion…

HE: (This guy has gotta be the stupidest person I have ever come across)Meaning?

ME: (having had enough of wordplay) I was having Loose Motion Sir…

The class rang with laughter.

HE: I see… Come here, Shahbaz.

ME: (going nearer) Yes sir?

HE: What is the meaning of loose motion?

ME: SIR, VAYARILAKKAM!!!!

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