She died that night. When she was just 8 years old. Now, 20 years later, her killer was at her mercy. A hopeless invalid, he was dependent on her for his very existence.
As she spoonfed him every morsel or wiped his mouth after every bite, she was careful to avoid any physical contact as far as possible. She specially avoided his eyes and his hands. The eyes which used to seek her out from every hiding place. The hands which then pulled her on his lap and then onto his bed to do unspeakable things. Oh yes, the hands which strangled her innocence to death on the night she turned eight.
She wondered what was wrong with her. Why was she helping this man live, when she had prayed for his death every single day in the last two decades? He had destroyed every emotion in her - love, trust, respect and left her only with hatred. She felt hatred with an intensity that was overwhelming and destroyed everything in its path. Over the years this hatred had become her only reason for survival. She had planned vengeance and was ready to extract her pound of flesh as soon as fate bestowed her a fair chance. Now she had that chance. Then why couldnt she bring herself to destroy her tormentor and satisfy her hatred once and for all? She then realised that perhaps he had won again. Just seeing him lie totally helpless on that bed had snatched even the hatred from her. He now left her with nothing.
As she turned to put away the glass of water from which he had just sipped a few drops, she heard a hoarse whisper. Startled she turned around. It was the first time he had spoken to her since she had returned to look after him. She strained to hear the words coming out of his twisted, saliva dripping mouth. She bent closer and closer.....and then she heard them...the words she had waited to hear for all these years. He was finally saying, 'I am sorry'
It all came back with a rush. Every emotion, long dead, surged through her heart. Pain, rage, grief, hatred and even a fleeting sensation of deep love which she had once felt for this man, filled her being. A deep sense of calm descended on her as she slowly came back to life. She brought her mouth close to his ear and uttered the words which finally destroyed him. She softly whispered, "I forgive you, Dad"
Monday, May 3, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Trust
She lay there on the cot....happily gurgling. A tiny bundle. Arms stretched out towards the sky as if wanting to pull the entire world in her warm embrace. It was only a few days since she had set her eyes upon her surroundings and was already in love with life.
Her two elder siblings lay on the naked floor, holding on desperately to the last remnants of sleep, before the day's struggle for livelihood began. Baba was already at work. He could not afford the leisure of staying in bed after sunrise, considering the number of mouths he had to feed. She was the latest addition.
In the background, she could hear the comforting sound of her mother's voice talking to her Dadi. But wait...Ma didnt sound her usual self. This was not the voice Ma used when she was singing her a lullaby or crooning while she suckled at her breast. This was different. Ma sounded really upset. She could feel the tears in her mother's voice and that turned her little world upside down. Not knowing how to comfort her mother, she began to wail loudly. If only Ma would come running and pick her up in her arms, her world would be secure once again.
She could hear her Dadi's voice raised in agitation. She did not like her Dadi at all. Nor her father for that matter. Her elder sisters were nice and played with her at times, but only when they came home at night. It was only Ma she loved with all her heart and could trust with her life. It was only her Ma who made her world a happy place. Every little wail or toothless gurgle was understood and her every little wish fulfilled - Ma fed her when hungry, patted her to sleep when cranky and even understood when she simply wanted to be held in her arms for that warm, fuzzy feeling of love and protection. So then why didnt she come running to her today when she wanted to comfort her Ma in her own way?
Ma was now sobbing while Dadi was trying to explain something to her. Oh how she wished she understood adult conversation! And where were her sisters going? Her sisters never left home before she had been given her second feed after waking up. It was still too early for them to leave the house wasnt it?
Finally, Ma came to her. She felt a wetness on her cheeks as Ma bent over her to comfort her. The wetness trickled into her tiny mouth. Salty...just like her own tears. She babbled desperately, "Don't worry Ma, it is alright. I am here. Just hug me tight and you will be fine." Her mother only cried harder.
She looked at her mother, her eyes filled with love and trust and reached out with both hands. But she didnt quite understand the look in her mother's eyes. Why were they saying 'sorry'? She was so engrossed in trying to decipher the look in Ma's eyes that she failed to see the pillow descending on her face, cutting off her air supply.
She thrashed her arms and feet in the air, mustering all the strength her little body would allow. It was a painfully short struggle. She was no match against the strong arms that held down the pillow. Life was snuffed out of her within moments......moments that would stretch into eternity for Ma.
.........................................................................................
"Now stop moping woman! We had to do this. How do you think my son would manage to feed another hungry mouth. Two girls already and you had to give birth to a third! Oh Lord, when will I get to see the face of a grandson who can support the family instead of being a burden? Now will you snap out of your zombie mode and help me bury this thing. It will start stinking soon enough. And why, may I ask, you had to look into her eyes even knowing yourself to be an emotional fool? In fact, why did you even have to be there, I could have handled it alone."
"To uphold that trust Ma," she finally spoke. "I wanted my daughter to die with trust in her eyes and not fear. And I am willing to be haunted by that look for the rest of my life....only for that momentary trust I saw in her eyes."
Her two elder siblings lay on the naked floor, holding on desperately to the last remnants of sleep, before the day's struggle for livelihood began. Baba was already at work. He could not afford the leisure of staying in bed after sunrise, considering the number of mouths he had to feed. She was the latest addition.
In the background, she could hear the comforting sound of her mother's voice talking to her Dadi. But wait...Ma didnt sound her usual self. This was not the voice Ma used when she was singing her a lullaby or crooning while she suckled at her breast. This was different. Ma sounded really upset. She could feel the tears in her mother's voice and that turned her little world upside down. Not knowing how to comfort her mother, she began to wail loudly. If only Ma would come running and pick her up in her arms, her world would be secure once again.
She could hear her Dadi's voice raised in agitation. She did not like her Dadi at all. Nor her father for that matter. Her elder sisters were nice and played with her at times, but only when they came home at night. It was only Ma she loved with all her heart and could trust with her life. It was only her Ma who made her world a happy place. Every little wail or toothless gurgle was understood and her every little wish fulfilled - Ma fed her when hungry, patted her to sleep when cranky and even understood when she simply wanted to be held in her arms for that warm, fuzzy feeling of love and protection. So then why didnt she come running to her today when she wanted to comfort her Ma in her own way?
Ma was now sobbing while Dadi was trying to explain something to her. Oh how she wished she understood adult conversation! And where were her sisters going? Her sisters never left home before she had been given her second feed after waking up. It was still too early for them to leave the house wasnt it?
Finally, Ma came to her. She felt a wetness on her cheeks as Ma bent over her to comfort her. The wetness trickled into her tiny mouth. Salty...just like her own tears. She babbled desperately, "Don't worry Ma, it is alright. I am here. Just hug me tight and you will be fine." Her mother only cried harder.
She looked at her mother, her eyes filled with love and trust and reached out with both hands. But she didnt quite understand the look in her mother's eyes. Why were they saying 'sorry'? She was so engrossed in trying to decipher the look in Ma's eyes that she failed to see the pillow descending on her face, cutting off her air supply.
She thrashed her arms and feet in the air, mustering all the strength her little body would allow. It was a painfully short struggle. She was no match against the strong arms that held down the pillow. Life was snuffed out of her within moments......moments that would stretch into eternity for Ma.
.........................................................................................
"Now stop moping woman! We had to do this. How do you think my son would manage to feed another hungry mouth. Two girls already and you had to give birth to a third! Oh Lord, when will I get to see the face of a grandson who can support the family instead of being a burden? Now will you snap out of your zombie mode and help me bury this thing. It will start stinking soon enough. And why, may I ask, you had to look into her eyes even knowing yourself to be an emotional fool? In fact, why did you even have to be there, I could have handled it alone."
"To uphold that trust Ma," she finally spoke. "I wanted my daughter to die with trust in her eyes and not fear. And I am willing to be haunted by that look for the rest of my life....only for that momentary trust I saw in her eyes."
Friday, April 23, 2010
Deja vu
Lets go out
For a cup of tea
Lets talk it over
You and me
What went wrong
What went right
Why this estrangement
Without a fight
Two spoons of sugar
A dash of lime
Hot sweet tea
Anywhere anytime
I'll listen to you
While I sip my tea
And rationalize every fear
Whatever they may be
I'll sort your scrambled thoughts
Just listen to me
Do away with confusion and once again
Go walk beneath the woodapple tree
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Realization
All that is good in me
Belongs to you
All that is bad in you
Belongs to me
Oh can't you see
The problem lies with me
It lived it thrived
Because of you
It rots it dies
Because of me
Oh can't you see
The problem lies with me
Love, care, patience
Offered by you
Grief, hatred, disappointment
Offered by me
Oh can't you see
The problem lies with me
You tie I break
You give I take
You try I don't
I can but won't
Oh can't you see
The problem lies with me
But then its a reflection
Of me in you
And you in me
Jinxed from the start
Perhaps its destiny
Oh why can't you see
It was never meant to be
Belongs to you
All that is bad in you
Belongs to me
Oh can't you see
The problem lies with me
It lived it thrived
Because of you
It rots it dies
Because of me
Oh can't you see
The problem lies with me
Love, care, patience
Offered by you
Grief, hatred, disappointment
Offered by me
Oh can't you see
The problem lies with me
You tie I break
You give I take
You try I don't
I can but won't
Oh can't you see
The problem lies with me
But then its a reflection
Of me in you
And you in me
Jinxed from the start
Perhaps its destiny
Oh why can't you see
It was never meant to be
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The window
I looked up and saw the window. It was thrown open as usual. Curtains fluttering in the wind. Blue flickering lights dancing in the night. Maybe she's watching television...but..then why the silence? Every other house which has the television switched on, also throws out accompanying noises...blaring music, film dialogues, news, blah blah blah. From her window...I hear only a deafening silence which filters out into the night and envelops me in a painful embrace.
Mesmerized I stare at the window and watch the blue lights. I suspect she keeps the television on only to keep her company - a physical object filling a deep void. She does not need the sounds of the outside world as they would only cut into her solitude. Perhaps it is his voice that she yearns to hear.
He does his duty. Visits her every evening in his big, black car. Gives her a glimpse of a life she desires but can never have. He stays for a few hours each day except on weekends. Maybe the weekends are reserved for his 'family' - maybe a wife and a child or two? She does not have a right over the weekends just like she cannot have his heart - not even for a night. But then she has the television!
It is strange that I notice her open window only at night. Maybe its the curtains or maybe its the blue flickering light or maybe her world comes alive only in the darkness. But we connect each night, she and I. The window inviting me into her world and yet keeping me out.
I hope to see her someday, standing at her window, looking down at me from the shadows. But till then I will stand beneath her window each night, in the darkness and wait for permission to enter her world. Till then, the open window will suffice...
Mesmerized I stare at the window and watch the blue lights. I suspect she keeps the television on only to keep her company - a physical object filling a deep void. She does not need the sounds of the outside world as they would only cut into her solitude. Perhaps it is his voice that she yearns to hear.
He does his duty. Visits her every evening in his big, black car. Gives her a glimpse of a life she desires but can never have. He stays for a few hours each day except on weekends. Maybe the weekends are reserved for his 'family' - maybe a wife and a child or two? She does not have a right over the weekends just like she cannot have his heart - not even for a night. But then she has the television!
It is strange that I notice her open window only at night. Maybe its the curtains or maybe its the blue flickering light or maybe her world comes alive only in the darkness. But we connect each night, she and I. The window inviting me into her world and yet keeping me out.
I hope to see her someday, standing at her window, looking down at me from the shadows. But till then I will stand beneath her window each night, in the darkness and wait for permission to enter her world. Till then, the open window will suffice...
Saturday, April 10, 2010
This and that...
Have been meaning to regularly update my blog but laziness gets the better of me :-( Ever since I have come to Calcutta I have been getting these sudden uncontrollable urges to write...just write...about anything and everything that crosses my mind. It feels just like old times...when I used to write something everyday. However right now I do not feel like putting down anything remotely sensible so I will just write for the sake of writing. And I don't really understand why are you reading this unless, like me, you are bored out of your mind and have nothing better to do :-) Ok, here it comes:
Some things I love:
1. Blue - I mean the colour, in all shades. Blue sky, blue jeans, blue shoes (just bought two pairs last week), blue walls, blue blue blue so much so that I am even wearing blue nailpaint! Also, usually I am at my creative best when I am feeling blue :-)
2. Movies - specially watching them at a theatre munching popcorn (and I don't share!). I can also watch films in any language without subtitles only for the experience of watching it on the big screen. I love Shah Rukh Khan (ya ya ok don't roll your eyes at me) and I have watched each and every film he has acted (or overacted) in...some of which I am sure even he didnt bother to watch.
3.Rainy season - Have loved it since school days when we would get 'rainy day holiday' and we could eat our 'tiffin' in the school bus on our way back home. Love the sound of rain beating against the window panes and the sound of thunder and the sudden flashes of lightening when your dark world becomes super bright even if only for a second. Love the smell of wet earth, the puddles on the road and the khichdi and pakoras which any self respecting Bengali mom would rush to cook, the moment she hears the thunderclouds rumbling!
4.Winters - my absolute favourite season! And especially love the Delhi winters even if my nose turns red like Rudolf the reindeer and my fingers freeze over!!! Nothing beats the cozy feeling of being wrapped up in a blanket and holding a steaming cup of coffee in your hands while the temperature keeps dropping and dropping and dropping. In fact, I am convinced some intrinsic internal change happens within me each year between the months of November to February. I have consciously made an effort to note this strange phenomenon for the last couple of years. The four crucial months bring in a sense of rebellion and also a desperate need to break free. Some crucial life changing incidents happened to me during these months. It's like I evolve, step by step, each year during the winters. I have quit most of my jobs during these months and have also undertaken journeys for my soul to places like Haridwar and Rishikesh, again and again. One of my ex-bosses was forced to take me to Allahabad and Benaras to calm me down, when one fine day I just announced 'I quit'. It was during the early days of my career and it was in 'January'.
5.Books - specially fiction and especially if it is a thriller and there is some pathological serial killer on the loose and in the end the detective catches him/her and there is some psychological reason as to why s/he was such a nutcase! Also love reading about the occult/paranormal and am currently engrossed in reading 'Beyond the Occult' by Colin Wilson. I also love the smell of new books.
Other random things I love:
a.Staring at the wall/ceiling, waiting for it to change colour
b.Holding lengthy, meaningful conversations with my dogs/any other dog/infants who have not yet learned to speak
c.Eating ice cream in winters
d.Wearing black in summers
e.Singing in the shower
f.Experimental cooking (only my dad loves me enough and is brave enough to sample and appreciate everything and anything I try out)
g.Shopping at a medicine store
h.Walking from one end of the terrace to the other, all the while looking up at the sky (you should try it out sometime, it is as good as walking blindfolded)
i.Staring outside the window when its pitch dark outside
j.Collecting idols of Ganesha (yes the elephant God) in every shape and size
k.Eating milk powder with rice
l. Wearing purple
m.Talking to myself
n. Smell of petrol
o. Eating chocolate/sweets - usually - middle of the night!
p.Telling my grandma's photograph that I really really love her
Some things I hate:
1.Lizards
2.Any complicated mathematical calculation (2+2 is also a complicated mathematical calculation as far as I am concerned)
3.Stupidity
4.Summers
5.Discussing any stuff related to me with my mom - we seem to have diametrically opposing viewpoints about everything in life. But we get on famously when we are talking about anything/anyone but me :-)
Ok now its nearly 2:30 am and I have this strong urge to eat something sweet. Signing off now...got to go raid the fridge!!!
Some things I love:
1. Blue - I mean the colour, in all shades. Blue sky, blue jeans, blue shoes (just bought two pairs last week), blue walls, blue blue blue so much so that I am even wearing blue nailpaint! Also, usually I am at my creative best when I am feeling blue :-)
2. Movies - specially watching them at a theatre munching popcorn (and I don't share!). I can also watch films in any language without subtitles only for the experience of watching it on the big screen. I love Shah Rukh Khan (ya ya ok don't roll your eyes at me) and I have watched each and every film he has acted (or overacted) in...some of which I am sure even he didnt bother to watch.
3.Rainy season - Have loved it since school days when we would get 'rainy day holiday' and we could eat our 'tiffin' in the school bus on our way back home. Love the sound of rain beating against the window panes and the sound of thunder and the sudden flashes of lightening when your dark world becomes super bright even if only for a second. Love the smell of wet earth, the puddles on the road and the khichdi and pakoras which any self respecting Bengali mom would rush to cook, the moment she hears the thunderclouds rumbling!
4.Winters - my absolute favourite season! And especially love the Delhi winters even if my nose turns red like Rudolf the reindeer and my fingers freeze over!!! Nothing beats the cozy feeling of being wrapped up in a blanket and holding a steaming cup of coffee in your hands while the temperature keeps dropping and dropping and dropping. In fact, I am convinced some intrinsic internal change happens within me each year between the months of November to February. I have consciously made an effort to note this strange phenomenon for the last couple of years. The four crucial months bring in a sense of rebellion and also a desperate need to break free. Some crucial life changing incidents happened to me during these months. It's like I evolve, step by step, each year during the winters. I have quit most of my jobs during these months and have also undertaken journeys for my soul to places like Haridwar and Rishikesh, again and again. One of my ex-bosses was forced to take me to Allahabad and Benaras to calm me down, when one fine day I just announced 'I quit'. It was during the early days of my career and it was in 'January'.
5.Books - specially fiction and especially if it is a thriller and there is some pathological serial killer on the loose and in the end the detective catches him/her and there is some psychological reason as to why s/he was such a nutcase! Also love reading about the occult/paranormal and am currently engrossed in reading 'Beyond the Occult' by Colin Wilson. I also love the smell of new books.
Other random things I love:
a.Staring at the wall/ceiling, waiting for it to change colour
b.Holding lengthy, meaningful conversations with my dogs/any other dog/infants who have not yet learned to speak
c.Eating ice cream in winters
d.Wearing black in summers
e.Singing in the shower
f.Experimental cooking (only my dad loves me enough and is brave enough to sample and appreciate everything and anything I try out)
g.Shopping at a medicine store
h.Walking from one end of the terrace to the other, all the while looking up at the sky (you should try it out sometime, it is as good as walking blindfolded)
i.Staring outside the window when its pitch dark outside
j.Collecting idols of Ganesha (yes the elephant God) in every shape and size
k.Eating milk powder with rice
l. Wearing purple
m.Talking to myself
n. Smell of petrol
o. Eating chocolate/sweets - usually - middle of the night!
p.Telling my grandma's photograph that I really really love her
Some things I hate:
1.Lizards
2.Any complicated mathematical calculation (2+2 is also a complicated mathematical calculation as far as I am concerned)
3.Stupidity
4.Summers
5.Discussing any stuff related to me with my mom - we seem to have diametrically opposing viewpoints about everything in life. But we get on famously when we are talking about anything/anyone but me :-)
Ok now its nearly 2:30 am and I have this strong urge to eat something sweet. Signing off now...got to go raid the fridge!!!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Who cares?
Temperature soaring, horns blaring
Its morning on the roads of Kolkata
Two angry men on the road
A verbal fight, heated exchange of abuses
Their cars haphazardly parked
Blocking the traffic
Amidst the sea of angry vehicles and sweaty people
Stuck in a man made traffic jam
An ambulance wails
Someone is fighting for life
Maybe the roads will clear up
Maybe the ambulance will make its way through the maze
Perhaps its only a matter of few extended moments
But will those moments force a choice
Of life or death for someone somewhere
Who knows and more importantly who cares?
Its late at night
People come in fancy cars
Its a posh locality after all
The brightly lit gas station does brisk business as usual
Somewhere in the corner
Drowned in darkness
Sits a beggar, considered insane by the sane world
A gaping wound on his head
Maggots feeding on his brain
Some see him but none really see him
Nobody stops
Maybe the wound will claim his life
His soul is already taken
When and how
Who knows and more importantly who cares?
Its morning on the roads of Kolkata
Two angry men on the road
A verbal fight, heated exchange of abuses
Their cars haphazardly parked
Blocking the traffic
Amidst the sea of angry vehicles and sweaty people
Stuck in a man made traffic jam
An ambulance wails
Someone is fighting for life
Maybe the roads will clear up
Maybe the ambulance will make its way through the maze
Perhaps its only a matter of few extended moments
But will those moments force a choice
Of life or death for someone somewhere
Who knows and more importantly who cares?
Its late at night
People come in fancy cars
Its a posh locality after all
The brightly lit gas station does brisk business as usual
Somewhere in the corner
Drowned in darkness
Sits a beggar, considered insane by the sane world
A gaping wound on his head
Maggots feeding on his brain
Some see him but none really see him
Nobody stops
Maybe the wound will claim his life
His soul is already taken
When and how
Who knows and more importantly who cares?
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