Short Story 2009 Winners & Featured Writers

Poetry	Short Story	Flash Fiction
First Prize	Second Prize	Third Prize
Sandeep Shete	Mohit Rao.	Zakir Hussain
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Featured Writers
Kamalika Dutta	Neeraj Bhople	Shaunak Bangale
Sneha Subramanian Kanta	Viplove Sharma
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Longlist
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Short Story 2009 Longlist

Poetry	Short Story	Flash Fiction
Kamalika Dutta	Neeraj Bhople	Pesi Padshah
Shaunak Bangale	Sneha Subramanian Kanta	Viplove Sharma
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Sandeep Shete	Mohit Rao.	Zakir Hussain
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ShortStory 2009 SecondPrize Mohit Rao

THE DISEASE

 

Every time the young man entered the room, Nurse Ratched broke into a maternal smile that conveyed the utmost affection. She spoke about him in high praises to the other nurses and even to the other inmates. He was as rare as rare can be, a ‘blue-eyed wonder’, she declared confidently.

Initially, his arrival was regarded with suspicion. With the cynicism of experience, she viewed any such sudden arrival to the old-age home with considerable contempt. These ‘long lost’ sycophantic relatives dropped in once a year; cadged their way with unctuous smiles into the old man’s will; shed a few tearful goodbyes and were never to be seen again; That is, until the old man was buried and his will removed. But, he- he was different. 

He, with his blue eyes, a benignant smile and a poignant face, introduced himself as ‘Bob Russell’, the son of ‘Jack Russell’. Nurse Ratched hesitatingly and with great distrust led him to her favorite inmate, a seventy year old wheel chair ridden Alzheimer patient. She watched this father-son reunion with considerable skepticism. 

Jack had had a visitor only twice in the two years of his stay. Both times it was his elder son, George Russell, an avaricious salesman who had been described by Jack as “a bottom feeder. For a dollar he would sell his own soul!”. With his rough manner and unruly snide remarks, he left an unfavorable impression on Nurse Ratched. Jack sparingly talked about a second son, a vagrant, who fell into bad company, took to alcohol and eventually into drugs. The last Jack heard was that the son was jailed for larceny. ‘A leech to society’, he said contemptuously to Nurse Ratched. 

She continued to keep a close eye on the father-son interaction. It was hard to believe that a young man of such saintly features could indulge in what she perceived as such odious activities. Jack could hardly recognize his younger son. Maybe it was the disease or maybe just his change in appearance and demeanour, but Jack wore a puzzled expression. Bob explained his ‘clean-up’, his ‘spiritual awakening’. He was sober, with a low paying honest job. “Not a day goes by without remorse for my actions”, he explained. “Jail gave me time to think, for the mind wanders in the solitude of the cell. There was little to do except to review my life – all the mistakes and all the humiliation”. Jack, and Nurse Ratched seeing from afar, viewed the declamation with dubiety. “Dad, I’m a born again Christian”, he kneaded the silver cross slung on his neck,” It’s funny, how life works - for me to find God, amidst the criminals and the lost souls in prison”. He paused and with a sigh stared down at the floor – an elegy of his sinful past. A first rate act, thought Nurse Ratched. “Father, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for the pain and humiliation. I’m sorry for not being there during your illness.”

Jack’s eyes welled up. His throat was caught. And with a benevolent smile, Bob’s nefarious past was forgiven. However, Nurse Ratched continued to watch him with suspicion. ‘Prudence, Jack’, she muttered under her breath. 

Their desultory conversation continued for hours. Jack talked most of the time, hopping from one topic onto another and oft repeating topics, but Bob nodded with Zen-like patience. Bob and Jack proceeded to play carrom, a game in which Jack was surprisingly adept at. His unsteady fingers disposed the coins into the pockets with deft ease. Jack exclaimed joy, an expression the nurses had rarely seen before. He was like a boy, so intense was his pleasure. Nurse Ratched waited for the mention of the ‘will’ or money’, but it never came. After spending the entire afternoon, Bob promised to return the next day.

“He’s not coming back”, Ratched spewed venomously to a fellow nurse. “These greedy people always say that with crossed fingers and an eye at that money.” She eyed Bob as he was leaving and continued her tirade to a disinterested nurse.

“He has changed. That was my son, he has changed”, said a visibly proud Jack, rolling his wheelchair toward nurse Ratched. “He has got a job and forgotten about all that nasty business.” Jack said with a naive child-like innocence. 

“It would seem so. But I advise you not to raise your hopes”, Ratched replied.
“No… No. He has changed. Not like that lecherous…. ”, he stopped to remember a name.
“Yes, he seems to have changed, so unlike George. I hope for your sake”, Ratched said wearily.

Nurse Ratched’s relation with Jack had started off, like any nurse-patient relationship, as pity. She lent a sympathetic ear, listening patiently as old colonel ranted against country and children. The morose wheel chair ridden man recounted, with immense sadness, the tragedies in his life and in Nurse Ratched he found a compassionate audience. She was his ministering angel, oft muttering a kindly word to ease his troubled soul. As the disease progressed, this melancholy was replaced by a saintly innocence – almost like a lost child. His sorrowful soliloquies were gradually replaced by a confused silence. He found it hard to maintain a constant train of thought, unable to make a decision on his own. His once sharp mind was blunted by the vicious disease, rendering him completely dependent on Nurse Ratched, who assumed a matronly mantle. 

It was like a pestilential disease that would not take your life but would take from you all that made life worth living. The disease was wiping out his identity. Seventy years of experiences, of joys and tragedies, of family and friends, of childhood and adolescence, of marriage and children, were all resigned to a collection of hazy memories, which would be gradually faded away as the disease progressed. This disease had taken away from him the right to solitude in retirement, of reconciliation with life and God. Colonel Jack Russell, the celebrated hero of the Second World War, was going to die in the solitary confines of his mind. Nurse Ratched spent countless hours crying in the shelter of darkness for the old colonel. 

For Jack, the sliver of happiness came in the form of an estranged son. His son came everyday, to the absolute disbelief of Nurse Ratched. After the first week of meetings, buoyed by the candour loquacity of his father, Bob brought with him a portable record player and a bunch of old vinyl records belonging to the old colonel. Jazz and blues permeated the room as Jack fell into a sort of hypnotic trance - snapping his fingers, tapping his feet and humming along. For a man who could no more recall his achievements in the war, he recollected with amazing precision the names of these artistes. 

Their jaunts continued daily. During the weekdays Bob would visit in his lunch break, and during the weekends he would stay for almost the entire day. He pushed his father’s wheelchair, strolled through the gardens and talked in high cheery tones. In Nurse Ratched’s eyes, Bob had grown from ‘a leech to society’ to a ‘blue-eyed wonder’. With his daily visits, she became closer to him; sometimes even looking forward to his visits as enthusiastically as Jack. 

Alzheimer’ disease is unrelenting; systematically removing memories held so dear that when the last vestiges of memory fades away, one is reduced to being a stranger to oneself. In the last few months Jack’s mental health was deteriorating rapidly. Spells of confused, vacuous blankness increased. He spent most of the time staring at the wall, seemingly with no thought in his mind. Even though he recognized a familiar face, he had a hard time placing the face and obtaining a name. He gleamed with mirth when Bob entered the room but could hardly ever recall his name. Bob was usually referred to as ‘that young man’. Once while strolling through the gardens, Jack told Bob about his younger son, now estranged, who was a ‘leech to society’. Bob was crestfallen and only uttered a low sigh. Nurse Ratched, who often strolled with them, tried to explain to Jack that the companion he was talking to was indeed his own son. For Jack all this was incredulous. After expounding the facts of his return in lucid detail, Jack turned to Bob and exclaimed “You’ve changed a lot”. And with a benevolent smile, Bob’s nefarious past was forgiven, again. 

However, on the next day during a similar stroll, Nurse Ratched overheard Jack telling Bob about his younger son, now estranged and ‘a leech to society’. Nurse Ratched unable to bear Bob’s humiliation, explained to him about Bob’s ‘spiritual awakening’. But, the old colonel stared in disbelief, not comprehending the facts being told. He insisted that his son was in jail ‘for thieving from some poor sod’. However after much deliberation, the old colonel turned to Bob and exclaimed “You’ve changed a lot”. The next day, the entire cycle repeated. After getting a bit weary of the explaining, Bob turned to Nurse Ratched and said “It’s alright even if he doesn’t remember me. As long as I know that he approves of me now. All that is important to me is that he has a companion to help him live the rest of his life in dignity he deserves”. Nurse Ratched spent countless hours that night crying for the old colonel and his son. 

Bob came daily, yet the old colonel failed to recognize him as his son. Bob resigned to the fact that he would forever be a relic of the colonel’s past. He was disappointed but found solace in the thought that the old colonel eagerly waited for his company.

One afternoon, Bob did not arrive. The colonel stared at his watch for some time and then rolled his wheelchair towards Nurse Ratched.

“Where is that young man?” he asked her.
“You mean Bob?” she replied.

“I cannot remember his name now”, he said, pausing for a while to recall the name. Unsuccessful in his attempt, the colonel continued, “But, usually he comes to visit at this time”.
“He must be delayed with some work today. If not today, he will come tomorrow”
“Yes….. Yes”, Jack muttered before a quiescent, vacuous look overcame him.

Bob did not arrive that day or the day after that. Both of them grew anxious. Every half hour, a visibly restless Jack would roll his wheelchair over to the nurse’s workstation and ask Nurse Ratched about ‘that young man’. ‘Delayed by work’, would be her reply, thinly veiling her panicky solicitude. She feared for Bob. A vile thought would creep in - maybe, he has given up on his father or maybe, he is tired of the humiliation. Her eyes would moisten and would later regret ever considering such a thought.   

Another afternoon of waiting and there was no sight of Bob. The sun dipped below the horizon and a golden light seeped through the blinds. Nurse Ratched often looked at Jack who stared out of the window with his usual inscrutable expression. She knew he was eagerly waiting for someone whose name or face he could not recall.

The phone rang, she ignored it. She was lost in the monologue of her thoughts, worrying about Bob and Jack and his disease.

“Nurse Ratched. It’s for you. It is George Russell”, an attendant informed her.
Puzzled by the mention of George, she took the receiver and proceeded to talk to Jack’s seedy elder son. 

“Nurse Ratched speaking- What? n accident? When did this happen- day before? Oh the poor soul…..” before she could complete the sentence, her eyes welled up and her throat knotted. The ground grew unsteady and all senses descended into obscurity. She could not speak anymore and gasped like she had trouble breathing. She stammered a few words, a few incoherent words. Slamming down the receiver, she ran to the restroom. She wept, she cried till she could cry no more. Her throat was parched, her eyes puffy. Her lips trembled. And in the confusion of her mind, only one thought stood out clearly - Bob was dead. 

When she came out of the restroom, barely able to stand and barely able to stop herself from crying even more, she sauntered towards the window where Jack was. He was in a blissful slumber. Seeing the innocuous old man she let out an uncontrolled yelp. Jack woke up.

“Your son- Your son is dead….. Bob is dead," Nurse Ratched said softly. She had to summon these words after many aborted attempts. 

Jack stared at the weeping nurse. His countenance remained unchanged. It was obvious to her that he had not comprehended the impact of those words. He struggled to recall the identity of Bob. Struck back by this lack of recognition, Nurse Ratched was indignant.
“That young man who used to visit you everyday”, she asserted angrily and then immediately regretted the tone.  Jack showed some semblance of remembrance. “That young man is Bob, your son. He died day before yesterday in a car accident”. The gravity of these words caused her to well up with tears again.  

“No. It can’t be. Bob is in jail for stealing from some poor sod. He is a leech to society…” Jack continued his bitter tirade, as if oblivious to the weeping nurse in front of him.
“Jack!” Nurse Ratched vociferated in a tone that silenced the colonel. Jack stopped his declamation and stared at her in shock. The nurse continued in a subdued tone, “Bob was released from jail sometime ago. He came out a born-again Christian. He turned over a new leaf. He had apologized for the pain caused to you in the past. He came to visit you everyday”. She paused and covered her eyes with her hands. “He said the least he could do was to come over and give you company”. She could continue no more. 

A flood of memories rushed in and Jack murmured something inaudible in a low mournful tone. The knots in his throat prevented him from speaking anything further. He closed his eyes and his lips quivered a little. Small channels of tears made its way from underneath the closed eyelids. ‘He changed a lot’ is all he could manage.

Nurse Ratched spent the night weeping by his side. By midnight, Jack had fallen asleep. In the wee hours of the night, Nurse Ratched staggered home still thinking about Bob as she walked through an insensitive city.

The next morning, Nurse Ratched appeared by Jack’s side. Violet bags drooped from under her eyes and she appeared profoundly weary. Jack did little, spoke little and wore a gloomy demeanour – one of unfathomable sadness. There was an awkward silence between them. Both stared out the same window, thinking about the same person.

Bob’s funeral was a meager, somber affair. There was no eulogy. The tombstone read simply – Bob Russell, Son of Jack Russell. Only a handful of people attended and George was conspicuously absent. To Nurse Ratched, the funeral seemed to denigrate his entire existence.

The next day, Nurse Ratched performed her duties languidly, still distracted by Bob’s death. She frequently checked on Jack who bore an inscrutable expression. Maybe still mourning or maybe lapsed into disease provoked thoughtlessness, she could not tell with certainty. The day passed by with little being said between them. The next day too Jack bore a sepulchral appearance. He was mourning, but could not recall the name or face of the person for whom he mourned.  

The coming week was hard on Nurse Ratched. A few times, in his mentally weakest moments, Jack had asked her about ‘that young man who usually visits at this time’. This perturbed Nurse Ratched who had to relive the moments following that phone call. She had to explain again that the young man was his son Bob, who died in a car crash a few days ago. Hearing this Jack grew melancholic and withdrew into a shell. 

After the week, Nurse Ratched, anxious about Jack, pleaded with a friendly attendant, Steven, to play a game of carom with him. Only after persistent pleas, the hesitant attendant went over to Jack and engaged him in a game of carrom. That day, Jack stared at the board and disconcertedly indulged the attendant. 

Under the orders of the senior Nurse Ratched, Steven went over to Jack every afternoon and tried to draw him into a conversation or a game of carom. Initially, Jack indulged him distractedly, replying the attendant’s incessant questions with monosyllable answers and struck the carom coins listlessly. However, gradually he opened up to the young attendant. Until one afternoon there was no more perturbation on his face. 

Their afternoon rendezvous continued and Jack gradually returned to his usual jocund self. The circumstances seemed familiar enough – a young man visited him every afternoon, played carom with him and even took him for strolls around the garden; he soon forgot about the tragedy and about his son. One afternoon while strolling through the gardens, Nurse Ratched overheard Jack telling Steven about his younger son, now estranged, ‘a leech to society’, ‘thrown in the slammer for thieving from some poor sod’.

Nurse Ratched appeared crestfallen. She was about to remind Jack about the reformed Bob and all that he had done for him when the vivacity of one thought stopped her –‘He will not remember it tomorrow’. The disease ravaging through Jack’s mind had wiped out any memory of his son’s reformation. Bob would remain forever ‘a leech’ in his memory and Nurse Ratched understood it as an ignoble reality of his life. She found solace in Bob’s words “All that is important to me is that he has a companion to help him live the rest of his life in dignity he deserves”. This epiphany caused her to gaze dully at the old colonel. Nurse Ratched spent countless hours that night crying for the old colonel, his disease and his son.

ShortStory 2009 FeaturedWriter Shaunak Bangale

THE WORLD IS ROUND!

 

Prologue-

Bang!! The World was shaking... People living near the sea-shores from every part of the earth were stunned by the ever-biggest earthquake… It was different from other earthquakes in the sense it only happened near sea-shores. It lasted just for few moments, but the intensity was just stunning. It caused the coastal people to re-think their entire lives. Though it had caused the heartbeats to run faster, it had made a favour by not taking heartbeats away from people.

But Odona had something different in her mind. She was thinking about this event as more than a mere earthquake. Since she saw the crystal ball turning black after the earthquake was over, her concern for the future of the world was obvious. She had never seen it turning black in last 30 years. Her mother had gifted it to her before dying. Her last words were punching Odona’s mind again and again, “Just take care of the crystal ball. If it turns black, it means something bad is going to happen in near future.“ She was confused because it had turned black after the earthquake. So she had become more. To investigate, she asked her son.

Nick to get a team of 5 world class scientists from different continents to think upon it who could understand the present problem and its consequences. Nick made no delay in following up mother’s order, rather advice.. Nick was the lead scientist in path-breaking Geological Research Institute (GRI) located near the west coast of south America. Next day, he was ready with the talented team of geo-scientists; two of them were the physics Nobel Prize winners. Odona welcomed all of them and came to the point without making any further late. She asked openly, “All of you know the problem world is facing today.”

Veda, another young scientist interrupted her, “yes, it’s the earthquake and the people living on sea-shores have no option except migrating.”Xander spoke, “It was a mystery that such a powerful earthquake didn’t take any lives. We are lucky.”
Odona listened to them quietly and said,” Yes, you right because the real problem starts now.” “How?”Mendis questioned. Odona started narrating the story.

25 years ago:
Odona was living a happy life with her husband Lenbo who was the chief scientist at GRI. That was the time the world was running out of coal and research was going on to find out the solution to the problem. One day Lenbo got an idea. He thought, “Why shouldn’t we try to find it on any other planet?” He spent around 10 years in finding any planet with the coal content. Lenbo was very intelligent and had very strong belief in whatever he did. His efforts were not wasted. He found out that there exists one such planet named CORUS in a star system which was 3 light years far from the earth.

Previously he had created the space ship which was able to travel at a speed 1/5th of light. So it would take 15 years just to reach the planet and another 15 years to come back. So going there to bring coal was not the practical solution of the problem. Lenbo contacted the planet through his universal telepathic machine. He could find out that there are people who are made of coal and the whole planet is full of coal content. They are called kryobuts. Their average life span was 300 years. Lenbo was amazed.

After further coded conversation Lenbo could find out that they need salty sand every 30 years to expand their life span. But amount of salty sand was insufficient to sustain the increasing population on the planet. Kryobuts were so advanced that they had space ships which can travel at the speed of the light. So they could reach earth within 3 years of journey. So calling them to earth was only the way to get the coal. Lenbo was wise enough to make the deal only for 1 year. Kryobuts also accepted the deal happily. It was decided that they will live on earth for 1 year to use salty sand and provide coal to the earth.

So the things happened as agreed. Men on earth were happy to get more than enough coal. Kryobuts were enjoying their happiest life. They had started exploring the world. The different lands, weathers and cultures fascinated them. They were more powerful than men. So, they started dominating over men and created living hell for humanity. They refused to go back to Corus and decided to live on earth forever. People all over started blaming Lenbo and insisted he be held accountable.

While thinking for different options, Lenbo got a solution. He found that though they are powerful they are not as intelligent as men. So he felt he could use a Brain Hold Sensor to control their minds and make them enter a cave which was on the west coast of south America, He lured them with high quality sand there on the sea shore which was at the other end of the cave. The naïve kryobuts played into his hands, and Lenbo’s brain hold sensor had such effect on them that entered the cave without much opposition. When he could manage all of them to enter the cave, only thing remaining was to close the cave. Their master had found out that the cave is closed at the other end and they were cheated and locked. As he was smarter than his colleagues his mind wasn’t much affected by the Lenbo’s controls. But he was also under Lenbo’s will. Lenbo called Odona to close the big cave with the magical power she had got from her mother. 

But while Odona did it, master tried to come out. Suddenly, he caught Lenbo and dragged him into the cave. Odona was helpless as she only knew how to close the cave and not to open it.
Meanwhile her mother also died.
-------------------------------------
And Odona cried in memories of her husband and her mother.
“So how does it relate to the present situation? I mean what can we do now?”, asked Calinden, impatiently.

Odona continued,”As my mother told the cave can get a crack if any big thing like earthquake happens in the area. I strongly believe that Kryobuts can come out of the cave through the crack. So task for you is to save Lenbo and simultaneously control the kryobuts using the brain hold sensor technique. So first you will have to analyse the old machine which is outdated now and create a new machine for the present. Just be alert. Any mistake will lead to danger.”

Odona’s wasn’t wrong. Soon they heard the news that nearby village was attacked by kryobuts. Odona herself with Nick went to the village to see the situation. He found out that there was one kryobut among them named Corag who was helping people rather than troubling them. He was allowing the weaponless people to escape. He wanted to fight with only the people who were equivalent to him. He was more powerful than his colleagues and so dominated over them. But another kryobut, Imperious always tried to kill people mercilessly.

So Corag always contradicted Imperious. But Imperious had a team of 10 other kryobuts. Meanwhile there was an announcement made by the governments. According to the news, ‘The recent earthquake has caused the rock layers under sea to displace which may be harmful. So the people near the sea shores are requested to move towards the inner part of the respective countries.’
Nick was able to create the brain hold sensor machine but kryobuts now knew how to counter-attack. Master was inside the cave in the form of a black hole. 

One day, Imperious succeeded in kidnapping Odona and the 5 scientists. He took them to master. Master was draining Odona’s magical power and helpless scientists’ knowledge. Corag could no longer bear this injustice. He attacked the master. So master changed his target and attacked Corag. As soon as he attacked Corag, Corag got converted into Lenbo. 14 years back, master had transformed Lenbo into a kryobut. Master acquired his brain hold sensor technique and used it against Lenbo. But master didn’t want to kill Lenbo because he was the only source of information for them. He changed Lenbo so that other kryobuts could not recognize him and didn’t kill him. He also named him Corag. He always had an eye on Corag’s activities.

He also knew one day this is going to happen. Odona saw Corag getting converted into Lenbo and she didn’t know how to express these mixed feelings. Nick was also amazed by seeing his father in such condition. Lenbo was still trying to fight back but in vain as he was a normal human being now.
 Just then, Veda got an alert from his another scientist, “We have found that there are great chances of Tsunami to happen on the sea-shores and nearby regions will be destroyed completely. You need to escape from there immediately.” Veda whispered this to Lenbo and Nick. 

Odona, Lenbo, Nick along with rest of the scientist escaped the place somehow. Master underestimated them thinking they were accepting the defeat. Just as they left, a huge Tsunami came and engulfed the entire place.

Before they could even bat an eyelid, the tsunami swept them all off to their collective doom. As they saw the ruin it left in its wake… the very ruin because of which they survived, Odona remarked, ”As you sow so shall you reap. We made a mistake by calling kryobuts on earth and they turned against us all. Nature had to intervene against the kryobut menace and solved it by Tsunami. Whoever creates the problem has to find the solution. But whatever happens, know one thing –
You are not God to play dice with this world…”

ShortStory 2009 FeaturedWriter Neeraj Bhople

Untitled

It's an easy task - finding a crow. We see them everywhere. Every morning I say good morning to the crows on the mango tree next to my balcony before I say good morning to anyone else. One of the reasons for this of course is the fact that I stay alone, so there's no one else I can say good morning to. But you get the point.

So it came as a surprise to me when we couldn't find a single crow at Shrirampur. I drove around the town, near the river, through the jungle - well, not really a jungle but something bigger than a small thicket of trees. But we were disappointed everywhere. 

There were five of us in the car. I was the wrong choice for being the driver mainly because I had already antagonised the whole crow community against me by wildly running after them and cursing them often in my car parking lot. It was only after I realised that the real pooey culprits were the pigeons that I started to mend the fences by saying good morning to the crows every morning. But, except for one crow that regularly sits on my balcony, no other crow had forgiven me.

One of the passengers of the car - my cousin - was a wild life photographer and we were hoping he would have some idea about where to find a crow. Now, wild life photography has got nothing to do with crows. But in our desperation to find a crow, our logical abilities weren't working too well. The heat didn’t help either. The third passenger, another cousin, was just staring outside absently without talking. I could see that his eyes were searching, but he wasn't interested in talking. He has an ability to see things that no one else can. So I thought it’s better not to disturb his search. The fourth passenger was my dad. He doesn't normally like to go on a drive, especially with me as the driver. But today he insisted he wanted to come. So there we were, on our crow-search.

As noon approached, we were getting hungrier and edgier. So even though we knew we won't be eating, we stopped the car at a small roadside restaurant. We ordered tea and I was about to walk into the restaurant when dad stopped me. I was confused for a bit but decided to follow the instructions and turned around and got back to the car. The store owner saw that and promptly transferred the tea from tea cups to small disposable earthen pots.

Sipping the tea, I narrated my crow-experience to the others. Everyone had some observation about the crows. How the crows are always in a group but never seem to fight. They never interfere with other birds and we certainly have never seen them terrorising or causing any other problems for the humans. How the crow appears calm and composed even in the most trying conditions, even when there's no food around. A crow is also supposed to give an advance warning of visiting guests - dunno if it ever works though. But I had once cursed the crows handsomely as a kid when they didn't give us any warning of the visit of a distant relative who enjoyed pinching my cheeks as a way of showing her affection. I had to keep my mouth shut for the next two days as it ached so much. I think the crow community's anger towards me must have started that day. But they are such gentlemen, or should I say gentlecrows, that they never really bothered me much except boycotting my good morning wishes. I have a great respect for the crows but looked like they had decided to continue with their boycott even today.

We spent the whole afternoon looking for the crows. But they just didn't want to show their face and now even the sun was moving closer to the horizon. We were getting very frustrated by now. Hunger didn't help. And finally, we decided to stop and ask someone. It seemed a very stupid thing to do, but we stopped and very nervously asked a passer-by about where we could find crows. He said, sir, why are you looking for crows in this village? My cousin informed him that his dad was born here, that’s why we were here. The villager looked down for a moment and then said, “No one usually comes here looking for crows. That's because there's only one place where you can find crows here. At the big "pipal" tree that is outside the village. And you can't take car there; you will have to walk.” It was ironic that we were excited at the prospect of finding the crows.

We reached the tree after walking for twenty minutes in the rough terrain. My cousin kept the plate full of food at the base of tree and stood there with folded hands. The other cousin and I stood there looking as my dad brought out the fifth passenger, my uncle. He couldn't walk anymore. Couldn’t talk. He needed very little space in the car today - just enough for the small earthen pot with a red cloth covering its mouth. This had been his home for the last ten days. Dad kept the pot next to the plate and sat a little distance away from the tree. I closed my eyes for a few minutes, trying to hold back my tears. When I opened my eyes, I could see a few crows eating the food from the plate. All of them looked familiar to me. But I discounted the thought while they emptied the plate. I picked up the plate and my cousin picked up the pot. We silently walked back to the car and reached the river in sometime. All the rituals had already been performed in the morning. My cousin removed the cloth around the mouth of the pot and muttered a prayer as he emptied the ashes in the river.

The next morning, I took my cup of tea and walked to the balcony. As usual, my crow friend was there to greet me. But today there were a few of his friends with him. It was a pleasant surprise. Looked like the crows had finally lifted their boycott.

ShortStory 2009 FeaturedWriter Kamalika Dutta

God Crying

14th September 1998.

God is again crying for me today. Mamma’s saying that He will continue to cry if I don’t finish my food. Okay, I will eat that yucky sabzi , but I don’t want You to stop crying, okay God ? ‘Coz when you cry, it rains…and when it rains...the earth smells so good! 

I tasted the soil once, after you cried the whole night (I wonder why?). Perhaps it left marks on my face. Mamma slapped me that day…..called me ‘mad’, again and again…then burst out sobbing herself. I felt so confused! When others call me that, she fights with them, now she herself….I don’t know?! 

My Mamma fights too much. She fights with everyone! With the medicine man who comes every month, the milkman, our maid…and Mamma’s boss who keeps calling every night when we play scrabble ( which I always win ). 

Once, Rahim Chacha had come to our room, she fought with him too. I had broken a toy in his shop. But I never intended to! How do I know that the plane won’t fly after I left it in the air?! It always flies over our heads in the night?

You know, that day he took away ALL the money we had, for that stupid plane. But Mamma had hugged me hard and told me not to worry…her thin bones were hurting me...but it still felt so nice, so warm…and I thought, we don’t need money for this…isn’t it God?

15th September 1998

Mamma is ill. Twice a day, Pushpa Tai comes and gives us food and a big yellow tablet for Mamma. I have seen lots of such yellow tablets in Rahim Chacha’s shop. Big jars full of them. Kids come and ask for them. Tomorrow I’ll ask Tai to bring one for me too.

16th September 1998

Tai scolded me. God, I don’t like her. She shoos me away as if I ‘m a dog. But I love dogs….they have such nice twinkling eyes. Last night, even Mamma’s eyes were twinkling…but I saw, they had tears. I don’t know why I felt so unhappy. Was she missing my father? They say, he left her because of me. Once, when I was small...I had tried to bite his hand. That, was his last day in this house. 14th September 1998. He never could slap me again.

Rahim Chacha says he got a new daughter after that…and a new wife too! She goes to college now I heard! Wish…I could see her once. But Mamma cries when I ask about them, so I stopped. Wait. Mamma‘s calling me... Oh God, she’s been crying again…

17th September 1998

I am wearing a new dress. A sari. It’s starched and making noise like a newspaper. Pushpa Tai made me wear it. She says, from now on I’ll be wearing a sari always.
Always?!! Oh no God?
I’m going to a place where Mamma will not be coming with me. Last night , she told me about it. I am going to a doctor with Tai. If he likes me, he will let me live in his BIG house and play with ALL his toys he has !!! I wanted to ask mamma if I can tell him to buy those yellow tablets for me?...But she had closed her eyes, still holding me so tightly that it hurt. Last night we slept like that.

18th September 1998

I’m sitting in a big room. Two windows on both my sides. Sister Puja standing near the door. I like this sister. She has a kind voice, unlike any of the others. She keeps her word, unlike ALL the others…

Nobody came, after they left me here. Tai went back that day even before the doctor came. How did she know that the doctor will like me? I haven’t seen Mamma for so many days. Sometimes I try to remember her features, but her face looks so cloudy. I wait for her every night. The soft tinkle of her bangles when she used to come in with the scrabble. Nobody plays that here. I hate mamma. Why doesn’t she come to me God? Doesn’t she love me too?

19th September 1998

The woman sitting next to me is saying that the new doctor eats human flesh every night. She has seen. One day we all will be eaten up.
I don’t want to listen to her. I am writing a letter to Mamma. You know, last night she came (!) and said she’ll come today to collect it . I don’t know what is the date today. Sister Puja gave me her pen and I’ve written a LOT.

I’ve written about everyone , everything.

The friends I have made here , the cooking I am learning ( and the burn I got ..),the dresses they give us to wear..the bad girl of the last bed, who vomits every night, nothing comes out Mamma, I have seen, but she tries religiously…the Sister who slapped me that day..when I refused to sit on that horrible chair…the bread I eat every night…

And the little son of the Maali. Mamma, he calls me ‘Didi’…and it makes me so happy.
I have decided to teach him scrabble. I’ll make one for myself, as you had taught me? Oh Mamma, I so wish to hug you!

20th September 1998

She didn’t come that night. Something in me says, she never will. They say she died the day after I was brought here. I don’t believe them. I won’t. I feel she is here, she is there…she is everywhere….I know it…! But she isn’t coming to me. Why? I don’t know. My head spins and swirls. I have never felt this way before. It seems that finally I am turning mad and again…..

God is again crying for me tonight.