A miracle...

We had been planning a visit to Tirumala and Tirupati Devastanams (TTD) for my son’s “mundan” ceremony. Hubby dearest decide to drive to Tirumala instead of taking the bus or train. It had been raining all the way, but the ride had been lovely. Once we hit Chittor, the roads were fabulous and we had enjoyed the ride amidst loud family chatter. It was almost 8pm when we reached the foothills and we debated whether we should drive up or stay in Tirupati for the night. Hubby dearest insisted on driving up right then, so that we could get in line for darshan early in the morning. Since our parents seem to concur, we began our ascent in the heavy downpour.

He drove slowly, maneuvering every bend and curve expertly. It was quite dark and surprisingly the road seemed to be clear of the umpteen number of TTD service buses that keep plying every few minutes. We just had our vehicle headlights for assistance. We must have climbed about half way up, when we heard loud honking behind us. We could see a couple of TTD buses behind us and assumed they wanted us to give way. Hubby slowed, moving to one side, and letting the buses pass. The honking continued and we wondered what they were trying to signal. Hubby braked to a stop and got down to see if anything was wrong with the car. To our surprise, instead of coming behind us, the buses went up another curve, leaving us behind.

We realized we were on the wrong path. We had to go up the curve and we had driven straight ahead. Maybe that is why they were honking, we reasoned. Imagine our horror when we realized that the path we were on, ended abruptly 50 mts ahead of our car and there were some branches kept to block the road. And horror of horrors the “path” would have led to a free fall  several thousand feet down the hill!! That was what the buses had been trying to signal!

The look on hubby’s face said it all! His hands wouldn't move as he tried to switch on the ignition! He sat for some time in the driving seat, eyes closed, and not speaking a word. We understood what he might be going through. For all we knew, the whole family could have crashed down the hill in minutes had the buses not suddenly showed up. Surprisingly, the buses had halted as if waiting for us to show up, and when we did, they began their ascent again, showing us the path up the hill.

Words cannot describe how grateful we felt towards those bus drivers and to the Lord himself.

Was that a miracle? Maybe. 

Was that the lord’s way of telling us, no matter what, I will always be there to protect you? Definitely! 

The joy of theater..

Life's pleasures, they say, come in little packages! And when that little package is an opportunity to watch theater on a weekend with daddy dearest, without the little ones to distract, then that is true bliss. So when dad asked me if I would like to watch “Modit Nighale Kadimod” a Marathi play scripted by his close friend, how could I refuse?

Watching theater has always been one of my favorites, and it beats going to the cinemas by a huge margin. No PVR rushes and no distractions. No loud sounds and over the top dialogues and way over the top clothes! And more importantly, no unnecessary shopping while you are whiling away your time waiting for the previous show to get over . Or maybe the other way around!

Theater is joy. The joy of seeing the characters in flesh and blood, the joy of watching the light and sound effects guide you through the script, the joy of being able to walk up to the actors after the play is over and tell them what a great job they did, the joy of being up close, the joy of connecting with the actors and their characters in a way you could never connect with a movie actor...

The stage itself is so synonymous with life, where there are no retakes. What is done is done. You cannot just go back and redo anything. You have to rehearse well and long enough not to make a mistake on stage. How much more beautiful life would be if we could rehearse our lines in our mind well enough before it rolls out of that acidic tongue of ours!

 You just play your part and leave the stage, and then you wait in the wings till you need to take center-stage again. You don’t keep meddling with the parts that others need to play! And after the play is over you have that hot cup of tea and samosa with your team, and pat each other’s back and say goodbye with a smile. No one cries when goodbyes are exchanged! Shakespeare sure did know when he said what he did about the world being a stage!!

You will realize that actors will usually never make eye contact with one person in the audience. They are trained to be so immersed in the script that though they seem to be looking at everyone, they are actually not looking at anyone! But should that moment of eye contact happen, and then the onus is on you- to maintain that eye contact and not distract the actor in any way till he leaves your gaze!

Theater is pure, unadulterated fun, and you must experience it at least once in your lifetime, if you haven’t already. And I would say, take just one person with you; don’t go with an entourage, if you know what I mean! 

A bowl of Grapes.....!!

Hubby dearest has been on a pretty long tour, and not having spoken to him all of today has gotten on my nerves. My calls haven’t been returned and messages responded to in one word- “meeting”. 

What meeting? I fume. Meetings that go on for the entire day? Surely there must be a lunch break? So I call him at lunch hour. 

“Working lunch. Anything urgent?” he messages back.

 The day ends, the moon rises, and so does my temper. I am ready to blow my top like the proverbial pressure cooker. It’s past dinner and still no call.

I wash some grapes and put them in two bowls for my little ones after dinner and try to catch something on TV. Shortly, an ensuing sibling battle calls for my attention.

“No, only ten…” shrieks my younger one.

“Not ten… see there are more…”counters the elder one.

“Who got more grapes” seems to be the favourite fighting topic amongst siblings even today, I sigh as I get up. My sister and I have never fought more for any other thing than this all important, “who got more grapes”. Time for resolution…before the war erupts! I am pretty sure I gave them an equal number of grapes though.

“Hey, what’s up champs?” I try to calm them. “You can have more grapes if you want.”

“Mom, look at chiku, he has so many grapes in his bowl and he says he has just 10”, scoffs the elder one.

“No mom, I have only 10,” the younger one says defiantly, trying to show that to me on his little fingers, some folded, some open, not sure how many fingers make ten, and still trying to count.  And then he begins counting the grapes, “one..two..thee, foe, faiyou, thit, theven, eight, niyen, ten…” he looks at me triumphantly. “See only ten.”

“And who will count the others?” asks my elder one, hands on his hips and one eyebrow raised. He looks so cute when he does that!

So the little one starts again, “One..two…” and I burst out laughing.

“Eleven, twelve..” says my elder one helpfully.

“Thee…foe...” continues the younger one, his voice one decibel higher, annoyed that his brother should interrupt, and simultaneously nodding his head from side to side.

The elder one looks at me, and I suddenly realize I am supposed to say something.

“Who’s right?” he demands to know.

“Both of you are.” I tell him.

“How?” he wants to know.

“Chiku can count only up to ten, so you can’t blame him. Look at it from his point of view,” I say laughing and then that laughter turns into a sheepish grin as something else dawns on me.

Just then the phone rings, and I jump to grab it. It is hubby dearest, and a smile threatens to break on my lips. I allow it to.

“I’m sorry yaar…” he begins, the tiredness in his voice evident.

“Looks like you had a difficult day.”

“Don’t even ask…” he says.

I smile again.  

Back..concluding part

read  part 4 here.

“Alok, Raman….”  Baba’s thundering voice took them by surprise as they saw him and Mai emerging from behind a tree. “Stop right there.”

“How did you both come here?” Raman was surprised they should arrive here like this.

 “Is this why I have lived so long, to see all this? Both of you killed Shyam? And now you are planning to kill him again?” he broke down.

Mai held him as he cowered down, sitting on the ground, hitting his head with his hands.

 “Kamala called us and said she had come back to this village, and she lived here. She wanted to meet us here today, she had something to share with us,” said Mai, “But what do we see here? Are you really my children?” Mai was furiously beating her chest, wailing, “Oh lord, why didn't I die before I saw all this?”

‘Kamala called them? Why?’ Alok was confused why Kamala would call them and ask them to come to this place. ‘What connection did she have with this boy?’ he wondered. ‘And where was she? Why hadn't she come here?’

 It was the day after Shyam’s funeral. Kamala had wanted to meet Alok on the terrace that night. She looked shattered. Her eyes were red and swollen with crying.

‘What is it Kamala?’ asked Alok.

‘Why did you have to kill my Shyam?’ she asked amid tears.

‘I know how you feel, Kamala, but who told you I killed him? I wouldn't do that to my own brother.’

‘I will go to the police, maybe then you will have to accept your crime.’ She threatened, her voice quivering with anger.

‘Suit yourself’ he replied, ‘but if I were you I wouldn't do that.’

She had gone to the police but had no proof against the brothers and Alok had harassed her enough to drive her out of the village. She had vowed to avenge Shyam’s death.

 Was it a mere coincidence that she had called their parents here? Maybe not. Maybe she knew that Shyam would be here today. If Shyam had contacted them, he would also have contacted her. Yes that would explain the connection’ he reasoned.

Shyam walked up to Baba and helped him get up.

“Baba, Mai, let’s go home” said Shyam putting Baba’s hand across his shoulder.

“Not so soon,” came a booming voice from behind.  Alok and Raman stood stunned as policemen surrounded them.

“We got a tip off that an old case that was believed to be an accident was actually a murder and we would find evidence here.”  

The police bundled them off to the police station and began their investigation. Alok had successfully evaded the questions but Raman, the chicken among the two, soon owned up to the crime. Mai and Baba were aghast to know how the brothers had meticulously planned Shyam’s accident. The police recorded the statements of Mai and Baba and then let them leave.

Baba, Mai and Shyam watched the two brothers being put behind bars.

“The police have summoned me regarding the case,” lied Shyam as he took leave of his parents after dropping them home. “I’ll come back soon.”

He took a rickshaw and went to a small house on the outskirts of the city.

“Ma” he cried as he went in.

Kamala was sitting on the corner of an old bed face buried in her palms sobbing. She saw Shyam and ran to him. Mother and son hugged each other, tears streaming down their faces.

‘Because of you Gopal, justice has been served. Your father’s killers have finally been punished” she said caressing her son’s head. “Let’s go back home, far away from all this, we don’t want any share in the property, all I wanted is to punish Shyam’s killers” she said. “I am so sorry I put you through all this Gopal.”

Kamala and Shyam had secretly married a few months before. That day Kamala had found out that she was carrying Shyam’s child. They had both been overjoyed and had planned to tell the elders that they had got married and ask for their blessings. But then the accident happened. With Shyam no longer with her, no one would believe that she was carrying his child.

Alok’s harassment had forced her to leave the village and settle in a nearby city. She had given up all hopes of avenging Shyam’s death and had devoted herself to bringing up Gopal. As Gopal grew up she was surprised how he looked and behaved exactly like his father. When he had been old enough to understand, she confided in him and hatched this plan to make Alok and Raman accept their crime. She tutored Gopal extensively and as she looked back, she was happy that her hard work had paid off.

“No Ma, don’t be sorry” Gopal consoled her, “you did nothing wrong. Let us go to Baba’s house, Baba and Mai need me, now that Alok and Raman are in jail.”

“What will you tell them?”

“Leave that to me,” he winked, “just bring that Mangalsutra and Bangle which your husband had given you the day before he died. Mai had kept it for Shyam’s bride and she will recognize it the moment she sees it.”

“Hmmm…”she said, and then she froze as his words echoed in her mind.” Mangalsutra and bangle? How could Gopal possibly know that? She had never told him about that.

                                                     ******the end*******

  

Back..part 4

Read Part3 

It had been four days since ‘Shyam’ had come back into the family and Mai was teary eyed as he took their permission to leave.

“I must go now, But I’ll keep coming back,” he promised.

“Do you have to go, Baala?” Mai wept as he hugged her son. “Bring your parents here, we will all stay together” she pleaded.

“No Mai, it will shock my mother to know all this. I promise I will keep visiting. You must let me go.” He said wiping her eyes.

“Let him go,” Baba said, “let us give him some time to convince his mother.”

Shyam was sent off with a lot of fanfare and tears. Mai had packed puranpolis and chaklis for him for the journey.

 He kept calling them every weekend to inquire after their health. A few months later, Baba summoned everyone and announced, “I have made a few changes to my will. Since Shyam has come back, I want him to get what is rightfully his. He will get a share of my property. Call him home, I will give him these papers myself.”

Mai was very happy. But Alok and Raman were shocked.

“How can baba do this?” thundered Raman. “He maybe our Shyam, but that was in his previous birth. Now he is Gopal, and Gopal has no rights to our property.”

“You are right dada, we must do something, there can be only two rightful shares of the property”, agreed Alok.

“I think, Shyam will have to go back to where we sent him earlier. Call him here; we’ll give him an action replay.” And both of them laughed together.

                                                          *************

Alok and Raman had gone to the station to pick up Shyam. As they saw him get down from the train, they rushed to his side and accosted him outside to a waiting jeep.

“Dada, how are you? How are Mai and Baba?” he asked.

“The pleasantries can wait. Let us take you to a lovely place first.” Alok said ushering him inside the jeep.

“Where are we going?”

“You will know soon.”

They neared a dirt track at the far end of the city where it connected to the highway.

“Looks familiar?” asked Alok with a smirk on his face.

Shyam remained silent, head bowed and eyes closed.

“How dare you come back, Shyam?” thundered Alok, “didn’t I tell you last time that Baba’s property is all ours?”

“You should have known better and refused a share” said Raman, holding him by his collar, “but you greedy dog, you came sniffing again.”

Shyam lay on the road, blood oozing out, soaking him red. Kamala was thrown a little distance away. Some bushes separated them. He could see her trying to get up and walk towards him. In the distance he saw two figures coming in his direction. He tried to raise his hand and wave, but his hand wouldn't move. He tried to scream and ask for help, but his voice failed him. As they neared him, he saw that it was Alok and Raman. His brothers had come to help him. He tried to smile. He wanted to tell them to help Kamala, she was injured too, but he had no strength to speak. Alok knelt down beside him and whispered into his ear, ‘Goodbye Shyam’ and both of them broke into a monstrous laugh. They walked around him in circles talking and laughing till he bled to his death.

Kamala had crept up to the bush nearest to him when she heard Alok and Raman talk and laugh loudly. She was shocked. She hid herself till they left, and then crept to Shyam. But it had been too late . Shyam was dead.

                                                         ***************

(to be cont...)

read  concluding part  here.