Note to the reader:
Dear Sir/Madam, in the nine hundred and odd words that follow this line, "I" doesn't refer to me, the writer, Vikram.S.T. This is some other I. Imagine any common name, Suresh, Ramesh, etc.
It was a hot Wednesday afternoon and I was en-route by train to buy the tickets for a cricket match. I had to get down from the train and withdraw money from an ATM centre a few streets away. The security guard was having his lunch in a cabin inside. It was then that it happened.
On the way out after withdrawing money, I saw the kid . I would not have taken a second look at him but for the state in which he was. He was lying on his stomach under the hot sun. His trousers weren't in a great state. It looked as though he was sleeping but was severely perspiring. The hot sun could have definitely woken up anyone sleeping. I sprinkled some water I had in my bottle and was happy to see the boy's eyes open. He moaned for water. By the time I could get his head on my hand and feed him with water, I felt something crawling over my trouser, and I knew that my wallet was gone. I turned back and saw a black figure moving in jumps away from me. As I tried to retrieve myself in the situation and start running, I heard someone moving behind me. To my shock, I saw the boy running with my mobile phone in his hands.
Only then I realized their plan. The ATM centre being in one corner of the street, gave them enough space and time to get as far as possible. The hot afternoon didn't have any one nearby too. I didn't know whom to chase. Before the security could catch up with me, I had lost track of the pick pocket. He must have known the place well. He crossed fences, jumped across pits whereas I was circumspect as to whether I would make it if I jumped. The guard could only offer his words for solace. I was shown the way to a police station two streets away. After lodging a complaint, the immediate instinct which stuck me was about the credit/debit cards in my wallet. Luckily, I had seen the boy before I placed my card back in the wallet when I came out of the ATM centre.
I inquired about the nearest branch of this reputed bank to request for cancellation of any transactions of my other credit/debit cards, but to adding to my woes, I found the branch closed for the day. My self respect didn't permit to seek alms even for a phone call. I thought I had a way out. I went back to the ATM centre in the hope of withdrawing some money, but the guard informed me that the ATM centre had run out of money, and it would be another three hours before the service is restored.
Cursing my fate, I set out walking to find any other possible ATM centre where my bank's card would be acceptable. I could have waited there, but my brains indicated of another possible ATM centre in the outskirts. But, I was wrong. The search for another favourable ATM centre seemed never ending, and I had walked another 3 kms in an hour before I found one. I looked dead with sweat wetting my dress. It took another ten minutes to walk out of the ATM centre. As I walked towards the nearby Railway station, I was confronted by a police inspector who had been searching me. He said that the boy and his accomplice had been caught and returned my wallet with the money. I was glad, thanked him and boarded the next train. The whole day's incident looked puzzling. Why was I robbed off, made walk kilometres for a few hundreds of rupees and returned my money only a few hours later?
I was lost in thoughts when I saw a group of people gathered in a huddle on the platform. As I got near them, a few of them were walking away. On inquiry, I learnt that a child was injured as she had hit one of those metallic chairs out of momentum when the train had halted to a stop.
To my surprise, I saw only an elder girl sitting there having laid the injured child on her lap. I couldn't classify her language as Hindi or Marathi. The child had been bruised badly and the girl seemed to be scolding someone. It seemed the child and her sister were seeking alms after doing the regular tricks like somersaulting when the train was in motion, forcing their entwined bodies to pass through a steel ring. As the child was getting her plate filled with coins, a 10-rupee note had flown off the plate. The kid, eager to retrieve the money was moving quickly when it happened. When the train screeched to a stop, the child was thrown off balance and hit one of the steel chairs resulting in injuries to her jaw. The elder girl was now whining in a feeble voice accompanied by tears. I found that they were short of money for treatment. I got the girl's jaw attended to and got them their afternoon meal. The girl looked to suffer more from hunger than pain. As I walked back home, I seemed to have found answers for all those questions. If it had not been for the day's incidents, I would not have got the chance to attend to the little girl and her sister.
Now, having told you about my experiences, I feel only one thing.
I deserve at least a “Thanks” from you because intentionally or unintentionally I have saved your wallet. Who knows? Down the years, when you walk into one of the secluded ATM centres, you might be robbed by that girl or her kin for money.
What do you say Sir/Madam?
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
My Short story -3
BIASED VICTORIES
It was beyond doubt, the happiest moment in life. What else could I ask for? My first attempt at writing a short story had become a great success. The story titled, "The Bread Winner" had won a second prize in a competition.
My story got selected as the second among the five stories shortlisted for the prize. I was on cloud nine the day the phone call came. Coincidentally, I had also got my first pay-cheque after I joined my first job very recently. I planned for a party with my family.
After meeting the monthly expenses, I had taken my father, mother and sister out for lunch. On the way back, everyone was happy, and I felt as though I have won the whole world. Yet, there was one more excitement lurching in my heart. On the way back home by the suburban Metro, I asked my family to go home before me telling that I had to meet a friend. Once they left, I boarded the next train and was on my way to meet my girl. Yes, Chitra.
There was my sweetheart, Chitra, a few kms away, waiting to celebrate my victory. This is one secret I had hidden away from my family, waiting only for the right moment to reveal our love. Having gained a good name, I can boldly bring this topic into our family tonight. I felt triumphant.
For those who haven't read the prize-winning story, it is a story of a man who, on his usual morning walk comes across a small girl who executes life-risking stunts by walking on a rope, twisting her body head to toe through a steel ring. The story described the noble character of the girl who had to take care of the daily food of her mother. The story had questions about Economic Independence of people and their willingness to offer help to the poor and the needy.
I was lost in the those moments which inspired me to write the scene I saw on a hot sunday afternoon. The girl had only done the rope walking. I had just added the body twist through the steel ring, just to appeal to the readers. It was then that I saw them boarding my compartment of the train. I couldn't just believe my eyes. A woman and a small girl, supposedly mother and daughter came in, the mother sat down on the floor, took out an aluminium plate and started beating on it using a steel spoon. The girl clad in a not-so-clean outfit, started dancing to the tune.
I was dumbstruck by what followed the dance. Everything resembled the scene of my story. This is where I felt ashamed of my imagination. The girl was executing the body-twist trick. The steel ring was forced on her body, head to toe causing numerous bruises on its way. I felt bad for what I had wrote. The girl then asked for alms, by stretching the aluminium bowl, but this girl was a lot younger than the TARA in my story. She went and asked almost everyone in the compartment. I gave her all I could, leaving me with money just enough to return home. The girl didn't even seem to notice the big 100-rupee note I gave her. Her eyes were fixed on something else. It was a small DUMROO, a drum which makes sound by a beaded string which hits on its membranes. A kid, firmly seated on its mother's lap was making noise with it. The girl even tried snatching it in vain, only to get a serious glare from the mother of the kid.
The kid's tendency to prefer looking at the DUMROO, instead of the money brought out tears from my eyes. I was disheartened at this action. The thought of a child, not yet out of toys, seeking alms made my heart flinch with pain. Many questions found their way into my brain.
Who would grow out of such a kid? It is seldom that we get a "so-called successful" person out of such a kid. The kid might never get to become a respected individual in the soceity. The world outside would just vapourise the child's innocence, and in years, the child might even become an anti-social element. How many would have become such elements by now? How many of them are of my age? All my pride from my success faded away like morning dew in front of the Sun. I felt that my victory was a biased one, something which was obtained after disqualifying many other friends on grounds of money.
As I got down from the train, I saw the girl pointing me to her mother and smiling. As I waited for Chitra, but my heart wasn't all filled with love, it had plans for the future. Making someone else experience the same anxiety of the evening and was my motive. I was drafting plans which could only be effectively executed with help from my partner, because, she was the one who would stand by me all my life. They were plans which can move the smallest possible stone favouring Mandatory Education to kids.
It was beyond doubt, the happiest moment in life. What else could I ask for? My first attempt at writing a short story had become a great success. The story titled, "The Bread Winner" had won a second prize in a competition.
My story got selected as the second among the five stories shortlisted for the prize. I was on cloud nine the day the phone call came. Coincidentally, I had also got my first pay-cheque after I joined my first job very recently. I planned for a party with my family.
After meeting the monthly expenses, I had taken my father, mother and sister out for lunch. On the way back, everyone was happy, and I felt as though I have won the whole world. Yet, there was one more excitement lurching in my heart. On the way back home by the suburban Metro, I asked my family to go home before me telling that I had to meet a friend. Once they left, I boarded the next train and was on my way to meet my girl. Yes, Chitra.
There was my sweetheart, Chitra, a few kms away, waiting to celebrate my victory. This is one secret I had hidden away from my family, waiting only for the right moment to reveal our love. Having gained a good name, I can boldly bring this topic into our family tonight. I felt triumphant.
For those who haven't read the prize-winning story, it is a story of a man who, on his usual morning walk comes across a small girl who executes life-risking stunts by walking on a rope, twisting her body head to toe through a steel ring. The story described the noble character of the girl who had to take care of the daily food of her mother. The story had questions about Economic Independence of people and their willingness to offer help to the poor and the needy.
I was lost in the those moments which inspired me to write the scene I saw on a hot sunday afternoon. The girl had only done the rope walking. I had just added the body twist through the steel ring, just to appeal to the readers. It was then that I saw them boarding my compartment of the train. I couldn't just believe my eyes. A woman and a small girl, supposedly mother and daughter came in, the mother sat down on the floor, took out an aluminium plate and started beating on it using a steel spoon. The girl clad in a not-so-clean outfit, started dancing to the tune.
I was dumbstruck by what followed the dance. Everything resembled the scene of my story. This is where I felt ashamed of my imagination. The girl was executing the body-twist trick. The steel ring was forced on her body, head to toe causing numerous bruises on its way. I felt bad for what I had wrote. The girl then asked for alms, by stretching the aluminium bowl, but this girl was a lot younger than the TARA in my story. She went and asked almost everyone in the compartment. I gave her all I could, leaving me with money just enough to return home. The girl didn't even seem to notice the big 100-rupee note I gave her. Her eyes were fixed on something else. It was a small DUMROO, a drum which makes sound by a beaded string which hits on its membranes. A kid, firmly seated on its mother's lap was making noise with it. The girl even tried snatching it in vain, only to get a serious glare from the mother of the kid.
The kid's tendency to prefer looking at the DUMROO, instead of the money brought out tears from my eyes. I was disheartened at this action. The thought of a child, not yet out of toys, seeking alms made my heart flinch with pain. Many questions found their way into my brain.
Who would grow out of such a kid? It is seldom that we get a "so-called successful" person out of such a kid. The kid might never get to become a respected individual in the soceity. The world outside would just vapourise the child's innocence, and in years, the child might even become an anti-social element. How many would have become such elements by now? How many of them are of my age? All my pride from my success faded away like morning dew in front of the Sun. I felt that my victory was a biased one, something which was obtained after disqualifying many other friends on grounds of money.
As I got down from the train, I saw the girl pointing me to her mother and smiling. As I waited for Chitra, but my heart wasn't all filled with love, it had plans for the future. Making someone else experience the same anxiety of the evening and was my motive. I was drafting plans which could only be effectively executed with help from my partner, because, she was the one who would stand by me all my life. They were plans which can move the smallest possible stone favouring Mandatory Education to kids.
Will you also stand by me?
Thursday, June 5, 2008
OUTSTRETCHED FINGERS
How can someone build an architectural piece of work, a long standing one with stones alone?
This is what I asked when I first learnt about Groynes. These Groynes commonly misspelt as Groins by my friend Sama, are the saviours of many coastal villages. I've lived a part of my childhood near one such Groyne close to my village. It was completely done out of huge rocks which started an indefinite path towards the land on the other end across the ocean. Whenever we could get a vacation off, we climbed a nearby mountain which gave a bigger, clearer view of the Groyne. But, my love for Groynes started when Sama's uncle, a pilot told those famous tales from his flight rides.
He would often remark that the groynes which were laid would look like an outstretched finger when we look at it from a particular altitude. He would also remark that similar groynes are present along the coastline on either side of my village. 6 groynes along the coastline around our village were there according to Sama's Pilot uncle. I tried to imagine if I had a hand with 6 fingers so that I would get a map with these groyne lines and would also align my hands on those groyne-lines.
Years passed by. I got educated, got settled in a job, married, raised a girl at the age of 5.
But I had never got a chance to view the groyne as described by Sama's pilot uncle. Sama and I had parted, he started his business in our area, and I came to the city. One evening, as my daughter was polishing her finger nails with polish, the glistening red colour reminded me of the groyne. More than the thought of seeing those 6 fingers together,the thought of how would the nail of such an outstretched finger look like drove me to the scene.
I set out alone on the trip to my village. It was a cloudy evening, with not much of humidity, and the weather was just fine. I reached the place where we lived. No one seemed to remember either Sama or his uncle. There it laid, my favourite outstretched finger, the alleged pathway to the other side, with only a few discarded motor boats at its earthly knuckles.
I started walking on those huge rocks, passing through one hurdle at a time. It was almost 7:00 pm, when I reached the nail. What a sight it was! It was the first time ever, that I wasn't getting my feet wet, but was able to hear the waves at a shorter distance. Hypnotized by the situation, I sat down and started listening to music. I've heard people say that,kids, elephants and the Sea are the only three things which will never leave you bored.The heart never feels contented when the eyes watch them. I was re-living the third one, recollecting all the great things in my life.
It was then suddenly, without any warning, that it happened.
I was shaken by this thunderous noise of an approaching tidal wave, I opened my eyes to see a huge mass of water hurling itself at me. What was it? Tsunami?
I didn't remember feeling tremors of an earthquake. Before I could react I was wet.My reaction to flee the place, let me into trouble. I slipped down the gap between the rocks. My hand lost contact with my mobile, and it fell on a nearby rock. That was my wife's present and my only source of contacts with the outside world. As I reached further to retrieve it with my hands, another wave stuck me and this time I was caught midway between two massive rocks,almost sandwiched between two large stones. With only the head above on the surface of the path, I glared at the sky and it told me the reason.
That was a full moon day, and the tides were at their own selves, acting on their will. Those laws of attraction which I had read had turned against me. The mother was calling her child in the sky and was stretching her hands. Now, I realized the reason for those abandoned boats on the shore. With one hand firmly between two massive rocks, I tried shouting for help, but it went in vain. My voice was over-shadowed by what felt like the wave's background score to my sorry state of affairs.
Necessity is the mother of Invention, they say, but I could not invent any new trick to get myself out of the hole I had got myself into. Any movement of my legs threatened me of further trouble. I analysed the situation on hand. "What are my assests?" "How can I send a light signal across?" These questions kept hitting the grey cells of my brain.
Rubbing of stones to produce light was ruled out due to the wetness.
Shouting was the only way, but that could soon lead to sore throat.
Even Tom Hanks had some space to walk around, make a torch to light fire in "CAST AWAY".
I didn't have a piece of usable debris with me. I continued shouting at the top of my voice trying to win the sound of the waves. Big out cry, little out come.
I felt something moving beneath my legs. Was it a snake? a crab? It didn't size up to more than a few inches, was slimy to my feet and was ticking as though it were a bomb. The ticking stopped. There was more of it now. I was sure that it wasn't a snake or a crab, but was it something i should be alarmed of? Was it a leech? Do leeches survive here? The confusion seemed eternal. I didn't have an idea of what time it was.
Out of the blues, I saw a small piece of light, almost as small as a firefly. Was I hallucinating? If not, how do fireflies move up and down continuously? Was it some other sea-creature, I need to be afraid of?
Was this piece of light, the much wanted help or the much feared evil?
Now, as the firefly moved higher, I could figure out a silhouette. He was sporting a rugged look, an oar on one hand, the light on the other hand and was pacing as though he was running for life.
As he covered 3/4th of the path,he sat on one of those rocks, spread out a net, never minding the perilous position. I kept shouting, waving my free hand at him. Fortunately for me, the waves receded for a moment, and he heard my voice, came near me, noticed my outstretched fingers.
"என்ன அண்ணா இந்தப் பக்கம்?(what brother, what are you doing here"?), he asked
"தூக்கி விடு "(Lift me up).He tried his best to lift me up, couldn't do so.
He ran all the way back to the shore, and after a few minutes, I could see torches moving closer to me. This boy over ran them came to me, but before I could react, he snatched the ring from my fingers and ran back.
As I was trying to get back from his sudden attack, those men came near me, lifted me up, retrieved my phone, and I was rescued within minutes. The crow bars they brought with them made way for me and I, wet from the waves thanked them and gave a few hundred rupee notes. This boy, surprisingly hadn't vanished from the place and was waiting till the men went away. Slowly, he came close to me and returned the ring.
"அண்ணா, திருட்டு பசங்க அவங்க!! (Brother, they are thieves),"பணம் இருக்கும்னு சொன்னேன் , அதான் வந்தாங்க !!" (They came only for money)
"நீங்க பணம் குடுக்கலைன்னா, அடிச்சு வாங்கியிருப்பாங்க!!"(If you hadn't given money, they would have beaten you up and seized money")
"அதான் இதை எடுத்தேன் "(That's why I snatched it).
I was heartened, patted the boy and gave him some money, but he refused and continued with his work. I asked him why he was fishing out there in the night.
"இப்போ புடிச்சாதான் உண்டு, இல்லன்னா அவங்க விட மாட்டாங்க"(I can only catch these now, if not they wouldn't permit me)
"மீன் இப்போ, அலை அடிச்சு கரைக்கு வரும், இங்க இருந்து சுளுவா புடிக்கலாம்"(Fish will come to shore now, can get them easily).
I said ,"பரவ இல்ல, இன்னிக்கு மட்டும் வேண்டம், நான் அந்த பணம் தரேன், வா போலாம்".(It's ok. I'll give the money. Let's go). After much deliberation, he came with me, invited me to his home to see his ill father. I gave him some money and left his home after a few minutes.
On the way back, an irony stuck me.
How was I saved?
Was it because of the poor boy, who risked his life in the night to catch fish in order to make both ends meet?
Was it because of those goons, who might have stolen my money in the night?
Was it because of the social differences in today's world, which made thieves out of normal men, which made them roam around in the nights looking for money?
Is it not the same social difference which has made rich people enjoy the world with all the money in their banks, eventually causing the difference grow bigger and bigger?
I am still in search of an answer.
Let me know if you get one.
If you would like to view those 6 outstretched fingers, visit the following link:
http://www.wikimapia.org/#lat=13.1736401&lon=80.3129768&z=15&l=0&m=a&v=2
How can someone build an architectural piece of work, a long standing one with stones alone?
This is what I asked when I first learnt about Groynes. These Groynes commonly misspelt as Groins by my friend Sama, are the saviours of many coastal villages. I've lived a part of my childhood near one such Groyne close to my village. It was completely done out of huge rocks which started an indefinite path towards the land on the other end across the ocean. Whenever we could get a vacation off, we climbed a nearby mountain which gave a bigger, clearer view of the Groyne. But, my love for Groynes started when Sama's uncle, a pilot told those famous tales from his flight rides.
He would often remark that the groynes which were laid would look like an outstretched finger when we look at it from a particular altitude. He would also remark that similar groynes are present along the coastline on either side of my village. 6 groynes along the coastline around our village were there according to Sama's Pilot uncle. I tried to imagine if I had a hand with 6 fingers so that I would get a map with these groyne lines and would also align my hands on those groyne-lines.
Years passed by. I got educated, got settled in a job, married, raised a girl at the age of 5.
But I had never got a chance to view the groyne as described by Sama's pilot uncle. Sama and I had parted, he started his business in our area, and I came to the city. One evening, as my daughter was polishing her finger nails with polish, the glistening red colour reminded me of the groyne. More than the thought of seeing those 6 fingers together,the thought of how would the nail of such an outstretched finger look like drove me to the scene.
I set out alone on the trip to my village. It was a cloudy evening, with not much of humidity, and the weather was just fine. I reached the place where we lived. No one seemed to remember either Sama or his uncle. There it laid, my favourite outstretched finger, the alleged pathway to the other side, with only a few discarded motor boats at its earthly knuckles.
I started walking on those huge rocks, passing through one hurdle at a time. It was almost 7:00 pm, when I reached the nail. What a sight it was! It was the first time ever, that I wasn't getting my feet wet, but was able to hear the waves at a shorter distance. Hypnotized by the situation, I sat down and started listening to music. I've heard people say that,kids, elephants and the Sea are the only three things which will never leave you bored.The heart never feels contented when the eyes watch them. I was re-living the third one, recollecting all the great things in my life.
It was then suddenly, without any warning, that it happened.
I was shaken by this thunderous noise of an approaching tidal wave, I opened my eyes to see a huge mass of water hurling itself at me. What was it? Tsunami?
I didn't remember feeling tremors of an earthquake. Before I could react I was wet.My reaction to flee the place, let me into trouble. I slipped down the gap between the rocks. My hand lost contact with my mobile, and it fell on a nearby rock. That was my wife's present and my only source of contacts with the outside world. As I reached further to retrieve it with my hands, another wave stuck me and this time I was caught midway between two massive rocks,almost sandwiched between two large stones. With only the head above on the surface of the path, I glared at the sky and it told me the reason.
That was a full moon day, and the tides were at their own selves, acting on their will. Those laws of attraction which I had read had turned against me. The mother was calling her child in the sky and was stretching her hands. Now, I realized the reason for those abandoned boats on the shore. With one hand firmly between two massive rocks, I tried shouting for help, but it went in vain. My voice was over-shadowed by what felt like the wave's background score to my sorry state of affairs.
Necessity is the mother of Invention, they say, but I could not invent any new trick to get myself out of the hole I had got myself into. Any movement of my legs threatened me of further trouble. I analysed the situation on hand. "What are my assests?" "How can I send a light signal across?" These questions kept hitting the grey cells of my brain.
Rubbing of stones to produce light was ruled out due to the wetness.
Shouting was the only way, but that could soon lead to sore throat.
Even Tom Hanks had some space to walk around, make a torch to light fire in "CAST AWAY".
I didn't have a piece of usable debris with me. I continued shouting at the top of my voice trying to win the sound of the waves. Big out cry, little out come.
I felt something moving beneath my legs. Was it a snake? a crab? It didn't size up to more than a few inches, was slimy to my feet and was ticking as though it were a bomb. The ticking stopped. There was more of it now. I was sure that it wasn't a snake or a crab, but was it something i should be alarmed of? Was it a leech? Do leeches survive here? The confusion seemed eternal. I didn't have an idea of what time it was.
Out of the blues, I saw a small piece of light, almost as small as a firefly. Was I hallucinating? If not, how do fireflies move up and down continuously? Was it some other sea-creature, I need to be afraid of?
Was this piece of light, the much wanted help or the much feared evil?
Now, as the firefly moved higher, I could figure out a silhouette. He was sporting a rugged look, an oar on one hand, the light on the other hand and was pacing as though he was running for life.
As he covered 3/4th of the path,he sat on one of those rocks, spread out a net, never minding the perilous position. I kept shouting, waving my free hand at him. Fortunately for me, the waves receded for a moment, and he heard my voice, came near me, noticed my outstretched fingers.
"என்ன அண்ணா இந்தப் பக்கம்?(what brother, what are you doing here"?), he asked
"தூக்கி விடு "(Lift me up).He tried his best to lift me up, couldn't do so.
He ran all the way back to the shore, and after a few minutes, I could see torches moving closer to me. This boy over ran them came to me, but before I could react, he snatched the ring from my fingers and ran back.
As I was trying to get back from his sudden attack, those men came near me, lifted me up, retrieved my phone, and I was rescued within minutes. The crow bars they brought with them made way for me and I, wet from the waves thanked them and gave a few hundred rupee notes. This boy, surprisingly hadn't vanished from the place and was waiting till the men went away. Slowly, he came close to me and returned the ring.
"அண்ணா, திருட்டு பசங்க அவங்க!! (Brother, they are thieves),"பணம் இருக்கும்னு சொன்னேன் , அதான் வந்தாங்க !!" (They came only for money)
"நீங்க பணம் குடுக்கலைன்னா, அடிச்சு வாங்கியிருப்பாங்க!!"(If you hadn't given money, they would have beaten you up and seized money")
"அதான் இதை எடுத்தேன் "(That's why I snatched it).
I was heartened, patted the boy and gave him some money, but he refused and continued with his work. I asked him why he was fishing out there in the night.
"இப்போ புடிச்சாதான் உண்டு, இல்லன்னா அவங்க விட மாட்டாங்க"(I can only catch these now, if not they wouldn't permit me)
"மீன் இப்போ, அலை அடிச்சு கரைக்கு வரும், இங்க இருந்து சுளுவா புடிக்கலாம்"(Fish will come to shore now, can get them easily).
I said ,"பரவ இல்ல, இன்னிக்கு மட்டும் வேண்டம், நான் அந்த பணம் தரேன், வா போலாம்".(It's ok. I'll give the money. Let's go). After much deliberation, he came with me, invited me to his home to see his ill father. I gave him some money and left his home after a few minutes.
On the way back, an irony stuck me.
How was I saved?
Was it because of the poor boy, who risked his life in the night to catch fish in order to make both ends meet?
Was it because of those goons, who might have stolen my money in the night?
Was it because of the social differences in today's world, which made thieves out of normal men, which made them roam around in the nights looking for money?
Is it not the same social difference which has made rich people enjoy the world with all the money in their banks, eventually causing the difference grow bigger and bigger?
I am still in search of an answer.
Let me know if you get one.
If you would like to view those 6 outstretched fingers, visit the following link:
http://www.wikimapia.org/#lat=13.1736401&lon=80.3129768&z=15&l=0&m=a&v=2
Monday, April 7, 2008
First Short Story
Hello,
Due to the encouragement extended by my friends(Thanks, Dhanesh.R & Suchitra.R), I have got the guts to post my first shot at writing short stories. This is 60% true, 10%pre-determined, 30%imagination. Let's see how far I appeal to my audience.
THE BREAD WINNER
It was another usual Sunday morning, and the sun was late dawning into the morning sky filled in with murky clouds dry from the unexpected rains the previous night. A morning walk does not usually find a way into my daily planner. But I had ran out of cigarettes for the day, and because there was a power failure, I found a nice excuse to walking out to buy a news paper. I walked across to the nearest news mart giving the newspapers displayed an once over.
Suddenly, without any warning , I heard this sound. Dum dum dum… and I turned to see two figures one of which was that of a woman and another was of a girl who should not be older than nine years. There was a baby placed next to where the woman was sitting. A corner of the street was changed into a make-shift bed and the baby was laid to sleep by the woman. The beads of perspiration on the baby’s bare torso were drying up due to the wind. The woman had restarted slamming the drum.
The girl went around and asked workers from near-by stores for help. She wasn’t seeking alms, something which was clearly evident from the tone in which she spoke to those men.
“Tara! Tara!” shouted the woman, and the girl ran to the direction in which the woman pointed to and brought with her one worker who raised two long rods and clamped them at a rough angle forming an X-in shape. He similarly fixed another pair of rods in the same way and connected the two X’s by a string. Now, I could realize what the set-up was for, but I found a male participant missing in the team of the two women. I had never seen a woman walk ropes at such a perilous height where the string was tied to the clamps and had thought that she was waiting for her husband or son who may walk in and climb-up the rods to the string.
I found that the woman slamming the drums didn’t have her left hand. The incomplete part of her hand was stretching out at an uncomfortable angle, something which should have probably led her to settle down with the drum. Now, to my surprise, I saw the 9-year old girl climbing her way up to the string. I found the girl balancing her way across the string with a consummate level of grace and ease, looking down casually at the on-lookers, not forgetting to balance the wooden stick on her hands. The drum sound was no great reproduction of any Bands I have heard, but it had made the little girl overcome the fear of clinging on to her dear
life at such a perilous height. She was glistening like a star on top of the rope justifying her name. The small pieces of mirrors on her dress were shining in the morning sun casting luminous images across. Then, with a casual effort the girl descended the set-up.
Next, came one of the acts which could have been done only by a very agile person. A ring was produced, and the girl wore it on her neck as though it was a chain, moved the ring down her body releasing it her through her feet. The act was repeated thrice, the ring slightly bruising her ears as she squirmed her way out every time. The music was stopped and the girl held out an aluminium plate asking the onlookers for money. I could see her bending her face to the earth and looking up only when a sound of metals striking was heard. I saw her carefully avoiding the wine shop nearby staying away from the men with beer bottles around. What intelligence!
I wondered at the way she chose the people to seek alms. She never asked people who seemed to divert their looks at her sight. What great self respect! Most would have generally refused her for non-availability of coins saying “ No change” . Probably, she would have heard it many a time before. A few of the curious on-lookers gave her coins of various denominations.
There was a man running a bakery nearby. He had given the girl a full loaf of bread. He probably knew that the money might not directly suffice the girl’s hunger. Nearby, a boy clad in a red shirt and trousers was bugging his father on what was going on. The father simply neglected his questions and led his way out. This reminded me of a familiar scene a few years ago.
I was used to asking such questions to my father over dinner every night on why there were so much differences present in the society. My father would dismiss the discussion asking me to concentrate on studies. I had seen myself in the little kid. But, having read well, having got whatever I need for a decent life, having become quite a rich man in the society with a decent five figure salary, these thoughts seem to have lost place in my mind. When was that economic independence of helping the needy supposed to evolve? After 70? Most of the downtrodden would have either ceased to exist or would have probably turned into anti-social elements citing economic indifferences in their daily lives. We would then have only ourselves to blame. What economic independence did the man with the loaf of bread possess? Was he a millionaire? These thoughts ran through my mind.
“Bhai Saab! “ the voice broke the air, and I found the girl stretching the plate to me. Without much thought, I handed the 20 rupee note I had brought to buy a case of cigarettes. The girl was surprised and said “Shukriya Bhai Saab!”. I could sense an enthusiastic sprint in her as she moved to the milk shop after placing the loaf of bread next to her sibling.
I stood there browsing the newspaper as I saw the two walking out my view. But suddenly, the girl returned running like a deer on a chase. There was panic in her eyes. I tried to figure out what was happening, and there was that scene.
A stray dog was trying to have a bite of the bread wrapped in the cover. The two would have probably missed it on their way out. With quite an amazing speed the girl maneuvered towards the package. It happened in a jiffy. Hands on the ground, feet up in the hair, it was a swift move by the girl, and the package was retrieved. The girl struck a stunning pose aiming a stone on the dog, and the dog had slowly found its way back. Then she tore a chunk of bread and tossed it up, slowly enough for the dog to grasp with its mouth. What generosity!
Back home, I was trying to get back to my daily chores when I heard the next door kid reading aloud,
“ Twinkle Twinkle little Star!
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high!
Like a diamond in the sky!
I felt the lines striking a reference to something which I saw sometime before. Yes, Tara was a star shining above high like a diamond and more important than most things, she was a bread winner.
Due to the encouragement extended by my friends(Thanks, Dhanesh.R & Suchitra.R), I have got the guts to post my first shot at writing short stories. This is 60% true, 10%pre-determined, 30%imagination. Let's see how far I appeal to my audience.
THE BREAD WINNER
It was another usual Sunday morning, and the sun was late dawning into the morning sky filled in with murky clouds dry from the unexpected rains the previous night. A morning walk does not usually find a way into my daily planner. But I had ran out of cigarettes for the day, and because there was a power failure, I found a nice excuse to walking out to buy a news paper. I walked across to the nearest news mart giving the newspapers displayed an once over.
Suddenly, without any warning , I heard this sound. Dum dum dum… and I turned to see two figures one of which was that of a woman and another was of a girl who should not be older than nine years. There was a baby placed next to where the woman was sitting. A corner of the street was changed into a make-shift bed and the baby was laid to sleep by the woman. The beads of perspiration on the baby’s bare torso were drying up due to the wind. The woman had restarted slamming the drum.
The girl went around and asked workers from near-by stores for help. She wasn’t seeking alms, something which was clearly evident from the tone in which she spoke to those men.
“Tara! Tara!” shouted the woman, and the girl ran to the direction in which the woman pointed to and brought with her one worker who raised two long rods and clamped them at a rough angle forming an X-in shape. He similarly fixed another pair of rods in the same way and connected the two X’s by a string. Now, I could realize what the set-up was for, but I found a male participant missing in the team of the two women. I had never seen a woman walk ropes at such a perilous height where the string was tied to the clamps and had thought that she was waiting for her husband or son who may walk in and climb-up the rods to the string.
I found that the woman slamming the drums didn’t have her left hand. The incomplete part of her hand was stretching out at an uncomfortable angle, something which should have probably led her to settle down with the drum. Now, to my surprise, I saw the 9-year old girl climbing her way up to the string. I found the girl balancing her way across the string with a consummate level of grace and ease, looking down casually at the on-lookers, not forgetting to balance the wooden stick on her hands. The drum sound was no great reproduction of any Bands I have heard, but it had made the little girl overcome the fear of clinging on to her dear
life at such a perilous height. She was glistening like a star on top of the rope justifying her name. The small pieces of mirrors on her dress were shining in the morning sun casting luminous images across. Then, with a casual effort the girl descended the set-up.Next, came one of the acts which could have been done only by a very agile person. A ring was produced, and the girl wore it on her neck as though it was a chain, moved the ring down her body releasing it her through her feet. The act was repeated thrice, the ring slightly bruising her ears as she squirmed her way out every time. The music was stopped and the girl held out an aluminium plate asking the onlookers for money. I could see her bending her face to the earth and looking up only when a sound of metals striking was heard. I saw her carefully avoiding the wine shop nearby staying away from the men with beer bottles around. What intelligence!
I wondered at the way she chose the people to seek alms. She never asked people who seemed to divert their looks at her sight. What great self respect! Most would have generally refused her for non-availability of coins saying “ No change” . Probably, she would have heard it many a time before. A few of the curious on-lookers gave her coins of various denominations.
There was a man running a bakery nearby. He had given the girl a full loaf of bread. He probably knew that the money might not directly suffice the girl’s hunger. Nearby, a boy clad in a red shirt and trousers was bugging his father on what was going on. The father simply neglected his questions and led his way out. This reminded me of a familiar scene a few years ago.
I was used to asking such questions to my father over dinner every night on why there were so much differences present in the society. My father would dismiss the discussion asking me to concentrate on studies. I had seen myself in the little kid. But, having read well, having got whatever I need for a decent life, having become quite a rich man in the society with a decent five figure salary, these thoughts seem to have lost place in my mind. When was that economic independence of helping the needy supposed to evolve? After 70? Most of the downtrodden would have either ceased to exist or would have probably turned into anti-social elements citing economic indifferences in their daily lives. We would then have only ourselves to blame. What economic independence did the man with the loaf of bread possess? Was he a millionaire? These thoughts ran through my mind.
“Bhai Saab! “ the voice broke the air, and I found the girl stretching the plate to me. Without much thought, I handed the 20 rupee note I had brought to buy a case of cigarettes. The girl was surprised and said “Shukriya Bhai Saab!”. I could sense an enthusiastic sprint in her as she moved to the milk shop after placing the loaf of bread next to her sibling.
I stood there browsing the newspaper as I saw the two walking out my view. But suddenly, the girl returned running like a deer on a chase. There was panic in her eyes. I tried to figure out what was happening, and there was that scene.
A stray dog was trying to have a bite of the bread wrapped in the cover. The two would have probably missed it on their way out. With quite an amazing speed the girl maneuvered towards the package. It happened in a jiffy. Hands on the ground, feet up in the hair, it was a swift move by the girl, and the package was retrieved. The girl struck a stunning pose aiming a stone on the dog, and the dog had slowly found its way back. Then she tore a chunk of bread and tossed it up, slowly enough for the dog to grasp with its mouth. What generosity!
Back home, I was trying to get back to my daily chores when I heard the next door kid reading aloud,
“ Twinkle Twinkle little Star!
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high!
Like a diamond in the sky!
I felt the lines striking a reference to something which I saw sometime before. Yes, Tara was a star shining above high like a diamond and more important than most things, she was a bread winner.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Constrained Writing
Hello,
I start of my blogging by posting the only poem I have composed so far.
This is a part of Constrained writing, where the creator is subject to one or more constraints.
More about this could be found at
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constrained_writing
Here goes the poem. This is a ten line poem making use of only ten letters
A,D,E,H,I,L,R,S,T and Y.
I start of my blogging by posting the only poem I have composed so far.
This is a part of Constrained writing, where the creator is subject to one or more constraints.
More about this could be found at
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constrained_writing
Here goes the poem. This is a ten line poem making use of only ten letters
A,D,E,H,I,L,R,S,T and Y.
Sally, a tall lady, steals trees.
She sells these trees at her street.
Trees die there daily.
Sally rarely sees earth's tears as these trees die.
Days later, all trees are dead.
Sally rarely sells trees these days.
She is thirsty. Still all she sees is
Sea, Sea, Sea.
Silly Sally realises that trees are earth's hearts.
These days Sally leads rallies.
She sees that less trees are dead.
I would like to have your views on this.
Without wax,
Vikram.S.T
Without wax,
Vikram.S.T
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