Malalai sat in a corner of the tent, her knees to her chest, chin resting on them. A long scarf covered her head veiling her face from any evil eye. Commotion of activity surrounded her with women of all shapes and sizes rushing, lifting, organizing, cooking, arranging. Through her veil, Malalai spotted her mother spewing orders in her strong, husky voice. She hobbled from one corner to another, assembling clothes, jewelry, dishes, and many trinkets to pack in a trunk as her voice vibrated through the tent.
A grand feast was expected at this daughter’s wedding. It was not just the joining of two young lives, not the union of children of two chiefs or just a wedding ceremony. It was an alliance, the tying of knot between two large families, of two prominent nomadic tribes.
Malalai watched with her greenish gray eyes through her veil from under lowered lashes. Her feet fidgeted in front of her as she adjusted her seat on the sandy ground, moved her chin from one knee to another or crossed and re-crossed her arms around her shins. She itched to get up to help and move about but her body was weighed down. Large oxidized silver earrings with lapis insets dangled down to her shoulders, stretching out her earlobes. A delicate silver chain pinned to the top of her head ending with a tear drop ornament. It hung from her forehead, maroon gemstone sparkling within, just above her round eyes that were thickly lined with kohl. Intricate enamel beads in blues and maroons linked together in a geometric pattern and sat splayed above her chest dangling by a silver chain around her neck. A choker with thick colorful beads strangled her around her neck, making it appear longer. A long necklace with elongated beads and gemstones suspended in elaborate patterns down to her chest, layered in several chains. She brought her hands to her foot to attack an itch under the delicate anklets but her wrists jingled with the collection of bangles and bracelets drawing attention and a glare from her mother.
Malalai helplessly watched from her corner unable to move, tears wedged around her kohl-lined eyes. Her mother had told her how brides were like princesses and must enjoy their special day all adorned in silken clothes and special jewelry. If it was up to her, she would be right in the middle of the commotion, arranging, packing, cleaning, helping, or playing outside and dressed in comfortable clothes. She had no aspiration to be princess or bride or to leave her tribe to belong to another. Her place was with her family she had known all of her 16 winters, discovering new lands, meeting strange people, trading wares from all over.
Lost in her wishful thoughts, Malalai’s ears perked as she heard her father’s growl outside her tent. She raised her head and cocked her head to listen. He was shouting orders for the young men to gather and ready their arms and ammunition. Malalai had seen this in the past when a tribe fired shots in the air to welcome honored guests. She saw her mother straighten up, listen and step out of their cocoon. In a short moment she returned flustered, churning out orders to the younger girls. Everything was hurriedly put away, the center of the pavilion cleared where buckets and water containers were assembled.
Malalai knew what this meant. She discretely started to remove her jewelry pieces one by one lightening her load. Unnoticed she slipped behind a screen and changed into her comfortable daily clothes of long shirt, loose pants and extended chador scarf covering her head.
To be continued…..
Monday, May 28, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
After he is gone...
From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…
You see the smile diminished with years
sadness set in without tears
loneliness imprinted on his face,
as he walks through the empty rooms in a daze.
From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…
You observe a lone meal at the long table
self-prepared at 94, for he was able
with small bowl of green chillie and salt
the spread he set out, but then halt
admiring the yakhni, the rice mound, the haak
looking around the empty chairs for someone to talk
From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…
You remember him leaned over his desk
manuscripts sprawled as he looked for the best
correcting and refining, writing in the forgotten script
pausing for sheer chai to take a sip,
conversing on paper with those who parted their ways
moved to lands far, returning to visit after too many days.
From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…
You see a happy old man, who’s brought up his brood
a proud father leading his flock to as far as he could
now like headless chicks, the three carry his legacy to lead
holding their newfound heads high, doing their deed
of spreading the word, “He was a great man – our father,
he is with us no more, but is with our mother.”
From your mind’s eye we will continue to see
for the man he was, not what he could have been
for each generation from here on to admire
for each descendent to learn and aspire.
after he is gone…
You see the smile diminished with years
sadness set in without tears
loneliness imprinted on his face,
as he walks through the empty rooms in a daze.
From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…
You observe a lone meal at the long table
self-prepared at 94, for he was able
with small bowl of green chillie and salt
the spread he set out, but then halt
admiring the yakhni, the rice mound, the haak
looking around the empty chairs for someone to talk
From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…
You remember him leaned over his desk
manuscripts sprawled as he looked for the best
correcting and refining, writing in the forgotten script
pausing for sheer chai to take a sip,
conversing on paper with those who parted their ways
moved to lands far, returning to visit after too many days.
From your mind’s eye you look
after he is gone…
You see a happy old man, who’s brought up his brood
a proud father leading his flock to as far as he could
now like headless chicks, the three carry his legacy to lead
holding their newfound heads high, doing their deed
of spreading the word, “He was a great man – our father,
he is with us no more, but is with our mother.”
From your mind’s eye we will continue to see
for the man he was, not what he could have been
for each generation from here on to admire
for each descendent to learn and aspire.
Monday, May 14, 2012
ADRIFT - Part Three (Final)
WARNING: PLEASE READ PARTS ONE AND TWO FIRST
After a restless night with tossing and turning, Mia woke up with a start. Bathed in brightness by the morning sun beaming through a long window, she found herself in a strange bed in the middle of nowhere. The events of the previous day started to trickle back and she realized that they were not a terrible dream but worse. No land line or cell signal available, she had no choice but TO wait for the inn keeper to return.
Coffee cup in hand, she walked out of the cottage through the patio door and followed a narrow path into the wilderness. Birds chirped happily around her fluttering from branch to branch as if playing a game of catch. Squirrels played the same game of running and chasing scurrying through her path or up on trees. Arriving at an opening she discovered a world of paradise. A stream flowed peacefully down gurgling over smooth pebbles with colorful blooms decorating the banks amidst thick green foliage. Mia breathed in the fresh aromatic nature, found a rock and made herself comfortable on it. Her feet dangled soaking in the cool and clear water and their feeling somehow transcended into her mind.
She reflected on where she was today and what had brought her there. She was happy with Kris but why did she always run away from him? Events of the past year came rushing towards her as the stream gushed over the pebbles. She was the one who had pursued him, asked him out despite her friend Rita’s glare. They had fun times on her yacht and close to shore he had showed off his surfing skills. On land their romance had grown as they shared meals at her cabin watching the sunsets together. He introduced her to his family several months ago and they had welcomed her cheerfully. He asked to meet hers but she had always made excuses – her parents were travelling or too busy to care or what did it matter whether he met them. Over the months his insistence had grown and they had had their first fight. She had thrown him out her house in the middle of the night, and he had slept on the beach that night.
Mia looked down at her feet immersed in the refreshing water and watched the water cleanse her. She remembered as a little girl her nanny had always made her wash her feet after playing outdoors even though she always kept her slippers on. It had made her feel refreshed all over and she was able to spend the few hours of her day in the presence of her parents in a calm manner. They were impressed by her demeanor and had spoiled her with luxuries while her siblings fought for their every needs and desire. The only two things her parents could not give her were their love and attention and when she got these from Kris, she didn’t know how to receive them.
Tears strolled down her cheeks at this sudden realization and Mia sat motionless. What had she done? How could she have been so obtuse? She had been seeking the answer to her journey all over the place, out in the ocean, at the bottom of a wine bottle or in the grand shopping complexes. The answer was simple and it had been staring her in the face all her life.
Their last fight had extended over several weeks. Under a full moon three nights ago, Kris had proposed out on her beach. Without answer she had fled and locked herself in her room leaving him confused. They had reconciled and he had promised not to bring up the proposal again as long as they continued to be together. Then at the deli he had broken his promise and after a short argument, he had walked out. She had never seen him this angry before and now remembered the expression of hurt he wore before he left. Mia suddenly realized what if he had simply walked away to cool down and was coming back. It was she who had left him stranded by driving away and he would have to walk back home.
The sun had risen up higher and Mia rushed back to the inn. She had to go back, to find a ride home and to get her life back. She had had enough of the journey and now was ready for her destiny hoping it was not too late.
THE END
After a restless night with tossing and turning, Mia woke up with a start. Bathed in brightness by the morning sun beaming through a long window, she found herself in a strange bed in the middle of nowhere. The events of the previous day started to trickle back and she realized that they were not a terrible dream but worse. No land line or cell signal available, she had no choice but TO wait for the inn keeper to return.
Coffee cup in hand, she walked out of the cottage through the patio door and followed a narrow path into the wilderness. Birds chirped happily around her fluttering from branch to branch as if playing a game of catch. Squirrels played the same game of running and chasing scurrying through her path or up on trees. Arriving at an opening she discovered a world of paradise. A stream flowed peacefully down gurgling over smooth pebbles with colorful blooms decorating the banks amidst thick green foliage. Mia breathed in the fresh aromatic nature, found a rock and made herself comfortable on it. Her feet dangled soaking in the cool and clear water and their feeling somehow transcended into her mind.
She reflected on where she was today and what had brought her there. She was happy with Kris but why did she always run away from him? Events of the past year came rushing towards her as the stream gushed over the pebbles. She was the one who had pursued him, asked him out despite her friend Rita’s glare. They had fun times on her yacht and close to shore he had showed off his surfing skills. On land their romance had grown as they shared meals at her cabin watching the sunsets together. He introduced her to his family several months ago and they had welcomed her cheerfully. He asked to meet hers but she had always made excuses – her parents were travelling or too busy to care or what did it matter whether he met them. Over the months his insistence had grown and they had had their first fight. She had thrown him out her house in the middle of the night, and he had slept on the beach that night.Mia looked down at her feet immersed in the refreshing water and watched the water cleanse her. She remembered as a little girl her nanny had always made her wash her feet after playing outdoors even though she always kept her slippers on. It had made her feel refreshed all over and she was able to spend the few hours of her day in the presence of her parents in a calm manner. They were impressed by her demeanor and had spoiled her with luxuries while her siblings fought for their every needs and desire. The only two things her parents could not give her were their love and attention and when she got these from Kris, she didn’t know how to receive them.
Tears strolled down her cheeks at this sudden realization and Mia sat motionless. What had she done? How could she have been so obtuse? She had been seeking the answer to her journey all over the place, out in the ocean, at the bottom of a wine bottle or in the grand shopping complexes. The answer was simple and it had been staring her in the face all her life.
Their last fight had extended over several weeks. Under a full moon three nights ago, Kris had proposed out on her beach. Without answer she had fled and locked herself in her room leaving him confused. They had reconciled and he had promised not to bring up the proposal again as long as they continued to be together. Then at the deli he had broken his promise and after a short argument, he had walked out. She had never seen him this angry before and now remembered the expression of hurt he wore before he left. Mia suddenly realized what if he had simply walked away to cool down and was coming back. It was she who had left him stranded by driving away and he would have to walk back home.
The sun had risen up higher and Mia rushed back to the inn. She had to go back, to find a ride home and to get her life back. She had had enough of the journey and now was ready for her destiny hoping it was not too late.
THE END
Saturday, May 5, 2012
QUOTES
"The first step in a journey is to lose your way." by Galway Kinnell
"Fiction reveals truths that reality obscures." by Ralph Waldo Emerson
ADRIFT - Part Two
WARNING: PLEASE READ PART ONE FIRST
A pile of rubble sat in front of Mia, blocking the road. Loose rocks and slimy mud had slid down the mountainside towards the ocean across the road. Her tires screeched to a sudden halt skidding towards the side of the cliff that hung over the ocean. She grabbed her purse and carefully stepped out of her car, walking away from it to observe her situation. Just as she reached a wider part of the road designated as a Vista point, she heard the loud explosion again. She watched in horror as a pile of rubble was happily sliding down from the same spot above but this time it had acquired a prize along the way towards its journey down to the ocean – her car. She stood with her mouth open, her hand over it as if trying to stop a scream from escaping. Her eyes widened as she peered over the cliff spotting a red door smashed up against the rocks down below. The rest of the car was nowhere to be seen, engulfed by the waves and taken out to sea.
Far into the horizon she saw the sun starting its journey down, its soft rays glinting over the expanse of the ocean as if winking at her. The view that tourists flock to see, photographers wait to capture, artists get inspiration from, that same view was beginning to spell fear for her. She was all alone in a desolate part of the island, and only minutes before darkness. Her only vehicle that could help complete her journey was now swimming to lands far from her. Even though it was a journey in which she had no idea where she was heading, she had a road and vehicle. In a sudden moment of explosion, even that had tumbled away.
Mia tried to think fast, to come up with a plan of action or inaction. Going back was fruitless she hadn’t seen a man-made structure for hours. Going forward was risky, through or over the rubble and even then no surety of help on the other side. Staying put was certain demise with unpredictable weather, torturous wind, and coal darkness, possibility of more land slide and not to mention the wild animals on the prowl at night. She shivered at all these possibilities and had to make a swift decision. The ocean below her raged, its waves crashing angrily as if to avenge the earth for its rude deposit from the land.
The dust on the debris on the road had settled and she looked more closely noticing a narrow opening in a corner on the mountain side of the road. Looking up at the top of the hill and assured that no more loose rocks were rolling down, she cautiously walked towards the pile of rubble. Not surprised to see anyone or any car stuck on the other side of this infrequently travelled road, she hurried on to find a sign of civilization.
As luck would have it, just as the last rays of the sun were beginning to take their dip down the oceanic horizon, Mia spotted a light. Her jog picked up to a run and she reached a small structure surrounded by a collection of cottages. She arrived there to find a large woman turning the key to lock up for the night. Apparently, Mia had chanced upon an Inn for those who wanted to lose themselves in the wilderness and escape from the real world. All the cottages were sitting vacant and she was going to be the only occupant for the night. She sighed, paid her deposit and walked into the cozy abode where she could collect her nerves after the dreadful day of mishaps and heart breaks.
To be continued…
A pile of rubble sat in front of Mia, blocking the road. Loose rocks and slimy mud had slid down the mountainside towards the ocean across the road. Her tires screeched to a sudden halt skidding towards the side of the cliff that hung over the ocean. She grabbed her purse and carefully stepped out of her car, walking away from it to observe her situation. Just as she reached a wider part of the road designated as a Vista point, she heard the loud explosion again. She watched in horror as a pile of rubble was happily sliding down from the same spot above but this time it had acquired a prize along the way towards its journey down to the ocean – her car. She stood with her mouth open, her hand over it as if trying to stop a scream from escaping. Her eyes widened as she peered over the cliff spotting a red door smashed up against the rocks down below. The rest of the car was nowhere to be seen, engulfed by the waves and taken out to sea.
Far into the horizon she saw the sun starting its journey down, its soft rays glinting over the expanse of the ocean as if winking at her. The view that tourists flock to see, photographers wait to capture, artists get inspiration from, that same view was beginning to spell fear for her. She was all alone in a desolate part of the island, and only minutes before darkness. Her only vehicle that could help complete her journey was now swimming to lands far from her. Even though it was a journey in which she had no idea where she was heading, she had a road and vehicle. In a sudden moment of explosion, even that had tumbled away.Mia tried to think fast, to come up with a plan of action or inaction. Going back was fruitless she hadn’t seen a man-made structure for hours. Going forward was risky, through or over the rubble and even then no surety of help on the other side. Staying put was certain demise with unpredictable weather, torturous wind, and coal darkness, possibility of more land slide and not to mention the wild animals on the prowl at night. She shivered at all these possibilities and had to make a swift decision. The ocean below her raged, its waves crashing angrily as if to avenge the earth for its rude deposit from the land.
The dust on the debris on the road had settled and she looked more closely noticing a narrow opening in a corner on the mountain side of the road. Looking up at the top of the hill and assured that no more loose rocks were rolling down, she cautiously walked towards the pile of rubble. Not surprised to see anyone or any car stuck on the other side of this infrequently travelled road, she hurried on to find a sign of civilization.As luck would have it, just as the last rays of the sun were beginning to take their dip down the oceanic horizon, Mia spotted a light. Her jog picked up to a run and she reached a small structure surrounded by a collection of cottages. She arrived there to find a large woman turning the key to lock up for the night. Apparently, Mia had chanced upon an Inn for those who wanted to lose themselves in the wilderness and escape from the real world. All the cottages were sitting vacant and she was going to be the only occupant for the night. She sighed, paid her deposit and walked into the cozy abode where she could collect her nerves after the dreadful day of mishaps and heart breaks.
To be continued…
Saturday, April 28, 2012
ADRIFT- part one
He left her sitting there. Her teeth were sinking into the juicy tomato, crunchy carrots, spicy sprouts and flavorful cucumbers sandwiched between two slices of soft and nutty multi-grain. Mia watched him stand up, push the chair violently back and walk out through the tiny door, out of her life. Finishing her lunch, she cleared up the table, grabbed her carrot ginger juice and left the deli. Stepping into her car she got onto the coastal road and drove north.The ocean on her left spread out into its vast glory with wild waves crawling up to the rocky shore. On her right jagged rocks and dark sandy mud of the mountain range extended upward as if reaching for the sky. She watched the road ahead of her and drove on full speed winding through turns and avoiding fallen rocks. He was not worth it, she kept telling herself.
First time she had seen him was from her yacht, standing on the cliff looking out into the sea. Through her binoculars she had studied him, his square and tanned bare shoulders, biceps that had worked to get their shape, a dimple on his square chin, a slightly crooked nose and eyes that disappeared under a broad forehead. After studying all of him, she had returned her gaze to his eyes and noticed him staring right at her. Through her binoculars their eyes met or so it seemed.
Docking in the marina for the night, she had hopped off to her cottage. Later that evening as she sat with her friends sampling local wines with a spread of cheeses from around the world, her eyes again found him, this time without the help of her binoculars. He seemed to be looking in her direction but he couldn’t have known that it was she who had been spying from the yacht. He walked over to their table and approached her friend, Rita who stood up as soon as she saw him and fell onto him into a hug. He planted a kiss on her cheek and blushing Rita turned to introduce him. Kris had grown up on the island across from Rita’s house and had gone away to study abroad. She had taken his hand and did not want to let go. Thirty seconds of awkward silence later, he had stepped back and taken his hand with him. Rita had sat back down with her stupid smile and star struck eyes and nodded mechanically when her friends suggested he join the group. That was then and almost a year later he had walked out on her at the deli between her sandwich bites.
Good riddance Mia thought as tears started a stroll down her cheeks, but the wind carried them away. She sped through the highway, the top of her convertible down, her shoulder-length hair fighting a battle with the ocean air. Her mind lost to the world and jumbles in her thoughts, a sudden loud boom startled her. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel with both her hands thinking a tire in her car had blown out, but the car was in complete control and behaving fine. Slowing down to look around but seeing nothing she decided to carry on at a manageable speed. Within a couple of kilometers, as she turned a bend in the road, the ocean expanse still spread out on one side and the mountain looming high on her other side, she was greeted by a shocking site.
To continued….
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Thirsty River
She dropped on this land just as insignificant as a raindrop during the monsoons. Seventh child in a fleet of daughters to parents who prayed for a son, Varsha melted into her landscape as soon as she was born. A patch of shapeless birthmark on her forehead became further eyesore for her parents and a brand of frequent ridicule from other children. She grew up frail, surviving several asthmatic attacks and cheerfully followed her older sisters, meandering through the neighborhood streets without a vision of where they were going.
Several other attempts for a son had failed with stillborn male children until their mother had nothing left in her to give. One by one, as the sisters were married off, Varsha remained the youngest and unmarriageable. She looked after her unloving elderly parents without complaint and her smile made the air around her shine as if a cloud of misty aura.
Daily chores became harder as her father fell one day into a seizure and lay paralyzed for several years. Her mother’s depression grew deeper and Varsha snaked through her moods. On her mother’s peak days, Varsha surged with joy welling up the gushing delight to the brim of her heart which all cascaded down into a deep gorge when her mother’s turbulent, valley days arrived.
Her father suffered his situation in annoyance, embarrassed for not finishing his duty to marry off his last daughter and angry for not had the fortune of a son to light the fire on his pyre. He unleashed his wrath on Varsha with sharp words, blaming her for his condition and accusing her for giving him wrong medicines to increase his suffering.
Through all adversity, Varsha treaded on with a smile. She felt sad at the loss of her parents as they left her land one after the other, but she adapted to her floating life alone. Cautiously, she began to venture, taking turns into paths she had never endeavored before. One day, picking up a paintbrush, she dabbed a few strokes on her courtyard wall as the setting sun paints the horizon. Completely absorbed into this new discovery she flowed deeper and further towards the splash of colors and soon all the walls in her three room house was covered with her artwork. She discovered a thirst inside her, one that had always existed but never acknowledged. It rose as a desire to be known, a craving to be approved, and a yearning to be part of a whole.
Continuing to flow but with more determination now more than ever, she ventured to newer abodes. Word spread and many flocked to see her work or urged her talent to wash over their homes. Varsha quenched all thirsts with her serene smile and splash of her colors.
One day, a young man from far away flew in to admire her and her work. He offered her a new home and a novel life. She took his hand and flowed towards a new land. What she found there was not the whole she was seeking but the one she had always wanted.
She was insignificant no more but part of a larger family. She was not the forgotten raindrop drifting aimlessly in a river. She had found her ocean with boundless love and renewed desires as a wife and a mother. She continued to brighten everyone’s days with her colors and her smiles and the river in her continued to flow, taking life’s meandering journey in stride and quenching all thirsts.Friday, April 13, 2012
Window of my Dreams
View through the window
square and picture perfect,
calm Pacific beyond
reflecting the blue sky
lone white cloud swims by
as birds glide with the breeze,
their wings spread to claim the sea
and the land across the shore.
View through the window
clear and exhuming peace,
the cycle of waves
their determined crash onto the cliffs,
jutting rocks braving them
standing ground to claim their own,
seals, trees and birds rest
tourists use them for support.
View inside my window
clear as night and day,
a cozy cottage bundles me
with its fireplace and robes
the rediscovery of love
comfort of security,
inspiration from beyond
or perhaps inside of me.
View inside my dreams
or inside my reality,
life the great journey
floating as in a dream.
Beauty outside my window
transforms to serenity,
birds fly home
with backdrop of setting sun
Songs of the birds
start a melody through my heart--
square and picture perfect,
calm Pacific beyond
reflecting the blue sky
lone white cloud swims by
as birds glide with the breeze,
their wings spread to claim the sea
and the land across the shore.
View through the window
clear and exhuming peace,
the cycle of waves
their determined crash onto the cliffs,
jutting rocks braving them
standing ground to claim their own,
seals, trees and birds rest
tourists use them for support.
View inside my window
clear as night and day,
a cozy cottage bundles me
with its fireplace and robes
the rediscovery of love
comfort of security,
inspiration from beyond
or perhaps inside of me.
View inside my dreams
or inside my reality,
life the great journey
floating as in a dream.
Beauty outside my window
transforms to serenity,
birds fly home
with backdrop of setting sun
Songs of the birds
start a melody through my heart--
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Haunting Gift - PART FIVE (FINAL)
WARNING: PLEASE READ PARTS ONE, TWO, THREE AND FOUR FIRST
Aarti opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by several tear streaked cheeks. Her three children held her hand, leaned down next to her or put an arm around her shoulders. She stood up slowly and sauntered to her room unassisted. Her children watched her go, their arms helplessly hanging to their sides. They wanted to follow but something in her gait held them back. They knew the only gift their mother would cherish now is the reunion with her lost child and they also knew that time was not on their side.
On the day of her 91st birthday, Aarti rose before the sun. Melancholy accompanied her as she progressed through her morning rituals. Weighed down with wet hair and a heavy heart, she stepped out of her front door but before closing it the chime of the phone called her back in. She walked in, took the cordless to her ear and sat down at her kitchen table. Rays of sunlight beamed in through the glass door bathing her with warmth and sparkle. Her son’s voice flowed through the phone, informing her that he was on his way over. She set the phone down and stared outside. Nature’s masterpiece greeted her with its colorful foliage smiling in their brightness. She watched the squirrels scurry in their haste as leaves started their journey down from the tree that gave them life onto the ground for their burial in the imminent snow.
She rested her head on the back of her chair and closed her eyes. A bouquet of fresh roses sat in a vase and its aroma travelled towards Aarti. As always, the roses took her back, back to the valley with the crystal clear water of the flowing river. She felt the cool water on her feet and inhaled the clean mountain air. Softness touched her heart and she brought her hand up to steady it.
Her eyes opened and she found herself staring at an image of her younger self. The smile on the image was wide and her familiar eyes sparkled. Aarti stood up slowly and took a step forward. She touched the woman in front of her, felt her soft skin, and ran her hand down her long hair noticing streaks of white. She blinked twice to see if this dream was real or if this reality was a dream. Tears slid down her cheeks and Aarti was at a loss. She wanted to pull her younger self into an embrace but was afraid. She wanted to sit down to steady herself but unsure if her body could move. Finally, the woman stepped forward and fell into her mother’s arms. Aarti held her close as if she will never let her go again.
The younger three children watched the reunion satisfied that they had found the perfect gift for their mother. Aarti finally let go of Prishaa and invited her other children into her arms. The group stood huddled together under the brightness of the morning, their faces radiant and their glistening eyes smiling. Aarti melted into completeness.
THE END
Aarti opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by several tear streaked cheeks. Her three children held her hand, leaned down next to her or put an arm around her shoulders. She stood up slowly and sauntered to her room unassisted. Her children watched her go, their arms helplessly hanging to their sides. They wanted to follow but something in her gait held them back. They knew the only gift their mother would cherish now is the reunion with her lost child and they also knew that time was not on their side.
On the day of her 91st birthday, Aarti rose before the sun. Melancholy accompanied her as she progressed through her morning rituals. Weighed down with wet hair and a heavy heart, she stepped out of her front door but before closing it the chime of the phone called her back in. She walked in, took the cordless to her ear and sat down at her kitchen table. Rays of sunlight beamed in through the glass door bathing her with warmth and sparkle. Her son’s voice flowed through the phone, informing her that he was on his way over. She set the phone down and stared outside. Nature’s masterpiece greeted her with its colorful foliage smiling in their brightness. She watched the squirrels scurry in their haste as leaves started their journey down from the tree that gave them life onto the ground for their burial in the imminent snow.
She rested her head on the back of her chair and closed her eyes. A bouquet of fresh roses sat in a vase and its aroma travelled towards Aarti. As always, the roses took her back, back to the valley with the crystal clear water of the flowing river. She felt the cool water on her feet and inhaled the clean mountain air. Softness touched her heart and she brought her hand up to steady it.
Her eyes opened and she found herself staring at an image of her younger self. The smile on the image was wide and her familiar eyes sparkled. Aarti stood up slowly and took a step forward. She touched the woman in front of her, felt her soft skin, and ran her hand down her long hair noticing streaks of white. She blinked twice to see if this dream was real or if this reality was a dream. Tears slid down her cheeks and Aarti was at a loss. She wanted to pull her younger self into an embrace but was afraid. She wanted to sit down to steady herself but unsure if her body could move. Finally, the woman stepped forward and fell into her mother’s arms. Aarti held her close as if she will never let her go again.
The younger three children watched the reunion satisfied that they had found the perfect gift for their mother. Aarti finally let go of Prishaa and invited her other children into her arms. The group stood huddled together under the brightness of the morning, their faces radiant and their glistening eyes smiling. Aarti melted into completeness.
THE END
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Haunting Gift - PART FOUR
WARNING: PLEASE READ PARTS ONE, TWO AND THREE FIRST
Prishaa was in good hands. Chhaaya responded to Aarti's letters and kept her informed on her baby's development. Aarti's parents found her a groom and she was married but her letters to Chhaaya continued. Even though she had three more children from her marriage, she never forgot her first born and every year on the day of their dual birthday, Aarti celebrated it with special prayers and rituals at the temple. Daily she started her mornings with a prayer when she asked the wind to carry her blessings to the land where Prishaa lived and told the Gods to keep her safe. The world changed all around her with World Wars, countries dividing, space flights, a moon landing, computers, internet, her children's weddings, grandchildren, loss of her husband but the constant was the void. Letters with Chhaaya ended at her passing and Aarti had lost her only connection to her first born while the abyss grew deeper and darker. It haunted her wherever she went, shadowed her into her darkest corners, echoed in her dreams as if calling out, screaming.
On her 90th birthday, Aarti went to the temple early in the morning and prayed to see her daughter, Prishaa once in this lifetime. Later that day, gathered around her living room for her birthday party was her entire family. Her three children stood with their spouses while her grandchildren and great-grandchildren filled up the rest of the room. She looked at them with pride but her happiness was incomplete. The void deep inside her heart gnawed and tugged at her with renewed energy.
After blowing out the candles and cutting the cake she looked into her children's eyes and smiled. Taking in a deep breath, she reached into her pocket and took out a photograph. Her family looked quizzically at the tattered, yellowed picture of a beautiful young woman in her 20s with thick dark hair and sparkling eyes. They realized that if their mother's eyes sparkled, they would be exactly the same as the girl in the picture. Infact, all her features resembled their mother - her nose, the shape of her lips, the high cheek bones.
Aarti's only son stepped forward and asked about the girl. His mother smiled and turned her gaze to the photograph. He saw love in his mother's eyes as he had never seen before, for him or his siblings or even their father. He touched her hand and asked again. She set the picture on the table next to the cake, sat back in her chair, closed her eyes and began her story.
to be continued....
Prishaa was in good hands. Chhaaya responded to Aarti's letters and kept her informed on her baby's development. Aarti's parents found her a groom and she was married but her letters to Chhaaya continued. Even though she had three more children from her marriage, she never forgot her first born and every year on the day of their dual birthday, Aarti celebrated it with special prayers and rituals at the temple. Daily she started her mornings with a prayer when she asked the wind to carry her blessings to the land where Prishaa lived and told the Gods to keep her safe. The world changed all around her with World Wars, countries dividing, space flights, a moon landing, computers, internet, her children's weddings, grandchildren, loss of her husband but the constant was the void. Letters with Chhaaya ended at her passing and Aarti had lost her only connection to her first born while the abyss grew deeper and darker. It haunted her wherever she went, shadowed her into her darkest corners, echoed in her dreams as if calling out, screaming.
On her 90th birthday, Aarti went to the temple early in the morning and prayed to see her daughter, Prishaa once in this lifetime. Later that day, gathered around her living room for her birthday party was her entire family. Her three children stood with their spouses while her grandchildren and great-grandchildren filled up the rest of the room. She looked at them with pride but her happiness was incomplete. The void deep inside her heart gnawed and tugged at her with renewed energy.
After blowing out the candles and cutting the cake she looked into her children's eyes and smiled. Taking in a deep breath, she reached into her pocket and took out a photograph. Her family looked quizzically at the tattered, yellowed picture of a beautiful young woman in her 20s with thick dark hair and sparkling eyes. They realized that if their mother's eyes sparkled, they would be exactly the same as the girl in the picture. Infact, all her features resembled their mother - her nose, the shape of her lips, the high cheek bones.
Aarti's only son stepped forward and asked about the girl. His mother smiled and turned her gaze to the photograph. He saw love in his mother's eyes as he had never seen before, for him or his siblings or even their father. He touched her hand and asked again. She set the picture on the table next to the cake, sat back in her chair, closed her eyes and began her story.
to be continued....
Friday, March 23, 2012
Haunting Gift - PART THREE
WARNING: PLEASE READ PARTS ONE AND TWO FIRST -
The home for unwed mothers was far from Aarti’s village. Her father and mother travelled the long journey with her over the mountains into a beautiful valley. Her home for the next six months was a serene abode on the banks of a flowing river. Women and girls of various ages and at different stages of their pregnancies walked in the gardens, took in the fresh breeze from the mountains, or dipped their toes in the icy water of the flowing river.
Aarti waved tearfully to her parents and retreated into the darkest corner of her new room as her heart felt heavier than the load she carried in her stomach. On the second day still tucked in her nook alone, Aarti looked up to see a scrawny little girl run into her room. A long dress seemed to be hanging on the girl’s shoulders as if on a hanger. With red eyes and sniffling nose, the girl came to the corner and cowered down beside Aarti. Turning her head sideways she whispered, “Chhaaya is hiding.” Aarti stared at her, nodded and went back into her shell. “Don’t tell Amma .” Before Aarti could say anything the young girl went on, “She’s very upset with me.”
Aarti looked at her and said, “I always go to my father.” The young girl glared at her as if the older girl had said a bad word. Finally, running a hand over her wet nose she spoke, “Chhaaya doesn’t have a father.” She then proceeded to enlighten Aarti about life at the nursing home since she knew everything and everybody. She had been living here from the day of her birth and her mother worked here as the nurse’s helper.
Over the several days, Chhaaya told her new friend stories about all the women or girls that came to the nursing home. The two girls became friends and Aarti was able to forget about her condition for a while. They walked around the garden stopping at roses to drink in their aromas and sometimes returning home with a bleeding finger from the tumultuous thorns. They put their feet in the cool glacial water that flowed down the river. The pebbles they tossed into the water stayed behind and became shinier over time as the river made its journey forward. Aarti’s stomach grew and she waddled uncomfortably bearing her load. The grass in the garden began to turn yellow and a chill blew down from the mountain.
On the night her moon faced daughter was born, the sky was as dark as coal. Drained from the ordeal, Aarti wanted to have nothing to do with the baby. She refused to look in its direction but when the nurse put the helpless little thing on her chest, all clean and soft she could not take her eyes off the tiny creature. She nursed her, stared at her for hours, touched her soft cheeks and thick dark hair and talked to her about her inner most feelings. She named her Prishaa for the gift she was. She was Aarti’s birthday present as mother and daughter shared the day of their birth.
Within two weeks of Prishaa’s birth, Aarti’s parents arrived to take her home. Aarti was horrified when she learned that she could not take her daughter home with her. Infact, the adoption arrangements had all been made and Prishaa was going home to a new set of parents. Her mother consoled her and explained how it was best for everyone, including the baby. Heartbroken, Aarti kissed her baby, hugged Chhaaya and started on the long journey home.
To be continued….
The home for unwed mothers was far from Aarti’s village. Her father and mother travelled the long journey with her over the mountains into a beautiful valley. Her home for the next six months was a serene abode on the banks of a flowing river. Women and girls of various ages and at different stages of their pregnancies walked in the gardens, took in the fresh breeze from the mountains, or dipped their toes in the icy water of the flowing river.
Aarti waved tearfully to her parents and retreated into the darkest corner of her new room as her heart felt heavier than the load she carried in her stomach. On the second day still tucked in her nook alone, Aarti looked up to see a scrawny little girl run into her room. A long dress seemed to be hanging on the girl’s shoulders as if on a hanger. With red eyes and sniffling nose, the girl came to the corner and cowered down beside Aarti. Turning her head sideways she whispered, “Chhaaya is hiding.” Aarti stared at her, nodded and went back into her shell. “Don’t tell Amma .” Before Aarti could say anything the young girl went on, “She’s very upset with me.”
Aarti looked at her and said, “I always go to my father.” The young girl glared at her as if the older girl had said a bad word. Finally, running a hand over her wet nose she spoke, “Chhaaya doesn’t have a father.” She then proceeded to enlighten Aarti about life at the nursing home since she knew everything and everybody. She had been living here from the day of her birth and her mother worked here as the nurse’s helper.
Over the several days, Chhaaya told her new friend stories about all the women or girls that came to the nursing home. The two girls became friends and Aarti was able to forget about her condition for a while. They walked around the garden stopping at roses to drink in their aromas and sometimes returning home with a bleeding finger from the tumultuous thorns. They put their feet in the cool glacial water that flowed down the river. The pebbles they tossed into the water stayed behind and became shinier over time as the river made its journey forward. Aarti’s stomach grew and she waddled uncomfortably bearing her load. The grass in the garden began to turn yellow and a chill blew down from the mountain.
On the night her moon faced daughter was born, the sky was as dark as coal. Drained from the ordeal, Aarti wanted to have nothing to do with the baby. She refused to look in its direction but when the nurse put the helpless little thing on her chest, all clean and soft she could not take her eyes off the tiny creature. She nursed her, stared at her for hours, touched her soft cheeks and thick dark hair and talked to her about her inner most feelings. She named her Prishaa for the gift she was. She was Aarti’s birthday present as mother and daughter shared the day of their birth.
Within two weeks of Prishaa’s birth, Aarti’s parents arrived to take her home. Aarti was horrified when she learned that she could not take her daughter home with her. Infact, the adoption arrangements had all been made and Prishaa was going home to a new set of parents. Her mother consoled her and explained how it was best for everyone, including the baby. Heartbroken, Aarti kissed her baby, hugged Chhaaya and started on the long journey home.
To be continued….
Friday, March 16, 2012
Haunting Gift - PART TWO
WARNING: READ PART ONE FIRST
She froze in her spot when the monster jumped up in front of her. Her knees wobbled and her legs refused to move. A scream escaped from her throat into the dense orchard without any sound. The lunch basket escaped her hand and sat abandoned by her feet. Somehow, her feet dug up courage from the fertile ground she stood on and she started a run away from him. He chased with his long stride, grabbing with muscular arms. He pulled her delicate 14-year old body down, restraining her flailing arms and legs with his massiveness. He stuffed her mouth with a dirty rag muffling her cries for help. His bulging eyes coming down to her face was the last thing she remembered before passing out.
When she woke flies were playing an orchestra around her. The koel was calling for help in its lyrical sound. From her position flat on the ground she saw an army of red ants charging towards her. She sat up but when she tried to stand, her knees buckled. She crawled towards a tree and leaning against its trunk steadied her painful and bloody legs. Surveying around her she realized she was alone, the monster had done the damage and retreated into the wilderness. Aarti limped towards home, dragging her violated body as bruises grew darker and blood trickling down her legs began to dry. She ran the last steps towards her mother’s shocked face, fell into her arms and began bawling into an inconsolable fit. Between heaves and sobs, she related the nightmare and saw her mother’s face change from anger to fear to despair.
Aarti stayed in the security of her mother’s arms and tried to block out everything. She leaned on the older woman as they walked towards the bathroom. Her mother washed her, cleaned up all the blood, applied soothing concoctions on the bruises and cuts, consoled her and directed her to rest. Later, she made her drink a bitter brew made from herbs and roots but it did not make the nightmares to go away.
Several months passed and her body healed but the bulging eyes of the monster visited her every night. She woke drenched in sweat and grabbed at her sheets to shroud herself in them. One morning, when her mother found her in the corner of the courtyard, keeled over and emptying the contents of her stomach, Aarti was unprepared for what twist her fate had taken for her.
To be continued……
She froze in her spot when the monster jumped up in front of her. Her knees wobbled and her legs refused to move. A scream escaped from her throat into the dense orchard without any sound. The lunch basket escaped her hand and sat abandoned by her feet. Somehow, her feet dug up courage from the fertile ground she stood on and she started a run away from him. He chased with his long stride, grabbing with muscular arms. He pulled her delicate 14-year old body down, restraining her flailing arms and legs with his massiveness. He stuffed her mouth with a dirty rag muffling her cries for help. His bulging eyes coming down to her face was the last thing she remembered before passing out.
When she woke flies were playing an orchestra around her. The koel was calling for help in its lyrical sound. From her position flat on the ground she saw an army of red ants charging towards her. She sat up but when she tried to stand, her knees buckled. She crawled towards a tree and leaning against its trunk steadied her painful and bloody legs. Surveying around her she realized she was alone, the monster had done the damage and retreated into the wilderness. Aarti limped towards home, dragging her violated body as bruises grew darker and blood trickling down her legs began to dry. She ran the last steps towards her mother’s shocked face, fell into her arms and began bawling into an inconsolable fit. Between heaves and sobs, she related the nightmare and saw her mother’s face change from anger to fear to despair.
Aarti stayed in the security of her mother’s arms and tried to block out everything. She leaned on the older woman as they walked towards the bathroom. Her mother washed her, cleaned up all the blood, applied soothing concoctions on the bruises and cuts, consoled her and directed her to rest. Later, she made her drink a bitter brew made from herbs and roots but it did not make the nightmares to go away.
Several months passed and her body healed but the bulging eyes of the monster visited her every night. She woke drenched in sweat and grabbed at her sheets to shroud herself in them. One morning, when her mother found her in the corner of the courtyard, keeled over and emptying the contents of her stomach, Aarti was unprepared for what twist her fate had taken for her.
To be continued……
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