I is for... Ila ki Amma

Ila ki Amma carefully rolled up her ponytail into a bun and tucked her cotton blue saree on her rather hefty waist. She then separated the big dishes from the small and started rubbing them one by one with dishwashing soap.

She hummed music from Bollywood while washing the plates, then sang folk songs while doing laundry, and while she mopped the floor, she chuckled from time to time, perhaps thinking of some funny anecdote which she would share with Mummy later.

After finishing all her work, Ila ki Amma sat on the chauki in the kitchen, dunked Parle G in her chai, and spoke to Mummy about her day(s).

‘I’ve told you many times to give Bitiya sugar and curd in the morning during her exams, but you always forget. She will come fusht, I am telling you,’ I heard Ila ki Amma tell Mummy. Ila always sported a big round black dot of kajal on her forehead till she passed class 7. I don’t know if she ever came fusht, but she did ward off evil. ‘Kaala tikka protected Ila from the monkey that entered our house 10 years back, you have to trust these things,’ she repeated the story for the hundredth time.

When Ila turned 14, she revolted, and her mother could not fight her way back onto her forehead. They didn’t speak for a week; Mummy had found out.

After sharing her wisdom on yoghurt and sugar, Ila ki Amma left our home for the next one. ‘I will come,’ she declared while leaving because I am going was a wrong thing to say.

She worked five houses including ours. Each home had a devi of a Bhabhi and a devta of a Bhaiya. Roma aunty cut her salary from time to time, but Ila ki Amma 'understood' and blamed it on their financial troubles. ‘Where will you find such a maid who is always so bubbly,’ Mummy said to Daddy when he grumbled about her singing.

‘She is too much. Very noisy,’ Daddy complained reading the newspaper. ‘Where does she stay? U.P. administration has ordered demolition of a long list of jhopdis near our house. I wonder if she will have a place to live from tomorrow.’

This was serious. There was a lot of illegal construction near our locality which was home to many low-wage income workers. The government interfered from time to time, but they were resilient. Whenever they pulled down a series of homes, the workers would find temporary accommodation at their relatives, and build back after a few weeks. ‘Where else can we go, this is our home and close to where we work,’ Ila ki Amma would defend.

Next day Ila ki Amma didn’t come till 11 a.m. Mummy got worried if her house was destroyed and she was now homeless. She started doing the dishes with my help and prayed everything to be ok.

We weren’t expecting her the next day too, so we finished the chores early in the morning. At 9.30, Ila ki Amma entered our home with a morose look on her face.

‘What happened? We heard about the demolition.’ Mummy asked her with concern.

‘Oh yes, municipality sent cranes yesterday and broke our doors and windows. We had to pack everything and leave.’

‘You could have taken leave today also, why did you come?’

‘Why wouldn’t I come? We already knew about this since last week and so I had shifted everything to my brother’s house two days back.’

‘Oh, I thought you must have been under stress yesterday so that is why you didn’t come.’ Mummy said.

‘Arre nahi, Bhabhi. Actually, yesterday when I was leaving for your house from Savitri bhabhi’s house a black cat crossed my path. You know what an evil omen that is. I had to turn back and go back to my brother’s house. Too much risk.’

Mummy took the chauki in the kitchen and sat down with her palm on her forehead. Ila ki Amma was an item.

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This story is a part of AtoZ challenge by Blogchatter. For the 2020 challenge, I'll be writing some travel stories and some stories that originate in my life but find a way into this blog through fiction. I am new at this, so please be kind!!!

H is for... House Politics

Mrs. and Mr. Vinod Agarwal had three children. The third child was a son, born because the first two weren’t. Incidentally, Mr. Agarwal’s younger brother also produced a son in the same month. They rented the colony garden to throw a lavish party for the entire neighbourhood to honour the arrival of their two miracles – Ashu and Abhi. We were a bit surprised because Mrs. Agarwal and Lata aunty, the second daughter-in-law of the house, never saw eye to eye. ‘Marwari hain, to save money ofcourse,’ I had heard mom tell Rekha aunty.

When Ashu was ten months old, Mrs. Agarwal decided she wanted to go to a kitty party hosted in a bungalow which was 100 metres away. She asked me, her 12-year-old, friendly, next door neighbour if I could stay in her room for an hour because who asks the adult sister-in-law in the next room. I was usually more at the Agarwal house than my own, savouring their bhujias more than my mother’s sukhe alu, so this was not extraordinary.

It was a surprisingly pleasant summer day and I was totally engrossed in my books from the library. I hogged on to dal, chawal and a whole of mango, hoping nothing will spill on the pages. Between spoonsful of deliciousness, I told my mom I’ll be baby-sitting. Her expressions were less than agreeable, but when it came to Agarwal house, she didn’t bother much. I was just a family member there as I was here!

I let myself into their house and started climbing the stairs. The ground floor belonged to Mr. Agarwal’s parents who were constantly watching every move of mine.

‘The girls are downstairs,’ Dadima said in her shrill voice. ‘They are sleeping.’

‘I am going to meet Aunty,’ I replied turning back and literally ran lest she started questioning me like Karamchand.

Mrs. Agarwal was dressed up in her finest blue saree. With matching bangles and a platform sandal that I hadn’t seen since Ashu’s party, she looked happy to be stepping out after months.

‘I will be back in an hour. Just feed him this milk if he cries,’ she said handing me the bottle. ‘You won’t get time to read your book; he is a handful!’ she added.

Now Julian was about to solve a great mystery. He, Geroge and Timmy were all set and so was I. As soon as she left, I knocked on Lata aunty’s door. I told her Ashu was alone in the next room and I could take Abhi too and they could play together. ‘Did you ask Bhabhi?’ she asked.

‘No, but she will not know.’

Ashu and Abhi had never played together. Apparently, Lata aunty was loved by the entire family only because, according to Mrs. Agarwal, her firstborn was a son. Even though Mrs. Agarwal was the elder one, she never felt she was given much importance. There are bound to be differences, I had heard mom saying.

I flipped through the last pages of my Famous Five while Ashu and Abhi managed to play with each other and the bucketful of toys for more than 45 minutes. Meanwhile, Lata aunty served tea to her in-laws’ downstairs, took a quick 15-minute nap and brought me a piece of samosa.

‘It’s time. I need to take Abhi back in my room.’ she said picking up the little munchkin and started walking out.

Ashu tried to crawl behind them but I picked him up. He let out a whimper and so I grabbed his bottle and started to feed him. Just then Mrs. Agarwal came in hurriedly and inquired ‘Did he bother you?’

‘Not at all, he was his sweetest self,’ I said while handing Ashu to her. I kissed him goodbye and walked out of the room with the finished book in my hand.

I closed the door behind me and peeked into the next room. Lata aunty gave me the warmest smile and a flying kiss and I wondered if Ashu and Abhi will be playing together anytime soon.

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This story is a part of AtoZ challenge by Blogchatter. For the 2020 challenge, I'll be writing some travel stories and some stories that originate in my life but find a way into this blog through fiction. I am new at penning fiction, so please be kind!

G is for…Granny

The stories were interesting, the gestures had become warmer, well, at the age of 79, she looked like the kindest one.

Since I knew about her exploitative side too, I never cared for her much. Mom never shared her experiences lest it influence our opinion of her, but me and my sister had overheard every ugly deed of Granny and drew our own inference. However, I never expected she would go this far.

We were chit-chatting over a cup of tea. Granny sat curled on her spot on the bed in her white cotton nighty bought by my aunt from the streets of Bandra. ‘My dad was the wisest person on earth. He found your grandfather for me and married me into a wealthy family. I have vivid memories of him from Karachi…’ I was listening to her half-heartedly since this was my hundredth encounter with memoirs from Pakistan.

My wedding was just a week later, and I wanted to spend whatever little time I had with each family member. What if my mother-in-law turns out like Granny and doesn’t allow me to come home over false pretexts?

I had seen very little of my Nani since Granny came up with terrible excuses whenever we were to leave for Indore. When I was 10, she twisted her ankle just the night before our train and demanded to be bed ridden for a fortnight. I clearly remember that because I had to put away a stack of Pinki comics that I were to read on the train in my pre-chosen corner berth. I thought of this as an emergency and decided not to show my disappointment. Plus, mom promised me a barbie set when I had thrown a tantrum in the morning.

‘My mother taught me how to make chapatis, I make the softest ones. I will teach you tomorrow,’ Granny continued with pride.

‘Mom already taught me; I just need practice.’

‘But I make better ones. Even halwa, I will tell you how to make.’

‘Fine.’ I didn’t want to argue with her.

I thought of my 12^th birthday when mom had made lunch for the entire extended family. We were happily sitting and relishing a delicious halwa for dessert when my uncle exclaimed, ‘No one makes this better than Maa..’

‘Oh no, I would have never put such little ghee and sugar. This tastes like a poor man’s meal,’ Granny had added quickly.

At that moment I suddenly felt the sugar was low too and asked mom for a spoonful. I understand now how furious she would have been at that point, and how I must have added to her sorrow.

‘When you have children...’ Granny said waking me up from my nostalgia.

‘Arre Dadi, let me get married first!’

‘No. Listen. When you have children, make sure you massage them the right way. I will teach you. Had your mom done my way, your legs would have been stronger, and you would have not been weak like you are now.’

I looked at her in disbelief. What if she had said the same thing when I was 14 and looking for answers? I wanted to give her a lecture on massage, children, parenthood, and most importantly, my medical condition. Yet I chose to pick up my cup, finish the last bit, and just walk away, because my halwa or chapatis might or might not turn out the best, but my values had.

Throughout the week Granny kept pushing me to learn things from her, but I told her how she had already taught me a lot. She had taught me the greatest lessons in what not to do.

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This story is a part of AtoZ challenge by Blogchatter. For the 2020 challenge, I'll be writing some travel stories and some stories that originate in my life but find a way to this blog through fiction.

F is for...(Our) Father, in Heaven

There was a huge church in the middle of our school - the highest in the country, we were told. In the pre-google era, we believed anything anyone told us. Beyond the chapel and the main praying area, there was a lodging for nuns and the principal of the school. As I told you, the church establishment was enormous.

Our classrooms and other recreational areas were all around this church. After keeping our bags in the classroom, me and my friends walked to the chapel to pray. We prayed in the school assembly also, followed by a prayer before lunch and then a prayer after all the classes got over. We prayed a lot back then.

Like every morning, Miss Camphor visited the chapel today as well, solely for religious purposes. We always got frowning looks from her. ‘These girls giggle and spoil my 5 minutes of peace before the screaming begins in the class. Why are they even here?’ I overheard her saying one day.

Her hair was graying, and she lived alone – you can’t expect anything but frustration from an old spinster like that. We were ruthless in our opinion of her, but so was she. She wore the same dress every day – a floral frock that ended at her knees with a leather belt at the waist. Legend had it – a boy made her furious in 1987 and she hit him hard with this belt. None of us ever dared to make her angry.

Today was my first day in class 5 and as my good fortune would have it, Miss Camphor walked into our room as our class teacher. The eerie silence was the type I had never experienced before from my class of 50 boys and girls. When she was scanning the class, her eyes stopped at me for more than a few seconds. She knew me as the giggling girl from the chapel, just as I knew her as the creepy teacher in the school.

‘There will be a monitor in this class which will be changed every two weeks. You will be the first one starting today,’ she said pointing at me.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t even know how to look at her, and now I will have to report to her on a daily basis? ‘Yes Ma’am,’ I heard myself saying.

‘You are her favorite already, remember not to get on her wrong side,’ Sakshi muttered from the row behind mine while a few boys chuckled in hushed tones.

After the fourth period got over, we joined our hands to say our prayers before eating our meals. Miss Camphor asked me to meet her outside the staff room before the break got over. ‘Yes Ma’am,’ I said shivering at the prospect of interacting with her.

‘Mom made baigan bharta for you,’ Shakti said passing her tiffin to me. I gave her whatever little was left in my tiffin. We finished our boxes in the first period itself, there was no fun in eating in the lunch break.

Normally I would eat my tiffin and then Shakti’s and then grab a bite from Sakshi’s. Not today. ‘Why did she choose me?’ Nobody could answer.

I passed the church building to get to the staff room. I recited ‘Our Father in Heaven’ all the way up there hoping that the fourth prayer of the day will help me. Several teachers were sitting in there sharing their tiffins with each other. Miss Camphor saw me and called me inside. She took out a Monitor’s badge from her cupboard and clipped it on my shirt and then started to walk away.

Nothing was said between us. Suddenly she turned around and asked me to wait. She brought her tiffin and offered me a piece of cake. ‘You finished your tiffin in the morning, you must be hungry now.’

‘Errr..Noo Ma’am..I..’

‘Take a piece and stop giggling in the chapel. Also, don’t mention the cake to your classmates,’ she smiled and walked away.

While walking back in disbelief of how I was just treated, I looked at the church. Standing there, for the first time in seven years of being in this school, I wanted to find out if it was indeed the tallest one in the country.

When I was His phone!

He loves it more than anything else and so I made a wish, a wish to be my husband’s cell phone. The next morning, magically, life changed, and I was ringing to wake S up.

My whole body was shaking. I was humming Winds of Change, S’s alarm tune. He loved to wake up to it. When I wasn’t a phone, I use to shake him up, lovingly stroke his hair or just ask him to wake up in a lifeless tone. And here I was, at 6 in the morning, singing and whistling.

I saw his hands come up to me. He opened his tired eyes and pressed my left foot. Oh wait, that was a snooze button. ‘C’mon’, I thought,’ get up and let me sleep a little more’. But he wouldn’t budge. He snoozed me 6 times! And me, like a loyal phone, sang his favourite tune till he woke up at 6:30.

While I lay there, I thought if he realised the human me wasn’t next to him. But he didn’t. It was as if he knew that I had transformed into something I had wished for. He loved it, I’m sure.

I feared the next few moments. S would wear his lenses and put me on charging. I had a clinging feeling on my right foot and I was being transferred energy. It was nice. Without any effort I could get food and water and a willingness to be active all day. I dozed off till I was woken up to a sick smell.

Ah, there it was. I hated it when he took his cell in the loo. Eww, it was smelly all around. The only solace was the touch of his fingers all over my body while he spent 15 mins on the pot. I was willingly showing him his new mails, Facebook updates and Tweets. He opened Google news and scrolled down to Entertainment. Really, reading an update on Angelina Jolie is not news hubby. So that’s what you called important. Ha, now I knew.

He charged me yet again and finished his morning chores by applying half a bottle of Armani Code. Today, I would know who smells it anyway.

He didn’t even miss me at breakfast. It was as if he loved cereals and milk to omellete, nuts and a very healthy glassful of juice! In between his spoonfuls, he kept touching the screen as if Angelina Jolie had another update.

It was fun being driven down to office. For a change he concentrated on the road more than me, his cell phone. It was 730, I dozed off as usual!

I was claustrophobic in his pocket. I wish he could take me out. But for over an hour, busy in some stupid meeting, he didn’t even look at me. I had to make a noise to get out of the darkness. And so I beeped without a reason. He took me out, looked for reasons and when he couldn’t find any, he just calmly put me on the table.
So my beeping made no difference to him? Men fail to understand our tears and ignore the whole thing. But c’mon I was the phone, you know, The phone whom he loved so much. He ought to pay more attention.

After he was done with his submission, he picked me up. Oh, so he was busy, now he would look into the unusual beeping. He didn’t! He wrote an sms to his friend for a booze party at night. Hey, that’s all men do when the wives are not around, right? Uh, I was the one who flashed the positive reply from the bugger who would dirty my house that night.

Work kept him busy. He didn’t need entertainment so I was ignored. I rang a few times during the day. It was weird how I was full of life when I had to hum his favourite caller tunes. I wondered if it was really me around him the whole day, would he ignore me in the same way. He dare not!

It was claustrophobic again while going back home. He hummed songs that were played on the radio. Doesn’t happen when I am in the front seat. Was I stopping him from being himself? Quite sure, I was!

He kept looking at me at home. From news to mails to an episode of ‘How I met your Mother’, I followed his command. He smiled at me, laughed quite a few times, it was all too good to be true! Then the friend came and the booze party began.

When that other guy asked my specifications, S proudly chattered all. He remembered evey bit about the phone. He wouldn’t know what color his wife likes, but the RAM in the phone was told even before it was asked.

He was reluctant to hand me to him. S was being possessive of me. Or, was it the phone? Ah, I guess that was one similarity I shared with his N900!

Next day, when it was me again, I tried to hum Winds of Change so that he would love me as much as he loves his phone. He looked at me with his cute sleepy eyes and asked me to stop singing . I hugged him and said nothing. He kissed on my cheek and went back to sleep. I scored over the phone!

Moral of the illogical story: It’s not that they loved their gadgets more, it’s just the way gadgets come with specifications, don’t fret when he doesn’t pay more attention to an unusual beep, never feel ignored and just be on their command all the time.
Oh, I learned a lot while I wrote this story. Why don’t you try a hand at being something that you aren’t for a day. It’s fun!

Love, unconditionally

"So, what are you thinking? You've not spoken for like 10 minutes. What makes you yak in class so much?"
"Nothing. Just...ummm...well...I have to say it. And ...err..I love you." Aryan's hands were actually shaking.
Neeru looked at Aryan as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she just picked up her purse and drove away in her car.
Aryan was shocked, to say the least. After 10 days of struggle he had managed to ask her out. It was different that he could only manage to take her as far as the canteen! After 1 month, he had said what he was dying to confess. And she left without saying anything at all? Did he say it too soon? He couldn't believe his luck.

He didn't hear from her for many days. She wasn't attending the routine lectures as well. He was missing her presence on the last bench. It had only been a month that they had started sitting together in the maths class. Neeru hated the last bench. But the ever growing population in class had forced her to come and sit next to Aryan that afternoon, and things were never the same after that. He remembered how troubled she was the first day, how he reserved a seat for her the next day and how they became instant friends. There was something about her. So mature, so fun to be with, so pretty...Aryan just loved everything about her.

"What's wrong with Neeru?" Aryan clutched Jaya's hand. "She's not answering my phone calls, not attending classes. is everything alright?"
"She doesn't want to see you," Jaya answered trying to avoid eye contact.
"But why? I guess you know everything. If she is not interested, she can tell me. I don't want to lose her friendship like this. Please Jaya, help me out on this. Ask her to talk to me. Pleaseee"
"Stop being kiddish. Neeru's not your type..."
"What do you mean she's not my type. I like her, I like her a lot. Did she say something to you."
"Aryan, you know nothing about her. Please forget everything. It's not going to work out."
"Is it about her leg?"

Jaya could not believe this. She didn't say a word and left.
"He knows Neeru. He knows everything about you."
"And still. He doesn't know what he is getting into. What, is he trying to make fun of me like he does every time? I can't take this Jaya."
"Why are you doing this. I know you like him too. If he has no problem, then why are you being such a Goddess. We all need someone to be with..."
"Oh, shut up. I'm not being a Goddess Jaya. Its just...Its just that when he'll know the actual picture, he may not be able to live with it. And wont that be more painful than this?"
"But.."
"No ifs and buts, you know how I have planned my life. I don't want to burden someone with the pain I go through. I like him, but that doesn't give me the right to spoil his life. Its just not happening," she said the last few words rather softly and banged the door behind her.

Jaya wanted to help. She wanted things to work out between Aryan and Neeru. She had not seen Neeru as happy as she was in the last one month since that fatal night.

Last 10 years had been testing for Neeru. She was 11 when she lost her leg in an accident. For a year she was on bed fighting with a spinal fracture. Then she got an artificial leg. Life at school was difficult for kids didn't understand. As a teenager she was sympathized with and she hated that. She had quite a few friends and because of her carefree attitude, she didn't let the accident change her life. She was excellent with numbers and had planned to finish her M.A and then go for a PhD in New York where her uncle lived. Getting a job of a lecturer would be easy then. love and marriage were two things she never thought about. Or rather, she avoided thinking about for she knew it wasn't going to happen. All well thought of, this was nothing close to what she had expected in life.

Aryan was surprised to see her in the class on Monday. "Hi! Can we be friends?" Aryan couldn't control his enthusiasm after class.
"I have to go home." Neeru just didn't want to respond.
"But you have to talk to me before that. I tried calling you up a million times. If you didn't like what I said, it doesn't mean that you have to start avoiding me? This is insane Neeru. Please, grow up."
"Oh, you grow up. Listen, these classes are extremely important to me. And I don't want you interfering. Just...please..."
Aryan grabbed her. And made her walk with him to the bench. He made her sit, took her palm in his, sat on his knees and said, "Neeru, I know why you don't want to see me. Don't hate Jaya, but she told me everything. Not because she sympathizes. But because I had to know how you felt. I love you, and i want to spend the rest of my life being with you. You know why? Because I love the little girl in you who comes and sits next to me even when her favorite seat is vacant. Because I love the way you get Jaya's favorite dish for tiffin even when you hate it. Because I love your strength, your courage and your honesty. Because I love the fact that are shit scared of driving a car but you still won't hire a driver. Because, you are the only woman I know who can get 13*17 in a fraction of a second..."

Neeru smiled. Her tears were uncontrollable now. "And what about the leg. How would you feel when I wont be able to do a million things anyone else could do?"
"If you loved me, and I was in the same situation, would your love change?"
"Yes, it would have..." mumbled Neeru.
"Then we think differently. Who knows, the day I get married, my wife meets with an accident and she can never walk again? Will I leave her? Leave that, if you can drive a car, if you can do a PhD and become a lecturer, what makes you think you cant do other things?"
"But right now you have a choice to meet a perfect person..."
"For me, you are perfect. And I will love you in sickness and in health, no matter how filmy that sounds. And if you love me too Neeru, please trust me. I cant promise you to be a perfect husband, but I will give it my best shot..."
"What makes you think you won't?" smiled Neeru.
Aryan smiled too and he lightly kissed her hand. "Our kids would be beauty with brains, aah I love that!"
"Depends. What if they get all your genes?"


Did they live happily ever after? I bet, they did...


**Not all stories are like that - short and simple. Not all have a happy ending. Every Neeru doesn't meet an Aryan. Not all Neeru's need an Aryan. Yet, unconditional love is the most beautiful thing on earth. Its a rare blessing. This is for ALL the people who love unconditionally. This is specially for you**

Faith

She was imagining herself. With vermilion on her forehead,bangles on her hands, new found love around her and a whole new sweet family to live with. She clutched onto the small Ganesha sculpture that was her guiding light since she was 4 and prayed for all to go well.

Naina was a God loving and an extremely religious girl. Visiting a temple every day was like breathing to her, a necessity. In sunrise, in flowers, in stars, in her fiance's eyes, in her parents love...she felt blessed by the force above.

"We have to distribute just two invitations. Still, the drive from Mumbai will take some time. We will be back around midnight. So take care Naina." said her mother while leaving for Pune.
" Get some chocolate fudge for me if you take the Lonavla route!"
"Right, and what about the skincare regime. You're forgetting something dear, your wedding is in a week!"
"Oh! Ma, thats my last wish..."
"Shhh, never say that. Take care of the house."
"Alright, I'll just light a lamp for your safe journey. Enjoy!"
"You just need a reason!" smiled her mom and left.

Yes, her faith was funny sometimes. For a 20 year old, coming from a family who wasn't so religious, it was strange. But she never questioned it. She just had faith. And the fact that life was going smooth further strengthened that her faith was right.

"So you like the fudge hmm? Want to go to Lonavla for our honeymoon?" Siddhant was romancing on phone at 1 in the night.
"You think I'll let you get away with such a cheap trip. Plan something quick to Singapore, else, I'll call off the wedding!"
"C'mon, don't say things like that."
"Funny. Mom also said something...uh...by the way, it's 1 and they are not back. Let me check."

When the phone was not answered, Naina panicked. Where were ma and pa? She called up her uncle but there was no response.

Half an hour later, she received a phone call from a stranger saying that her parents had met with an accident and that she should reach the Highway Hospital immediately.
With her heart beating fast, she clutched the Ganesha and picked her uncle on the way.

Screams, tears, and her whole world was torn apart. Her Ma and Pa lay dead in the hospital. The Ganesha fell on the floor and was shattered into pieces.

Naina got married a month later. A small ceremony and a gloomy atmosphere marked the day. There were tears of pain and no smiles of joy.

She never recovered from the tragedy. She became cynical. Everyday temple visits? She could not even bear to see the sight of a God's sculpture anymore. For her, her beliefs died with her parents.

More than that, she lost faith in everything. Her relationship with Siddhant, her daughter Tanya, her mundane life, everything suffered. If there was something that was keeping her alive was the store, where she worked as a floor manager.

"What's that? A Jesus statue? Why is it on my floor?"
"But mam, we are showcasing our new range here," trembled a salesgirl.
"Why will people buy them? For some blind faith they have?"
"Some people are strong believers mam, you should not be so rigid."
"Oh, don't teach me. Display this on the first floor. As long is its away from my sight, its okay."

"Daddy, why does mum hate God? Miss told us today we should all love God," Tanya questioned Siddhant one evening.
"Sweetheart, when we love something a lot, we start expecting. And when we don't receive what we expect, things change. You are too small to understand."
"But I will tell mum to pray. Can I pray?"
Siddhant stroked her hair and nodded. He had had a tough life. He had to understand all eccentricities of Naina. He was a doting husband and a firm believer in God himself. And he knew somewhere, that one day, everything will be alright.

Naina was working late that Saturday evening. It was rather very hot. She could not eat anything as well for all the restaurants were on the 7th floor and that was closed due to reconstruction. Apparently, there was a lot of load on the mall, and it needed repair.
Suddenly, she heard a loud noise. Something terrible was happening above her. As she ran towards the staircase from her basement department, something hit her and she felt unconscious on the floor.

The whole mall had fallen apart. 5 years after the construction, the building collapsed because the builders had overlooked certain necessary requirements. Hundreds died that fateful day.

When the injured were being rescued, Naina was no where in sight. And the rescue operations reaching the basement seemed way too far. Siddhant and Tanya's life was shattered. Tanya started visiting the church. And she pulled Siddhant along.

People were being evacuated even after 7 days. After that all lost hope. But under all brick and mortar, Naina was breathing. Without food and water, she was desperately trying to stay alive. The smoke had not choked her. But the fear of death was terrifying.

16 days after the collapse, a miracle happened. Naina was rescued under unimaginable circumstances.

A week later, when she really recovered from the injuries, she heard how Tanya had prayed.

Siddhant held a Ganesha in his hand. That day, she got her parents back. And her faith too.



notes:
1. The mall incident is a real one. It happened in South Korea. visit:
blogs.nationalgeographic.com/channel/blog/2005/09/explorer_collapse.html
(its one link, could not fit the frame)
2. however, the story is fictitious.

Living life to the Fullest

The phone was ringing incessantly. Weird. Mom never calls at this hour. My heart skipped a beat, something was wrong. And I suddenly realized Aman was in the hospital. Was he alright? I just had to know. Without answering the phone call, I grabbed my car keys and rushed to the hospital.

"Stop puling my hair, I'll call mom and she will give you a piece of her mind," I was screaming. "Ha, you are a weak, silly girl who cant do without her mum," said Aman, laughing like Pran in silly old movies!

I smiled remembering how naughty he was when we were kids. Come what may, he would never let me stay in peace. I owe all my tolerance to him! But now, I owe him a lot of other things. I owe him how to live even while you are dying. I owe him the ability to smile during all adversities. I owe him the valuable lesson of loving unconditionally...

That Friday we were gathered around the neem tree in the park. Arun, Smita, Paras, Aman and me. A naughty boy from the neighboring colony hit Aman with a stone and he started to bleed profusely. All of us, a bunch of 10 year olds, started screaming and with all our strength, we took Aman to the nearest doc in the colony. Arun called Aman's mom and our job was done.

A week passed and Aman didn't come for the evening games. When I told my mom, she told me he was not well. "What happened to him? Is the wound too deep?" I asked mum. But she did not reply.

2 years passed in a jiffy and we nearly forgot that Aman was a part of our gang.
"What's muscular dystrophy?" Arun asked Smita as if she knew EVERYTHING in the world.
"I have no idea. But yes, i heard on TV that people die because of this disease." So she did know a bit.
"That means Aman is dying?" questioned Arun. "I heard mom telling dadi yesterday that Aman is suffering with this."
All of us became worried and decided to visit Aman.

What we saw was beyond our wildest imagination. Aman was on the bed, all weak and lanky. He was overjoyed to see us. "Hi! Where have you all been? I sent a few messages but I didn't get any response."
"Umm...we thought your mom had stopped you from coming outside because of the accident. And you live a little far from us, so we could never meet you. How are you?" asked Paras.
"I am absolutely fine. Do you think something is wrong with me?"
None of us uttered a word. Aman continued, just like a father explains his children, "Well, I don't know if you all know, but I've been diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy. It's a disease where the muscles progressively weaken. In some cases its not as bad. But I'm God's special child. I have a strong case!"

I had never seen a 12 year old talk like that. Was he kidding us? He was suffereing with a disease that, according to our understanding, was deadly. Was he not afraid? I was.

That night I could not sleep. I asked mom "Is it true that Aman is dying?"
"No darling, but he is weak. Very weak. If it continues it might become serious. Or he just might hit back."
But what if he didn't?

"Hey Aman, hows life?" I went to his place the next day. "Oh, its tough, but nevermind, don't have a choice. By the way, I need a favor."
"Sure, anytime. What is it?"
"I have your gifts, your pictures...whenever you pass by my house, I can't help but think how much I like you. Will you be my girlfriend?"
And the earth beneath my feet moved !!!! I blushed and laughed and thought wow, it happens only to beautiful girls!
"I'm serious. Listen, I don't have a long life. I can't waste it. I need to work fast. If I make my first girlfriend at 12, I just might make my 5th by the time I'm 21. Thats when i want to get married. At 22, I'll have my kid, get a divorce and marry my wife to a handsome guy before dying. So tell me, what do you have to say?"

Here I was having my first proposal, thinking I was cute, but this guy, he was sooooo selfish! I just made girlie faces and told him I had some homework to do! A week later we all visited him again. He looked weaker to me. "Nisha, you didn't accept my proposal, so for the time being its Smita. You can be next!" Aman exclaimed.

That was Aman. At 12, he spoke like a 30 year old. Planned, organized, knew exactly what he wanted and fighting with death.

8 years have passed. And I have seen the worst. First Aman had to leave school because he could not take the stress. Then, his movements became weaker and weaker because the progression had taken over him. And now, he had to use a wheelchair. Doctors had said it just might be the last few months.

"Why are some diseases beyond any cure?" I asked Aman the other day. He use to console all of us as if he was okay and he just had to make sure we were too.
"Thats because some people take their life for granted. And we, God's special messengers, are here to tell them, live your life to the fullest."
"How can you be so positive?"
"I have two choices. I can be sad that I'm unable to do anything. Or I can be happy, enjoy with you; my sweetheart and be happy. I've chosen to be happy 'cause that way, I can see everyone around me smile too."
"Is it easy?"
For the first time in 10 years, I saw tears in his eyes. "Now, that it's soon going to be over, I'm scared. My mum wont be able to get over it ever. And my girlfriend will cry too. Worst part, I wont be around to hug them."
I hugged him and told him that I wont cry. I told him that I loved him. I told him that I'll take care of his mom like her bahu...and he smiled.

Today when he took his last breath, it was time I kept my promise. It was time to take up some responsibilities that were never mine. But I took them without a hitch. Because Aman was my inspiration in everything I did. He taught me life's greatest lesson...To live life to the fullest...


A note on Muscular Dystrophy:

Muscular dystrophy (MD) is a genetic disorder that gradually weakens the body's muscles. It's caused by incorrect or missing genetic information that prevents the body from making the proteins it needs to build and maintain healthy muscles.A child who is diagnosed with MD gradually loses the ability to do things like walk, sit upright, breathe easily, and move the arms and hands. This increasing weakness can lead to other health problems and even an early death.

There are several major forms of muscular dystrophy, which can affect a child's muscles in different levels of severity. In some cases, MD starts causing muscle problems in infancy, while in others, symptoms don't appear until adulthood.There is no cure for MD, but researchers are quickly learning more about how to prevent and treat the condition. Doctors are also working on improving muscle and joint function, and slowing muscle deterioration so that kids, teens, and adults with MD can live as actively and independently as possible.