I remember those happy times

I remember those happy times,
The days when we were young,
When we were little children,
The days spent in the afternoon sun,
The days we fought,
The days we rolled on the sand,
And the days we threw tantrums.
O, how can I forget those days,
For that was the closest I’d been to you,
Oh, my dear sister.
Over the course of time,
Our roles changed,
We no longer fight,
We no longer roll over together,
O, the sorrow of being an adult!
The roles will keep changing,
Job, money, fame and family,
And then,
We’ll no longer be brothers and sisters,
We’ll be friends,
Maybe make a trip or two together,
But that’s about it.
My dear sister,
I assure you,
Though our footprints may diverge in the sands of time,
We’ll forever remain connected,
Through a common bond,
Our blood and our hearts.

Whirl....

Whirl…
by Shree Vishnu Vardhan


So, finally, my mom’s coming over to visit me. I was so excited. It’s been a long while. But, she hadn’t always been happy with my decision anyway. She used to cry for hours on end just to calm herself down. But, when greener pastures beckon, one must grab the opportunity with both hands. I myself didn’t regret the decision. This place is pure heaven! And the workplace is so serene and tranquil, that I fell in love with it the moment I entered.
“Hi mom… How are you? Long time no see!!”
“You still haven’t changed, have you Mr. Arun?”
“Mom, I’m so happy that you’ve come. You won’t go back, won’t you? I missed you a lot.”
“No dear I won’t be going back. I’ve informed dad. He said that he’ll also be here in a month or two, maybe even less. It all depends.”
“Thank goodness. I was beginning to wonder whether I would ever get to see you again.”
“You’ll forever remain mama’s boy. Oh! When are you going to grow up, mister? I missed you a lot, you know…” mom’s tears spoke.
We embraced. It was a strange feeling. A bit awkward, to be precise.

********

Of course, it was my mom who had started it all. Looking back, I could guess the fight was rather silly but it led to me making the most important decision of my life.
“Mom, this is important for me. I always wanted to go to the U.S. I don’t care for anyone else.”
“Not even your parents?”
Now, this was asking for trouble. Of course, she knew that I loved her. This was emotional blackmail.
“What the hell do you think, huh? Just because you are my parents, it doesn’t mean you can play around with my life. I’ve grown big and I can handle things on my own…”
“Beta, do understand. America is a dirty country, full of vices. I can’t let my only son serve prostitutes.”
“Oh… cut the crap out. I know better. It’s really surprising that you don’t have faith in your only son.”
“That’s the problem. You’re my only son. Had I had two of them, I’d have gladly sent you to the US…”
“Mom, please mom. I promise you, when I come back….”
“….You’ll bring along with you an American girl, huh? I’ve heard enough. No is my answer. That is final.”
“Why on earth should I listen to you? Don’t you dare interfere in my life….”
“ARUN!!!!”
“….I’m not your puppet! Oh please, I don’t give a damn to your thoughts. Go to hell!”
“…ARUN!!!”
“I’m off. I had enough. I’ll just take the passport and go…” I turn to the table.
“Is this what you’re talking about?” questioned dad, menacingly holding up the small-rectangular book in the air.
“Dad, no…please dad…no, please…” I pleaded, guessing what he was up to.
“There it goes…”
I watched in horror as he chucked the book into the toilet and pressed the flush. Even as water flowed out and created a whirlpool with the book as the epicenter, I was sucked into my own whirlpool of emotions and plunged headlong into a deep abyss. Of life itself.

********

Of course, it was my son who had started it all. Looking back, I could guess the fight was rather silly but it led to me making the most important decision of my life.
“Mom, this is important for me. I always wanted to go to the U.S. I don’t care for anyone else.”
Now, this was asking for trouble. Of course, I knew that he loved me. I tried emotional blackmail.
“Not even your parents?”
“What the hell do you think, huh? Just because you are my parents, it doesn’t mean you can play around with my life. I’ve grown big and I can handle things on my own…”
“Beta, you see, I wouldn’t like it if you started to behave as the Americans do. You’re too young. Live in a joint family. Enjoy being with your parents and your friends here. You won’t even have anyone to look after you there.”
“Why on earth should I listen to you? Don’t you dare interfere in my life….”
“ARUN!!!!”
“….I’m not your puppet. Oh please, I don’t give a damn to your thoughts. Go to hell!”
“…ARUN!!!”
“I’m off. I had enough. I’ll just take the passport and go…” he turned to the table.
“Is this what you’re talking about?” questioned my husband, menacingly holding up the small-rectangular book in the air.
“Dad, no…please dad…no, please…” he pleaded, guessing what he was up to.
“There it goes…”
I watched in horror as he chucked the book into the toilet and pressed the flush. Even as water flowed out and created a whirlpool with the book as the epicenter, I was sucked into my own whirlpool of emotions and plunged headlong into a deep abyss. Of life itself.

********

The view from atop the world was quite breathtaking. Even as I looked down, I could see ant-people, roads running for miles, cars and trucks lined up randomly, buildings in all it’s splendor and exorbitant lights illuminating the entire city. I, of course, wouldn’t let up my dream that easily. I was obsessed with success and the US and I was determined to achieve it or die in the process. I was always captivated by the people. By the beggar on the street, the policeman at the corner, the vendor on the road and by life and its beauty. I had started to descent now. Even as the road below drew closer and closer and grew bigger and bigger, I had the sudden urge to go back again, to my mom, but by then it was too late.

********

The divorce case made me drained mentally and emotionally but not financially. Of course, I do love my husband a lot but I couldn’t live with the injustice that he meted out to my son. Our son. We could have solved the issue simply by losing just a few drops of sweat and tears, but to flush the issue out was absolutely unforgivable. That was ugly. Inappropriate. He’s our only son for God’s sake. But, he seemed to have realized his mistake. He was apologetic the last time I visited him. He was ill and hence I had had a doctor to tend to him. I was diagnosed with cancer and given a time limit too but I had lost all interest. I was just going through the motions of living out the rest of my life.

********
So, finally, I was going to visit him. I was so excited. It’s been a long while. But, he hadn’t always been happy with me anyway. He used to brood for hours on end just to calm himself down. But, when greener pastures beckon, one must grab the opportunity with both hands. I myself did respect the decision. This place is pure heaven! And the place is so serene and tranquil, that I fell in love with it the moment I entered.
“Hi mom… How are you? Long time no see!!”
“You still haven’t changed, have you Mr. Arun?”
“Mom, I’m so happy that you’ve come. You won’t go back, won’t you? I missed you a lot.”
“No dear I won’t be going back. I’ve informed dad. He said that he’ll also be here in a month or two, maybe even less. It all depends.”
“Thank goodness. I was beginning to wonder whether I would ever get to see you again.”
“You’ll forever remain mama’s boy. Oh! When are you going to grow up, mister? I missed you a lot, you know…” I said, tears flowing down my transparent cheek. I wiped them with my gaseous hands.
We embraced. It was a strange feeling. A bit awkward, to be precise.

~~~~~~The end~~~~~~~

God is never kind to the hard-workers...

“So again you’re late for work. What bloody excuse will you give today?”
I keep my eyes focused on the floor and replied “ma’am, my son had fever. I needed to take him to a doctor.”


“Bloody hell! Today, it is your son. Tomorrow, it’ll be you. Why don’t you go work in a hospital instead of coming here huh?”


Anger rose within me but I gritted my teeth, urged myself to keep calm, and said “ma’am I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”


“Fish! This is the third time this month. I don’t need you for work from next month. Find another job.”


I silently assess the number of tiles under my feet. These are just empty threats, I say to myself. Finding someone like me is difficult nowadays. I smile.


“What the hell are you standing there for? Go wash the dishes and get Colgate from the stores.”
So that’s it. Just a few minutes of role- call everyday and life gets back to normal. You might have guessed who I am then. I’m Rani, a housemaid.




Things never looked rosy for me right from the day when I dropped out from school to become a housemaid. Life has been one living hell, I thought sadly.


For the next two hours, I dutifully finished all the household chores, all the while witnessing the family whispering complaints and to-hell-with-her comments. The heads of this family treated me with as much kindness as they would reserve for a stray dog. The children, however, treat me better, calling me in respectful tones but even then, they cringe their mouths and twitch their noses.


I have willed myself to get used to people scowling at me wherever I go. At least that way, I get attention, I say to myself. You would almost believe that I have committed a murder just looking at these people’s faces. I still don’t understand why the people treat me this way. I’m not good-looking and maybe, a little shabbily dressed but I certainly deserve better. Well, I cannot dictate what I deserve or don’t, I’m just a small insignificant part of the society.
I had to ask them. I dared not to wait longer. With a bit of luck they might agree. With a bit of luck.


“ma’am, could you spare me Rs. 1000 please? I need to send my children to school. They need to buy books and cloths. Please ma’am…You can deduct it from my next month's pay ma'am... ”


“Don't talk to me like that! How dare you tell me what to do, huh? Why do you send your children to such high-class schools if you can’t afford it?” they ask me.


How can I not? Do not my children deserve better? Would I bear to see them treated the same way as I am? Do not they deserve a better life than mine? Do not their children deserve to grow up to be great film stars, great leaders? I’ve lived this life enough. I fear to let my children feel the pain of this profession.


And I thought of my own husband at home. The poor guy. Every night, he comes home drunk and beats me up. But still, I feel for him. He works so hard in that construction site just to bring back a few pennies, notwithstanding the fact that most of it is used up in getting himself drunk. I myself have a salary of only about Rs. 900 per month. There are no day-offs in this profession.


The tougher and more dangerous the job, the less is the pay, I thought. Look at those construction workers. Look at all those stunt artists. They risk their life so that the hero can smile to the camera. And even when I complete extra work like washing the toilets and cleaning the fans, the family conveniently passes it off as a compensation for all the days I arrived late.


There is only a certain limit of tolerance but for us, suicide is not the option. Every story has a twist but not mine. The only saving grace is when I’m home and tired… I get to lie on my son’s feet and sleep peacefully until the new dawn...