Showing posts with label Glory Sasikala. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Glory Sasikala. Show all posts

Groggy Monday Morning

Glory Sasikala

-Glory Sasikala


Sometimes full, sometimes gone, sometimes not all there
Moon, despite my discomfort, your many moods I bear

Last night, at around midnight, the power went off in my bedroom... Cheepie, my pet duck, is scared of darkness and he is very vocal, the reason I don’t feel lonely at all although I live alone.
“It’s gone! The power is gone! Quack, Quack!”
Right! I switched on the torch in my phone for him and was just deciding to patiently wait for the power to come on when I remembered that the lights in my bedroom had flickered in the evening. 
So I looked out the window and found lights burning in all the other towers in the apartment complex. Why do people stay up so late? So many houses had lights on. 
And so, I called the Help Desk to confirm power shutdown. He said no, power had not shut down; so, it was only my bedroom. There was power in all other parts of my house. He said he’ll look into it, and I thanked him, and once again, decided to wait. But after a while, I thought I’d better go down and see for myself what the problem was. It was now around 1 am. I took the lift and went down to the gate. The water lorry was there, loading. I asked if the electrician had looked into the problem. No... he was out fixing something else.  
The electrician came after a while, and I followed him to the room where all the fuse boxes were. Meanwhile, he got a call from another house in the same tower and floor as mine. Door B.  He checked the fuse and found that the fuse for more than 30 houses had burnt out. Why hadn’t I reported the flickering in the evening? I don’t know. Lights flicker sometimes from voltage fluctuations. 
He told me to go back home and that he would fix it. He told me to inform the Door B lady. I was so happy downstairs, wandering about late in the night. It’s lovely over here, with trees and benches and people around still... I saw a girl sitting in one of the benches and reading. I wasn’t the only one around... 
I took the lift and went back to my floor, but I did not have my spectacles on, so knocked on H instead of B. They were not asleep!  Again, why are people not sleeping??
Apologized...I then knocked on B and shared the information. I came back home and made a bed in the living room, and just as I lay down, the power went off for the whole house. I called the Help Desk frantically.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re repairing and have shut down the power. Please wait.”
I said okay and drifted off to sleep.
Just as I was enjoying my sleep, the power came on. Cheepie quacked joyfully, “It’s on, it’s on, it’s on!!!”
“I know. What do you want me to do, go downstairs and give them an award?”
The phone rang, “Is the power on, Ma’am?”
“Yes, but it’s still fluctuating.”
“We’ll fix it in the morning. You’re okay for now.”
“Thank you so much!”
I made my bed again in the bedroom and settled down to sleep once again.
But I was traumatized, and my mind was restless.... Food! I need food! I went into the kitchen and made a very crisp dosa with podi (it’s called idli powder and made out of two lentils and dry chilli) and ghee. I made a cup of tea. 
The low bedroom light burned, and Cheepie had fallen asleep. I opened my window and sat there in the darkness, watching the night traffic pass by on the highway. I’m not sure why this excites me so much, but it does.
I’m 60 years old now, and life has become a measure of small happinesses. 
I like that the light appears far away on a higher ground. Then, because of the bumps on the road, the vehicle slows down and snakes its way over. I like to try and guess what vehicle it is.  It fascinates me that people are out at this hour, especially two wheelers...because this is forest area with trees on both sides and rather scary and lonely. Sometimes, a lot of times, I see very costly cars on the road at this hour...cars you would never guess were there in Chennai. One day, I saw a lovely vintage jalopy go by—red and gold. Like I said, there’s a fascination for you.
Far away, near the city lights, I can see the light of a plane gliding by every so often; the light glides down lower and lower as the plane lands... Then at the same point between two city lights, the plane light disappears.
Power cuts have interfered with my days and schedules and dreams throughout my life. I propose, the Indian Electricity Department disposes. God, I presume, has no say in the matter. 
I just woke up...groggy, grumpy. It’s not enough that it’s Monday, but here I am, yet to get my two winks.  
La!! I’m just warning you, I don't like Positive Inspirational Thinkers on a miserable Monday morning. Talk low...keep voices low...don’t talk...while I down caffeine and frown at my computer...
***

Bio: Glory Sasikala is a writer, poet and editor and publisher living in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India. She is the author the ‘Sundays With Glory Sasikala’ series of short stories on Amazon. She is the author of the ‘Glorees Poems’ series on Amazon. She is the Editor and Publisher of GloMag, an International Poetry and Prose Magazine, and she is the administrator of the GloMag Group on Facebook. She is also a published novelist with two novels to her credit: Goodbye Papa (Writers Workshop, Kolkata) and She Spoke In Tongues (Setu Mag).

Fiction: Kabaddi

Glory Sasikala
“The stars and I have our own space
And we let each other be,” said the Moon,
“But sometimes, I just feel that they
gang up against me!”
---Glory Sasikala

At the onset, I must mention that I worked as a Quality Analyst for language (English) editing in several E-publishing companies. And I had just joined this one…I was the QA. I had my manager, and then, of course, there was the Copyediting Team, led by a young guy, in his late twenties, and co-incidentally leading a team that consisted of ten women…girls…also in their twenties. Young team…giddy team…
Sigh.
Back from a short trip and feeling somewhat rejuvenated, I made my way to the office, hoping for, maybe not a rousing welcome, but smiles surely? and “You’re back! How was your trip?” Instead, terrified faces stared at me. I saw fear in the eyes of all the copyeditors. Oh well….
I moved the fan my way, switched on my computer, signed in, and settled down to my day. Mails....ah.... Happy birthday.... Message for the day.... Hey! What’s this? It was feedback from a client regarding two files we had edited and sent back to them. The client was pretty rude, pretty blunt, and threatened to take back the account.
I got up from my seat and looked across the barrier at the Team Leader of the copyediting team.
“Did I QA the files?”
“Yes.”
“Oh!”
I sat down, shocked.
This was as bad as it could get! Visions of my frantic search for another job. Visions of those days of despair, my May Month of Depression, never to be forgotten. Was I going to be jobless again?
When my boss arrived, I requested to see the error report. And then, I was in for a second shock. I had mentioned more than 10 corrections in that file, and the language editor had only incorporated one of my suggestions. Not one of them had the courtesy to inform me that they were wasting my time!
I looked at my manager for an explanation.
“This is how we work here,” he said, blissfully, “You make suggestions. They can take it or leave it. Most times, they don’t accept it,” he added, dryly. “They don’t like the QA team.”
Then he brightened up, “So now, what you do is go over and fight it out with them.”
“Fight it out with them?”
“Yes, yes, that’s how we’ve been functioning. You suggest, they don’t accept, then you fight it out.”
“But, why would I do that? Will they listen and take my suggestions that way?”
“No.”
I looked at him, even more confused. I tried concentrating on my work, but my mind just wouldn’t work. We all waited for the inevitable.
It came a little while later.
“Come, the Senior Manager wants to talk to us.”
I went into a room full of frowning men, “How could this happen? We’re in serious trouble.”
“You made the suggestions, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“But they haven’t accepted. We need to talk to them.”

“It’s the QA’s fault. We incorporated the suggestions.”
I looked across at him then, the Lying Team Leader of a bunch of Lying Copyeditors.
Round and round it went, the conversation, somehow very subtly leaving me out of the whole thing.
“Can I say something?”
“Yes, of course!  We’re all in this now! You have to speak out.”
“I’m deeply disappointed with this office.”
There was shocked silence.  
“The copyediting team thinks the QA is the opposition team. I feel like I’m playing a kabaddi match.”
The Lying Team Leader interrupted, “But I allow my team members to be friendly with you. I don’t say anything. I don’t interfere.”
I ignored him and continued...
“I want one thing implemented with immediate effect. I want the copyeditors to take out an excel sheet, copy-paste the errors that they have not incorporated, and give me one of the three reasons. One, that it is not grammatically correct. Two, that it does not make sense. Three, that it is not in keeping with the context. I don’t want to come to office thinking I'm in a kabaddi match and I must win some points.”
The Senior Manager looked sharply at me, “All the corrections you suggest can’t be right. Would you be willing to take responsibility if anything went wrong?”
Taking blame! Why were people so scared of taking blame?
“Yes, I will. I never make corrections unless I am able to justify them.”
“Will you be able to justify your edits in a conference with the client?”
“Yes.”
“Then, from now on, I make it a rule that all the suggestions that you make be accepted, barring none.”
I came back to my seat feeling slightly satisfied but sick at heart. 
The next day morning, instead of shamefaced guilty faces, I saw happy faces, and the Lying Team Leader talking to his team of Lying Copyeditors, obviously updating them and laying out strategies. They stopped talking when they saw me. Filled with foreboding, I settled down to my work, wondering what I was in for.
Suddenly, I was flooded with smiles and “Good mornings!”
Happy smiling faces… happy, happy, happy…. Ouch!
It took me a day to figure it out.
They called out to me politely, “Ma’am, don’t you think you’ve made a mistake here? Could you please explain your edit?”
Ouch!  Ouch!  Ouch!
And what’s more, they were now meticulously incorporating all the edits that I suggested, ensuring, so to speak, that the ball was really in my court. Ouch, and ouch, again!
At the end of the day, I stood up and glared across the barrier at the Lying Team Leader and his bunch of Merry Lying Girls. 
“You wait! You will have to go on leave some day. I’ll chuck out the whole team.”
He glared back at me. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re not like that.”
“I am and I will. Which class is your son in?”
“Kindergarten.”
“Does he know his father is a liar?”
“No, but he knows that the QA is the Opposition Team, and you must put up a pretty good fight and win the match. 
***

Bio: Glory Sasikala is a writer, poet and editor and publisher living in Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India. She is the author the ‘Sundays With Glory Sasikala’ series of short stories on Amazon. She is the author of the ‘Glorees Poems’ series on Amazon. She is the Editor and Publisher of GloMag, an International Poetry and Prose Magazine, and she is the administrator of the GloMag Group on Facebook. She is also a published novelist with two novels to her credit: Goodbye Papa (Writers Workshop, Kolkata) and She Spoke In Tongues (Setu Publication, Pittsburgh).
 

Covid Days

Glory Sasikala

Glory Sasikala

Of betrayals of the Seasons and the Sun there truly is no dearth
But Moon she is and will always be - shall never leave her Earth

The world can pass us by and the most significant things happen around us - like the birth of a grandchild... or the rose finally blooming in the garden... or your old grandmother looking at you with anxious eyes one last time... or a lost one looking around frantically for that elusive straw...or maybe even the second coming of Jesus - but so hectic and humdrum is our lives nowadays that we couldn’t care less. 
“Yes, yes, yes!! She has a lost look! What do you want me to do? Yes the baby is cute! Ah, yes! The rose! And Jesus? What of him? See what he wants. I have to go to work, to pay my loans, I have to go, go, go!!”
That is the rat race we’re in. 
But we had to put a brake on all that all of a sudden, didn’t we? The world, the very air we breathed in was threatened at that point. Life as we knew it had come to a standstill. Everyone was home. Children were home. “Online” became the mantra. There was silence; people wore masks, stepped out only to get ‘vaccinated’.... or to die. 
She had fever and cold. But she did not classify it as ‘Covid’. She honked and coughed and sneezed and spat out phlegm and made guttural sounds. Her throat ached so much! She was sick, very sick...but she still would not classify it as ‘Covid’. 
Because Covid, was it even a real thing? Or was it a ‘political agenda’?
It became a real thing pretty fast. The whole family had fever. They coughed, spat out phlegm and stayed in bed, drinking soup and talking about the poor ox’s tail being the “real remedy”. If only the poor ox knew what it was in for… 
Outside, the world had become completely quiet with no people on the streets. The ocean was bluer without the pollution. The Sun shone brighter; stars finally visible without all that smoke. Worms and insects crawled boldly out of the ground. Birds mocked human beings, “Hey! Here’s a bold one! Shouldn’t he be running back in? Caw!!”
Her husband, he had detached himself from the whole thing. He was a strong resilient man in his early 70s. He took good care of himself, went for walks, exercised regularly, and ate the right foods in limited quantities. He was fit as a fiddle and intended staying that way for a very long time to come. 
He sat there watching a series on television, while the maid attended to the invalids. As far as he was concerned, he had retired long back and had charted out a life of his own that consisted mainly of reading the newspaper, watching TV and catching up with friends on facebook and via phone. Life was good. As for the invalids, the maid was there and she would take care of them.
So, when he felt slightly warm and dizzy, he ignored it. But soon he spiked up a fever to 102 degrees... 103... 104... He was now speaking incoherently in a delirium.
They wrapped a blanket around him and took him to their family doctor. But they weren’t allowed in. A test proved it to be Covid and they were told to take him to the Government Hospital.
They seemed to travel for hours... far away from home... through acres of open fields... to outside the world, to nowhere. And then, on to this hospital. 
“Where is the Covid ward?”
“There’s no Covid ward.”
“He will be in a general ward with other extreme cases.”
To their horror, this was a general ward with not just Covid cases. People seemed to come there to die. Unfortunately, this was the only hospital with the right medicines and equipment.

A nurse came in once a day. A doctor came in once a day. He now needed oxygen. He needed constant monitoring of his oxygen level. 
That is when she took over, his daughter. She was a professor in a college. At home, she was a mother with two small children. But, at that moment, she became a soldier fighting for her father’s life, fighting his battle, raring to go, daring the illness to take her father away. Her husband supported her valiantly from the outside, bringing in food and supplies while taking care of the children.
She wiped everything she had with warm water, even her phone. She wore her mask diligently. She attended to her father’s every need, making him as comfortable as she could, talking to him, telling him he will be okay. She never left his bedside. There was no place for her sleep, so she rolled up on the floor besides him. 
Sometimes, there was a commotion. Someone had died. A lively gentleman who has been keeping them company and talking and keeping up a conversation passed away suddenly in the middle of the night. They watched in wide-eyed horror as his wailing relatives took his body away. 
Days passed...was it a month yet? But slowly, slowly, slowly the fever receded, and that beautiful day dawned when he was declared Covid-free and allowed to go home.
Covid takes a toll, and the aftermath of Covid is long-lasting... sometimes forever, especially if the person is old. It is not just that the body takes a very long time to recover. Sometimes the depression that sets in does not go away completely. He is very quiet nowadays, does not speak much, moons around a lot. 
But when he does speak, he says of his daughter, “She is my mother. She took care of me. That is why I am alive.”
***

Bio: Glory Sasikala is a writer, publisher, and poet currently residing in Chennai, Tamilnadu, India. She is the Editor and Publisher of GloMag, an international poetry and prose magazine. Her poetry books, novels, and short stories are available in various online bookstores such as Amazon and Flipkart as well as on her blogs. She is on the brink of publishing a very interesting collection of anecdotes and short stories inspired by her rather colourful and chequered life.
 

Fiction: HOME IS WHERE MOM IS

Glory Sasikala

Glory Sasikala

As we set out into the world
Travel near and far and high
Our paths yet never stray far from you—
For every Moon a sky


There was one ammunition in my favor, and I bungled it. I did keep the alarm for 5 am but I did not wake up. And, as usual, I woke up in terror, my eyes wide open, and rushed to open the door to stop that incessant doorbell from ringing.
It’s always worth it because I wait to see her face. My own chubby-cheeked baby girl was back home. I watched as she arranged her stuff…in my shelf…next to my things…on top of my things…mingled with my things. She dumped some of my things on my bed to make space for her books.
“Can I take your laptop? What’s your password? It’s okay, I remember! You never change it.”
My loud “No!” was drowned out by even louder music. She was on the phone now, calling up her brother. How can she talk or listen above that din?
My son is married, so in addition to one giddy-headed boy, I now have a giddy-headed daughter-in-law and a rascally little grandson too. 
“Hey! When did you come?”
“Just now. Mom is all freaked out. I rang the doorbell loudly. Hee hee hee!”
They all giggled.
“Are you guys coming home for breakfast?”
My eyes were big now and I was listening, “Wait! What? What do I cook?”
“Yes, sure. Mom, please make vada and pongal… And mutton curry for lunch…”
By this time, I had become resigned to the day. And before I knew it, she had called up her friend and ‘borrowed’ his bike, and there I was, pillion riding. Of note, this is the same guy who went all the way to the bus station early morning to pick her up and bring her home. He wasn’t very happy about it, but she’s his friend and he has to take care of her. You would think it was romantic interest, but, “We’re just friends,” is a not-so-cheesy line you hear nowadays. 
“Like a brother?” I asked, feeling like an ignorant ignoramus.
“No, not exactly. Just friends, you know.”
No, I don’t, actually. I belong to a different time…a different era…the baby boomer one. God! I feel like an old relic. Where was all this friendship when I was growing up? My mom would have sent the guy packing or asked him what his intentions were. Everything I wanted when I was young, all the freedom and informality that I had craved when I was a teenager, these kids have it. Maybe my generation had something to do with the change….Maybe we were the ones who brought and wrought the change…
I was still pillion riding, first to the Bismillah Mutton Shop, and then to buy vegetables.  Once back home, I made “French toast” with lots of egg and milk and sugar in it, just the way they liked it. 
“Just the way you did every Sunday when we were kids,” they remind me. 
“You will be making mutton jarri for lunch?” my daughter asked, looking anxious.
I had forgotten that “jarri” is another carry-over from her childhood baby talk when she could not say, “Curry.” It had stayed ‘Jarri’ since then. 
My son looked at me, and with hopeful eyes, explained, “It’s the one with the onion rings in them, remember?”
Sigh…yes, of course, I remember. Onion rings are so important!  Jarri would not be the same as from childhood without the onion rings.
So. then. while they had their breakfast and relax, I got ready to cut a lot of onions to get the ‘Jarri’ going.
And then, all of a sudden, they were up and very active, with my grandson so excited he squealed every two minutes—a high baby squeal that I so love much. They got down the Christmas tree and started setting it up. From bedlam to bedlam….shouts, scissors, papers, glue…
I steered clear of the whole mess and made my way to my sanctuary, my kitchen.
The “jarri” with the onion rings got done. Just as I was going to make the rice and the papad, the gas got over, and I had to call up the gas agency.  Thankfully, they deliver in half an hour and we were able to have our lunch in time, a delightful slow meal, relaxing round the table and talking, followed by rather sleepily watching a movie.
The day flew by and it was evening, and again they were bright-eyed and active. They 'borrowed' my saris and my table and set up the manger. My screams of “Those are my saris, leave them alone!” were all to no avail. They just grinned and got on with it.
And then it was time to go to church. Once back, it was time for the baby to sleep and for my son and his family to leave. The next day, it was time for my daughter to leave for Bangalore too and get back to work.
I can never relax while she’s travelling, and I needed no clock to wake up early to check if she had reached safely.  
I thought the day was done with, but that afternoon, I could not find the remote for the TV. So I picked up the phone, 
“Mona! Where is the remote?”
The “I don't know,” sounded innocent enough.
Another call to my son, “Tenny! Did you see the remote?”
A sleepy, “No Mummy. Leave me alone! I’m sleeping!”
After searching for a while and turning the house upside down in the process, I finally found it…behind a cushion. 
Picking up things and putting them back in their rightful place, switching on Christmas lights in the evening, piling my plate with leftovers, I sighed deeply and thought, “They’re all grown up and have found their rightful place in the world…but where I am is still their home.”
***

Bio: Glory Sasikala is a writer, publisher, and poet currently residing in Chennai, Tamilnadu, India. She is the Editor and Publisher of GloMag, an international poetry and prose magazine. Her poetry books, novels, and short stories are available in various online bookstores such as Amazon and Flipkart as well as on her blogs. She is on the brink of publishing a very interesting collection of anecdotes and short stories inspired by her rather colourful and chequered life.


Fiction: MY DAD—WITHOUT WHOM...

Glory Sasikala

Glory Sasikala


“While you’re there,” said the Moon to the Sun, “the world is there.
When you’re gone, the world will be gone!”

“You’ll grow up to be so beautiful, and I won’t be there to see you,”
These words will stay with me forever.
A few days or weeks later, he was dead. I was only 10 years old when he died. Out of those 10 years, he was in Kolkata for two years—and I was a baby. Then he was alone in Hyderabad for two years and we were in Tambaram, Chennai. Four years out of ten gone.
Six years...
Not much one would say. Really? Because while other children played with children their own age, I went out on long walks with him everyday evening. He talked of books... mostly. And music... mostly.
He assured me that I was brilliant. He told everyone I was the poet of the family. He got me a diary to jot down my thoughts. He wrote out lyrics in a notebook and made me sing alonga as he strummed the guitar. He made me learn by heart the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. While other children read Enid Blytons, he made me read Rajagopalacharya's ‘Fatal Cart’ and Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘Vicar of The Wakefield’. He introduced me Bernard Shaw's plays.

I still recall with nostalgia those cold, dark winter evenings in Kolkata, walking with him, talking seriously about books, being listened to and taken seriously—hot, roasted 'moomfalli' (peanuts) in his pocket.
Sometimes, Dutta Uncle, his best friend, joined us. Then I walked between the two of them, with my hands in their pockets to keep warm, digging out moomfalli and eating and listening to them talk, chirping in with unwanted ‘grown up’ comments that made them smile.
He always came to pick me up from school. He carried my bag, while I danced and skipped my way home in front of him. But that day, he did not come....
I waited a long time, then made my way home. A strong wind pushed me back, against my skirt... I fought against that wind and made my way home.... 
Why was there such a crowd down the street? A sea of sad faces. Why did they move aside respectfully to let me go in? Why was Dutta Uncle there? Why were there women in our bedroom? Why was my mother wailing?
It all didn’t matter. My father was there, lying on the bed, fast asleep. I wanted to know why he had not come to pick me up. I went over to him and opened his big, black eyes. But they were blue...with sticky yellow stuff in them…
Prabha's Mom picked me up and took me to her house and gave me milk and bread. “I'll show my father my report card when he comes home,” Prabha said.
“I will too!” I replied.
She laughed and said with the bluntness of an 8-year-old child, “How can you? Your father’s dead.”
Dead? I did not know what that meant. My father was there, wasn’t he? He was sleeping. But I knew the next day when they placed him in the coffin and nailed it shut. 
I knew then, for the first time, what Death was.
***

Glory Sasikala is a writer, publisher, and poet currently residing in Chennai, Tamilnadu, India. She is the Editor and Publisher of GloMag, an international poetry and prose magazine. Her poetry books, novels, and short stories are available in various online bookstores such as Amazon and Flipkart as well as on her blogs. She is on the brink of publishing a very interesting collection of anecdotes and short stories inspired by her rather colourful and chequered life titled ‘A Piece of Pink and Other Stories’. Translation,

MAN WITH LEAST MOBILITY

Glory Sasikala

- Glory Sasikala

(This story is part of a collection of short stories titled ‘A Piece of Pink and Other Stories)

The Moon through the netted branches
formed an Eye,
And I, in my wonder thought,
"Oh my! Oh my!"

Two days back, I went to the grocers in front of my house (simply called ‘front shop’) early morning. As I came out of the shop, I was accosted by the ‘Man With Least Mobility’ (MWLM). He is my inspiration. He lost the ability to walk fast in an accident and has to use a walker, and even with this, he is excruciatingly slow. But he is out of the house the whole day. Sometimes I would see him miles away, in places even I can’t walk to. And he would still be on the move. So now, calculate that he has to come back home by night, walking back the whole way, one tiny step at a time. I learnt from him that all a human being needs to accomplish something is just that leeeetle bit of mobility.

So MWLM was outside the shop, and, as always, I stopped to talk to him. He looked poor and wore an old pair of pants and a faded shirt, but I knew where he lived and he has a nice big house and a family. He had, however, told me that ‘they’ didn’t want him around anymore, now that he could not work. That’s why he left home early and wandered around the whole day.

“You're out early!” I said. He smiled at me, “I've brought food.” He showed me a bag he had tied to his walker. Food and water. Then he looked at me the way my little grandson does most times, “Buy me a biscuit packet.” It wasn’t a request. It was a demand, pretty much the way my grandson demands. I went back to the shop and got him his biscuit packet. And he put it in his bag and happily set off on his journey of tiny little steps that covered miles and miles.

So... that’s my next resolution: to buy him a biscuit packet whenever I meet him. The first resolution is to not take my mobility for granted.
***

Glory Sasikala is a writer, publisher, and poet currently residing in Chennai, Tamilnadu, India. She is the Editor and Publisher of GloMag, an international poetry and prose magazine. Her poetry books, novels, and short stories are available in various online bookstores such as Amazon and Flipkart as well as on her blogs. She is on the brink of publishing a very interesting collection of anecdotes and short stories inspired by her rather colourful and chequered life titled ‘A Piece Of Pink And Other Stories’.

Bapu: A Poem about Gandhi

Glory Sasikala
Bapu lies in state
In Delhi
while darkness camouflaged as Sunshine
spreads across the country
to a daybreak with no promise of dawn.

No white man this time
Revolution is not because of lathi charge
So subtle that we wonder if there should be a revolution at all?

Who are we fighting, who are the Black Sheep
among us 
who have redefined Democracy as Anarchy
Redefined Secularism as Religion?
When did “Minority” replace “Indian”?
Our farmers being razed to the soil 
they once knew so well, now asking
“What do we sow?”
“What do we reap?”

We don't understand—or is it that we don’t care?
And yet, as we look down at Bapu’s grave, sure enough
A prayer slips the lips
“Bapu, please come back! 
We need you!”

Glory Sasikala: Poetry (Voices Within 2021)

Glory Sasikala is a writer, poet and publisher from Chennai, Tamilnadu, India. She is the Editor and Publisher of GloMag, the international monthly online poetry and prose magazine, and is administrator of the group of the same name on Facebook. She is the creator of ‘The Chennai Ladies’ series of E-books on Amazon.com. She has recently published her third novel, ‘My Life My Script’.


COME TO THE TABLE

So much would be resolved
If we would just Come To The Table
sit across and discuss
without anger but with understanding
of what it’s like to be in the other’s shoe
instead of bickering
slandering, slaying, smearing, and sullying
from afar.

Maybe it’s easier to bicker 
slander, slay, smear and sully
from afar
than to Come To The Table and
sit across and talk?

To just ask why this happened?
To just see if we can work things out?
To arrive at a consensus
With faith that things will fall in place?

But Dear Rulers,
You won’t Come To The Table, will you?
Because that’s not what you want...


IS IT TIME TO APOLOGIZE FOR BEING CHRISTIAN?

Religion! That’s a dirty word
It separates the world
It’s for fools!
It’s phoney!
Religion causes wars
Religion creates hate

Abandon religion
Don't look up to the skies
It’s all here. It’s in you. It’s in how you live.


A girl makes her way to the convent
“Say your prayers,” says Mother Helen.
“Our Father who art in Heaven…
Confess your sins
I believe in God the Father...”

Outside,
the storm came
and blew the world away.
The girl knelt in her quiet haven and prayed
“Our Father who art in Heaven...”


OUTSIDE THE LINES

I color outside the line
pinks and blues, browns and reds
greens and whites and yellows.

Your staid mind
would like to color too
but within.

Outside the line
are the blue sky, the rainbow
the flowers, birds and trees
in rare un-precision.

Outside are the birds too
flying everywhere!

Outside are daring thoughts and
willingness to explore
where your within lines dare not.

Outside 
flowers fly and butterflies bloom, and
it doesn’t take rains to make a rainbow.

While you test the waters to see
if you dare step
outside the line
I have flown
to another world!

Rosie (Chapter 11)

Glory Sasikala

Serialized novel, by Glory Sasikala

CHAPTER-11

Though sometimes so grim, I can make you writhe
most times I’m gentle Moonlight
bonny and blithe
“Come in!” they all chorused as Prateik stood at the doorstep of Rosie’s house. They had been expecting him. He had called earlier to let them know that there had been some new developments in his life that he wanted to have a discussion about.
Prateik smiled. He bent to take off his shoes, but Chetan forestalled him. “Let them be, it’s okay,” he said. Prateik said, “You don’t mind?”
“It’s okay really. Please come in.”
Prateik came in and went straight to Grandma and touched her feet. She put her hand on his head and said, “God Bless you son.”
He then took his seat.
“I hope you had a comfortable journey?” asked Chetan.
“Yes. It’s just four hours of good roads. How have you all been?” His eyes included all of them but came to rest on Rosie, who was standing at the door leading to the inner rooms. She looked very beautiful indeed, clad in a cream-white salwar suit, her hair freshly washed and let down in unruly curls, two strands, one from each side, pulled back with a clutch at the back. As always, she wore little-to-no make-up, and except for a thin gold chain with a heart-shaped locket around her neck, no accessories either. She had on tiny diamond ear studs that sparkled so. She was glowing from inner happiness from all that was going on in her life. And she was in love.
Prateik could not take his eyes off of her. White rose...beautiful white rose…
She blushed and went in.
“Prateik! Prateik! Hi!”
Prateik turned to Chetan with great difficulty.
“Yaar, please pay us some attention too!” Chetan laughed. They all laughed.
“Where are Suman and Rashmi?” Prateik asked.
There was the sound of running feet in the corridor, and then, the girls appeared at the doorway.
“Hello!” said Prateik, “How are you?”
They smiled at him. “We’re fine,” said Rashmi, “How are you?”
“I’m doing good. Why don’t you both come in?”
“We’ll be staying with our friends downstairs tonight,” Suman said, “We’ve got homework to do. We came up to say hello to you. And to have dinner.”
“I have something for the two of you,” Prateik said. He put his hand in his pocket and took out two big Cadbury’s chocolate bars.
“For us?” asked Suman, her eyes big and round.
“Yes.”
“Thank you so much!”
They came in and took a bar each.
Then they ran inside the house.
“Come,” said Chetan to Prateik. “We’ll have dinner and then we’ll talk.”
He led Prateik inside. This was the first time that Prateik was seeing the interior of the house, and he was in for a shock. The rather small Living Room led to a big and spacious hall. A huge table covered in a lovely white table cloth was on the right side but not too close to the wall. Dark brown wooden chairs made of rosewood were set around. Doorways to several rooms led from this hall. There was one doorway right next to the one that led to the Living Room. There were two more doorways on the wall to the left. Another doorway on the side right opposite the Living Room led to a rather spacious Kitchen. Next to the Kitchen was a doorway with a small stairway of maybe 5-6 steps. On the farther end of the right wall was another doorway.
Prateik, who loved architecture, was very interested. The building looked shabby on the outside but was obviously spacious inside. Chetan pointed to the doorway next to the Living Room. “Grandma’s room. We need to keep an eye on her.” Then he pointed to the two rooms on the left. “Suman and Rashmi share a room. And this is the store room.” Then he pointed to the stairway. “It leads to the terrace. We have a small garden there and my wife and Rosie like to dry spices there and make pickles. He pointed to the doorway on the right side. “That’s Rosie’s room.”
Prateik looked around as he pointed. “This is quite a spacious house! It doesn’t look like that from the outside.”
“Yes,” said Chetan, “We live here on rent. These buildings are condemned and will be demolished soon. They are very old and rather dangerous. We will have to start looking out for a new place soon.”
Prateik nodded.
The Dining Hall was bright and cheery and Rosie’s magic touch was evident everywhere. The walls were white, making the room look spacious and airy. Cheerful and bright cotton curtains, not too heavy and in keeping with the place. Tiny ornaments here and there, some beautiful paintings on the wall. A small table was set against the wall on the left side and held some photographs. Another small table in the corner held a huge urn with an indoor plant. The effect was at once cheery and disorderly enough not to be intimidating. The chairs at the dining table had crocheted covers around the back rest. A small table set next to the dining table with three compartments, one below the other, held the food dishes.
Prateik went over to the wash basin near the kitchen and washed his hands.
He sat down at the head of the table, and Chetan and Grandma sat down on either side of him, and next to them sat Suman and Rashmi.
Prateik looked at Rosie and Priya. “Why don't you join us? We can serve for ourselves.”
Grandma placed a hand over his, “Son, you know it’s not done that way here. We serve our guests. They will eat later.”
Prateik nodded. 
The food was delicious. There was biryani and puri and kurma and raita (onions in curd), and salad. There was white rice and dal (lentil soup) and pickles and fries. This was followed by the simple dessert of kheer with cashews and dry grapes in it.
Prateik felt he had never eaten a more tasty meal, but he wasn’t sure it was just the food. Rosie was serving him and her proximity was heady and intoxicating. His head spun every time she came close. He wanted the meal to go on and on...
But...
They were done. They were back at the Living Room. Priya handed Prateik and Chetan a cup of tea. She gave Grandma her medicines. Then she and Rosie went back inside to have their dinner. Suman and Rashmi left for their friend’s place downstairs to study and sleep there. Prateik and Chetan continued a general conversation and waited for the women.
“I hope you’re okay Rosie?” asked Priya.
“Yes,” said Rosie, “Why are you asking?”
“He keeps giving you anxious looks.”
Rosie blushed and said, “Whatever it is, I am ready to support him and be with him.”
Priya looked at her quizzically and laughed, “Not yet married and already so, so faithful!”
Rosie blushed, “Bhabhi, stop it! It must have something to do with the marriage arrangements I’m sure.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
They had their dinner and cleared the table a bit, but not too much. They would do it later, after Prateik left.
They went back to the Living Room.
Chetan beckoned to Priya. “Come sit next to me,” he said. Priya moved gracefully to sit next to him.
Rosie moved to sit next to Grandma on the divan.
“Well,” said Chetan to Prateik, “Tell us.”
“Well,” said Prateik, looking uneasily at Rosie, “I have a problem. Remember how I had said that I’m very rich and that our father had left us a lot of land? Well, that’s not entirely true...”
He then updated them about the developments. “Turns out all I have are my job—and I will be getting another job with my brother—and this huge, ghost bungalow.”
“Ghost bungalow,” cackled Grandma, happily, “Bhooth Bungalow.”
Chetan smiled.
“Well?” asked Prateik, looking around anxiously.
Rosie looked at Chetan. He reached out a hand and ruffled her hair. “You answer this one. It’s your life.”
She smiled at him, “Thank you Chetan.” She then looked directly at Prateik, “I did not agree to marry you for your money,” she said simply.
He smiled, “Yes. But it's not just that. The elders of the family should welcome the girl. My brother Tushar is the eldest of this family, but...”
“Are you going to remain unmarried because of him?”
“No! Honestly, it doesn’t matter at all. I mean, it would be nice if he would co-operate, but I’m a grown man, and I make my own decisions. I am just worried you might refuse because of him.”
“I understand,” said Rosie, “Thank you for being sensitive to my needs and taking my opinions into consideration. But I’m okay. You’re there...and I have faith that you will take care of me and not let anyone hurt me. I will listen to you and go by your instructions. I think that will keep me safe since you know your family well.”
Prateik nodded, “That’s true,” he said, “At this point, I do know what’s best.”
“What about my sisters?”
“What about them?” he asked, puzzled.
“Can they come along too or not?”
“Oh that! Of course they’re coming. That’s no issue at all!”
Rosie smiled at him and nodded, “So...what is it that you want us to do?”
“Well,” said Prateik, “I want you...all of you,” he said, looking around at the family, “To come tomorrow with me and see Grandma’s Bhooth Bungalow. I will take you to my city...actually, it’s a village...tomorrow. There’s a nice hotel there, ‘Seaside Resort’. There’s no seaside and it’s not a resort. Just a very nice hotel,” he smiled.
They all laughed.
“It belongs to my friend. He likes beaches, so…It’s a very nice hotel and well maintained. We’ll have lunch on the way and go there. You can rest and have tea. I will pick you all up at around 6 pm and take you to my house. It’s called The Mahal...because that’s what it is: A huge palace, which now belongs to my two older brothers. Udhayan lives in the left wing. He and my sister-in-law will be hosting dinner. I will bring you back to the hotel after dinner. We will leave the next day, just after breakfast to see the Bungalow. Chacha will come with us. After Grandma has seen the place, Chacha and Jahangir, my driver, will bring her back to the hotel and take care of her. We—Chetan and Rosie and Priya and Suman and Rashmi—must stay behind and spend a lot of time there. The house is at the end of the village. We will have to name the house. You—Rosie—will have to take a lot of decisions.”
“Such as?” she asked.
“Such as whether you want to stay in that house or whether we must sell it and buy a house within the village. I must warn you that the house is very big—quite palatial—with acres of ground around it. It’s all very wild and overgrown now, but my brother, Udhayan, will be helping us renovate the place completely. There will be security guards at the gate and dogs. The walls are very high and have barbed wires. So safety is not that much of an issue. But...the choice is yours. You must decide where you want us to live. And, if you decide that you want us to live in the house, then the interiors will be designed to your convenience. First we will renovate the live-in area—rooms for us and for Suman and Rashmi, the kitchen and other common rooms. Once we have moved in, the renovation of the other parts of the house can be carried out, again, according to your wishes.”
“You will give your inputs too? It’s our house, surely?”
He smiled, “Yes, of course! I’m an architect. We’ll collaborate and get things done as a team.”
Chetan got up suddenly and went inside. It was beginning to dawn on him rather forcefully that he would be parting with his three sisters soon. And he was not okay with it as yet, although he knew it was the right thing to do. He was close to tears all the time now.
They waited patiently for him to come back. He came back after a while, “Sorry,” he said, “I’m finding this hard to take...”
His voice broke down. 
“Chetan,” said Priya, reaching out to touch his hand, “Grandma...”
“Yes,” he said, “Yes,” he smiled a watery smile, “Well, it’s weekend. It’s holiday for Rosie and the girls, and I shall take off tomorrow. So, yes, we can all go...if you can ensure that Grandma will not be taxed too much or feel the strain.”
“I promise you that,” said Prateik. 
Prateik arrived the next day at around 9 am, post breakfast. They had all had breakfast. As they all came out and down the stairs, a whole lot of heads peeped out and a lot of neighbours talked to Rosie and Chetan and Priya, who answered back patiently, explaining where they were going and why. They knew that the neighbours were all very curious, and they would find out sooner or later, and it was best they heard it from them.
Prateik tried hard not to look at Rosie. He was startled to find her wearing jeans. She wore jeans and sneakers and a red short-sleeved sweat shirt that suited her slim figure so well. She had tucked in the sweat shirt and had on a long, slim belt around her waist. Her hair was done in a high ponytail and her sunglasses were on her head and she carried a rather stylist sling bag. Suman and Rashmi were in jeans too. Priya wore a plain dark blue kameez with a dark pink salwar and dupatta. She was carrying the baby. She looked very young indeed. They were a rather good looking lot. Chetan too was in jeans and a casual checked shirt. Prateik gave Rosie sidelong glances, and for the first time, he had doubts.
He lagged behind with Chetan for a word, “Are you sure I’m not cradle snatching?” he asked Chetan, looking at Rosie. Chetan followed his gaze and laughed, “I guess you are. She will be turning 22 soon.”
“I’m near 34 now,” said Prateik, then added sagely, “Ah well, I don’t think I can live without her.”
“Hmmmm!! Coming on too strong brother!”
Prateik made sure they were comfortably settled in the car, especially Grandma and Priya, who was taking care of the baby. He had thoughtfully bought books and comics and snacks and games for Suman and Rashmi and some magazines for Chetan and Priya and Rosie. But no one touched the books. They had not been on a holiday in a very long time, and everything was so very exciting. The girls looked out the window and chattered away as did Rosie and Priya. Prateik and Chetan carried on idle conversation. Grandma slept a lot. The baby cried some and grew restless. Priya fed the baby and it fell asleep. Prateik pointed out various landmarks to them and spoke of their significance.
They soon pulled into the driveway of a lovely roadside restaurant. They all trooped in. The women headed for the restroom to freshen up, as did the men. They had a lovely but simple meal of rice and dal and fish fry and salad. It was light and delicious. Prateik then ordered coffee for all of them. 
Soon, they were back on the road. They turned down the archway at the beginning of Kiranpur. They reached a black gate. They could see a lovely white building past the walls. The guard saluted to Prateik and opened the gate. Jahangir drove in. Seaside Resort. The bellboys took their luggage. Rosie and Grandma had a room for themselves as did Suman and Rashmi. Chetan and Priya had their own room. Rosie settled Grandma in their room and she soon fell asleep. Rosie then went over to the girls’ room. They were quite excited and squealing with delight. They explored every nook and corner of their rooms. 
“Rosie! Come and see the view!” they screamed, “It’s gorgeous!”
Rosie went over to the window and looked out. And there lay the vast stretch of land on all sides as far as eye could see—paddy fields and lakes and streams and coconut trees and mango groves and hills. It was breathtaking.
“Beautiful!” she said.
Prateik had gone home and upstairs to his room. But something was bothering him. What was it that he had not done? Something rankled…
He did not change his clothes. Instead, he went downstairs again and made his way to Tushar’s chambers. The house was so built that both brothers had their own set of rooms in the opposite wings. Udhay’s rooms were in the left wing and Tushar’s to the right. Prateik lived upstairs.
He knocked on the door. He heard footsteps, and then, Radhika opened the door.
“May I speak to Tushar?” Prateik asked.
“Yes of course!” said Radhika. “Please come in.”
She led Prateik to the Living Room, which was quite dark because all the windows were closed. She switched on the lights and opened the windows. It was a beautiful room with a fireplace on one side and tastefully and carefully chosen furniture and decor.
Radhika lowered her voice, “Have they arrived?”
Prateik smiled and whispered back, “Yes, Bhabi, they have. I wish you could meet them.”
Radha grimaced, “He’s stubborn. For the first time since we got married, I don’t think I like him.”
Prateik laughed. “Have you talked to him?”
“Yes. He won’t listen.  He...okay here he is.”
Tushar came into the Living Room. “Hello!” he said, genially to his brother. He went over to light the fire at the fireplace. “Radhika, if you could bring us some tea?”
“Sit down,’ he said to Prateik. The voice was naturally authoritarian, the voice of an elder brother who stood in no ceremony with his younger sibling.
Prateik did not sit down. “I came to talk to you.”
“You can do that sitting down.”
Prateik ignored that. “Tushar, Rosie has come here for the first time with her family. I understand you are disappointed with my choice of wife, but...please don’t take it out on Rosie. If father and mother were here, they would have welcomed her.”

“If father and mother were here, the girl would not come to the house before the marriage,” said Tushar, sharply.
“We are not going to stay here. You have not agreed to that. And now, I too feel it’s not a good idea. She has come to see the Bhooth Bungalow.”
“Bhooth Bungalow? Is that what you call it?”
“Have you seen it?” Prateik asked.
“Ya...I had gone that way the other day. Nothing that renovation cannot restore. It’s good ground and a strong building.”
“Yes, we’re going there tomorrow. Rosie will decide whether we are to keep it or sell it.”
Tushar raised his brow but he said nothing. Despite his show of bravado, Tushar was a little scared of Prateik and Udhayan. They seemed so different from him and worked well as a team. And somehow, he felt, they had more fun.
“So if you don’t want to move into this house, what is it you wanted to see me about?”
“Can you not be there to welcome Rosie tonight? Udhayan had invited her to dinner and she will be coming here with her family. Can you not come and greet her for my sake? You and Bhabhi? Can we not all have dinner together?”
Tushar looked deeply at the fire, “Maybe...” he conceded, “But don’t ask me to come to the wedding. I will not put my family through that.”
Prateik nodded. “You can bless us tonight.”
He turned to leave. Then he turned back and looked straight at Tushar, “Thank you.”
He turned and left the room.
 “They’ve come!” said Chacha, looking anxiously at Tushar. They were all gathered in the Living Room, waiting for Rosie and her family to arrive with Prateik. Tushar and Radhika and their children, and Udhayan and Monisha and their children. And Chacha. They were all formally dressed and in their best clothes. The men wore tuxedoes and white shirt and the women wore lovely silk saris. Although he sulked a lot, when it came down to actually receiving guests, Tushar was very particular about courtesy. They had to dress well, and he made it compulsory that they all be down in the Living Room well before the guests arrived and wait to receive them.
Tonight was no exception despite his reluctance to receive the guests. He stood in one corner, talking to Udhayan.
“Let’s hope they’re good people,” he said.
“Relax,” said Udhayan, "Have you ever known Prateik to misjudge?”
“This might be a first time then. The girl is beautiful, that’s for sure. And love is blind. I hope the family is good too.”
Udhayan smiled.
But now, they had arrived. They could hear the car outside. The door was open. Prateik entered first and was startled to see them all assembled in the room, dressed in their best. He was followed by Chetan. Suman and Rashmi followed. Priya and Rosie held Grandma on either side and were the last to enter. Priya was carrying the baby.
Grandma’s son and daughter-in-law had been very good looking indeed, and the children were, all of them, beautiful. Chetan was indeed as handsome as Rosie was beautiful—a fact that had completely escaped Prateik’s attention until now. He was in a dark suit with a purple tie, and he looked like he had stepped out of a fashion magazine, so handsome was he with his auburn hair and deep brown eyes. He was also six feet tall and every inch a Punjabi man.
Rosie had chosen the girls’ dresses carefully. Rashmi wore a straight cut dark blue frock and Suman wore a light pink frock with frills. Both girls had on stockings and shoes. Rashmi had shoulder-length hair, left open and framing her face. Suman had long hair going up to her waist. She had on a white hairband. Both girls were undoubtedly growing up to be beauties. Rosie had taught them to carry themselves with grace, but they had never been outside of their own circle and were feeling a bit lost and very shy. Priya wore a baby pink chiffon sari, her hair done is a chignon with long curls left deliberately loose on either side of her lovely, piquant face. She was smiling and one could not help notice how pretty she was and how deeply the dimples dented her cheeks. Grandma wore her customary white sari and she had on a sweater as well as a shawl around her shoulders because she felt quite cold. She had found it difficult navigating the stairs in all the places.
Priya looked at Rosie and said, “I’ll take care of her Rosie. You go in first.”
Rosie nodded and stepped into the hall behind Suman and Rashmi—and everyone drew in their breath, their eyes turned sharply towards her. She was clad in maroon dress that flowed to her feet, the bodice of which crossed over her young breasts. The dark of the colour brought out the white of her skin. She was tall...now much taller in her heels. She had washed her hair and set it free in curls to frame her face in beautiful disarray. She had on the tiny diamond ear studs and the thin gold chain with the heart-shaped locket. She did not wear any bangles, which accentuated the length of her lovely arms. Her face was glowing, an unfathomable depth and sensitivity in her lovely brown eyes. She had used very light make-up—just some eye-liner and lipstick.
She looked around the room, smiling a little uncertainly, and then at Prateik.
Udhayan stepped forward and shook hands with Chetan. “I’m Udhayan, Prateik’s second brother.”
Tushar stepped forward then and shook hands with Chetan. “I’m Tushar, Prateik’s elder brother.”
Then, much to the surprise of everyone present, Tushar went over to Grandma and said, “Please come Grandma.” He then led her to a comfortable chair a little further away and seated her gently. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.
Everyone in the family had been stunned into silence by his gesture. He then turned to Prateik, “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Thus urged, Prateik remembered his manners and made the introductions. "There is someone I want you to meet,” he said, and he went to the doorway and brought Chacha in, “Chacha this is Rosie.”
Rosie touched Chacha’s feet and he smiled with delight as he looked at her. He placed his hands on her head and said, “God Bless you my child.”
Prateik then introduced everyone else to Chacha.
“So happy. Very happy,” said Chacha, smiling at all of them. “Now I will go and see to the dinner.”
He moved out of the room. They were all seated in the Living Room and a servant served them water.
Radhika came over to Priya and took the baby and went back to Monisha. It was a long time since there had been a baby in the house and they were delighted. The baby had just been fed and was in a mood to be gracious and smile and gurgle and be cute.
“Which class are you in?” Tushar asked Rashmi.
“Seventh standard,” she said, shyly.
“And you?”
“Fifth standard.”
“You must have a lot of friends in school,” Udhayan said,
‘Yes.”
“You have some friends here too, pointing to the children. Why don’t you all get to know each other?”
Rashmi and Suman got up and went over to talk to the children.
And thus, the small talk continued as the hosts endeavoured to put their guests at ease.
Soon Chacha came in and said, “Dinner is ready.” He went over to Radhika and took the baby, “I will take care of it while you eat.”
The baby went to him willingly enough.
Tushar got up and went over to Grandma. “Grandma,” he said, “We are all a young lot here. I am the eldest. We are informal here and we talk a lot. All our discussions are mainly during dinner time. We laugh a lot, and we don’t ask the children to sit separately. They sit at the main table. Come, let me take you to the dining hall.”
The dinner turned out to be a happy, relaxed meal.
“Help Grandma,” said Tushar to his eldest son, “Take her to the room.”
Prateik and Udhayan exchanged glances as did Radhika and Monisha. This show of courtesy was unexpected.
Tushar got up to wash his hands. Prateik moved close to Udhayan and whispered, “What’s with him?”
Udhay shrugged, “Guess he misses mom and dad.”
“Oh...” said Prateik, but not really comprehending, “or maybe he just likes her. She’s kind of cute.”
Udhayan smiled at him. “Maybe.”
“Can we help with clearing up?” Priya asked Radhika.
“Well, technically, the servants clear up and we supervise. So...yes! You can stay here with us. And maybe later on, we can go over to my room. I’d like to show you some photos in the albums.”
“Oh, we would like that!” said Rosie.
“I must say, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” said Monisha, frankly.
Rosie blushed, “Thank you. I wasn’t aware of it, you know. Nobody’s told me that.”
Monisha laughed, “I’m glad they didn’t.”
The children had meanwhile taken Suman and Rashmi in their stride and all of them had disappeared.
In the adjacent room, the men were all settled in. Grandma was settled comfortably in a corner with her feet up on an ottoman. Tushar had given her some betel leaf and betel nut, and she sat there relaxing and chewing away happily.
“So you have a carpentry shop?” asked Tushar of Chetan.
“Yes,” said Chetan.
That set the tone of the conversation and the men discussed various subjects related to carpentry in depth, and then, they moved on to real estate and agriculture. 
“You’re surprisingly very knowledgeable,” said Tushar. 
Chetan smiled, “We were land owners too. In Punjab. We had wheat fields...My father gambled away our fortune. And then, unfortunately both he and mother died. Our relatives did not help us and we had to move out in search of work. That’s how we came to Kolkata. Hard times...Grandma took care of us. She worked night and day. She was a tailor. I didn’t go to school. Instead I specialized in a trade. I interned with a carpenter and then started my own unit.”
“That’s the best education,” Tushar said, “I’ve seen that time and again. Those who specialize in a trade are set to do well in life. They’re professionals. What more do you want? Book knowledge can be got any time. Anyone choosing to learn can do it. There are any number of libraries, and reading material is always available. It’s the practical knowledge that’s hard to get.”
Chetan nodded, “I’m self-taught when it comes to books. I used to study with Rosie. She completed college, did her teacher’s training and got a job as a teacher. Things are okay now. Between her salary and mine, we manage.”
Tushar nodded, “You’ve done well. Surprisingly well for someone so young. It’s funny how one can while away a whole fortune but we’ve seen that happen so many times. Wrong financial decisions, wrong spending habits....”
“True,” said Udhayan, “but...I think you’re still underplaying your potential. Someone with so much of knowledge about things is potentially an asset for the grabbing. You could go in for bigger things, if you’re willing to take a little calculated risk. Not the kind of risk your father took. You know what I’m talking about.”
Tushar nodded, “I agree. With the proper financial backing, you could make your own fortune.”
Chetan laughed, a little embarrassed at this attention, “It's all okay now. I’m quite happy. It’s a small family, and now Rosie is settling down well too and so are the girls. I will miss them a lot…I’m already scared to face the day they will leave me, but…”
Both Tushar and Udhayan nodded but did not say anything. The same thoughts had crossed both their minds. They only wondered if Prateik would approve.
“May I come in?”
They all turned to see Rosie standing at the doorway. They could not help but stare at her, she was so breathtakingly beautiful. Even Tushar stared at her.
Recovering first, Prateik moved towards her. “Yes, of course Rosie. Please come in.”
She went straight to Tushar and stood before him. “Bhaiya, I heard you are not coming to the wedding.”
Thus confronted directly, Tushar coloured deeply and looked embarrassed. He dithered and said, “Well...”
“It’s okay. I’m sure you have your reasons. But we are starting a new life, and we would like to do so with the blessings of our elders. Could you and Radhika Didi bless us now please? And then you, bhaiya, and Monisha Didi,” she turned to Udhayan.
“Ah...yes,” said Tushar, and he turned and called out loudly, “Radhika!”
It sounded like a cry for help.
Radhika came into the room and looked wide-eyed from Tushar to Rosie.
“Didi, please bless us,” said Rosie. Prateik came to stand next to her, and together they touched Tushar and Radhika’s feet. 
“God Bless you!” said Radhika, blessing them from her heart. They got up. Radhika reached up and kissed Rosie on the cheek, “You really are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen too. And you're a very good girl. You will make Prateik very happy, I’m sure.”
Rosie smiled back. “Thank you Didi.”
Radhika looked at her husband and glared at him. He looked uncomfortable and embarrassed, then he put his arms around her, “Usually,” he said, “My wife is a very docile person. She never thwarts my word. But in this instance, she's gone rogue.”
“I haven’t!” Radhika protested.
“Yes darling, you have. You threatened me this afternoon.”
“Oh yes, I did,” said Radhika.
“Well, I didn’t want to say anything because, well, I like blessing you both. But the fact is…we’ve decided to come to the wedding. We decided this afternoon, after my wife went rogue.”
They all laughed. “This is great news Tushar,” said Prateik, and so filled with joy was he that, on an impulse, he went over and hugged his brother tight.
“Hey!” said Tushar, "I’m not finished yet!”
“There’s more?”
“Yes,” said Tushar, “Udhayan and Monisha, please bless them. Then we can sit and talk.”
Rosie looked at Prateik. For the first time, he put his arm around her and together they turned to Udhayan and Monisha.
“Could you please stand together too and bless us?”
“I was wondering why we weren’t being asked?” Udhayan complained. He and Monisha stood together and Rosie and Prateik touched their feet too.
“God bless you both,” said Udhayan, “We wish you well from the bottom of our hearts.”
“Everything has turned out well,” said Grandma happily from her couch.
They all smiled at her. Then they all sat down. Priya, who had come in with Monisha, now sat next to her husband.
Tushar took over the conversation.
“Prateik and Rosie, you are going to see the house tomorrow. We—Udhayan and I—won’t be able to come along as we have some urgent work. So...there are a few suggestions that we want to make. I have already spoken to Radhika and Monisha and Udhayan about this. It’s a suggestion, and it’s up to you both to consider it or reject it. We feel that maybe you could consider using that property for some other purpose—perhaps to start a school, since Rosie is a qualified teacher. And you could both continue to stay here. This house is so big that even our pettiness is small and insignificant and meaningless. There are enough rooms upstairs for so many more families. You both could choose your rooms. Again, this is just a suggestion.”
Prateik was completely taken aback, and Rosie was now round-eyed. Even Chetan and Priya were surprised.
“Thank you Tushar,” said Prateik, “Rosie and I will certainly talk about it and let you know.”
Rosie nodded.
“We’re already a lovely joint family and our children can all grow up together, including Suman and Rashmi.”
“He means he can keep an eye on you,” said Udhayan, grinning.
“Ah, yes, that too,” said Tushar, “Not that he’s ever listened to me. No respect for his elder brother. Rosie,”
Rosie turned to him, startled, “Yes Bhaiya?”
“I wish you better luck.”
They all laughed.
“So my other suggestion is this. I just thought of this one now, but I feel Udhayan agrees with me. I feel Chetan and his family and Grandma should also move in here.”
There was startled silence all around.
“I beg your pardon?” said Chetan, taken completely off-guard.
Udhayan put his arm around Chetan’s shoulder, “Yes, I was thinking the same thing. We need someone like you here. You can also have your own office and carpentry shop in the bungalow. I have such a need for a person like you and so does Tushar as well as a lot of other farmers in this area. We are not asking you to work for us…”
“No,” said Tushar, “That would be foolish. You continue to be an entrepreneur. We will just come to you with our needs as will others. You will be in high demand, there’s no doubt about that. The added advantage is that you can support Rosie in all her decisions, and maybe even help her with the renovations if she so chooses to use or stay at the bungalow.”
“And as for staying here,” Tushar continued, “Like I said, there is enough space here for everyone. You can have your own space upstairs and decide with Prateik about it. You can take up some rooms and Rosie and Prateik can take up some rooms. We are an independent lot really. We respect each other as separate family units but we do come down for dinner together. Not the other meals. It’s very refreshing to get together at the end of the day and sit and talk and relax. I’m sure you’ll agree?”
He turned to Priya. She smiled at him, “Yes. I come from a joint family, and it’s very nice to be together.”
Chetan moved forward, and shook Tushar’s hand, “It’s very generous of you to want to accommodate me and my family but…”
“But you think you will be beholden to us?”
“Ah…yes,” said Chetan.
“How is that? Apart from the house, we are all just working people here. We all pitch in an amount for the maintenance of the house. How will you be different? We will expect you to pitch in too. So how will you be beholden?”
“But…” said Chetan, uncertainly,
Udhayan pulled him back, “Don’t say anything now, bro. Talk it out with your wife, and then, with Prateik and Rosie. Anyways, it’s not going to be your decision,” he added slyly, looking at Priya.
She protested, “No bhaiya, I am not like that.”
“That’s what I too thought,” said Tushar, looking at Radhika, who glared back at him, “And yet, somehow…”
They all laughed.
“Please think about it,” said Tushar to Chetan, “I’m actually being selfish. I think you will bring us a fortune.”
Chetan laughed.
“Besides, Tushar can take care of Grandma,” said Prateik, sharing a sly grin with Udhayan.
“Yes,” said Tushar, seriously, “Grandma can stay with me.”
They all looked startled. 
“What’s with you and Grandma?” Udhayan asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
“I don’t know…” said Tushar, looking at her, “Mom would have been this old had she been alive… And Grandma is kind of cute.”

[To be continued ...]

Rosie (Chapter 10)

Glory Sasikala

Serialized novel, by Glory Sasikala

CHAPTER-10

I make no difference
over one and all I shine
said the Moon, take a chance on me
and you will just be fine

Prateik reached home the next day morning. But he stayed up in his room, relaxing and planning on how to tell his family. He was tired from his journey. He slept a lot. 
“Baba, you will come down to dinner?” Chacha asked.
Prateik looked up from his bed. “Yes Chacha. I will be up in a while. Will have a bath and freshen up and come down.”
“Okay son.”
The old man turned to go.
“Chacha!”
“Yes son?”
“I need to... There’s something important I have to say. To you.”
“To me?”
“Yes, to you...and to everybody. But I need you to be the first person to hear it. I…I’m getting married.”
The man stood transfixed, staring at Prateik.
“What did you say?”
Prateik relaxed and smiled at him, “I’m getting married Chacha.”
“Baba!” Chacha came up to Prateik and hugged him tight, tears pouring down his face.
“How many days I have waited to hear you say those words!”
Prateik hugged him back, then he moved him a little away from him and took the old, wrinkled hand in his and looked into his eyes and said, “I know. That’s why I wanted you to be the first person to know. Her name is Rosie. She…she’s a teacher. Very beautiful,” he smiled at the old man.
“Yes, that she is I’m sure,” Chacha chuckled.
“There’s something about her, Chacha. But…she is not rich Chacha. She lives in a basti. No parents. Brother is a carpenter.”
The old man patted Prateik’s hand back, “Then she must be very special. You’ve seen something different about her.”
“Yes Chacha!” said Prateik, eagerly, “She’s amazing!”
The old man laughed, “Come on, get dressed and come downstairs. Everybody is waiting. I’ve never been this happy before.”
Prateik relaxed back in his pillow. “Okay.”
Meanwhile, downstairs, everyone was getting ready for dinner. Dinner was always family time, a rule set by Tushar. They were a fairly young lot and they enjoyed sitting around the table talking and laughing and catching up with each other’s day. It was very relaxing and informal.
Two servants laid out the table, being supervised closely by the women. Tushar and Udhayan were in parlour adjacent to the dining hall. It was a cosy parlour with comfortable chairs all around. There was no television there, but there were books and magazines in the shelf. The family tended to wander to this room after their meals to relax and talk for a while. 
Tushar was seated in a chair and sipping a glass of wine. Udhayan sat opposite him with a glass of wine too.
“You wanted to talk to me?”
Tushar nodded thoughtfully, looked deep into his glass. “Yes... I need to say something. Avinash Uncle called in.”
Udhayan raised his brow, “That’s odd. He doesn’t come out of the house nowadays.”
“Yes. His son Abhinav has taken over. Even then, Uncle is still the Zamindar. He is kept informed. He takes an active interest in the running of their estate.”
“What did he want?”
Tushar was now staring intently at his glass. He took his time as he measured his words, “They have a daughter. Karishma. Her name is Karishma. She is now 25 years old.”
“I remember her. She was my junior in school.”
“Why do you remember her?”
“Just like that,” said Udhayan, a twinkle in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t be remembering any girl,” said Tushar, smiling too.
Udhayan laughed, “She was very good looking okay? A sportswoman. She used to run very fast.”
“Must have gotten tired of running,” said Tushar, “Wants to settle down She’s agreed to get married now. Uncle was asking if Prateik would be interested.”
“Oh!” said Udhayan. 
“Yes,” said Tushar, “Your crush from school days just might turn out to be your sister-in-law.”
Udhayan laughed, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” Tushar asked him sharply. He knew that Prateik and Udhayan were good friends, being closer to each other age-wise. Tushar was always considered the elder brother, to be treated with respect and a little distance maintained. The fact was that Prateik and Udhayan were not very fond of Tushar, who they felt was too money minded and singularly lacking in a sense of fun.
“He’s just not interested. But then, again, you could ask him.”
Tushar moved restlessly and said angrily, “Wonder what he wants—a girl who is so exceptional that she dropped right out of the sky?”
Tushar continued, “He has to listen. He can’t continue like this. Father has not left him much. He must marry well.”
Uday looked at his elder brother, wide-eyed.
“What do you mean, father hasn’t left him much? Surely he has an equal share?”
“We are not landlords, Udhay. There’s just this house and the cultivated lands. These belong only to you and me.”
“What??!!” exclaimed Udhayan. “I thought Prateik had a share too.”
“No.”
“Dinner’s ready!”
“Anyway, we'll talk it out after dinner. I have to talk to Prateik anyway.”
Tushar and Udhayan walked into the dining room.
Tushar looked at Chacha, who was standing by the table, “Where’s Prateik?”
“He’ll be down soon,” said Chacha, “He’s a bit tired.”
Tushar nodded and sat down at his usual place, at the head of the table.
Prateik came in and smiled at all of them.
He looked at his sisters-in-law, “Sorry I kept you waiting.”
Radhika smiled at him, “Not too late. We've just started.”
“Let him apologize. He has to learn not to waste other people’s time,” Tushar said.
Prateik smiled, “Was a bit tired.”
Chacha served him.
“How was your trip?” asked Tushar.
“Good. I met Mrs. Das. They are doing okay. Managing.”
“It took you two days to see her?”
Prateik turned red, “I had other work.”
Udhayan looked sharply at Prateik, but he did not say anything.
Prateik continued to eat but kept turning to look at Tushar. It was obvious he was nervous.
“Is there anything you wish to tell me?” Tushar asked Prateik.
“Well...yes...um..no! No! What I mean is not right now. After dinner, yes.”
Tushar looked at Udhayan, and they both smiled at each other.
“Well,” said Tushar, “If you’re done stuttering, you’d better concentrate on your food.”
“Chitha, did you get me something?” asked Nalini, Udhayan’s younger daughter, a 10-year-old child.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. Chacha will give it to you after dinner.”
“What is it?”
Prateik smiled at her, “It’s only for little girls who chew their food and finish what’s on their plate.”
She giggled.
They carried on a light-hearted conversation through the meal, laughing and talking and enjoying being together.
The children ran over to Chacha after the meal and badgered him to give them the gifts. So he left instructions with the other servants, and then took the children upstairs to Prateik’s chambers.
The women stayed on in the hall, supervising the servants and talking and laughing among themselves.
Tushar, Udhayan and Prateik made their way to the parlour. 
Tushar went over to a cabinet and took down three glasses and poured out some wine. 
He brought the glasses over to Udhayan and Prateik. They were seated opposite each other.
Tushar chose a comfortable chair opposite Prateik. 
“Well?” said Tushar. 
“Well,” said Prateik, taking a deep breath, “I’ve...I’ve decided to get married.”
Both brothers looked at him, then at each other and then back at him.
“Well?” asked Prateik.
“You’ve chosen the girl?”
“Yes,” said Prateik, “I went to meet my old buddy Sudhir. If you remember him? But he had moved to another place. I met this girl at the place where he used to stay. She’s a teacher. Her name is Rosie.”
Prateik looked at Udhayan. He had a twinkle in his eye. “You liked her as soon as you met her,” he stated.
“Yes,” said Prateik, going red, “I did. So...I went back the next day and asked her grandmother. She has a grandmother and a brother and two younger sisters. The brother is married. Chetan, his name is. So...Grandma asked me to come the next day. So I went the next day. I spoke to Rosie....and she refused.”
Both Tushar and Udhayan were listening intently. 
“Why did she refuse?”
“They don’t have parents. Both parents are dead. Her sisters are rather young. One is12 years old and the other is 10. And Rosie felt she could not leave them and get married.
“Makes sense,” said Tushar, blandly.
“So...I offered to take care of the girls as well.”
“What!” Tushar exclaimed, leaning forward, “Are you out of your mind?”
Prateik looked at him, startled.
“Why, what’s the matter? It’s just two little girls.”
“Two little girls? Is this girl—Rosie—is she well off?”
Prateik hesitated, then said, “No. In fact, I met her in a ramshackle building in a basti-like area. Her brother is a carpenter and she is a teacher. They are the only earning members.”
Tushar threw up his hands in the air in despair, “I was just telling Udhay that Avinash Uncle was asking about you...for his daughter Karishma. Couldn’t you have at least consulted me before you made any decisions?”
Prateik looked at his brother and said politely, “I’m sorry, but I really liked Rosie. She’s the one I want to marry.”
“So much so you didn’t think how it would affect the family for you to bring in not just a girl we don’t know but her sisters as well. If only you had thought this through, I’m sure…”
Prateik wasn’t smiling any more. He looked coldly at his brother, “I’m 34 years old and this is only girl I want to marry. There’s nothing to think through.”
“So what happens when these little girls grow up? You’re going to have your own family, your own children, and then, there are these two girls too. They need to go to college, get an education, get married…and all that’s going to cost you a lot. Tell me now whether you needed to think things through or not.”
“I repeat,” said Prateik, “I love Rosie and I will be marrying her and I will be taking care of her two sisters. I’m sure we can afford it.”
Tushar looked disbelieving at him as if he hadn’t heard him right, “We? Who’s ‘we’? There’s no ‘we’ here. You’ve been living here in this house only because you’re not married. It’s one thing to take care of a brother and another to take care of a whole family. The Will states otherwise.”
Prateik looked startled, “I thought…”
“You thought the Will that father wrote divided the property equally, didn’t you? So it’s time you asked a few questions and I gave you answers.”
“What’s in the Will?” asked Prateik.
“We’re not landlords; rather, we weren’t landlords when Father was alive. We had the farming lands and we had this house. Udhayan and I have married well. We own some property, some houses given out for rent. We’re landlords by marriage, which has nothing to do with the Will. According to the Will, the house and the farming lands are to be divided equally between Udhayan and me.”
Udhayan was listening too, “But we can modify the Will to include Prateik too, right?”
Prateik looked from one to the other, “But…what about me?”
“You...” said Tushar, hesitating, “…have been left the huge bungalow at the end of the village with the surrounding gardens.”
“What! The haunted bungalow?”
“Yes. And it’s not haunted; just not lived in for a long while now. No one died there and there are no ghosts.”
Prateik looked flabbergasted.
“But...what will I do in that place? It’s fallen apart.”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Tushar said disdainfully, “It has to be renovated, that's all.”
“So...you will help me renovate it?”
“Well…” said Tushar, looking at his nails, “I was going to…if you married well. But now, I don’t think I want to have anything to do with you.”
“What?”
Even Udhayan looked surprised. “Coming on a bit too strong brother,” he said.
“Well,” said Tushar, “I don’t think I want to associate with the girl and the family you have chosen. I don’t want to welcome them into this house.”
“But…” said Prateik, going red, “You…”
“I mean it,” said Tushar, “I will not welcome that girl here or her family. You seem to be determined to marry her and take care of her and her sisters. You’ve made it clear you’re a grown person. So… do it your way. Or…” he paused, “Do it my way and marry the girl I’ve chosen for you.”
Prateik got up. “You’ve made yourself quite clear brother. I’ll see myself out by tomorrow morning.”
“That will suit us all very well,” said Tushar, “Meanwhile, I will send a copy of Father’s Will through Chacha to your room. I don’t want to be accused of cheating. Udhayan, you will get a copy too.”
Prateik and Udhayan nodded.
The turn of the conversation was so sudden and so cold, it caught both Prateik and Udhayan off-guard.
“Tushar, wait!” said Udhayan, “Think this through.”
“I have,” said Tushar, “As much as he has.”
“You’re just angry he didn’t consult you or marry the girl you chose for him.”
Tushar halted in his tracks. He thought for a while. Then he said, “Right. I don’t like bad choices.”
Then he turned and left.
Udhayan turned to Prateik. Prateik went to the window and stared out. Udhayan went over to the table and poured out some wine and handed the glass to him.
“Drink up. We’re going out.”
Prateik turned to him, “Where?”
Udhayan looked out of the window. “When’s the best time to see a haunted house?”
Prateik looked at him and he grinned, “Right.”
“Wait a second, I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get the keys to the gate.”
“Right.”
Udhayan soon came back with a bunch of keys.
Prateik gulped down the wine and set the glass down.
“Let’s go.”
Udhayan drove while Prateik sat next to him. Udhayan kept up a light conversation as he drove to the end of the village where the houses ended. Beyond that were paddy fields as far as eye could see. He drove down the road by the side of the fields, thus passing many side streets and houses till they reached the last side street. Beyond it, there was just this huge wall. The wall ran the whole length of the side street, which was a dead end on the other side. The wall ran a whole length along the main road too. Udhayan drove on till he reached the huge iron gate, black-painted and higher than the walls on either side. A huge iron lock hung on the padlock. Udhayan stopped the car and got out. 
“Wow!” said Prateik, getting out too.
They stood there looking through the gate. A gravel driveway seemed to go on and on and disappear. Through the trees, they could make out the shape of the house. It was a big bungalow, dark and empty and scary.
“Why isn’t anyone there?” asked Prateik, peering in. “There’s no night watchman.”
“Because there’s nothing to watch” Udhayan said.
“Jungle.”
“Bramble bushes and trees,” Udhayan said. He fitted a key in the lock and it opened. He pushed the gate open and they walked down the driveway. There was bright, silvery Moonlight, which actually added to the spookiness. Soon they reached a point from where they could see the house clearly. There it was, bathed in moonlight, tall and big and white with huge pillars in front.
“This is nice!” said Prateik staring at it, “I decide to get married and bring my bride to get killed or haunted.”
He turned and looked at Udhayan and they both burst out laughing. It seemed they could not stop laughing. Udhayan clapped Prateik on the back, “All yours buddy!”
They went off into whoops again.
Prateik quietened down, “Udhay, what am I going to do?”
Udhayan put an arm around Prateik’s shoulder.
“Hmmm…Let’s see. You’re going to bring your bride here,” he said.
“I can’t do that. You know I can’t.”
They walked back to the car.
“Of course you can!” said Udhay, “Get back in the car. We need to talk this through.”
Prateik got in. Udhayan locked the gate, and then got in. He drove to a night hotel and parked the car in the parking lot there. But they didn’t get out.
“Safer to park here. We can talk in peace.”
Prateik nodded.
Someone knocked on the window. Udhay opened it. He gave the man some money. “We’re not going in. We need to talk.”
“Right Sir.”
It was a small town and the family was well known.
Udhayan turned to Prateik.
“So…I’m going to give you enough money to renovate that house till you and Rosie have it the way you want it. The garden will be cleared too, of course. And there have to be a couple of night watchmen and dogs sent out there. I will spend till I’m sure you’re okay. What you will do is repay me at some point when you’re earning enough to do so.”
Prateik listened, “And why would you do all that for me?”
“Because I’m your brother and I can afford to do it, and I think you’ll be earning very well in no time. You’re already working, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Prateik, “I buy and sell artwork. I do get paid well, but…”
“It’s not enough,” Udhayan finished for him, “It’s not a time-consuming job. So take up one more job; with me. My manager is moving out. Be my manager. Learn about real estate and stocks and finance. There’s a lot to be learnt. I’ll teach you and guide you.”
“Now, don’t rush into protest Prateik,” he continued, as Prateik opened his mouth to speak, “Trust me, you’re going to be fine. And you will repay me. I’m just loaning you the money.”
“What makes you think I’ll be fine?”
“Well,” said Udhayan, “You’ve been off marriage for a long time now. Look at you. You’re 34. And then, you meet this girl…and you’re…love-struck. She’s not rich, but she’s someone special, isn’t she? She’s the one.”
Prateik grew red and turned and looked out of the window, “Yes, she is.”
“A special girl. She’ll make things right.”
The silvery moonlight bathed everything in sight, and it was almost as bright as daylight.
Prateik ran a hand through his hair, then he turned to his brother and hugged him, “Thank you so much for being there for us. Yes, she will make things right.”

[To be continued ...]