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Showing posts with label Short Story 2016 Longlist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short Story 2016 Longlist. Show all posts
Saturday, 1 October 2016
Thursday, 1 September 2016
Short Story 2016 Longlist Vandana Kumari Jena
Father and Son
The lift seems cramped although it can take four people or 240 kg in terms of weight. As of now, it can accommodate one more. Suddenly a man enters the lift, presses the button and as the lift moves upwards the atmosphere becomes electric. I look at his curly brown hair, his greyish blue eyes, his aquiline nose and his cleft chin. I see Rohit’s eyes widen with surprise. His eyeballs begin to protrude. If I didn't know any better I would think that they were in the danger of popping out. Raghav pulls a long face. All the colour has gone from his face. He looks at Rohit and then at the stranger. His eyes dart from one to the other, not knowing what to say. I stand in a corner, the eternal bystander, wondering who the man is. My Fate, my Nemesis, this man, the mirror image of my son standing beside him.
Reactions begin to set in. Rohit digs his nails into his palms. His eyes look at the stranger and then at me accusingly. He has judged me and found me guilty. He glances at Raghav pityingly. He is judgmental. Has been reading “Cuckold” by Kiran Nagarkar. It would not take a genius to figure out what he is thinking. I am not a genius but I know.
Raghav's face is deadpan. He has been successful in hiding his feelings. 25 years of marriage and I still do not know my husband well. Does he also suspect me? I am seething as well. But right now I am looking at the man who is towering above us, even above Rohit. He is oblivious to the drama around him. He is looking impatiently at his watch. He must have a Board Meeting to attend and must be getting late for it. He must be a CEO of a company, I guess. He gets out on the 10th floor without a backward glance at any one of us. We are too shocked to say anything to him.
The lift reaches the 20th floor. Raghav gets out. Avoid unpleasantness. That has been his mantra in life. And he thinks that having shut the door behind him, he has cut off that chapter of his life. We walk ahead, leaving a shocked and befuddled Rohit to trail behind us.
The suite Raghav has booked in the Holiday Inn is huge. It has a spectacular view of New York, the one city I have always wanted to visit. But Rohit will not let us live in peace. Raghav sits on the bed with his head bowed. An ostrich. He picks up the television remote and begins to change channels. No soap opera can match our own but Raghav seems to be oblivious of the fact. Anything to avoid a confrontation. And I know that is what we may be heading for. But I forget. Raghav is an ostrich. Right now his head is deeply buried in sand.
I have to take the challenge head on. “I am furious, I shall sue the clinic,” I say, “there must be a mix-up in the sample, and just how careless or unethical is that.” “What do you think happened?” he asks. “They used the wrong sperm with my ovum, or maybe they implanted the wrong sperm and ova into me.” Have I mothered a child of another man unwittingly or am I merely a surrogate? Is Raghav and my child growing up somewhere else in another man’s home? Maybe in New York itself? Or is Rohit my son, fathered by a stranger? I wish the stranger had not been so self-absorbed. I wish he had taken a good look at Rohit. Then maybe we would have had some answers. Or maybe a flurry of questions.
Rohit enters the room a few minutes later. He dumps his bag on the settee on which he has been sleeping and then bangs open our bedroom door without ceremony, an act of discourtesy he was normally never commit.
I wonder where he has been. To cry? Or to compose himself? Or did he stay outside to rehearse what he is going to say to us? Rohit expects fireworks. I guess as much as I see the belligerent look on his face. I wonder what he is expecting? Divorce papers, ready to be signed? “Mom,” he says, his eyes accusing, “Whose son am I?” He is not prepared for my answer. “That is what we are trying to figure out son.”
The time has come to tell him the truth. That he was not born out of our lovemaking, as millions of children in India are, that he was conceived in a petra dish with Raghav’s sperm and my ovum, and then implanted back into my womb. A child born thanks to IVF, a technique barely in existence so many years ago in India. But it appears that the hospital messed it up. Was it the careless mixing of samples? I look at Rohit and see the look of aversion in his eyes. His eyes keep darting at Raghav. But Raghav’s face is impassive. Only one thing registers with Rohit, that he was a mistake.
“I shall sue the hospital,” I say, forgetting that Rohit is the child I nurtured in my womb for nine months. Forgetting that I nursed him at my breast, forgetting the nights I kept awake because of him and the adventures I had with him when I took him for long walks in the parks. Everything was washed away the minute a man, 6'2" tall, the mirror image of my son, walked into the lift, playing havoc with our lives.
I look up and see Raghav looking at me speculatively. The anger that I feel towards the doctor begins to rage within me. I seethe with indignation. Does Raghav suspect me of infidelity? Does he think that the sessions we had with Dr. Sumedha were a charade? After all I was always capable of conceiving a child. Does he? But I cannot say anything to Raghav who is looking as impassive as ever. Suddenly I begin to feel guilty. I have no idea how Raghav is feeling. I do not want Rohit to feel unloved either. We may not be his biological parents but people love their adopted children like their own, don't they? Raghav gets up and begins to straighten the ornaments in the showcase. It is his way of coping. He turns his back at me. This is his way of turning his back at a problem. The clink of the ornaments is irritating. As he bends his shirts comes out of his waistband. He has turned his back on me. This is how he coped when he could not consummate our marriage. For years I slept on the crook of his arm, hoping that one day he would. He had tears in his eyes every time he tried, and many times when he didn’t. “I am sorry,” those are the only words he said.
The trip to US is jinxed. I think we all realized it that day we entered the lift. We cannot converse normally now when we have this issue hanging above us. We are keen to return to India.
I look at Raghav repeatedly and begin to wonder. I hope he does not think that Rohit is the result of some extramarital affair of mine. I hope he does not think that Rohit was born out of my affair with grey blue eyes, whom he saw in the lift, who I had passed off as being born as a result of IVF.
The travesty of it all makes me want to scream. For twenty years I have lived a lie with consummate skill. Because I did not want to shame Raghav. But I cannot take this lying down. I decide to go back to the clinic. Raghav cannot protest. He needs to know the truth as much as I do.
It is good that the doctor who attended on us is still working in the Hospital. Dr. Sumedha’s beady little eyes glance at me through black rimmed glasses. “Yes,” she says, her voice stentorian, as though she is addressing me from the pulpit. She looks sanctimonious. The medical fraternity’s gain is the Church’s loss, I think inanely. Raghav sits beside me, clucking his tongue. I decide to take the bull by its horns. “While in New York,” I say, barely able to control the rage simmering within me, “we saw a man who was the mirror image of my son.” She clears her throat and begins to speak. I cut her short. “Please do not give me any nonsense about everyone having a look-alike,” I say, “I know all that. But this man looked exactly like Rohit. I do not know him. I had never met him before in my life. Then how come Rohit looks exactly like him? What did you do? Did you mix up the samples? What happened to Raghav and my child? Or did you inject the wrong sperm into my ovum? Have I given birth to another man’s child? I must know. I have the right to know. This is doing no good to our marriage. The suspense is killing me.”
Dr.Sumedha’s voice is chilling but emphatic. “There is no mistake,” she says, “we do not make that kind of mistake.” I see her sidelong glance which is directed at Raghav and I see his face droop. He knows that she will sacrifice him if need be. Suddenly it clicks. I understand it all. This was not a mistake. This was an elaborate charade which was carried out with Raghav’s consent. Or was it at Raghav’s behest? But why? And the answer comes to me. I grab the file Dr. Sumedha has before her. She shouts at me, trying to prevent me from snatching it. Raghav yelps. I flip open the page and see Raghav’s report. Zero sperm count. Raghav could not have fathered a child. Not Rohit. Nor anyone else. And he was not man enough to tell me that. And so the idea of a donor sperm. Without of course letting me into the secret, because he knew that I would object violently. It was one thing to live life as a celibate even though I was married. It was one thing to spend lonely days and nights, tossing and turning in bed, longing for the physical relationship with my husband. It was another thing to bear the child of a stranger. I was not that desperate to be a mother. For the past 16 years Raghav and I had bonded over Rohit’s birth, even though our marriage was never consummated. But with erectile dysfunction that was just not possible. And then fifteen days ago I had met Rohit’s father. If I had not, Raghav would have carried this secret to his grave.
I walk out.”Naina listen,” he shouts. But I continue to walk. We return home in silence. At home I begin to pack my bags. “Naina listen,” he says. I had listened to him. I wish I hadn't. For twenty long years I had yearned for him with a growing ache. For twenty long years I had maintained the charade of a happy marriage because I did not want to shame him. But no more.
Rohit deserves to know the truth and then decide on what to do, although I know that he will pack his bags and go back to New York to hunt for his birth father. As for myself, it is time for me to leave, and to live my life the way I deserve.
The lift seems cramped although it can take four people or 240 kg in terms of weight. As of now, it can accommodate one more. Suddenly a man enters the lift, presses the button and as the lift moves upwards the atmosphere becomes electric. I look at his curly brown hair, his greyish blue eyes, his aquiline nose and his cleft chin. I see Rohit’s eyes widen with surprise. His eyeballs begin to protrude. If I didn't know any better I would think that they were in the danger of popping out. Raghav pulls a long face. All the colour has gone from his face. He looks at Rohit and then at the stranger. His eyes dart from one to the other, not knowing what to say. I stand in a corner, the eternal bystander, wondering who the man is. My Fate, my Nemesis, this man, the mirror image of my son standing beside him.
Reactions begin to set in. Rohit digs his nails into his palms. His eyes look at the stranger and then at me accusingly. He has judged me and found me guilty. He glances at Raghav pityingly. He is judgmental. Has been reading “Cuckold” by Kiran Nagarkar. It would not take a genius to figure out what he is thinking. I am not a genius but I know.
Raghav's face is deadpan. He has been successful in hiding his feelings. 25 years of marriage and I still do not know my husband well. Does he also suspect me? I am seething as well. But right now I am looking at the man who is towering above us, even above Rohit. He is oblivious to the drama around him. He is looking impatiently at his watch. He must have a Board Meeting to attend and must be getting late for it. He must be a CEO of a company, I guess. He gets out on the 10th floor without a backward glance at any one of us. We are too shocked to say anything to him.
The lift reaches the 20th floor. Raghav gets out. Avoid unpleasantness. That has been his mantra in life. And he thinks that having shut the door behind him, he has cut off that chapter of his life. We walk ahead, leaving a shocked and befuddled Rohit to trail behind us.
The suite Raghav has booked in the Holiday Inn is huge. It has a spectacular view of New York, the one city I have always wanted to visit. But Rohit will not let us live in peace. Raghav sits on the bed with his head bowed. An ostrich. He picks up the television remote and begins to change channels. No soap opera can match our own but Raghav seems to be oblivious of the fact. Anything to avoid a confrontation. And I know that is what we may be heading for. But I forget. Raghav is an ostrich. Right now his head is deeply buried in sand.
I have to take the challenge head on. “I am furious, I shall sue the clinic,” I say, “there must be a mix-up in the sample, and just how careless or unethical is that.” “What do you think happened?” he asks. “They used the wrong sperm with my ovum, or maybe they implanted the wrong sperm and ova into me.” Have I mothered a child of another man unwittingly or am I merely a surrogate? Is Raghav and my child growing up somewhere else in another man’s home? Maybe in New York itself? Or is Rohit my son, fathered by a stranger? I wish the stranger had not been so self-absorbed. I wish he had taken a good look at Rohit. Then maybe we would have had some answers. Or maybe a flurry of questions.
Rohit enters the room a few minutes later. He dumps his bag on the settee on which he has been sleeping and then bangs open our bedroom door without ceremony, an act of discourtesy he was normally never commit.
I wonder where he has been. To cry? Or to compose himself? Or did he stay outside to rehearse what he is going to say to us? Rohit expects fireworks. I guess as much as I see the belligerent look on his face. I wonder what he is expecting? Divorce papers, ready to be signed? “Mom,” he says, his eyes accusing, “Whose son am I?” He is not prepared for my answer. “That is what we are trying to figure out son.”
The time has come to tell him the truth. That he was not born out of our lovemaking, as millions of children in India are, that he was conceived in a petra dish with Raghav’s sperm and my ovum, and then implanted back into my womb. A child born thanks to IVF, a technique barely in existence so many years ago in India. But it appears that the hospital messed it up. Was it the careless mixing of samples? I look at Rohit and see the look of aversion in his eyes. His eyes keep darting at Raghav. But Raghav’s face is impassive. Only one thing registers with Rohit, that he was a mistake.
“I shall sue the hospital,” I say, forgetting that Rohit is the child I nurtured in my womb for nine months. Forgetting that I nursed him at my breast, forgetting the nights I kept awake because of him and the adventures I had with him when I took him for long walks in the parks. Everything was washed away the minute a man, 6'2" tall, the mirror image of my son, walked into the lift, playing havoc with our lives.
I look up and see Raghav looking at me speculatively. The anger that I feel towards the doctor begins to rage within me. I seethe with indignation. Does Raghav suspect me of infidelity? Does he think that the sessions we had with Dr. Sumedha were a charade? After all I was always capable of conceiving a child. Does he? But I cannot say anything to Raghav who is looking as impassive as ever. Suddenly I begin to feel guilty. I have no idea how Raghav is feeling. I do not want Rohit to feel unloved either. We may not be his biological parents but people love their adopted children like their own, don't they? Raghav gets up and begins to straighten the ornaments in the showcase. It is his way of coping. He turns his back at me. This is his way of turning his back at a problem. The clink of the ornaments is irritating. As he bends his shirts comes out of his waistband. He has turned his back on me. This is how he coped when he could not consummate our marriage. For years I slept on the crook of his arm, hoping that one day he would. He had tears in his eyes every time he tried, and many times when he didn’t. “I am sorry,” those are the only words he said.
The trip to US is jinxed. I think we all realized it that day we entered the lift. We cannot converse normally now when we have this issue hanging above us. We are keen to return to India.
I look at Raghav repeatedly and begin to wonder. I hope he does not think that Rohit is the result of some extramarital affair of mine. I hope he does not think that Rohit was born out of my affair with grey blue eyes, whom he saw in the lift, who I had passed off as being born as a result of IVF.
The travesty of it all makes me want to scream. For twenty years I have lived a lie with consummate skill. Because I did not want to shame Raghav. But I cannot take this lying down. I decide to go back to the clinic. Raghav cannot protest. He needs to know the truth as much as I do.
It is good that the doctor who attended on us is still working in the Hospital. Dr. Sumedha’s beady little eyes glance at me through black rimmed glasses. “Yes,” she says, her voice stentorian, as though she is addressing me from the pulpit. She looks sanctimonious. The medical fraternity’s gain is the Church’s loss, I think inanely. Raghav sits beside me, clucking his tongue. I decide to take the bull by its horns. “While in New York,” I say, barely able to control the rage simmering within me, “we saw a man who was the mirror image of my son.” She clears her throat and begins to speak. I cut her short. “Please do not give me any nonsense about everyone having a look-alike,” I say, “I know all that. But this man looked exactly like Rohit. I do not know him. I had never met him before in my life. Then how come Rohit looks exactly like him? What did you do? Did you mix up the samples? What happened to Raghav and my child? Or did you inject the wrong sperm into my ovum? Have I given birth to another man’s child? I must know. I have the right to know. This is doing no good to our marriage. The suspense is killing me.”
Dr.Sumedha’s voice is chilling but emphatic. “There is no mistake,” she says, “we do not make that kind of mistake.” I see her sidelong glance which is directed at Raghav and I see his face droop. He knows that she will sacrifice him if need be. Suddenly it clicks. I understand it all. This was not a mistake. This was an elaborate charade which was carried out with Raghav’s consent. Or was it at Raghav’s behest? But why? And the answer comes to me. I grab the file Dr. Sumedha has before her. She shouts at me, trying to prevent me from snatching it. Raghav yelps. I flip open the page and see Raghav’s report. Zero sperm count. Raghav could not have fathered a child. Not Rohit. Nor anyone else. And he was not man enough to tell me that. And so the idea of a donor sperm. Without of course letting me into the secret, because he knew that I would object violently. It was one thing to live life as a celibate even though I was married. It was one thing to spend lonely days and nights, tossing and turning in bed, longing for the physical relationship with my husband. It was another thing to bear the child of a stranger. I was not that desperate to be a mother. For the past 16 years Raghav and I had bonded over Rohit’s birth, even though our marriage was never consummated. But with erectile dysfunction that was just not possible. And then fifteen days ago I had met Rohit’s father. If I had not, Raghav would have carried this secret to his grave.
I walk out.”Naina listen,” he shouts. But I continue to walk. We return home in silence. At home I begin to pack my bags. “Naina listen,” he says. I had listened to him. I wish I hadn't. For twenty long years I had yearned for him with a growing ache. For twenty long years I had maintained the charade of a happy marriage because I did not want to shame him. But no more.
Rohit deserves to know the truth and then decide on what to do, although I know that he will pack his bags and go back to New York to hunt for his birth father. As for myself, it is time for me to leave, and to live my life the way I deserve.
Short Story 2016 Longlist S Karthick
Better Luck Next Life
The merchant took his sons Edward and Robin to prayer room. He stood in front of a painting and stared at it. He dislocated the painting from wall. The removal of the painting, exposed the presence of a petite circular cupboard painted in red. He unlocked the tiny cupboard. He gently moved his hand inside the cupboard and brought back his hand cautiously with his fingers folded. Edward and his younger brother Robin focused attentively at their father’s palm. The merchant unfolded his fingers gently. The shining stuff remained on his palm was a red diamond. Edward stared at the diamond admiringly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the diamond. He took the precious diamond from his father’s palm and brought it straight to his eyes.
The diamond merchant annotated his sons “I had been childless for five years of my wedding. One day, when I was in our shop, three strangers brought this diamond to me for sale. I begot it and paid them the money which the diamond deserved. Soon after they left our shop, those three strangers died of an accident while crossing the road. It was on that day, your mother conceived you. I firmly believed that she conceived because of the diamond’s fortune. Moreover, the three strangers died once they were not in possession of the diamond. So I decided not to sell it for any price in any circumstances. Now it is your responsibility to preserve it after me”.
Edward underwent a sensation as if he had seen the diamond earlier. But he couldn’t remember when and where exactly had he seen it. He spent the whole day staring the diamond since he saw it for the first time.
Edward invited his friend Josh to his house. They both sat near a table facing opposite to one another. Edward asked Josh if he believes in reincarnation. Surprised by the sudden question of Edward about reincarnation, he stared at him for a while. He displayed the expression from which it was clear that he didn’t believe it and seemed uninterested to chat about that topic. But Edward was very curious to chat about reincarnation.
Edward leaned forward from his chair, lowered his voice and said “Josh, I am reincarnated.”
Hearing this, Josh remained quiet and immobile. He stared Edward divinely. Abruptly he burst out laughing. Edward was not highly frustrated at the reaction of his friend as he already knew that Josh wouldn’t believe such a superstitious matter. He leaned back to his chair.
Edward expounded “You believe it or not, in my preceding life, I was named as Jefferson. I was the most prosperous man in the village. I was gifted with my friends Adams and Scott to stand by my side in any circumstances. I lost my parents to a road accident when I was twenty.
I had a precious treasure to preserve which was left to me by my parents. The treasure box consisted of a most valuable golden statue of a woman in it. The treasure box possessed a weird attribute of being unbreakable by any weapon in the world. To unlock the treasure box, this diamond key must be thrust into the cavity found on the top portion of the treasure.
The treasure box was located in prayer room of my house. The existence of the statue was highly confidential that even my security guard standing outside my home didn’t know that he was appointed for protecting the statue. Other than me, only my close friends Scott and Adams knew about the statue. I and my friends had been preserving the statue since my parents’ death.
One day, Scott, a friend of mine vanished from the village. He didn’t even reveal to me or Adams about his departure. Adams and I searched the entire village hoping to find Scott. But we couldn’t succeed. No one in the village knew about his sudden disappearance from the village.
When I and Adams were pondering about the absence of Scott, my security guard called me furtively and informed me that he heard voice of a man intending to steal the golden statue but he couldn’t see his face. That left me appalling as I had thought that the security guard didn’t even know about the existence of the statue before. So, I made up my mind to conceal the statue in a secret location. Although Adams played a vital role in conserving the treasure since my parents’ death, I didn’t want him to know the secret place where I was going to conceal it.
Soon after Adams left my home, I took a look at the golden statue and admired its beauty. Then I placed it inside the treasure box and closed it. I took the treasure box consisting the statue and a spade from my house and drove the car to a land which I owned. I parked my car near my land. I took the spade from my car and locked the car’s doors tightly and checked it twice as the treasure was inside the car. I walked to the land with the spade. I dug a deep pit in my land using spade. I made sure that no eyes were watching me. I went back to my car, unlocked the door, took the treasure box from it and buried it in the pit I had dug. I went home with the satisfaction of safeguarding the statue.
I shifted my security guard to my land where I hid the treasure box. I didn’t even let him know that he was protecting the treasure box. I had just instructed him not to let anyone inside the land. I was the only person to know about the new location of the statue then.
I no longer wanted to hide anything from Adams. I decided to reveal the secret location to Adams. Suddenly, three men broke into my home and robbed the diamond key from my pocket. They stabbed me with knife to death. Even at the last minute of my life, I couldn’t disclose the secret location of the treasure box to Adams.
Now I understood that the three men from whom my father bought the diamond were the three robbers who killed me in my past life. And now the diamond key is back to my hands through my father in my present life.
But, I still don’t know what happened to Scott and why didn’t he say even a word to me or Adams about his departure from the village. And also who was the stranger intending to steal the treasure. My security guard hadn’t seen the face of that stranger but had heard only his voice.”
Josh still didn’t seem to believe the past life story narrated by Edward. Edward wanted to let Josh believe that he was not lying. So, he decided to prove Josh by digging back the treasure. Edward’s brother Robin overheard the conversation hiding stealthily near the room. He decided to follow them secretly on their journey to treasure hunt.
Edward and Josh went to the village where Jefferson lived. They dug the ground where Jefferson had buried the treasure. As expected they found the treasure and took it out of the pit. Unable to wait anymore, Edward inserted the diamond key into the key hole of the treasure. But he couldn’t unlock it. He took back the diamond and reinserted it. He failed again. He couldn’t guess why the treasure was not opening. Josh bought the diamond from Edward and tried to unlock. Again the same result. Edward tried several times to unlock the treasure ending up with frustration. Irritated with the treasure, he threw it over a tree with intense anger. He was shocked to see the box opened. Because the treasure box cannot be broken by any weapon in the world. He peeped into the treasure box and found there was no statue inside the box. Instead, the box was filled with mere stones.
Frustrated Edward wailed to himself “Someone has dug the ground, stolen the treasure and replaced it with a fake treasure. But, if a robber had stolen the treasure, he would have run away with it. What is the need for a robber to bury a fake treasure after stealing the real treasure? So, the robber must have replaced the real treasure with a fake one before even I buried it. That means the treasure which I buried itself is a fake treasure.
Only after admiring the statue when I was at home, I took it to my car and buried it here. Then how could anyone have replaced it? Even my security guard was not there when I was burying it.”
Edward suddenly found someone behind him was holding a knife around his neck. He turned back his head slightly and filled with terror. The knife holder was none other than his friend Josh. Bewildered Edward couldn’t guess the reason for Josh’s sudden change in behavior.
“Josh, what are you doing?” asked Edward.
Josh narrated “Josh is my present life name. People used to call me Adams in my past life. I am reborn in the name of Josh. In my past life, I wanted the whole treasure for myself. I asked help from our friend Scott to steal the treasure from you. But, he refused. He was going to spoil my entire plan by informing you that I wanted to steal the treasure. Since I had no other option left, I killed him and buried him. I made the whole village believe that he just vanished from the village.
I realized that I can’t steal the treasure until it was in your home, as you were protecting it with a security guard in your home. So, I decided to make you bring the treasure out of your home. So I hid from the eyes of your security guard and talked to myself about stealing the treasure. I made sure that he could only hear my voice and could not see me. He informed you that someone was intending to steal the treasure from you. As per my plan, you brought the treasure out of your home by car for burying it here. I followed your car by my car. You parked the car near this land. You laid the treasure inside your car and locked it. But I opened the car’s door using a fake key which I stole from your home. I replaced the original treasure with a fake treasure stealthily while you were busy digging the pit for burying the treasure.
As I had all the dimension details and pictures of the treasure box, it was easy for me to make an order to manufacture a fake treasure box looking more similar to the real treasure box. I could have taken the real treasure and run away with it. But, if I had not replaced the real treasure with a fake treasure, I wouldn’t have comfortably taken the real treasure to my destination because you would’ve shouted in frustration on not finding the treasure and have caught me easily.
I buried the real treasure outside my house entrance. I knew that the treasure could not be opened unless the diamond key is thrust into the hole. So I ordered three men to rob the diamond from you and kill you. As you shifted your security guard from your house to the land to protect the fake treasure box, they killed you easily. But they ran away with the diamond without knowing that it was a key for a precious treasure. Then one day I saw them. I asked them for the diamond key and fought. Consequently, they stabbed me to death. That’s how it ended.
Now, I need the whole treasure for myself. So it’s time for you to pass away. Good bye Edward alias Jefferson. Better luck next life.”
Saying so, Josh began to slit Edward’s throat by bringing the knife closer to Edward’s throat. But just before he proceeded with his knife, Josh received a hard blow on his head from behind. He fell down as he lost his balance. Edward felt a moment of relief and surprise. He turned back to see his brother, Robin standing with an iron rod.
Robin spoke, “Robin is my present life name. I am Scott, a true friend of you. When Adams sought my help for stealing the treasure from you, I wanted to disclose the truth about Adams to you. But I couldn’t survive. I couldn’t help you as a friend in my past life. But now I can help you as a brother.”
Robin turned to Josh, “You tried hard to possess the treasure. But you couldn’t possess it this time either. Better luck next life.”
Furious Robin moved towards Josh, raised the iron rod over his head aiming at Josh’s head. But Edward dragged Robin away from Josh. He plucked the rod from Robin and threw it on the ground. Robin stared at Edward, sighed and reluctantly made up his mind to leave Josh alive. They both left him alone to the ground and left the place. As soon as they left, three robbers arrived at the spot, robbed money from Josh and stabbed him to death. At the time of death, he realized that the three robbers are none other than the three men who killed him in his past life.
Edwin and Robin excavated the treasure from the entrance of Adams’s home and delighted to lift the golden statue from the box. They took it happily to their home.
Short Story 2016 Featured Nooreen Dossa
Loves Comes to Those Who Believe It
Chapter - I
It was a beautiful morning but Nandini was feeling uneasy. She was late for her first lecture, so she took a quick shower and tied her long hair into a bun. Nandani had missed her bus so she decided to sprint her way to the university. She had never been late for a lecture and her professor’s admired her for her integrity. She was an asset to her classmates, after all, she always shared her notes with them.
Working late hours and sleeping for barely three hours at night had become a routine now. But last night was different. Like every other night, she came home at 2:30 am and was in bed by 3:00 am. But she just couldn't sleep. Her mind was not at peace and kept wandering. No, it wasn’t the night when she had her first kiss. It was not even the night when she tried doing something wild. Nandani was twenty-one and super mature for her age. She had seen a world that was far beyond the imagination of any young girl.
Nandini entered the class with her head down. Her almond shaped deep black eyes which usually looked peaceful and calm looked distracted and guilty. She was distracted because of the thoughts that had been bothering her all through the night and guilty because she was not on time for class. The teacher inquired “Is everything alright? She had never seen her favourite student look so pale. Nandini looked at her professor and explained that she was down with fever but didn't want to miss class.
Nandini was studying law and enjoyed her subjects. She was in her first year and wanted to study criminal law. Nandini always stood out among her group as she was 5 feet 7 inches attractively tall for an average Indian girl. Her classmates called her Madhubala (legendary film actress from the yester years) because of her beautiful and arresting smile. Always dressed in a simple full sleeve kurta with jeans, she could hardly hide her slim yet curvy body behind her loose clothes.
Today was a day when she was supposed to stay back after class and work on an assignment with her classmates, but she excused herself and went home.
Nandini lived with her brother Kunal and the munchkin was capable of driving any sane person crazy. Nandini had her way with him; she was as wild as him and she enjoyed that chaos. Her kid brother called her 'Wow Didi' after she taught him to shout out, 'WOW every time he enjoyed a game.
But today was just not her day. As the day went on she was feeling more and more tired. She was mentally and emotionally exhausted. "Why can't I stop thinking about him? He is obviously not the first man who has ever shown interest in me."
She reached home, it was almost time for the sun to set, so she fixed dinner for her baby brother.
While she was cooking and cleaning she was also mentally preparing herself for next duty.
Chapter - II
"I am yet to come across a name board which says - DANCE BAR"
She checked into the venue of her evening job. Went back stage and got dressed in a net saree with heavy embroidery, lots of make-up and flowers in her hair.
Along a row of shops was a small door, wooden and carved, with an innocuous signboard which said Lotus Restaurant and Bar. The doorman opened the door for Nandini. She smiled at the two uniformed bouncers who stood at the entrance. She walked inside to the soft thump of Hindi film music which suddenly became loud. The sound-proofed corridor opened into the innards of the darkened dance bar.
Many dance bars double up as pick-up joints and a front for prostitution. At the end of the day's business, the shower money is divided between the dancer and the management in a preset ratio. Usually, it is 40% for the dancer and 60% for the bar. The ratio varies across bars.
Most girls at the bar are pushed into this profession due to lack of education and other skills needed to earn a livelihood.
Chapter - III
This particular bar was a hub of girls who were victims of a tragic and dreadful day in the history of mankind which had changed their lives forever.
24th December 2004
The month and year that will be remembered by many people across the world. A single day that destroyed many lives. A single day that orphaned many children. A single day that widowed many women. A single day that changed Nandini's life. This earthquake in the Indian Ocean affected various countries in South Asia. Over a thousand people were killed in tidal waves in Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh and Andaman and Nicobar Islands. Tamil Nadu was one of the most distressed states with over 800 killed. At least 350 people had been confirmed dead in Tamil Nadu with over 100 people dead in Chennai alone.
Nandini was at school that time while her parents were at home. She was completely shattered to come back home to discover that her parents were one of those 100's who had become victims of the assassin waves. Her parents had been taken away by the dreadful waves. Nandini and Kunal were at the mercy of her maternal uncle who shipped her off to Mumbai and asked her to meet Birju, the manager of Lotus Bar.
Nandini was only fifteen; she needed to take care of her brother and also wanted to complete her education. She succumbed to the option of dancing in a bar, without realising that it involved sex work. She had managed to escape that route till the ban on dance bars was introduced. She continued working in the bar and soliciting with the hope of securing her dream job in a law firm after completing her Bachelors in Law.
At this juncture, it is important to mention that by this time the government had already announced a ban on dance bars, for propagating obscenity. Having lost their only source of income bar girls knocked at the doors of the National Council for Women but in vain. In a single stroke, this decision deprived 75,000 bar girls and three lakh male bar workers of their only source of livelihood, stated the petition given to the commissions by the representatives of the Bharatiya Bar Girls Union.
The dance bars continued to operate under the disguise of service bars, where girls only serve drinks. Till date these bars operate as spots for solicitation.
The Reunion
The man who was making Nandini restless was Ravi.
Ravi had a persona that would make heads turn. He would enter a room and simply own the space. He was six feet tall with an athletic body and a tan that made him look very tough and adventurous. He was in his late twenties, loved the outdoors and always enjoyed tasks that allowed him to travel around the city. He had a bike and like most men he enjoyed sprinting and trying stunts with his engine. This geek who loved the outdoors had spent his entire adolescence and most part of his youth in front of the computer. He loved creating and cracking codes and had bagged himself his dream job at Amazon in Seattle, USA. This 'nerd' - that is what his friends called him, had never dated a girl or for that matter never even thought of going out with one.
Ravi grew up in a very secular family in Mumbai. After studying to be an engineer he continued to live in Mumbai and started applying for jobs. His decision to move overseas was not just for a better quality of life. It was his childhood dream to work in the land of the geeks.
A year after working in a software company in Mumbai Ravi got his big break and moved to the US. Ravi's parents continued to live in Mumbai and visited him in the States almost every year. His visit to Mumbai after several years was only for his friend. It was their wolf pack. He and his geeky gang had promised each other one night of endless fun before one of them tied the knot.
It was the night when he was going to meet his three friends with whom he had spent every single day of his life while he was in Mumbai studying to be an engineer. This reunion after five years was Ravi's first evening at this notorious hangout. It was his best friend's bachelor's party and the gang of boys decided to celebrate the groom's last night as a bachelor at Lotus Bar.
The chamber welcomed them with a deafening noise. Once they had adjusted their eyes to the darkness, they found themselves standing at one end of an atrium, with reclining sofas and seats spread close to the walls, a dance floor in the middle and girls and women "dancing".
The seats were strategically closer to the dance floor for a better view of the dancers. In any case, it didn't matter where the guests were seated, because so long as their pockets were stuffed with cash, the dancer would go to him.
The three friends sat on one of the sofas amongst the customers. The crowd included teenagers trying hard to look like grown-ups and fifty-plus men who were dressed in bright satin shirts trying to look like film actors. The audience was overwhelmingly male and they showered money on the dancers.
The performing girls and women were clad in traditional ghagra cholis and navel-revealing skirts, low-cut blouses and colourful accessories. Most of the women just moved their hips and bodies and pretended like they were dancing. The more they tried to make it better, the fake it looked.
"I seriously think someone should research on the psychology of the money shower."
A young man signalled a girl to come over, held her hand, and showered a few 100 rupee notes on her. He looked thrilled and pleased with himself. A man in his late sixties asked the dancers to come and sit with them and chat. After a few seconds of introduction, the man took the girl with him and they left the bar.
Ravi and his friends had been to strip clubs in the States and the United Kingdom but this place felt very wrong. They left the bar in less than an hour and the party continued at Rahul's place. The wedding was after four days and Rahul's family had made stay arrangements for all the wedding guests.
After a long session of drinking and aimless jokes, the three friends finally started talking about their love lives. Rahul's fairy tale romance with Kiran was no secret. They were childhood sweethearts who had studied together from kindergarten to high school. While Rahul studied machines, Kiran decided to pursue her social sciences. She was dedicated to the cause of girls’ education.
Shashank who lived in London spoke about his long-distance romance with a girl from Mumbai who he had recently met on shaadi.com. He said, "She is everything I have ever wanted. She is beautiful, smart, has a great sense of humour and is very sensitive". Shashank always wanted to marry a fellow software engineer as he found tech savvy women very appealing. Shaadi.com proved to be the perfect place to search for a beautiful woman who shared the same love for coding software programmes. Shashank announced that he was excited about meeting her during this trip and was planning to introduce her to his family as well. He very happily called it a love marriage that had been arranged by a highly efficient website.
Shashank was next in line to host a celebration. Ravi listened to his friend's talk about their sweethearts. He wondered when he would meet his partner for life. Unlike Shashank, Ravi was not clear about the attributes of his potential soul mate. Until...
Chapter - IV
Nandini reached the bus stop, like every morning and was petrified. She saw a man from the bar waiting there. He was an eerie looking guy; unusually thin, dark and his teeth were stained due to excessive chewing of tobacco. This man in his late fifties was a regular at the bar. He had tried to grab Nandini at the bar the previous night, but the bouncers came to her rescue. But today there was no one at the bus stop to come to help her. She ignored him and continued waiting for her bus. He kept staring at her and she could feel her heart in her mouth. There was no one at the bus stop and that made it even worse. He walked towards her and was blocking her way out. Nandini flinched and tried to run away. She had to call out for help.
Ravi was out for a jog that time. He was treading along the pavement on the other side of the road near the bus stop. He heard Nandini's call for help. This IT guy had never learnt any form of self-defense or karate moves at the engineering school or otherwise. But, when he saw Nandini in danger, he knew he had to help. The perpetrator was slightly intimidated when he saw Ravi walking towards them, but he did not let go. Ravi decided to be calm and keep the man busy with conversation. He started by saying that he was looking for a bus stop that would take him to Andheri station. Meanwhile, he did what he always did during most of his office meetings. He sent a text message to Rahul, "Come to the bus stop".
In less than 5 minutes, the three boys gathered around the bus stop and the thin ugly man had to leave.
Rahul was his usual over friendly self. He asked Nandini where she was off to and offered her a ride to college. Nandini thanked them, took the next bus and left.
Ravi felt a sense of achievement. He was happy with his act of courage and his final success at saving a woman. At night, he kept thinking about what happened that morning and also about Nandini. Her pretty and innocent face kept appearing in front of his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about her long untied hair that fell upon her eyes and her glittering silver earings.
Chapter - V
"Looking at your eyes, that's exactly where the real beauty lies"
The next morning was a beautiful new day. Ravi walked out in his exercise gear and jogged straight to the bus stop. There she was, standing pretty in a rose pink salwar kameez. Her expressive eyes filled with kohl looked slightly scared. She saw Ravi from a distance and then she knew she was safe. Ravi went to the bus stop and stood there. They smiled at each other and after ten minutes of silence, our man finally spoke. He noticed she was carrying books, so it was best to initiate a conversation with the simple - "so what are you studying?" After exchanging few sentences, they realised that they had a lot in common. They were both born on the 1st of April and had always been victims of the same jokes on the 'great fools' day'.
Nandini's bus came and she left. Ravi was tempted to ask for her number but refrained. He knew he could meet her at the same place again tomorrow and that was good enough for him.
Nandini was at the bar that night and the ugly thin man was there again, staring at her…. Nandini hid behind a pillar to escape his eyes. Muskaan asked her, "why are you hiding here"? Nandini replied, "I am scared of that man. The way he looks at me worries me". Muskaan comforted her with a hug and they got back to work.
Zeenat Aman's film songs were very popular in Lotus Bar. Nandini performed her most popular moves on "Laila main laila, aisi hoon laila" This was a number which was played around 12:00 am to make the guest stay for another hour.
She looked at everyone in the audience, asking them with her eyes if they were having a good time. Every thrust of her pelvis made the throng cheer and shower money on her.
The day ended and Nandini was in bed, thinking about the eventful day and most essentially her encounter with Ravi. She smiled and slept with the hope to see him again.
Chapter - VI
Ravi was at Rahul's wedding ceremony. He looked at Rahul and Kiran exchange wedding vows and amidst the crowd of people, Ravi found himself smiling. There was a different sort of feeling within him. He wished Nandini was there with him. He wanted to enjoy this union of two souls along with the girl who had stolen his heart.
Ravi had never experienced this euphoria. His friends had caught him several times staring into space and smiling to himself. Rahul teased, "looks like our friend is in love, Ravi, have you finally reached puberty, hahahaha".
The next morning was their second date. She kept looking at her watch, eagerly looking in his direction. There was no promise to meet again or wait for each other but Nandini had already missed two buses. Ravi arrived just two minutes before the third bus and Nandini had to take that one as she had no actual reason to miss her ride. She didn't want him to know that she was waiting for him.
Ravi cursed himself and the alarm and then walked back home, disappointed and irritated with himself. He was going to be in Mumbai for another week and he wanted to tell Nandini how he felt.
So he decided; next morning would be the day of confession.
Ravi walked to the bus stop and handed her a book. It was a copy of their favourite novel, 'Love Story' - by Eric Segal. He asked her to read the first page of the book which said,
"Get tongue tied, can't look at you in the eye and all sorts of stupid things. But at the end, love it all and must tell you how I feel. I wish you will do this to me until I grow old too. I love you now and forever".
Nandini didn't know what to say or how to react. She could see, that her beautiful dream was about to end. She wanted to continue dreaming. She didn't want to wake up. She didn't want to reciprocate his affection without telling him her complete truth. He was standing right in front of her, just a few feet apart, not able to take his gaze off her. His eyes looking intently into hers, filled with questions and an unusual affection that she was not able to comprehend. While the moment lasted for a few seconds she felt as if it has been long enough and she moved away and got into her bus.
Chapter - VII
The next morning Nandini was sitting in class and thinking about Ravi. She wanted to tell him how she felt about him, "he deserves to know the complete truth. But he will never accept me if he comes to know what I do." She kept thinking and finally decided to keep her nocturnal profession a secret.
That evening she went back to the bus stop.
The moment
She waited anxiously, her eyes straining....Every bus that dashed by was looked at with the most intoxicating mixture of nervousness and excitement. She didn't even know why! Why?!! WHY was she nervous? What was there to be nervous about? It wasn't as if she was meeting him for the first time (well in some ways perhaps). A new friend, a new confidante and generally, a decent guy... that's all he was! And yet, her hands trembled, the extra-bright twinkle in the eyes, the care with which she had applied her makeup (and damn it... she never wore makeup otherwise. Atleast not to college) spoke an altogether different truth.
She shook her head, almost as if trying to wake herself up. "Time to pull yourself together", she spoke out aloud. Uh oh... the uncle passing by on his evening walk heard and gave her a weird look. She straightened her dupatta for the 100th time and sneaked a quick peek at herself in the mirror she normally carried in her bag. Her kaajal seemed fine. "Damn it!! Where was he??" The two minutes she had been waiting felt like years.
"Ok time to stop daydreaming and focus!" A stray line from a song from the opera, Jesus Christ Superstar floated into her mind (songs do tend to pick the most inopportune moments), "he's just a man... an ordinary man..." "So, what was the excitement about? Calm, cool, chill! Wait, is that him? Is it? Is it? IS IT?!"
Nope... She felt like a deflated balloon each time a she heard footsteps. "Forget it, why seem over-interested... Be cool.... Breathe...".
She heard a phone ringing in the distance and she almost jumped from the unexpected jingle. "It's him, Yippieee!!"
"Wait, did I just yell yippiee!?, I have to stop! Time for a quick makeup check again... yes yes, all in place! Almost time... Almost time... Almost time... Ok woman, calm down!!!"
And then she saw him ... Her heart feels like it was going to jump out of her chest it was thumping so hard! He walked towards her but she still couldn't look up. Closer and closer and closer... And then, he stopped....and her heartbeat almost stopped too! She slowly attempted to look at him, still...still all she saw was an arm covered by a shirt and then his face.
With her eyes cast downwards. Now that the moment is so close, she didn't know what to do, where to look, what to say. The unease, more suitable to a teenager on her first date, crept into her. She was still stubbornly refusing to look up, but could already feel his eyes on her. His voice dragged her out of her thoughts.... Hi! And then... she looked up ....and straight into his warm, chocolate coloured eyes for the first time....And all wa won (or lost??).
After a few moments of silence, he moved close to her. “What! is he going to hug me?”. Their bodies pressed against each other, "He might just kiss me", but then he separated himself from the embrace. Intoxicated with his touch, she snapped out and asked him, "can we sit somewhere and talk?"
Chapter - VIII
Each day felt like a dream. Nandini would meet Ravi at the bus stop every morning. He would accompany her to the university and sometimes they would drive around the city. They were happy being in each others' company and wanted to spend maximum time with each other. With each day that Ravi's return date was coming close, Nandini kept reminding herself that her fairy tale romance was about to end.
She was not sure if he would maintain contact once he went back to the States or even come back to see her. Often she would find herself, lost in her thoughts of a beautiful home with a window to the sea and a tiny little garden. She saw herself with Ravi in this house and painted a beautiful picture of both of them together. Mixed emotions of joy and a sense of loss because he was going to leave soon started creeping in. She was also afraid of him discovering her secret. Nandini woke up every morning with a happy feeling and then would suddenly break into tears.
It was the seventh day since they had confessed love for each other and it was time for Ravi to leave. They met at the bus stop like every morning. Ravi looked unusually happy today. He started off by saying, "I am so excited the week is almost over and it is time for me to go back. Loads of work is waiting for me." She was confused and irritated. Didn't know how to react. She looked at him with anger and tears filled in her eyes. He snapped her out of it and said, "Hey don't cry, I was just teasing you. I have postponed my tickets. Will stay another month, only for you."
Nandini's happiness knew no bounds. She jumped with joy and hugged him and this time, their lips did meet…
He held her hand and pulled her close, it was a touch she couldn't resist. His lips so close, a peck and then deeper....it was a touch she could not resist. This bonus month of togetherness was special. It was their chance to share their lives, their smiles and their laughs. Within their attraction and intimacy, they were pleased to find a friendship that only grew each day, it was their time to cherish and create new memories which they would treasure always. The closeness grew with every day and then again it was time to say goodbye.
Ravi left for the USA with the promise to come back after six months. By that time, Nandini would have completed her final exams. Nandini secretly hoped that Ravi would propose marriage, set her free and she and her brother would finally have a family.
Chapter - IX
Few nights before Ravi was supposed to leave he caught up with his friends and a few guys from the neighbourhood. One of them kept raving about his night at a club the day before, where he saw a gorgeous woman. He was totally smitten by her beauty and kept describing her body as if he had been fantasising about her. He said "she was a dancer at the bar if only I had the money to screw her. She was bloody expensive".
He then showed Ravi and the other guys a picture which he had clicked from his mobile. Ravi looked at the photograph and was dumbstruck. He was speechless to see Nandini in the photograph. He was silent for almost an hour and then asked his friend the name of the bar.
He strode straight to Lotus Bar and there she was! Nandini had seen Ravi enter the room and was trying hard to avoid eye contact, but didn't succeed. He saw her the minute he entered and was furious. He walked out of the bar. That night was hell for Nandini. She could see her beautiful dream turn into a nightmare. She wanted to cry but could not. She was on duty and needed to look pretty.
The next morning, Ravi was not at the bus stop. Her heart sank, "Its Over?"
Chapter - X
Every minute felt like a year and it had been a week of absolutely no contact. Ravi kept disconnecting Nandini's calls and was not ready for any explanation. Finally, a day before Ravi was supposed to leave, he called Nandini. He said he wanted to meet her for the last time before leaving and that he was doing this only for himself.
They met at a coffee shop near Nandini's University. He needed to know why she kept him in the dark. Nandini explained that she was ashamed of her reality and did not want to loose him. She told him about how she had lost her parents due to the killer waves and her reasons for this choice of vocation. She told him that she needed to fend for her brother.
She confided in him and told him about the night she reached Mumbai. Birju was her only contact in the metro city. He picked her up from the train station and took her and her brother home. The first few days were pleasant. Nandini was getting used to the house and the city. Birju would stay out all night and sleep all day.
Nandini started taking care of his house and one night when Birju returned from work, he barged into the room where Nandini was sleeping. Her younger brother was fast asleep, totally unaware of what his sister went through that night.
Birju asked Nandini to heat food for him and when she was in the kitchen he started making advances at her. He told her that he would make her a popular dancer if she made him happy. Nandini was scared. She cried, "I am not interested in becoming a dancer, please leave me alone". Birju was beyond explanation. He held Nandini by her waist. She tried to run but he was very brawny for her to break away from his grip.
Nandini's tears made Ravi's heart bleed. She didn't have to tell him that Birju had brutally molested her and made her surrender to working in a dance bar and also solicit clients for income to take care of her brother.
She was not able to look him in the eye while sharing the worse experience of her life with him. He was the first man she had ever loved and was petrified with the idea of losing him. He listened to her attentively and held her hand. Ravi felt sorry for her. "I wish I was there for you. I wish we had met when you reached Mumbai. I wish I could protect you."
Nandini felt a sense of comfort; she promised him that she would never hide anything from him. But she also told him that she had to continue doing this work till she was able to complete her studies and find a job.
Ravi couldn't wait any longer. He wanted to get Nandini out of the mess and in his opinion the only way to do that was to give his sincere love for her the seal of marriage. He didn't want to think of how his family or friends would react. But he knew that he wanted to spend his entire life with his princess.
Ravi looked into Nandini's eyes, and like most lovers do, he went on his knee and proposed marriage. "I have no ring but I couldn't wait for the perfect moment. I leave for the US this evening. I need some time to figure out a visa for you and Kunal. I will be back in six months."
Six months later....
Nandin's excitement knew no bounds. Her heart was jumping with joy and tears flowing from her eyes. He kissed her and said, "I take that as a yes".
Nandini and Ravi were declared man and wife!
Short Story 2016 Longlist Nabanita Sengupta
Some Bonds are Forever
Phone calls were now very infrequent; meetings even more. Yet, the presence of each other in their lives was constant. Riza knew that there were some shoulders on which she could cry unabashed and unquestioned and that is why when her life reached the crisis she straightaway took a train to Delhi. For her Delhi is where heart is. A phone call, few clothes hurriedly dumped into the rucksack along with some essential documents, her wallet, a ticket in Tatkal quota and she was off.
Shivani hurried to finish her office chores. She had to be in time to receive Riza from the station. Paula, caught in her own domestic tangles in the last minute could not go to the station herself. So Shivani had to go alone. She missed her friend’s company and her reassuring presence. Shivani herself was quite tensed thinking how she would handle Riza, so heartbroken, so despondent she had seemed over the phone. She could have done with some company. But then, that’s what life were these days.
Paula required some quick thinking. She knew she could not antagonize her husband now of all the times, her best friend was coming over. She did not want her friend to get caught in their own domestic cacophony that tended to erupt at all times. She knew Riza was completely shattered by her own experience and at least for the time being she should not be burdened with anything more.
Paula often thought of the women in her life, and men. Life had been generous in bestowing her with friends. She thought of her hostel days, the carefree lives and rosy dreams and the friendship of Riza and Shivani. That was something really special, it was a bond that had developed naturally and grown with time, like a part of their own selves. She thought of those countless evenings when they had sat together in their hostel verandah, sipping mugs of coffee, painting their future in the brightest of colours, and debating earnestly on topics right from latest fashion to the international politics and even hottest boys of the neighbourhood; till life claimed each of them in different directions. Yet somehow the strings have remained attached which tugged at their hearts now and then. Those memories were therapeutic, they could lift her out of severest depression.
She went on a reminiscing spree and thought back to her short stint in the college, her colleagues, and her principal – a strong woman of convictions in her middle ages. That lady had been the strongest influence in her life. In spite of all the clichés in her life – a love marriage gone wrong, a career compromised for motherhood, an insensitive husband and boring domestic chores; there was one cliché she could reject with conviction – that a woman was another woman’s worst enemy. She still thought of the last day meeting she had with the principal. That lady tried her best to convince Paula that leaving job was not an option, especially since her job allowed her with enough time for the family. Perhaps the older one had sensed right then with her experience and intuition that this young, bright assistant professor of her college cannot remain content without her job for long. But just like once her new found love had; now her newly acquired motherhood blurred her discerning capacities. Even her mother-in-law, another woman whose prudence she had learnt to respect with time, had warned her against it. But that was the time when she gloated in a sense of self-sacrifice that she thought motherhood demanded. She had probably and perhaps wrongfully expected Rajan to stop her from doing it. And that was where she felt betrayed. Rajan did not stop her, instead said she was free to take whatever decision suited her, he could and will take care of the family. Was her ego hurt then? She still does not understand.
It was noon and though she had managed to coax Rajan into picking up their daughter home from school since he was working from home that day, he opted out of the chore this morning, excusing himself on the pretext of some emergency conference call. Paula was infuriated. She knew it was a ruse he was making simply to get her worked up. Previously she would have reacted differently. By now she had learnt to keep her moods under control. So instead of getting into useless arguments reminding him of his family obligations, she followed a simpler path of picking up her mobile and getting through Shivani. Unmarried still as she approached forty, Shivani was often the last minute answer to many of her female friends’ distress calls. And Riza was special.
Shivani hurried to finish her full day tasks in half a day even as she thanked her stars for sparing her a male companion for the rest of her life. She had her own demons of loneliness to slay, thoughts of dying alone in her old age, completely unattended, often snatched away her night’s sleep. But she had her means of dealing with them too. She had never viewed marriage through rosy glasses and has become even more skeptic as she saw her best friends drag through their matrimonial existences. What was it, she often thought, that made our parents click and what is it that we lack today. Was it actually what the elders say about this generation – lack of adaptability and self control? Or was it something else? That she herself was an outsider to this institution made her a detached and objective observer. Yet she often found herself to be at a loss. She had common friends marrying each other and she had friends opting for the marriages fixed by their parents. She had heard tales of agony from friends of both genders and she had tried her best to reach an understanding of the situations.
She shook herself out of her thoughts, quickly sent the last of the mails, shut down her laptop and rushed out of her office. She was looking forward to meet Riza after years, though not in the best of times. Memories tumbled one after the other as she approached New Delhi Railway station.
She knew Rajan – a passionate photographer and brilliant student of economics since their student days. Both he and Paula were brilliant in their respective fields. Their attraction for each other had stemmed largely from their mutual respect and their similar interests. Paula being a student in Sociology and he of Economics, both had dreamt of undertaking joint research projects since their post graduation days in the university. But then came marriage in between and overtook all their other areas of interest. Madly in love with each other, both went against their parents to get married and then took up jobs that took them away from their dream careers. When Shreya was about to be born Paula took the decision that still drives Shivani mad. Paula chucked her job to be a full time mummy. And problems were born. Rajan’s office engagements grew and he started devoting more time towards his career in order to earn a comfortable living. With the cushion of double income gone, he had to exert himself more. Then he had his photography – a passion that predated Paula. That further ate into their family time. Paula became more and more exasperated with her status as a homemaker which had no need for her academic excellence. Rajan’s promotions made her happy but at the same time made her feel the loss of her career all the more. In those days, Rajan had often asked Shivani for advice, exasperated with an unhappy home and an ever-increasing family expense. Shivani had tried her best to address the situation according to her understanding and sensitivity but perhaps there are some spaces which even closest friends cannot traverse. Shivani too could not sew holes that were developing within that relationship. Rajan slowly but steadily drifted in his own world of work and photography, aggravating the situation further and Paula, with her own pride and ego, did not bother to talk it out with him. They started drifting apart. Both were engulfed in the circles they had created around themselves and silently blamed the other for incompetence and insensitivity. Initially the cracks in the relationship were underground. Gradually, as time elapsed, they grew more irritable with each other and fissures started appearing on the surface and now, both are happier when the other is not around.
Shivani sighed. And her thoughts went back to Riza – the bubbliest one among the entire group. She knew how to be happy, how to live life. And now? Shivani flinched at the thought of seeing a heartbroken Riza. Shivani had warned Riza against settling for arranged marriage. She knew that her friend was not set for the kind of compromises that such a relationship required. Yet she went ahead, adventurous as usual, with a love for the unknown. Proving all her fears to be untrue, they were extremely compatible right from the day one of their relationship. Shlok was caring, considerate, broadminded, well-employed etc, and etc. It was like a fairytale. But fairy tales always have witches and demons too. Shlok had hidden the fact that he was incapable of carrying on a normal conjugal life. He had married Riza simply to retain all the semblances of a normal heterosexual middleclass individual. And he felt guilty about it too. His guilt made him pamper Riza initially to all the goodies of an extravagant lifestyle much beyond what his actual pocket allowed and it took Riza some time to grasp the reality. When the financial burden started proving heavier than he could handle, his pampering gave way to tortures. He would shout at the smallest pretext, call her names and lately had even taken to physical abuse. Riza was confused. She had her career to fall back upon. She could do without a child, as that, she thought, might put a brake on her flourishing career. But there were times when the lack of physical bonding left her restless, dissatisfied and infuriated. She writhed in agony at the duplicity of her husband. She could not stand being cheated upon. Though she felt bad for Shlok initially, that feeling gradually subsided as his tortures increased. Then one night she decided to call it quits. She simply left that house next morning and boarded the train, not even leaving a note for Shlok.
Shivani checked her watch. She was just on time to see Riza stepping down the train. She looked war-weathered. As they hugged each other, their eyes moistened. Riza’s body slumped against hers and she could feel a part of heaviness falling away. They could hold onto each other forever.
On their way back home, Shivani felt that all their three selves had merged into that of one lonely traveler - Riza miles away from her spouse; Paula, living under the same roof yet estranged and as lonely as possible; and she herself – companionless. She thanked god, at least they had themselves to turn to – three of them could of course pull one decent life together.
Few hours later, as the trio sat on Paula’s terrace sipping into freshly brewed coffee, life seemed to have come a full circle for each of them. They drew strength from each other and looked into the horizon full of possibilities.
Phone calls were now very infrequent; meetings even more. Yet, the presence of each other in their lives was constant. Riza knew that there were some shoulders on which she could cry unabashed and unquestioned and that is why when her life reached the crisis she straightaway took a train to Delhi. For her Delhi is where heart is. A phone call, few clothes hurriedly dumped into the rucksack along with some essential documents, her wallet, a ticket in Tatkal quota and she was off.
Shivani hurried to finish her office chores. She had to be in time to receive Riza from the station. Paula, caught in her own domestic tangles in the last minute could not go to the station herself. So Shivani had to go alone. She missed her friend’s company and her reassuring presence. Shivani herself was quite tensed thinking how she would handle Riza, so heartbroken, so despondent she had seemed over the phone. She could have done with some company. But then, that’s what life were these days.
Paula required some quick thinking. She knew she could not antagonize her husband now of all the times, her best friend was coming over. She did not want her friend to get caught in their own domestic cacophony that tended to erupt at all times. She knew Riza was completely shattered by her own experience and at least for the time being she should not be burdened with anything more.
Paula often thought of the women in her life, and men. Life had been generous in bestowing her with friends. She thought of her hostel days, the carefree lives and rosy dreams and the friendship of Riza and Shivani. That was something really special, it was a bond that had developed naturally and grown with time, like a part of their own selves. She thought of those countless evenings when they had sat together in their hostel verandah, sipping mugs of coffee, painting their future in the brightest of colours, and debating earnestly on topics right from latest fashion to the international politics and even hottest boys of the neighbourhood; till life claimed each of them in different directions. Yet somehow the strings have remained attached which tugged at their hearts now and then. Those memories were therapeutic, they could lift her out of severest depression.
She went on a reminiscing spree and thought back to her short stint in the college, her colleagues, and her principal – a strong woman of convictions in her middle ages. That lady had been the strongest influence in her life. In spite of all the clichés in her life – a love marriage gone wrong, a career compromised for motherhood, an insensitive husband and boring domestic chores; there was one cliché she could reject with conviction – that a woman was another woman’s worst enemy. She still thought of the last day meeting she had with the principal. That lady tried her best to convince Paula that leaving job was not an option, especially since her job allowed her with enough time for the family. Perhaps the older one had sensed right then with her experience and intuition that this young, bright assistant professor of her college cannot remain content without her job for long. But just like once her new found love had; now her newly acquired motherhood blurred her discerning capacities. Even her mother-in-law, another woman whose prudence she had learnt to respect with time, had warned her against it. But that was the time when she gloated in a sense of self-sacrifice that she thought motherhood demanded. She had probably and perhaps wrongfully expected Rajan to stop her from doing it. And that was where she felt betrayed. Rajan did not stop her, instead said she was free to take whatever decision suited her, he could and will take care of the family. Was her ego hurt then? She still does not understand.
It was noon and though she had managed to coax Rajan into picking up their daughter home from school since he was working from home that day, he opted out of the chore this morning, excusing himself on the pretext of some emergency conference call. Paula was infuriated. She knew it was a ruse he was making simply to get her worked up. Previously she would have reacted differently. By now she had learnt to keep her moods under control. So instead of getting into useless arguments reminding him of his family obligations, she followed a simpler path of picking up her mobile and getting through Shivani. Unmarried still as she approached forty, Shivani was often the last minute answer to many of her female friends’ distress calls. And Riza was special.
Shivani hurried to finish her full day tasks in half a day even as she thanked her stars for sparing her a male companion for the rest of her life. She had her own demons of loneliness to slay, thoughts of dying alone in her old age, completely unattended, often snatched away her night’s sleep. But she had her means of dealing with them too. She had never viewed marriage through rosy glasses and has become even more skeptic as she saw her best friends drag through their matrimonial existences. What was it, she often thought, that made our parents click and what is it that we lack today. Was it actually what the elders say about this generation – lack of adaptability and self control? Or was it something else? That she herself was an outsider to this institution made her a detached and objective observer. Yet she often found herself to be at a loss. She had common friends marrying each other and she had friends opting for the marriages fixed by their parents. She had heard tales of agony from friends of both genders and she had tried her best to reach an understanding of the situations.
She shook herself out of her thoughts, quickly sent the last of the mails, shut down her laptop and rushed out of her office. She was looking forward to meet Riza after years, though not in the best of times. Memories tumbled one after the other as she approached New Delhi Railway station.
She knew Rajan – a passionate photographer and brilliant student of economics since their student days. Both he and Paula were brilliant in their respective fields. Their attraction for each other had stemmed largely from their mutual respect and their similar interests. Paula being a student in Sociology and he of Economics, both had dreamt of undertaking joint research projects since their post graduation days in the university. But then came marriage in between and overtook all their other areas of interest. Madly in love with each other, both went against their parents to get married and then took up jobs that took them away from their dream careers. When Shreya was about to be born Paula took the decision that still drives Shivani mad. Paula chucked her job to be a full time mummy. And problems were born. Rajan’s office engagements grew and he started devoting more time towards his career in order to earn a comfortable living. With the cushion of double income gone, he had to exert himself more. Then he had his photography – a passion that predated Paula. That further ate into their family time. Paula became more and more exasperated with her status as a homemaker which had no need for her academic excellence. Rajan’s promotions made her happy but at the same time made her feel the loss of her career all the more. In those days, Rajan had often asked Shivani for advice, exasperated with an unhappy home and an ever-increasing family expense. Shivani had tried her best to address the situation according to her understanding and sensitivity but perhaps there are some spaces which even closest friends cannot traverse. Shivani too could not sew holes that were developing within that relationship. Rajan slowly but steadily drifted in his own world of work and photography, aggravating the situation further and Paula, with her own pride and ego, did not bother to talk it out with him. They started drifting apart. Both were engulfed in the circles they had created around themselves and silently blamed the other for incompetence and insensitivity. Initially the cracks in the relationship were underground. Gradually, as time elapsed, they grew more irritable with each other and fissures started appearing on the surface and now, both are happier when the other is not around.
Shivani sighed. And her thoughts went back to Riza – the bubbliest one among the entire group. She knew how to be happy, how to live life. And now? Shivani flinched at the thought of seeing a heartbroken Riza. Shivani had warned Riza against settling for arranged marriage. She knew that her friend was not set for the kind of compromises that such a relationship required. Yet she went ahead, adventurous as usual, with a love for the unknown. Proving all her fears to be untrue, they were extremely compatible right from the day one of their relationship. Shlok was caring, considerate, broadminded, well-employed etc, and etc. It was like a fairytale. But fairy tales always have witches and demons too. Shlok had hidden the fact that he was incapable of carrying on a normal conjugal life. He had married Riza simply to retain all the semblances of a normal heterosexual middleclass individual. And he felt guilty about it too. His guilt made him pamper Riza initially to all the goodies of an extravagant lifestyle much beyond what his actual pocket allowed and it took Riza some time to grasp the reality. When the financial burden started proving heavier than he could handle, his pampering gave way to tortures. He would shout at the smallest pretext, call her names and lately had even taken to physical abuse. Riza was confused. She had her career to fall back upon. She could do without a child, as that, she thought, might put a brake on her flourishing career. But there were times when the lack of physical bonding left her restless, dissatisfied and infuriated. She writhed in agony at the duplicity of her husband. She could not stand being cheated upon. Though she felt bad for Shlok initially, that feeling gradually subsided as his tortures increased. Then one night she decided to call it quits. She simply left that house next morning and boarded the train, not even leaving a note for Shlok.
Shivani checked her watch. She was just on time to see Riza stepping down the train. She looked war-weathered. As they hugged each other, their eyes moistened. Riza’s body slumped against hers and she could feel a part of heaviness falling away. They could hold onto each other forever.
On their way back home, Shivani felt that all their three selves had merged into that of one lonely traveler - Riza miles away from her spouse; Paula, living under the same roof yet estranged and as lonely as possible; and she herself – companionless. She thanked god, at least they had themselves to turn to – three of them could of course pull one decent life together.
Few hours later, as the trio sat on Paula’s terrace sipping into freshly brewed coffee, life seemed to have come a full circle for each of them. They drew strength from each other and looked into the horizon full of possibilities.
Short Story 2016 Longlist Kasturi Patra
A Letter To My Love
I don’t know if it was you who woke me up from my dream. Dreams have a strange beauty, no matter how terrible. I wanted to remain in that state of haze, as if I was underwater, and life was passing me by. I was a mere spectator. Pushed by the currents of the ocean of conformity, I floated by. I had little control over my destiny. But I think you broke my dream.
Funny thing is, I met you at a place where we were both sent to be reformed. A camp for the sick minded boys–boys who refused to conform to the age-old definition of their gender. They made us run, play sports, and pray to the Almighty to take away our afflictions. They punished us if we were not living up to the parameters of our gender, as prescribed by society. They didn’t even know the difference between gays, transsexuals, and asexuals. All they knew was that every sort of behaviour outside hetero-normative was the result of a depraved mind. Hence, the mind needed to be mended. Ironically in the process, the mind could be broken as it happened with so many around us. The only thing that propelled us forward was fear. Fear of punishment from the trainers, fear of beatings from our parents, fear of being bullied at school. We were just teenagers and by then, we knew too well how cruelty can be sturdy armour for adolescent boys. In order to prove their worth, they could shred us–the weakest and the most vulnerable amongst them– to pieces without an iota of remorse.
So, there we were, two lost souls among the land of the half awakes, being whipped around by people who thought they were wise but ironically were just the opposite, who drowsily sleepwalked through the deep slumber of intolerance and rigidity. Were they the ones dreaming then, and their whiplashes a terrible manifestation of their distorted reality??
Every night at the camp, we’d spend the few hours meant for sleeping, in exchanging words that soothed our tired minds and offered us strength to face the next soul crushing day. We’d trade sleep for some assurance from each other that all was not lost in this world. We grabbed on to the hope found in the warm palms of each other. We knew the punishment of getting caught was beyond our cruellest nightmares but we were ready to take the risk. We’d not let them chop off those wings in our hearts which promised us that this is not the end. This pitch black darkness was just a temporary phase before the sword of the Sun slices it down.
And so we decided to pretend being normal. Back from the camp, we behaved like we were ‘cured’. We played football though we sucked at it, we watched sports, we ‘liked’ video games with cars and violence, and we even acted like we had crushes on girls though in reality, their dresses and makeup attracted us more. We did everything to conform to the rusty, old definition of being a boy. Like a lost piece of a puzzle we craved to find the real picture where we would actually fit in but there was none. We were posers. You were braver than I was. You assured me that we’d find a way out. We just needed to finish college and become independent. All those years we kept the nature of our relationship within wraps. A stolen kiss or a brush of your skin against mine to keep the fire burning within me.
We even made plans to live together. But the Gods (or were they the God-men?) overturned our plans, when Section 377 was reinstated in India making the very nature of our being illegal in our own country. Where do we go from here? After securing our jobs, we rented flats beside each other. Our bedrooms were the only safe haven for the expression of our true selves, we felt chained in our outer shells of normality. We wanted to end the play in which we’d been forced to act since we were teenagers.
What option did we have but to leave for a safer country? Somewhere where we could marry and adopt kids and live the life of our dreams. Our parents couldn’t remain stubbornly blind anymore. They realized that at the cost of what others will say, they’d have to accept our love for one another or lose us forever.
And so we started a new life in the U.S.–the land of freedom, where we could openly love each other. And though there were still a few elements who hated us, we had so many people to protect us. Above all, we had the law by our sides. We started our dream life. You loved the photography job you bagged and couldn’t stop gushing about how much you were learning. Every evening at our porch, I’d lie on your lap and we’d stare at the sunset spinning magic and love. At last we were free. I loved my new job and the freedom of being myself, but most of all I loved you.
We were finally settled. Moreover, we were accepted. We were ready for kids. After several applications to adoption agencies, we were approved. We went and saw the baby girl who was all of two. Her honey dipped smile and her curly hair made us want to run away with her the very first day we saw her. But there were still some formalities left and she’d be our daughter after a month. We were so happy.
To celebrate the impending arrival of our child, we wanted to make the evening memorable. So, we went for drinks to the gay bar run by our friend, Jack. Jack was studying Philosophy during the day and he tended the bar during the evenings. We were fond of this young boy, full of dreams and hopes. His boyfriend belonged to an orthodox Christian family but they were firm like we were in the olden days. We’d been coming here for a year now and we’d become good friends. Jack and his boyfriend would even come over to our place for dinner sometimes.
It wasn’t too crowded in the bar that evening. I remember the taste of your lips on mine before you went to the restroom. Jack smiled when I approached his counter and asked, “So what’s up with you two?”
“Guess what?” I couldn’t contain my happiness which like champagne bubbles oozed out of my smile. “We’re getting the baby next month!”
Jack rushed out of the counter and pulled me in a giant hug.
“Oh, you guys, I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
“This one is on me.” He uncorked a bottle of our favourite red wine and offered me a glass. We sat at the counter and chatted about life. Jack was supposed to meet his partner’s parents for dinner next week.
Suddenly, there barged in a man clad in black overalls, his face hidden beneath a mask, only his eyes giving the feeling of burning embers.
“Raise your hands everybody.”
A man in a green shirt tried moving in the corner and I heard a loud bang of a revolver and something crashing down, I closed my eyes instinctively and then the green shirt wasn’t visible anymore. I wanted to look under the table to see whether he was still alive but at the same time sweat and tears blinded my sight. I couldn’t muster enough courage to move, my hands were raised up to the midnight blue ceiling.
“Listen to me carefully” his voice sounded like ice-cold death itself. “I am going to take you down one by one because your depravity and sins are unforgivable in the eyes of God. Just come to the forefront and there will be no unnecessary shooting.”
I realized that since it was so dark inside, he couldn’t see us all. He didn’t want to waste his bullets and hence he was making such a demand. A number of us had slid underneath the wooden tables while his attention was taken up by the man in green shirt. Jack had dialled 911 though he just kept it on speaker as he was in no position to talk. We prayed for help to reach before he found any of us.
And then it all happened like a dream in front of my eyes. While I looked on, your phone started ringing and the light gave away your position which was diagonally opposite mine across the room. You must have returned from the washroom before this messenger of death arrived. One flash, one bang and I saw my love crumpled like a paper bag, lying on a heap. I could see the dark pool of blood that streamed like a rivulet across the floor. I wanted to scream my lungs out but Jack held on to me so tight that it hurt. Once again, I felt like I was underwater or in a dream while my life was just passing by.
We heard police siren near the entrance and while the coward tried running away I could hear the police outside stalling him. There was a group of policemen inside flashing their lights asking us to come out. Jack supported me while I tried standing upright. My legs felt so wobbly that I wasn’t sure whether they could carry me across the room to where you lay. Before we could reach you, the policemen were already checking your lifeless body and giving the verdict which seemed to sway the floor beneath my feet. I blacked out.
When I found myself in the hospital bed next morning, there were strangers surrounding me. I tried getting up but they stopped me. “Where is Tarun?” My voice sounded so raspy that I doubted they understood what I was asking.
Someone offered me a glass of water while the nurse held me up to help me drink.
“My partner…” I whispered. The nurse took the glass away and squeezed my hand.
###
I couldn’t believe that fate could be so cruel. All our lives we struggled to survive. Our only sin was loving each other. We even left our dear country and our families to live with a bit of respect. And still, your life was taken away by a fanatic. Which religion did he belong to? Was he a Hindu? A Muslim? A Christian? I don’t care. How did that even matter when he had chosen hatred as his God? I kept my phone and the TV off for all those days. All I cared about was to avenge your death by not letting that masked man and people like him win.
Where there’s hatred, we need to spread love, where battles were fought with anger we had to strike back with the weapon of peace. So, I chose to go ahead and adopt our little Kyra. Just the way we wanted to. I knew that’s what would’ve made you happy. And I have decided to carry on living in this country. I’m tired of running away in fear. We don’t need the world’s acceptance. Our lives need no more excuses. We need to accept each other just the way we are. If we choose fear or hatred to lead our lives, men like those win.
Now I am a part of the movement that spreads the message of love. Love that transcends the man made barriers of religion, race, sexual orientation, and class difference. I will live with courage and dignity. No matter how much hatred I receive in return, I will strike back with love. That will be my way to keep you alive in my heart. Forever.
Yours,
Rajiv
Short Story 2016 Longlist Kartik Viswanath
The Bat
For the first time, his father Shankar had done something right. He might be a useless drunk on most days but sometimes, just sometimes he knew how to make his son happy.
Today Bhuvan decided to forgive him all his faults. Tomorrow he could pick up where he left off.
Shankar absolutely treasured his daily dose of landa, the fiery alcohol he brewed himself from the grain that grew in the fields all around the village. He was skilled at making it and he was equally good at downing large amounts of it at one go. This didn’t make him a particularly good father or husband. Most evenings he would be swaying through the lanes of Leduguda, swearing at dogs that came in his way and trees that blocked the moonlight. His slurry speech would echo throughout the village as Bhuvan’s mother lay asleep in bed. She no longer had any expectations from her husband and saw him as nothing more than an unavoidable nuisance. In fact the only reason the villagers tolerated him was because of the potency of his landa.
Last night, after a few mugfuls, he had headed into the forest in search of some food. It wasn’t wise to go hunting in an intoxicated state, what with the bears and jackals roaming the thickets, but Shankar was in no condition to be reasoned with. So nobody bothered to stop him. He must have fallen asleep at the foot of some tree because when he woke up, hungry and confused, he found something else sleeping beside him.
***
As soon as Bhuvan stepped into the hostel, he was surrounded by a hundred curious little heads, cocking left and right like pigeons.
"It's a baby bat," Bhuvan said, looking up for the first time since his father had placed it in his hands back in the village. The creature's eyes were closed tight. The light and the sound must be troubling it, he thought. He remembered reading something somewhere about bats being sensitive to loud noises and bright lights.
He pushed everyone out of his way, allowing only his friend Mohan to walk by his side. They started walking towards their room so that they could sit in some quiet and decide what to do next. There were important matters to consider--where it would sleep, what it would eat, perhaps have a naming ceremony? These were big responsibilities for a ten-year-old but Bhuvan was confident he would learn. As soon as this creature had been entrusted to him by his father, the mantle had been passed from one generation to the next. He would do everything within his power to see that he wouldn’t fail like his father had.
"Chheee! What is that Bhuvan?"
It was Sangita didi. Bhuvan jumped around and thrust his open hands into her face. "Look at it! My father found it in a tree."
"Chhee!! Chhhee! Take it away from me!" she screamed. "What are you going to do with it? What happened to the mother? Did you two have breakfast? Speaking of which, how will you feed this… this thing?"
Bhuvan and Mohan looked at each other. They hadn't a clue about any of this but there was no way they were going to let Sangita didi know that. They would have to put up a confident front, or else she might not let them keep it.
“Don’t worry didi. I’m going to look after it. My father found it abandoned in the forest and I am going to raise it now. I just got back from the village so I haven’t had a chance to meet or speak to anyone. There are more important things to decide first. Like what I should feed it.” And saying so, he looked at his partner.
"Milk, maybe?" Mohan offered.
A big smile spread across Bhuvan's face. Of course! That's what all babies need!
"Mohan, run to the kitchen and ask Rupali didi for a cup of milk. I'll wait for you in the room. "He said and walked away from Sangita didi, leaving her standing there with a bewildered expression on her face.
Back in the room, he shut the door and the windows letting in only a sliver of sunlight. He placed the tiny fur ball on his bed and set about looking for a home for it. He rummaged through shelves and bags, even those belonging to others. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
At last he found an old coconut oil can. The lid was missing but its mouth was wide enough for the bat to fit in. He placed his handkerchief in the tin to make a bed, and then gently picked up the baby and placed it inside the can. It seemed like it would do for now. He wasn’t very sure how to create an ideal habitat. Perhaps a visit to the library would yield some results. He decided to skip ten minutes of English class today and browse through some library books.
Just then the door opened. "Can I see it, Bhuvan bhaiya?"
It was Malti, always poking her nose in other people's business.
"Go away Malti. I'll tell didi you’re troubling me.”
“Let me see it na bhaiya. I promise I’ll go away if you show it to me once.”
“Fine. Come and take a quick look. But then you have to get lost. I can’t waste my time talking to you.”
Malti came over and peeked into the can. She had a wide smile on her face and it was clear to Bhuvan that she did not plan on leaving any time soon.
“It’s so small and furry. Why are its eyes closed? Have you thought of a name yet? I can help you pick one if you want! Oh please, please, let me pick the name Bhuvan bhaiya!”
Bhuvan was in no mood for Malti’s antics. He got up off the bed and moved towards her, trying to guide her towards the open door.
“I’ll think about your offer Malti but right now it needs to get some rest and some food. So why don’t you carry on to class. I’m sure didi must be waiting for you. And also, go tell Mohan to hurry up. What is taking him so long?"
"I got it! I got it!" Mohan shoved Malti aside and came stumbling into the room. He had a small steel bowl in his hands.
"There was no milk. The village cows are underfed so they aren't making enough milk for us. That’s what Rupali didi said."
"So then what is in the bowl?”
"Oh this," he explained. "I told didi why we needed milk so she mixed some Amul powdered milk in water. Will it do?"
Bhuvan looked at Mohan's face, then at the baby bat, then at the bowl, and then at Mohan again. "It will have to do. Give it to me."
He took the bowl from Mohan and set it down next to the oil can. “Now what do I do," he thought. "How does one feed a baby bat?”
Its mouth was too small for a bottle so that was out of the question.
“How about a dropper? Like the one Bina didi uses to give us medicines?”
Mohan had come up with a brilliant suggestion but the only problem was that they didn’t have the keys to the medicine cupboard and Bina didi would not return from class till lunchtime. They couldn’t wait that long so Bhuvan decided to make do without it. He dipped his little finger in the bowl. A drop of milk clung to it. Slowly he brought his fingertip near the bat's mouth. The mouth was shut tight. His finger wavered, and the droplet fell on the baby's nose. It twitched slightly. Then nothing.
The droplet trickled down onto the handkerchief.
"Try again," Mohan said.
Bhuvan dipped his little finger again and brought it to the bat's mouth. But still, the mouth remained shut.
"Maybe it isn’t hungry right now."
Bhuvan was glad for Mohan's company, since his own rapidly waning optimism urgently needed some support.
"Should we get him some bugs? Bats like bugs, don't they?" Mohan's advice was, once again, invaluable.
So they both rushed out into the garden. They spread out and divided up the vegetable garden between the two of them. Bhuvan dove into the sea of pumpkin vines while Mohan scoured the tomato plants. Within 5 minutes, they had a diverse collection of aphids, worms and flies crawling all over their fingers.
Into the oil can they all went, within the baby's reach. But the bat didn't even flinch.
The boys were disappointed. They were turning out to be horrible parents.
"Let him sleep. Maybe he'll be hungry later."
Bhuvan had run out of ideas by now so he decided to give in to Mohan’s counsel. He placed the can in a corner of the loft above his bed. It would be safe from prying eyes here till he got back. Besides it was nice and cool and he felt the baby would enjoy sleeping there.
Then, the boys went off to class. The whole time though, Bhuvan was lost in thought as he worried about the baby. What if it woke up? What if someone found it? What if a bird flew into the room?
As soon as class was over, he grabbed Mohan and rushed back to the room. The bat was still asleep. There was no change in its disposition. One bug was perched on its left ear but the bat didn't seem to notice. The only consolation was that they could see its tiny chest moving up and down.
The boys decided to have a quick lunch and then come back to check on the bat.
As they walked to the kitchen, Malti came up to Bhuvan.
“It’s still asleep, isn’t it Bhuvan bhaiya?” she asked.
“Yes.” Bhuvan mumbled. He was too worried to pay attention to Malti right now.
“Ledku! That’s what you should name it! Isn’t it a great name?”
This brought a smile to Bhuvan’s face. Ledku, in their language, meant lazy. And for a bat that spent all day sleeping it was the perfect name. He gave her an approving pat on the head, and sat down to eat.
That night, before sleeping, Bhuvan tried to feed it some milk again. He left the droplet clinging to the hairs near the baby's mouth. “Come on Ledku”, he urged.
It was the best he could do. Placing the can back in the loft, he closed his eyes and said a quick prayer for the baby. "Maybe tomorrow."
"Bhuvan wake up! It's gone!" It was Mohan shouting into his ear.
"Wait...what?" Bhuvan jumped on top of his bed and looked into the can. It was empty. "Where is it? Who took it out?"
He looked around, scared and angry. But everyone else looked just as troubled.
Had it flown out? Where could it be?
They looked everywhere -- behind the doors, the windows, under the beds. But it was nowhere to be found.
Tears streamed down Bhuvan's face. The salty liquid dribbled into his mouth, the same way he'd hoped the milk would enter the baby's mouth.
He felt Mohan's hand on his shoulder. Reassurance. Support.
But it did not help stop the tears.
***
Two days later, it was Mohan’s turn to clean the room. He had been instructed to push the beds out of the way and make sure no dirt was left behind. The boys’ rooms were notorious for their filth so didi made sure they worked extra hard to clean it. As he pushed aside the case of shelves, a foul smell rushed up into his nostrils. As he pushed a bit more, sunlight streaming through the windows reached the dark spots. There in the corner, a small furry creature was lying curled up, completely still.
"Bhuvan!" he called.
Short Story 2016 Longlist Anmol Ankita
Our Stars
“Me and valentine?” he responded.
“Oh come on sir. This day is simply an excuse to rejoice, for all those who’ve their loved ones around. You won’t be spared!”
“Ha-ha! Thank u Annie. God bless u.”
The moment urged me to ask if he has ever encountered that eternal bliss of being in love. Nevertheless, i was aware of his miseries, the uncertain life he was dealing with. Days passed by and the thought had apparently faded from my conscious mind. Though few remnants still hooked up in the corner therein.
Ever since the PET scan, he seemed lost. The paleness of the disease had already engulfed his charm. He was heading to Mumbai again; uncertain of how many days will he be stuck. All he asked was to see him off at the station. I did follow his commands. Before departing, he handed me his 2014 diary leaving me in a state of confusion. I looked at him, while he settled himself in his berth. His silence spoke a million words, “Take care Annie. I know you will get it right.” And he left with questions unanswered.
It was almost night, yet my sleep had lost its address. I opened the diary with curiosity blending in the same proportion as of my confusions. My journey began with a yellow rose and his initials. I turned the memoirs of January, capturing glimpses of his extreme trauma and sufferings. But this wasn’t something I was unaware of. I continued into February, welcomed by few blank pages initially. “He was under observation in Mumbai”, I recalled.
14 Feb, 2014
The day I met my airport friend...
Had we not bumped into each other today at the port, I won’t have known you.
Had we not sipped our first coffee today, you won’t have known me;
Had we not exchanged our numbers, we won’t have known each other...
Akku, a girl full of life. Encountering her evoked my senses in some unexplained rhythmic waves. Felt like knowing her for years. The first meeting and yet a memory I shall never forget!
“Akku? Who is she? He had never mentioned about her.” The next few pages were empty. I flickered through the crisp papers and realised many of them unfilled; just like his want for peace.
20 Mar, 2014
Days were passing in the same solitary manner, filled with nothing more than devastations until I got a sudden call from Akku.
“Sing a song, right now. No waiting!” she commanded.
“Tere mere sapne.. ab ek hi rang hain..” I sang and I could hear her smile loud enough.
Somehow, somethings changed in her presence. Her enthu helped me live more. Her dreams helped me not to forget mine. Akku, the super girl...
P.S. Do I need to know why?
Her giggles were reaching my ears. I took my cell phone and downloaded the song. Craziness can attack you at any hour!
It was 12.30am and my sleep buzzed its alarm.
The next day, after returning from the college, I grabbed my coffee. It made me smile, reminding of their first coffee meet! I took the diary. The rose though had lost its moist charm, it seemed exceptionally beautiful. But how?
23 Mar, 2014
She asked me to read, ’The Fault in our Stars’. I asked why.
“You are in pain. I understand. However, there is no rainbow until you deal with the rain. The grief shall not change you, but will reveal you.” She quoted the book.
I placed my order over flipkart, looking forward to read it soon.
I patted myself for having read it already.
‘The Fault in our Stars’ ... something haunted my mind. I tried to avoid it for the moment and continued.
03 Apr, 2014
Was not well. Returned from hospital yester night. Days are turning even more dreadful and nights seem scarier. It’s washing away all my hopes, eating me up to the core. Why can’t this all end!
I failed to respond to any of her calls and texts.
I closed the diary for a minute to prepare myself for anything worse. I couldn’t stop the fluctuating thoughts disturbing me. I took the cell and played the song I had downloaded. I could hear his innocence humming to the rhythm of the song.
I went to the balcony and saw the birds flying back to their nest.
“why don’t you share what’s troubling you?”
“Everything in this world has its own time Annie.” His words echoed.
I now realised his gifted time. Holding my tears within, I prepared to let his pain flow.
07 Apr, 2014
I talked to her today. Felt lively again. Is it her voice or her mysterious aura or her positivity towards life that casts a spell on my sick body?
Her untold faith helps me to live more. Her company adds to my desire of seeing the next dawn. Her each farewell tends me to wait for the conversation. What is it?
Something made me overwhelmed, “she knew his deteriorating conditions and he knew where his heart was leading to, yet the bond grew deeper and purer.”
13 May, 2014
A beautiful day indeed! She had travelled all the way to Hyderabad. She got me a yellow rose, I wonder why. Later I learnt that she loves yellow. She was overjoyed to know that I loved the book (It’s the usual she!). When I handed to her my book of, ‘A Walk to Remember’, she met her eyes with mine reading my thoughts to her very habit.
“A Walk to Remember’? I smiled to myself.
We walked a few miles, as per her wish, and then she departed.
“A walk I would remember forever...” she exclaimed.
My soul felt complete. It had found his new mate!
On turning the pages, I found some letters engraved within. I kept them aside for a while and continued my pace.
23 Jun, 2014
I am happy. Hope it’s not too bad to rejoice. The treatment’s responding well. I even got a new contract finalized today. Will start working on it soon. Does that mean my normal days are returning?
Akku gets almost all the credit. She raises my moral in her unique ways. She sings for me and scolds me too. She takes care of me, and reminds me to live. I am no more in dark, she’s the light to evade away all such darkness.
31 Oct, 2014
Why do we dare to dream something impossible? Why do we dare to plant something not obvious? What made me go blind to my cruel truth!
The PET scan revealed the monstrous truth. The tumour has spread in my upper region.
I doubt if I can fill you up anymore.
That was the end of it. He didn’t fill up anymore. I flickered through the pages again. Alas! There was nothing I left. But what happened to Akku? Suddenly I was choking with a peculiar an unknown fright. Without waiting any longer, I took those letters and opened them one by one.
“Akeera” it was penned on the cover.
23 May, 2014
My dear airport friend,
I read the book. Somehow I couldn’t stop myself relating us. The walk we had, has imprinted upon me. Thank u for fulfilling my wish despite your uneasiness. I dunno the exact reason, but I feel complete when I am around u. I don’t expect it back though.
P.S. “We had the most difficult walk anyone had to make. In every way, a walk to remember...”
I did not get it! Is this Akku? I matched the dates of the diary and looked for the rest before concluding.
30 June, 2014
I wish I could see u now, I wish we could meet now, I wish this letter would take the whole me near u. When u r low, it feels my life has lost its meaning. When u smile, somewhere I rejoice.
P.S. “I don’t think we’re meant to understand all the time... Sometimes we just have to have faith...”
Her postscripts were quoted from ‘A Walk to Remember’! She is relating themselves to each of the lines.
1 August, 2014
Is this something that I am meant to understand on my own? Why is such a huge silence between us? Why is this emptiness eating both of us? I know the invincible fate, thus I care to let it go. Though I cannot afford losing u... But did I ever gain u?
P.S. “Without suffering, there would be no compassion.”
Some how my haunted mind was being a captive of the obvious yet unwanted fact. The letter reflected her mirage; those eyes searching for the void and her smile aware of his silence. Yet her writings reflected hope.
31 December, 2014
The year is bidding,
And so is u...
Am I left alone,
Just like the dew?
Was I to refresh the dawn,
And later to be dried in the sun?
Was I not forever?
Am I none?
P.S. “I wish I could trade my life for you.”
15 January, 2015
I hear your each word, meaning its own farewell;
Yet my stubborn love, or shall I not call it love?
You did walk away, not hand in hand,
But miles alone;
Fulfilling each of our silent promises,
To let our love free...
To let me go...
To let me flee...
P.S. “I wished for a miracle to happen. It did. My miracle was you.”
Tears had its own dilemma. Why shall I cry? For whom shall I weep? I felt helpless. Among the various letters, I found another envelope woth nothing mentioned over it. Though my guts had lost its power and my heart was too heavy to digest anymore, I took the letter and remembered his words, “I know you will get it right.” I opened it.
Tears have dried since time immemorial,
Your imprints are still alive, drenched in soul of mine,
Gloomier and lonelier, days, months they pass,
Having sense of your deceiving presence,
My longings, they do last.
It was pouring that day,
And my love drizzles to this day,
With your remembrance, and your memoirs,
Your promises are my survival;
With nothing to see through,
Not even you.
P.S. “Love is keeping the promise anyway.”
“You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world. But you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choice. Hope you too...”
- The Fault in our Stars
She deserved his reply. I did what my heart demanded of me right then.
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