Twist Of Faith

I stood on the periphery. Of life. Thus it had been. Thus it would always be. With acceptance, came a resigned serenity. For I was different. Differently abled. One armed in a world of two armed people. When you are destined to be different, you become very adjusting, accomodating. You are always relegated to the background. Someone to be pitied, scorned or worse, to be helped by every Tom, Dick and Susan who comes along.

As a child, I was seated in the first row. For heavens sake, I remember telling my mum, I'm not blind !
But I took advantage of my situation, sometimes. Like when the girls fussed over me, and yelled at the other resentful fellows for taunting me.

Youth brought a different set of problems. I  no longer wanted or liked being pitied. I wanted to be loved, admired for myself. After all I was good looking. Had worked long hours at the gym to have a sculpted body. Alas, there were no takers. I watched admiration turn to pity, concern as the girls checked me out. Every time I turned away. The unshed tears burning up my heart. I turned bitter, cynical.

That was until she came into my life.

That day had been a sad day for me. I had been invited to my best friends marriage. To be the best man, observing at close quarters, the girl I was enthralled with getting married to my bestie. Getting out of the car, I was about to cross the road, when I saw a biker hurtling down the road. Talking into her cell, the girl crossing the road was directly in his way. Reacting instinctively, I leapt across, sweeping her aside with my one good arm, both of us ending up in a heap by the side of the road. Stunned we sat there. That is until she got up, brushed herself and started yelling at me. I looked up at her in astonishment. For God's sake, I had just saved her life ! As people started to mill around us, she extended a hand, pulling me up. As if she had saved me, not the other way around ! Then after a brusque, " You ok ? " she ran off in the opposite direction leaving me in the midst of a crowd. The type of attention I dreaded most. Seething, I strode off, having to head back home to change my clothes.

The next day, as I entered college, I heard a voice calling out my name. Turning, I saw it was her. Scowling I turned back, when a small hand tucked itself into mine. "Hey. I never did thank you for saving my life, " said she. Then she stood on tiptoe, to land a kiss on my cheek. Time stood still. As did most people who knew me on campus. Here was a pretty girl kissing me!  Me ! The background guy. Always the best man never the groom ! The smile stayed on my face for the rest of the day.

So the friendship bloomed between us. Every day I would wait by the college gates for her. She would come in, take my hand in hers and we would stroll in. I had no idea why she did that. I had no illusions regarding her either for she was already betrothed. In a long distance relationship. With a childhood sweetheart. I loved her but as one would a buddy. Because she was a girl, there did exist a what if ? between us. But only on my part, I guess. I confided in her. Things even I didn't know were bottled up within me, I found myself telling her. We went to cricket matches and discs, coffee shops and restaurants. She pined for him, I could see. I pined for just such a girl and companionship.

Alas the day came when I stood looking on at her reunion with her fiance. She had insisted I go with her to the air port to receive him. I was even more chagrined to find I actually liked the man. From there on, I stepped back. I assuaged my aching heart that she had never been destined for me. In the hopes of a romance, I was not willing to lose the best friend I had ever had.

We kept in touch. She emailed or called almost every other day from distant Canada.  Four years went by. Years in which she strangely made no mention of husband or child. For now she was both a wife and a mother. Her parents had moved to Canada, too, I heard, to be with their only child.

The job offer came like a ray of sunshine. I found myself coming alive again after many years. I was headed for Canada, Toronto, where she lived. I would work there, I promised myself I would see her only very occasionally. Also it would be a surprise. My visit to her home. The flight landed and I stepped out into a freezing, blustery winter morning. A strange feeling flooded my heart. I was soaring higher than the planes around me, so happy I was.    

The week went by in a flash. I had received her mails, but of late she had been sounding depressed. I waited anxiously for the weekend to come, settling down into my new job in the interim.

Her house was beautiful. Just as she had described it . A small neat garden surrounded the red stuccoed roofed house. I stood outside taking deep breaths. Who was I kidding. She would always be my true, my only love. Heart pounding, I rang the bell, holding the flowers i'd brought up to hide my face. The door opened. A beloved, beloved face shone in front of my eyes. Then I dropped to my feet. Holding that beloved body in a tight hug, even as the flowers dropped to the floor. I looked at her face, for what seemed like hours. The delicate lines that etched the beautiful sparkly eyes I had known. The unruly curls escaping from the tight knot behind, framing her pixie face. Oh. How I had missed her. But why was she sitting. Why did she not stand up to greet me ? Hug me ? Then It hit me. Stunned I reeled back. She was sitting on a wheel chair.

The story was painful. Tearfully told. She hugged me, and I held her close even as a deep wail of pain rose from within her. A car accident had taken not only her mobility, but also her loving husband from her. She had'nt told me because she had to fight her battles to regain her life and that of her little daughter. With the help of her parents she ran a creche and lived in the hope that life would reclaim her enough for her to provide for her child.

We got married in the next month. Life was cruel. To reward me, it had caused her great deprivation. But i was there. I would always be there for her.           

Cupid

The cell phone. That ubiquitous piece of metal. Such a small thing, capable of so much mischief has not been invented since.. since Dennis the Menace. Read on.. read on, dear reader..and judge: Friend or foe ?

It seemed to Ravi, that he had been waiting for hours. But then, he was waiting for the college hottie on campus and he had managed to land a date with her. So wait he would. The cell, of course had played cupid to this strange love story. For he was the campus nerd, the one no girl spared a second glance to.

Scene 1
A bustling college canteen. A worker scrubbing the floors, pauses pats his pant feverishly, as if he has a case of poison ivy, then leaving the bucket and mop dashes off outside to coo lovingly into the errant cell.
In walks the college hottie also absorbed in a cell conversation, a high pitched monologue actually, ticking off a long suffering boyfriend, then after a series of shrill "hello.. Hello.. HELLO..'s" she stomps a delicate foot.. straight into the bucket, which skids.. and not unlike insy winsy spider, she slithers and falls with a thump on the floor, landing almost at the feet of the nerd.

Like a modern day Mumtaz she lies hapless, wet and bedraggled on the floor, one hand fumbling for her skirt, the other for her cell. The nerd stoops to help her up, then winces as a banshee yell resounds in his ears. The girl has just realised that her cell has landed in the bucket and drowned. Hurling his hand aside, she leaps up to rescue her cell, then realises its dead. As she bursts into tears, the nerd flips open the cell exposes its innards, then strolls to the air conditioner vents exposing it to the hot exhaust. After five minutes of having the entire campus eyeing him and the girl, he nonchalantly rubs it against his sleeve, then profers it to the girl who squeals in admiration then, plants a kiss on his virginal cheek. Grabbing the moment, he asks her for a coffee. Unable to refuse the modern day Gallahad, she nods absentmindedly as he very cleverly dials his own number from her cell, thus saving her number in his for posterity.

Scene 2
A spiffy Ravi is hanging on to the street pole for dear life, adopting different poses, eyes and ears on the alert for her appearance. An hour later, a Ravi, shoulders sagging is desperately making calls that go unanswered. As he attempts to move, body drooping, feet dragging, he hears a voice from behind, hailing him. He turns to  see Ishita, his competitor and fellow nerd holding out his cell. He must have dropped it after that last desperate call, he realises.  He holds out his hand to take it, then accidently touches hers. A sudden shaft of lightening seems to run through him. He looks pleadingly at her, "Coffee ?"

Why hadn't he noticed her smile before he wonders, and her luminiscent eyes as he sits across her enjoying the debate of Cassius versus Brutus with her. A loud crash resounds from the opposite corner of the room. A girls raised voice heaps insults on the hapless boy sitting across her. She stomps out of the coffee shop in a huff. His phone starts to ring, even as he cowers behind his table, cringing as his truant date marches past him. Ishita looks at him. He holds her gaze and disconnects the phone. All he ever needed, he realises is sitting beside him.

An Alien World

The girl was pretty. Or rather she had very pretty eyes. Luminous, dark orbs glinting curiously at the passers by. The rest of her was covered by the hijaab, the head to toe black robes of the Moslem women. What was she doing in Singapore I wondered..

The Mercedes was wending its way smoothly along the coppery gold streets. It glided slowly to a stop at the traffic lights. Excited, unable to contain myself, I leaned out to get a better look. Where I come from that was surely banned. But besides the car was a young couple. I leaned out of the car, shocked, apalled ! The girl was wearing unbelievably short shorts ! Her slick halter top revealed a generous cleavage. and most of her back was exposed, shining white! Allah ! Surely she would be arrested ? Or worse, some man would swoop upon her and carry her off ! She turned to sneak a look at her husband. But he was absorbed in a phone call, seeing with unseeing eyes. As she watched, the girl turned to her companion and bestowed a loving kiss on his lips. The smile they shared, the spontaneous holding of each others' hands as they crossed the road, stayed with her for a long time.

Strange country this.  Looking around her as the lights changed and the car purred ahead, she realised that she was the only one staring! People all around were self absorbed, busy with cells or simply intent on crossing the road. Indignation, anger almost, flowed through her. Why was the girl not being accosted, dragged away to the police station ? How heinous, shameful was her behaviour ! She stole a glance at her husband. An imposing looking man. He was handsome, if much older than her. After all she was his second wife. This trip was a honeymoon, of sorts. A working holiday for him. He had indulged his wife and allowed her to accompany him. The mullah had recommended he go to Malaysia. Prayers at a particular masjid and the powerful herbs sold by a hakim there always guaranteed the birth of a son. Singapore was the business end of the trip.

He turned to see his wife, bristling with indignation as she pointed at a model displaying a bikini in a passing lingerie shop. He laughed and said something in Arabic, which had her blush a beetroot red and pull the mask attached to her burqa over her eyes. Indeed they were in a country of infidels. Surely on the day of Qayamat, they would burn in hell, she thought.

I stood looking out of the window. The luxurious suite of the hotel was a gilded cage. My husband had left at ten in the morning, before I had barely awakened. Awake I was though and restless. As I paced past the windows, I looked down to see the blue glistening waters of the swimming pool. What I saw had me thunder struck ! Women lay on the beach chairs, wearing almost next to nothing. Their upper bodies were naked, just a nonchalant towel thrown over their chests. The lower extremities were just covered with the tiniest of cloths, not big enough to be even called underwear. As I stood aghast, I saw men swimming in the pool too. One emerged from it, and making his way past the sleeping women, settled down beside a woman, who leaned over to say something to him. They both sat up and taking a bottle of lotion the man began to rub it all over her back. The sheer brazeness of it all had me standing their mouth agape.

The knock on the door startled me. Reaching for my hijaab, I put the chain over the door before opening it a tiny fraction. The girl standing outside wore housekeeping uniform : pants and a short top. Her face, though was unmistakable. She was the same woman I had seen at the traffic lights. As I looked inquiringly at her, she spoke, first in English, then seeing the incomprehension on my face, in Arabic. Smiling hesitatingly I let her in. Then, unable to stop myself, I told her that I had seen her yesterday at the signals. Eager to know more about her, I struck up a conversation, asking her how she came to know Arabic. She told me that it was one of the languages she had learnt in school.

Time flew. As she set about cleaning the room, we talked. She told me about Singapore schools, how women as well as men, studied together, underwent compulsory military training together after university. The woman standing before me was indeed a confident, smart young woman. She apoke five languages, earned her own living and was going to marry her boyfriend after a month. When I pointed at the pool, she smiled, then told me that was the way women dressed while swimming. What I saw before me was a world, that was free. Free to live, dress, move, earn, marry even, as they wished ! By the time she was gone, I had glimpsed a world so alien to mine, it was almost like another planet.

Alone for the entire day, I had lots to think about. Within me raced mixed emotions. I was superior to her where my station in life was concerned, or was i ? Determined to find out more, I called her back.

The next day, I was up as soon as my husband had left. Actually I was so excited I had hardly slept the whole night. Having dressed in a hurry, I waited anxiously for the clock to strike ten. Five minutes before, I walked out of the room. My mouth felt dry, my hands shook as I hurried to the elevators. For the first time in my life, I was going out unaccompanied ! That too, in a foreign country. An alien, alien land. As I walked towards the doors and out of the hotel, I broke into a sweat, wondering if she would be there. Praise be to Allah, she was. Hijaab firmly in place, I walked with her towards the car I thought she had brought with her. Alas, to my horror ahe was pointing towards a small motor cycle ! Before I could refuse, she had hustled me onto the back seat, carefully arranged my hijaab around my legs and we were off.. !

I asked her anxiously, " Are you sure we won't be discovered ?" Not only would it be catastrophy for me, she would lose her job as well. "Ah, she replied, "Don't worry. I'll have you back in good time."
As we zipped thru the streets, a strange exhilaration rose within me. Eagerly I took in all that she was trying to tell me, show me. Wide eyed, I took in the sights, smells and sounds of this lovely city. The bird park was an amazing place. I watched as the fabulously colored birds flew about, sometimes at will, sometimes in obedience to commands. How free were they, how magnificent their surroundings, how loved were they ! For lunch she took me to a Macdonalds outlet, letting me stand in line and ask in broken English for a burger, fries and a coke. The best meal of my life ! Next stop was the beach. We walked together, I took her hand in mine, as we waded thru the shallows. As I walked, a strange kind of happiness bubbled through mu entire being. For this day, this moment I was Me. Not a daughter, not a wife, not one in a sea of black, but in a multihued, serene, liberated world. Just being Me. Just being.

As we rounded a rock, Maria, for that was her name, asked me to stop. Before I knew what was happening she had pulled off my hijaab ! Stunned I looked at her at first, the protests, the fury I ought to have felt dying within me, as I slowly stepped out of it. I raised my hands, then my face up to the skies. Was I alive, still ? Hadn't I died and gone to heaven ? I must have ! The spray from the sea stung my face, my black tresses flowing freely around my body, as if aping the hijaab. Time stood still. I walked, I sat, arms wrapped tightly around my knees. I stretched, even ran a bit on the sands. I picked up shells, even a starfish that had washed ashore. I waded into the waters, up to my waist. Maria just sat and watched me.


I didn't know what  time my husband came to the room that night. Even he must have been surprised to see me fast asleep as early as ten, when I had been pacing the room upto twelve the previous night, exhorting that  I could not sleep, after having been cooped up the entire day.

We left Singapore the next day. Maria, came to the room before I left. I slipped her a card along with my diamond ring. A marriage ring I had no use for. For it shackled me. But was a symbol of liberation for her. My ties were of compulsion, I was the caged bird. Hers were of love, and so she flew. High up into the azure skies of Singapore.

Haunted Minds

It was love at first sight. The single storied house, stood alone. Red slated roof, in contrast with the green ivy trailing down its length beckoned the passerby cheerily. Just the way i had envisaged my new house would look. Getting off from the car, i  walked down the driveway, admiring the small lawn, the feeling one got of being in the countryside, though one stood just a lane away from the main road. That was Banglore for you. Lovely homes, together but a discreet distance apart from each other. Coming from Mumbai, and its chawls, i was taken with the thought of having my own little bungalow, private, serene, above all quiet.

After the agent, going in for the kill, had shown me around the spacious hall, the small but cosy bedrooms on the first floor, i was ready to buy. The first person i called was Dad, in far away Kolkata. I may have earned my money, but my financial advisor was definitely my dad. " Be cautious, beta. " was his advise."Go check out your neighbours. If it is such a good buy, why is it on the market in the first place ? Is it the only vacant property around ?"

"Ah, dad. Must i go talk to total strangers ? I dont even know Kannada, at all."
"So what ? People know English, no ?!"

So, having got rid of the most- reluctant- to- leave, broker, i set off to the house next door. Standing outside, i realised that it had very high walls, which was strange, considering that most homes here had small fences merely around their periphery. As I rang the bell, a huge clang reverberated inside, accompanied by the furious barking of dogs. I started to retreat when a voice boomed from inside, " WHO is it ?" Startled, I replied, trying to get myself heard above the din the dogs were making, " Just a neighbour. "
"Wait !" commanded the voice. I could hear the sounds of bolts being dragged open. The door finally opened. Before me, eyeing me suspiciously, stood a small man. Dressed in pyjamas, though it was almost evening. Almost bald, a small ring of  mostly grey hair around his head, he must have been in his late sixties, at least.

"Well ?" He demanded in a surprisingly strong voice. "What do you want, young man ? "
" I was interested in the house next door, and just wanted some information, sir."
He eyed me for a minute or two. Suddenly, the door slammed shut. Literally on my face. I leapt back just in time, or my foot would have caught in the door.

Shaken, i turned to leave. "Don't buy it. If you value your life." The voice, much quieter now, came from within. The windows, I noticed were barricaded. In fact, every window in the houses nearby was barricaded, I noticed as I walked, slowly back to my car. It was back to my father again.

Most parents are paranoid about their children's safety. So was dad. But having been a policeman all his life, he never gave up on things without reasoning them out. I heard him out, then driving back to my hotel, I had a plan of action ready for the next day.

The broker stood trembling before me. He tried to speak bravely, but his voice quavered as he pleaded, "Sir, you get one of your friends, how can I...No! No! i cant, i won't ..."

" Look, Pandey. These are my terms. Take it and i'll up your commission by  one percent. Leave it and your house stays unsold. Come on, man ! " I urged him." Why don't you want to spend one night that too with me, in this house." Then I added slyly, " how do you expect me to stay here alone for the rest of my life then? Is it haunted or something ?"

Those were the magic words it seemed. Suddenly the man was a blubbering mass, clinging onto my feet, pleading with me to reconsider my decision. "I will show you other homes, much better than this one, sahab. I swear on my mother, I heard about it today only, or I wouldn't have brought you here. This house is haunted. Someone screams and cries from inside, so the neighbours say. A woman died. Murdered by her own son. That is why no one is ready to buy it. "

"Your mother is dead, right ? " I retorted. "No. your punishment then for lying to me, is that you will spend a night with me in this house, if I have to tie you up and drag you there. I am a policeman's son, you see. I  never give up  without investigating.

Maybe the words "Police" had something to do with it for he turned up at my hotel that evening. I took one look at him, then burst out laughing. He was dressed in a white dhoti, with a saffron shirt. Numerous   rudraksh, sundry other malas and threads were tied around his neck and wrists. "Arrey, Pandey you look like a pandit. Any ghost will be able to see you from far away, then what will happen to you. " As he turned white, I put a reassuring arm around him, "Come on then, don't be such a coward. Main hoon na ?"

Soon we were at the gates, Pandey with his eyes shut had to be led inside. Muttering various mantras under his breath, he led me into the hall. " Sir ji. We will sleep here only.  Look I have sleeping bags." I frowned then, agreed. The last thing I wanted was him running out on me.

The house was quite. From the garden, we could hear the sound of crickets. An aura of peace surrounded us. The disquiet lay within us. Every sound we heard had us alert. His eyes would immediatly dart to mine. He had slowly shifted his bedding so that we lay almost side by side. The watch I wore showed the time as eleven forty five. Slowly the conversation had run out between us. We lay, cold and shivering on the floor. Was this the craziest thing i had ever done ? You bet !

Surprisingly, he was the first to fall asleep. I tossed and turned. Then I started thinking about how I would do up the house if I lived in it. The ceilings would be pristine white. The walls an electric blue offset with white. "No. It used to be green. The ceiling was off white." Had I imagined it ? Or had I actually heard someone say it ? Nah. I was keyed up. That's what it was. Time to sleep. " No. Time for the yagna to begin." There it was again. Then it started. At first softly. Then slowly it started to reverberate in my mind.. "Om Namash Shivai....Om Namash Shivai...." My eyes snapped open. I reached out a hand, for the first time it was actually trembling, and grabbed Pandey. Only my hand touched thin air. Pandey, still sound asleep, and snoring was suspended. On the very same ceiling. I opened my mouth to scream. All that emerged was a strangled croak, " Pandey !" His eyes shot open, then arms and legs flailing wildly, he turned, and landed on the floor with a thump. Petrified, he scrambled to run. But discovered he couldn't move. "Join the yagna, Mantra padho ! " The voice rang and echoed all around us, growing in frenzy, until we both had our ears covered. While Pandey clutched me in a death grip, i took a hold on myself. " Meditate !" I could hear my dad's  voice commanding me. "Block it out, you can do it." Closing my eyes with a super human effort, i started retreating into the abscesses of my mind. I was a zen master. I had the strength. Soon there was nothing around me, but the vistas of my mind. Wave upon wave of serenity.

I must have been thus for a long time. When my eyes  opened, i could hear the chirping of the birds heralding dawn. Pandey must have fled a long time ago. What had happened with him, I would never know. I checked the ceiling just to make sure. With a heavy heart i made my way out, and home to the hotel. I knew what I needed to do. Pandey, when I located him, had his bags packed. He was going to his desh, he said, his haunted demeanour spoke loudly then his words. Nothing I could say convinced him to stay.

The Puja was held in the house early on Sunday. My dad and I were the sole participants. Even as the mantras were recited by him, we could feel a wave around us. One that exuded joy, exalted relief. As it was coming to an end. I heard a voice in my head. "Thank you. " It said. " Now I am free, Now! I can rejoin my mother, I owed this to her, her last wish on earth, before she died. Killed by me, when I had one of my fits.Killed by these cursed hands of mine. " I was now free too. To live in peace in this beautiful home. Pandey, visits me now and then, but never stays the night. I wonder why.

The Second Side.

She paced the room and fumed. "How dare she ! The bitch. Who the hell does she think she is, this.. this Katy Murthy !" Her blue grey eyes glinting dangerously, she glared at her publicist, who was bearing the brunt of her anger. " I recieve the Style Icon of the Year award, and she dares to criticise  my dress at that very function ! I, Karuna Kejriwal, look uncomfortable holding the trophy, I look dowdy ! How the hell did she get into that hall ! " She raged on, while the publicist mentally rolled her eyes, and stood fidgeting.. When she had finished she threw the offending newspaper on the chair, and subsided onto the sofa, still muttering the choicest epithets she could think of. No one had the right to criticise the topmost heroine of Bollywood after all, the leader of the pack, Queen of all she surveyed. Master, rather mistress of all she surveyed. Men droooled over her pictures, women copied her hairstyles, her clothes, even her body type for heaven's sake. The newbie journo had probably commited harakiri, by writing the article. "And burn that dress ! I never want to wear anything by that gay Roseus, ever again ! "

 The knock on the door distracted her from her tirade. Still seething she shouted, " Get lost whoever it is." The dooor opened , her beloved husband came in eyebrows raised. " Who is the unlucky person, who has offended my sweetheart ?" He asked in soothing tones. Seeing him, her eyes lit up. However angry she was, just his very presence was enough to calm her down. "Darling.. Just see the temerity of this... this bitch.." She regaled him with what had been written about her. He listened indulgently, then sat quiet. "Well ?" She demanded. "don't you have anything to say ?"  He sat on the sofa and gently pulled her onto his lap. " She was not wrong you know." Before she could react, he turned her face to his. "You are the prettiest woman i have ever met, I'm the luckiest guy on earth, but darling, that dress did not do you justice. I told you so, too before you left, but you were in such a tearing hurry, you hardly heard me !"

She sat silent mulling over what he had said. Then turning around she kissed him, and turned to leave the room. At the door she paused, turned, one regal eyebrow arched as she looked into his eyes," That may be so, but no one else is allowed to tell me so."

"Madam ! Madam !" The voice addressing her belonged to the security guard. " There is a woman at the gates. She says she is your fan, and won't leave until you meet her for a few minutes." She whirled around and retorted, " Kya, Bahadur ! Bhagao usey ! Aisey to kitne fans hain, sub ko milun, to shooting pe na jaun, kya?"

Before he could say much else she was gone. He turned to see the stricken face of the girl behind him. A steely glint replaced the angst as she looked at him, then hoisted her back pack in front and lowered it onto the floor. From it she took a blanket. "Bahar hi hoon. Kitne din tak nahi milengi. Raastey pe sona koi gunah to nahi na ?! " No matter what the security person said, she refused to budge from near the gates. Even threats of the police didn't work. Truth to say, Bahadur's efforts were also a little half hearted. She so reminded him of his daughter, he didn't have the heart to get her into trouble. That night he didn't sleep much as he sat guarding her.

"Please madamji, aaj to aap kuch karen, she is not willing to leave from here without meeting you." Bahadur was pleading which was very rare for him, because he had handled many such depraved fans before. She looked at him bemusedly. Then nodded her head. Try as she did she couldn't erase the insult from her head. Maybe this was just what she needed. A doting fan's adoration to restore her equilibrium. "All right, bring her up. She's got ten minutes, please make that clear." When she looked up next, she saw a small petite girl standing before her. The ecstacy in her eyes, the trembling of her voice with sheer joy, made Karuna look indulgently at her as the fan tried to express how much she loved her. "Arrey, we are human too, you know. You are the one who makes me out to be superhuman. I'm just a girl. Just like you, said Karuna finally " As the ten minutes drew to a close, Karuna got up, obliged the fan with a photograph. On an impulse, she drew out a bag from her closet, signed it with a flourish, and handed it to her. The girl took it then retreated, almost as if from the presence of a goddess. "Thank you ma'am from the bottom of my heart. I love you and always will."

The next day, the page three papers had a huge caption : " Encounters of the third kind ! The day i met the  Icon of my heart Karuna ! By Katy Murthy.  What followed was a glowing description of the actor. How beautiful she really was indeed, how kind, modest and generous in real life. " Happy, darling ?" asked her amused husband as he saw her reading the papers. She turned, a beatific smile lighting up her beautiful face, making him catch his breath. "There are two sides to every person, yes ?" he said smiling back at her.

All For One, One for All.

The leopard crouched on the tree. His beautiful, tawny coat glistened as it caught the rays of the sun. The sleek cat lay on the branch, its sleek body stretched taut on the upper most branch of the sturdy neem. It's ears bristled, the stance became watchful, wary as it heard the faint voices in the distance. Patiently it waited.

" Bhaiya, lets not go further inside the forest. Baba warned us not to. I'll not look i promise. You go near that tree. No one is looking. " The scared ten year old, pulled at his elder brothers' hand. " Arrey, you are one big   scaredy cat. The only one around. Don't you want to be big and strong and bold like me ?" said the elder brother, all of sixteen himself, as he tugged at the little ones' hand. The bully of the mohalla, the elder was strongly built. A street fighter, he was not easily frightened. He was used to getting into scraps, often rescuing the younger from many a fight. But today, truth to say,  he was just a little scared himself. There had been sighting of a leopard, the bane of the slum dwellers, who lived on the periphery of the National Park. However he couldn't risk the pretty Kajal, from next door, seeing him as he squatted with the earthen 'lota' in his hand. Which was why he was pulling a reluctant Ramu, his brother with him. Even though he was the biggest coward of the slum. For who knew what lurked inside the forest. Their had been two instances of children being dragged away by leopards and he certainly didn't want to leave his back unprotected. Specially since it was getting on to sunset. "Chal Chhotu, " he cajoled. "I'll buy you one kurkure if you come just a little further in. "Kurkure !" The little fellow licked his lips. His all time favorite treat. But... He just wasn't sure, What if a leopard was hiding somewhere near ? He looked around him. Then picked up a thick branch that was lying nearby. "There. That's better. Let's go now."

The two brothers ventured deeper into the undergrowth. Both wary, yet as is the human wont, quite convinced of their invincibility. "Bus. This is enough." said the elder, after they had pushed their way in a bit further. I'm doing my work, you turn around. " So saying the boy went in a little more and squatted with relief beneath a big neem tree.

Thoughts of the promised snack swirling around in his head, Ramu whirled the branch around. "Hah. Haaah" he yelled, pretending he was the ninja warrior, he had seen on the neighbours' television. "Shut up ! Can't you be quiet " Hissed Shyamu. "You want the leopard, to attack us ?" That quietened him for a while. Suddenly, instinctively, Shyamu looked up. Their eyes met. Even as his blood ran cold, he was up in a thrice. Leaping to grab his brother, he whirled. Too late. The big cat pounced. It would have landed on Chhotu, but savagely Shyamu pushed Ramu aside, and was thrown to the ground, as the cat went for his throat...

 The two brothers' staggered into their hut, followed by a crowd of people. They surrounded the boys, everyone talking at once. "Hato ! Hato !" screamed the father. " Kya Hua ? Koi doctor sahab ko bulao." The frantic father rushed to help his elder son to the bed. " Usko dekho pehle. Chhotu ko. Usne aaj meri jaan bachai hai. "

Later when both were bandaged and resting, the story was told. How the leopard had caught Shyamu by the throat. How the little ten year old, in a rush of adrenaline had been galvanised enough to scream his mightiest scream, and  pound the leopard with his branch, catching it in the eye. With a roar, the leopard had let go of Shyamu, and streaked back up the tree. Like a flash of lightening. Like it had never been there. Half dragging each other, half running they had made it back somehow to the boundary wall.

 Who was the bigger hero, who had saved whose life, were moot questions. For the two brothers, it was one for all, all for one.. It always had been.

The Child Of Destiny

"Bye Di.(short for didi ). Take care." My daughter turned around surprised. "Salma, that was good English." The short, stocky girl standing in front of her beamed, her face lighting up at the praise. All of fifteen, she worked alongside her mother, helping her to clean the house. We had  moved into the new home since the past few months, and the mother daughter duo had sought employment with us. A chirpy little thing, she looked wistfully at my daughter as she paced the home, studying for her exams. "Main bhi English tuition leti thi, aunty. Ab time nahi to chhor diya. Aap mere se English main hi baat karo. " My daughter immediatly offered to teach her and Salma jumped at the offer, gleefully appearing in the late afternoon, after finishing her chores in other homes she worked for. During the day, her eyes would follow my daughter as she read or studied. She would listen avidly to all our conversations, occassionall surprising us with her one liners.

Gradually i noticed that the first question she asked me every morning was " Di uth gai ?" At first, i mechanically answered "No." absorbed as i was in my chores. Then one day, irked with her constant chatter, i snapped back, "Arrey! koi aur sawaal hai ke nai, tere paas ? Ya fir tu jalti hai us par ? " As soon as i had retorted, i bit my tongue, specially when i turned to see her crestfallen look.  Had i touched a raw nerve ? I had. Later on in the day, i heard her mother ticking her off : " Tu der se uthti hai na, isliye tera kaam ho nahi pata. Jaldi uth subah. " The mumbled protest was " Main raat ko sub kaam kar ke barah baje soti hun, fir paanch baje kaise uthun ? Thand lagti hai na, mujhko." I sat wearily contemplating an unjust world. She was an only daughter in the midst of three sons. Her father was a paralytic, her mother was a housemaid, her grandmother was a cantankerous old woman. After seeing to all their ablutions and meals, she left home with her mum for work. Together they earned about ten thousand a month, most of which went towards the interest on a loan they had taken for the fathers' illness.

" Good Morning, aunty." her cheerful voice would greet me every morning when i opened the door to her. "Good morning Salma. " the words became a morning ritual. Paradoxically, i never knew when she was lying or when she spoke the truth. She sported a cell, and probably knew more about its features, then i did mine. Sometines she would come in and tinkle around the place showing off her payal. "Dekho, dekho, Aunty. Idd ke paise se kharida.. " she would simper hurriedly.

She took the longest time dusting my daughters' room. Often we would find her posturing in front of the mirror. sometimes she would rearrange all her trinkets on the dressing table, lovingly placing each in a different way. My teen was at first furious, then indulgent, shrugging her shoulders and retreating with a "Whatever, but jaldi kar !" She always worried about her mother's debt, coming up with grandiose schemes for paying it off. I tried to reason with her, " Tu kyun fikr karti hai ? Teri amma ke upar chhor de. Woh karegi bandobast." But my words fell on deaf ears.

 It was raining heavily, that fateful day. My doorbell rang. I opened it to find her mother outside. " Salma nahi aayi ?" I asked. " Nahi bhabhi. Uska kal shaadi ho gayi." she said with a downcast face. As I stared at her shell shocked, she refused  to look at me. Then with downcast face, a suspicion of a tear in her eyes, she said " Koi chara nahi, Bhabhi. Garib hai, hum log. Biyaah to kum se kum hua uska. thora umr zyada hai uska dulha ka, vidhur hai, (widower) par bachcha nahi hai. " The fact was that she was married to a widower, who had paid off their debt. I contemplated reporting her mother to the police. Surely they would rescue her. Before that her phone came. I insisted she come see me. The doorbell rang. I opened it to find her standing outside. Buxom body clothed in bridal finery, heartbreakingly young. A woman-child. I stood stunned, looking at her. She came in, and looking at my face, laughed. Was their a trace of bitterness in her voice ? No ! She was actually happy ! " Itna kyun udaas ho, aunty ? " The innocence in her voice, broke my heart. " Dekho. Usne mujhe, kitna gehna diya. Aur bolun ? Ab mujhe kaam bi nai karna parega. Picture dekhne le ke gaya woh. Barrey mall main. English aati hai na mujhko, " her voice was smug even. " Mera khud ka kamra bhi hai, aur aaina bhi. Bahut khush hun main, such aunty, aur kya chahiye mujhko ? " Indeed. Defeated i stared at her. Who was i to break her bubble of happiness, her ticket to freedom.

Child of destiny. Face of Poverty.