Creatikaa

When waiting meant everything...

2026-04-21T11:53:00.005+05:30

It was a regular weekday morning. I was waiting at my stop, watching buses go past me – one after another. Packed. Loud. I didn’t feel like getting into one because I wanted to wait. Simply wait.

Waiting was the best part of school.

We didnt miss buses. We chose to wait.

Back then, the bus stop was not just a place. It was a world. We would reach early – not because we were disciplined, but because we didn’t want to miss anything. The morning light would fall gently on the road as we dodged between the fallen flowers of the copper pod (perunkondrai) tree. It was magical, as it not only painted the street yellow when seen from an aerial view but the ground beneath our feet as well. Tea kadai smoke would rise like it had nowhere else to go, and the Crows, Kites, and Mynas would already be there – always before us. I even wondered if they observed us as closely as we observed them.

There would be four or five Crows – two on the electric fence and others on the signboard of the Block BDO office just opposite the bus stop. They would appear busy talking to each other, doing something or the other, and occasionally giving us an intent look.

The Kites were always hovering above us, surveying the entire area like they owned the place.

The Mynas were usually seen in groups. They were the gossip network. Constant movement. Constant noise. If something unusual happened, they knew first.

And the Koel? Vocal but shy fellas. It’s really hard to spot them, but one can’t escape their sweet song echoing between the annoying vehicular noises. It’s lovely and lights up the atmosphere even when there is nothing interesting going on.

The bus would appear from a distance. We could identify it even before reading the number.
“Machan, idhu namma bus da…”

We would straighten ourselves. Bags adjusted. Faces suddenly serious – like we had somewhere important to be. But as it came closer, our mood would change. It would be crowded. Always. We would see our own friends hanging at the footboard like festival decorations.

“Ennada ippdi puli mootta maathiri poreenga!”

We would shout. Laugh. The volume would increase slightly if we noticed a girl peeping out of the window seat.

But I wouldn’t board. Yes, I am well-mannered.

So, we would let it go. One after the other, the buses kept passing. Every time we even attempted to board, there would be a frown-faced conductor, who looked exactly like Bluto (from Popeye), yelling at us that another bus, a completely empty one, was right behind this one.

Encouraging us. Guiding us. Almost caring for our comfort. “How sweet,” we would think, despite the face.

And then the next bus would arrive. Same story. Only this time, the conductor would look softer, thinner, like Shaggy (from Scooby-Doo).

Different face. Same lie.

But honestly, we also loved waiting, so it didn’t matter. You know something – waiting is patience. Waiting is perseverance. Waiting is freedom.

Waiting is life, actually—if you get what I mean.

But what did we do with all that freedom?

Talking to girls, at that time, felt like one of the biggest achievements of our lives. Not board exams. Not sports day medals. This.

(You might have noticed I keep switching between “I” and “we.” That’s intentional. “I” is when I’m owning the moment njan allathe pinne yaar; “we” is when I’m safely distributing the responsibility. Hope that helps :D)

And it always began at the bus stand. The bus stand was a stage. A testing ground. We would stand there pretending to discuss homework, cricket, serious life matters like what’s for dinner or which movie would run well – Ramana or Bagavathy or Villain, but our eyes had their own syllabus.

And sometimes, we would leave buses. Not because they were crowded. Not because we were tired. But because… we were waiting. Waiting for someone.

Someone who would arrive just a few minutes late, as if time itself was waiting (or had even stopped) for her.

Someone who was about 5.5 feet tall, with a perfectly symmetrical face and two wide eyes with lustrous eyelines that contrasted beautifully with her complexion. The kind of eyes that could make a group of boys suddenly stand properly without being told.

We never said it out loud. We were far too dignified for that.

She also reminded me of an Asian Paradise Flycatcher. There were a certain grace and aura around her presence. And like the flycatcher, she didn’t belong to the noise and the crowd there. As always, she would arrive at the bus stop at the very last moment – relaxed and calm.

There was commotion, though.

Among the crows and mynas around. Maybe they were jealous. Of course. Who isn’t? Have you seen the Asian Paradise Flycatcher?

But the koel? He appeared unseen, but his song grew in frequency, reverberating around the bus stop. Maybe he was communicating something. But to whom?

Honestly, I started noticing all this only after my friend began talking about her frequently. Yes, he had a major crush on her back then when we were in grades 11 and 12. In fact, he told her directly once when he got a chance, over the phone. He was gutsy and awesome. I could only wish for that.

But now that I am free, and my words are flowing like an endless stream… who is there to stop me?

“Machan, next bus varudhu da…”

“Theriyum… aana wait pannalaam.”

Everyone knew the reason, and hence there was no argument or confrontation. We knew we would be late. And that meant facing the PT sir.

Ah, PT sir. The legendary guy. A man of discipline. Useless structure. And a five-foot-long cane that had more authority than the school management. He enjoyed it because it gave him attention. Attention he wanted from students, teachers, and the school management. And what exactly that attention was… nobody knew.

This need for attention sometimes brought out our cruel side too. I still remember the day he made fun of me for not playing volleyball the way he expected, and made me run around the ground repeatedly. It wasn’t the punishment that hurt – it was his words, every time I passed my friends. And it hurt even more when a few of them joined him.

It didn’t stop that day. It stayed long enough for me to stop playing during PT period, almost at school entirely.

But things changed in college. I got more active in sports than ever before. I played district-level badminton, became a long-distance runner in NCC, and co-led my department cricket team to victory. And now, for the past decade, I’ve been working in education, trying to bring in that one thing I felt was missing back then: fun. Because when learning is fun, children learn.
A lot.

Alright, coming back to our story. PT sir would stand near the gate – waiting, not like us, but with purpose. And it was almost impossible to convince him. No matter what excuse we tried (“Sir, bus late sir…”, “Sir, traffic sir…”), it never seemed to reach him. For a while, I even thought he had hearing issues. But later I realised it wasn’t him – it was all teachers with selective hearing, especially when it came to excuses. Even the dogs near the gate would lower their voices when he stood there.

One day, something rare happened - a bus arrived almost empty, too perfect to trust; we looked at each other, hesitated, and just then a Koel called from behind the neem tree, and somehow that was enough for us to step back and let it go.

We laughed not because it was funny, but because it felt right and only much later did I realise we weren’t waiting for buses, we were waiting for moments where nothing important was happening and everything important was.

Now, at a signal or bus stops, I watch buses move on without anyone waiting, until I notice a Crow looking at me like it remembers and I smile, because we didn’t miss buses, we chose to wait.

Road Trip to Spiti - Part 2: Kinnaur to Nako Village

2023-09-25T22:10:00.006+05:30

After a good night’s sleep in Kalpa, we woke up to a stunning sight. From our room, we were greeted by the snow-covered mountains that stretched as far as our eyes could see. Among them, the Kinnaur Kailash peak stood out, though it looked quite small. We weren’t entirely convinced that this was indeed Kinnaur Kailash, but our driver and guide confirmed it for us. As we watch this peak, I was wondering how had a mere stone atop a peak become a revered deity, compelling people to trek despite the challenging terrain? Strange world!

Tiny Kinnaur Kailash from distance

After breakfast, we continued our journey deep into Kinnaur region, accompanied by river Sutlej. At Khab we witnessed a beautiful sight of two rivers – Sutlej and Spiti – merging gracefully.

Along the way, we noticed numerous hydropower plants and inquired about them from our driver. He informed us that a surge in hydropower plant constructions had taken place recently in the mountains. The process involved drilling into the mountains, impacting nearby villages, causing mild tremors. This had also led to increased occurrences of landslides, he added. Hearing the driver's account reminded me of a recent article I had read about the development of cracks in Joshimath village in Uttarakhand, causing damage to properties. It was argued that one of the contributing factors behind these cracks was the hydropower project. It struck me how, often, the underprivileged villagers bear the brunt for the supposed betterment of the privileged.

As we drove past the hydropower plants, our guide advised us to take regular sips of water at intervals. He emphasized the significance of staying hydrated on these high-altitude roads. The guide further informed us about the forthcoming leg of our journey, sharing insights into the landscape. He explained that as we ascend, the roads would become more barren, devoid of the usual greenery and trees due to the lower oxygen levels at higher altitudes. This prepared us for the desolate stretches of our road trip.

After 3 hours’ drive, we reached this enchanting Nako village, which is located at whooping altitude of 12000 ft. from sea level. This remote village was a captivating sight, with its mud houses blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. We decided to explore the village further and embarked on a short trek. We saw the oldest monastery that was said to have constructed at around 11th century. Then after walking through the mud walls in between houses and cow sheds, we reached a lake located on top of the village. The trek was short, but the altitude made it more challenging, leaving us breathless and exhausted. Coming from a coastal region, the weather was quite complex for us to handle. The temperature was around 10 degrees yet we were surprised by the intense sun. We took precautions, covering ourselves entirely to avoid sunburns and the relentless heat was quite draining.

Nako Village

Surrounded by the serene mountains, we couldn't help but feel a deep sense of tranquility. We sat there on the banks of the lake for a while and it was a moment of pure connection with nature and the local way of life. Our guide said that it freezes during winter and the kids play skating on the lake.

Nako lake

On our way back, we noticed apple trees that were half the size of the ones we had seen in Shimla. We learned that the villagers were provided with hybrid seeds as part of a livelihood initiative by the government. Additionally, the villagers were engaged in the cultivation of potatoes, mustard, and green peas. Interestingly, seeing the potato farming reminded me of how potatoes found their way through the British before independence. It was Captain Young who introduced potatoes to the Himalayan foothills (Roads to Mussoorie, Ruskin Bond). Little did he know then that aaloo, as we call it, would become a staple food in most parts of North Indian cuisine, leaving a lasting mark on the region's gastronomy.

We started from Nako Village and our next stop is Dhankar in Spiti district. With all the excitement, we started our journey. Around 30 minutes into the ride, we noticed a vehicle coming back on reverse gear. Intrigued, we slowed down to inquire about the reason. The driver shared an unexpected twist – no one could proceed further due to falling rocks near Malling Nalla. As we cautiously went past that vehicle, we witnessed the live landslide. Rocks of all sizes were tumbling down from the top. The hills harbored water at their peaks, which comes down as falls near Malling Nalla. This water flowed onto the roads where a small bridge was under construction. It was the construction worker who saw the landslides initially and prompted the Border Roads Organisation (BRO) for clearing it off.

Temple near Malling Nalla

At that moment, one of the construction workers said that these rocks would also come down very soon, pointing to the hill near our vehicle. Panic surged through us as we saw water seeping through the tiny holes in the Rocky Mountains.

Photo Credit: Suganya Srinivasan

Road Trip to Spiti - Part 1: From Shimla to Kinnaur

2023-09-10T22:50:00.007+05:30

"I thought of seeing houses in patches as we drive down to Spiti but it's other way around," said my wife in surprise after seeing the congested and busy Himalayan road. We were embarking on a road trip to Spiti, en route Shimla, Kalpa, and Dhankar, with high hopes of witnessing remote villages scattered in the rugged terrain.

Our journey began in the picturesque city of Shimla, renowned for its colonial architecture and captivating views. The roads, as usual, were a testament to the Border Roads Organisation’s (BRO) engineering marvels. It was project Himank in Ladakh & Kashmir and project Deepak in Himachal. And their highway signboards with witty taglines are unique and attractive.

I am curvaceous. Be slow
If you are married, divorce speed
After whisky, driving risky

We manoeuvred our way through dense thickets of coniferous forest, where deodar, pine, and oak trees dominated the landscape. With leaves shaped like needles, they resembled a dense bush from afar and were perfectly suited to withstand the harsh cold of the Himalayan winters. In a few pockets, we have also seen Eucalyptus trees. Although its invasive in nature, its distinct scent mesmerized us briefly as we continued our journey.

Even though I was seeing Deodar trees for the first time, thanks to Ruskin Bond's tales, it felt oddly familiar. In his stories set in the Himalayas, Deodar trees play an indispensable role. They are more than just trees; they are living characters in his narratives. Ruskin Bond's words have painted vivid pictures of these majestic trees.

It might be the way he describes the sound of their branches on a windy day, a haunting "hoo-hoo-hoo," as he beautifully portrays in his story Mountains in my Blood. That eerie yet compulsive sound seemed to echo through the woods as we journeyed deeper into the Himalayas, making me feel as though I had been here before.

Or it could be the sense of companionship he evokes when talking about the Deodars. In his book Roads to Mussoorie, he wrote, "The deodar enjoys the company of its own kind: Where one deodar grows, there will be others." As we passed row after row of these grand trees, it was evident that they indeed preferred each other's company. Their dense presence created a unique ambiance, one that felt comforting and inviting.

As we left Shimla behind, the road led us to the Kinnaur Gate, a notable spot known for its rock-cut path. Here, the landscape transformed dramatically. The road appeared to have been skillfully carved along the corner of the mountain. As we navigated its twists and turns, the breath-taking views of these rocky pathways left us in awe. But that’s not all. It caused us a touch of nausea as well, as if the mountains were playfully challenging our stomachs to a dance-off.

Kinnaur Gate, a notable spot known for its rock-cut path

Skillfully carved road of Himalayas. Photo Credit - Suganya

The beautiful part of this drive was the Sutlej river that accompanied us as we carefully drove down these meandering roads. Although the water in these river was not as clear as the Beas river we had seen in Kullu but their current maintained the same swift pace.

Majestic Sutlej river. Photo Credit - Suganya

After an 8-hour journey, we finally arrived at Rekong Peo, located at an altitude of 7500 ft. above sea level. During the drive, our driver shared intriguing details about Kinnaur Kailash, capturing our interest. He pointed to one of the ice-capped peaks and explained that it harbored a rock formation resembling a lingam, which people workship as Lord Shiva. To reach this site, adventurers get on a challenging trek through the Kinnaur region. What made it even more exciting was that the rock or a Kinnaur Kailash could be clearly seen from the place we are going to stay in Kalpa.

After a brief stop in Rekong Peo, we continued our journey towards Kalpa, situated at a lofty altitude of 9700 ft. above sea level. As darkness descended, we spotted a scattering of tiny lights atop the mountains. Our driver informed us that these were trekkers camping on their way to visit Kinnaur Kailash.

We arrived in Kalpa after going through multiple hairpin bends and settled into our hotel room. The room welcomed us with its cozy and spacious interior. However, the true highlight was the generous balcony attached to our room, holding the promise of a possible glimpse of Kinnaur Kailash the next morning. Guide from Just Wravel had informed us that around 5 to 6 am, the skies would be clear, devoid of clouds, offering a perfect opportunity to catch a view. We were all set to witness the beautiful sight at dawn. As we went to bed, we realised that the road had become less crowded devoid of people and even trees. The houses appeared in patches, just as my wife had initially envisioned.

Maya - A fairy who found me in the woods

2021-05-19T12:52:00.008+05:30

Deep into the forest, along the riverside, was my cottage. I was sitting along the windowsill sipping a cup of tea, adoring the beauty of nature. The sun had a tough time penetrating through the dense thickets of canopy cover, the temperature was subtle and pleasant. I took my pen and started to scribble, inhaling the scenic scent of the red sandalwood trees and the British-influenced eucalyptus trees. Just then, I saw a girl outside the cottage under a Silver Oak tree in the middle of the tea estate. She looked bubbly in her blue gown. Her chubby cheeks curled at the gentle breeze that swayed across.

She waved at me from a distance and called out my name in a melodious tone. I was stunned. Her voice reminded me of this beautiful migrant, Pied Cuckoo. It was pleasing, calm and cute.

Meanwhile, my mind was bombarded with many questions. Who is she? How does she know my name? Do I know her? She looks familiar, though.

Maya - A fairy who found me in the woods
Illustration credit - Anaga Narayanan

Maybe my binocular could help, I told myself and took it for a better view. It was an old Olympus 8x40 binocular, which I had been using extensively for bird watching.

Positioning the binocular, I saw the girl under the same tree. She was fair and small, she had short hair that was left loose and fell all over her face. (I definitely knew her).

I narrowed my focus and saw something astonishing. My eyes widened.

It is crane!!!!! Sarus crane, I screamed! But how? They were soaring up to the sky from around her. What is she? I wondered.

While she was standing still, hundreds of cranes flew away. One of them came near my window, perched on a branch, jumped for a while, and left. Was it trying to convey something or checking the strength of the branch, I never knew! But it was a stunning sight! Not just the bird, but the very sight of it coming from within her, one by one; juvenile-then-turned-adult, stretching its wings and taking a flight, just like that! It was like it was coming from an alternate universe….

After about a minute, all the cranes took flight and were lost in woods, I turned around to check on the girl and she was gone…

Unable to digest the scene that just happened, I took another sip of tea and continued writing. Words started to flow and so did the melody of Malabar whistling thrush from a distance.

All I could think of, was her eyes and its magnificent radiance. Maya, I named her, a scintillating sun who appeared in woods and gave birth to those wondrous cranes, that flew away in flocks into the high sky. When she stood still, she was like an angel shining in the sunshine. Her presence made the silver Oak tree shimmer like a fair-weather cumulus cloud.

As I continued writing, I sensed a brief movement along the tea estate. People were screaming. "It's a bear", "Run for your life”.

Panic stricken; people were running all around the place. Some were climbing the trees; some were running towards the building and some were sprinting towards the stream. The Sloth bear seemed to have no idea of what was happening. But he looked disturbed and got agitated because of the chaos. He stopped walking and started munching the tea leaves, which caused further uproar amongst the estate labourers. One of them went close, with a stick and tried to drive off the animal. But the bear pounced on him and smacked him with its sharp claws.

While the poor guy was battling for his life, the bear suddenly stopped and stepped aside. It started to soothe the wounds instead, which surprisingly began to heal. I could not believe my own eyes. I was witnessing a visual marvel! The bear seemed to be obeying someone, it was constantly nodding and waving to the nearest tree. I narrowed my focus to the tree to see Maya! She was standing up on the branches of the silver oak tree and I saw a pair of Malabar Whistling thrushes on her shoulders.

As I admired her from my windowpane, she turned around and looked at me. She looked absolutely stunning with her round eyes surmounted by kajal. Her intense pale-blue eyes were piercing and angelic. Besides, her strong cheekbones and rosy lips were sparkling. The dark hair added colour to the entire surface. I was totally immersed into her when I heard something out of nowhere, ‘Alright, that's enough!’

‘What? Where did that come from?’ I was shocked.

With the wink of an eye, the thrushes flew away and like a flash, she appeared on my window ledge alongside me. She came closer and hugged me, I was paralysed. Her hands were hot; it was soothing in that cold weather. She shrivelled as my breath fell on her neck and ears. Heat soared with the tightness of her grip and beads of sweat dripped down my brows. She then kissed me, with her soft juicy lips. It was deep and therapeutic. I lost myself in that kiss and started to whisper – My Maya…

“He is whispering again. Nurse, call the girl,” screamed the doctor who was examining my file, while I was on bed due Alzheimer’s disease for the past 5 years.

#Matkarforward - Verify your message before forwarding...

2020-06-25T16:15:00.004+05:30

“Have you heard about it?”

“Heard what?”

“The new virus?”

“What?”

“Yes. Another virus is coming out. Again, from China!”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Check your WhatsApp, I have forwarded it to you!”

~ * ~

Sarvesh was relieved after hearing the relaxation about the lockdown. He was particularly pleased about the opening of parks and beaches for walking purposes as he used to run regularly and believes in fitness.

After a long wait, the day has come and Sarvesh, all geared up and fresh, went for a run. There were a lot of trees in the park, he used to run and one among them was Mahua (Iluppai in Tamil). He saw an unusual movement near that tree. People looked scared and were maintaining their distance from that tree. The tree was along the joggers/walkers’ path, which people deliberately avoided and created their own path. Sarvesh didn’t really understand the reason behind this peculiar behaviour. So, he went on with his old trail i.e. running alongside Mahua trees at the park. As soon as he crossed the artificial path and stepped on to the old path that lead to Mahua trees, he sensed a strange and uncanny look amongst the fellow walkers/joggers. Unable to control, some even started to scream.

“Do not go near that tree!”

“Hey boy, don’t you have sense?”

“Why don’t you follow this path?”

“These youngsters are always troublemakers!”

Panicked, Sarvesh stopped and turned back to see those fierce onlookers with raging eyes. He inched closer to a lady, seated on a bench with headsets on, and enquired about this unforeseen ambush.

With a grin, she replied, “Ignore them, man. These guys believe whatever they see in WhatsApp.”

“I don’t understand!” Sarvesh shrugged.

“There was a viral message about Bats being one of the transmitters of Covid-19. Bats and Mahua trees. Can you see the connection?” responded the lady with an impish smile.

“Alright! I get it now. This is silly. There are lot of researches stating that Covid-19 cannot be transmitted through bats.” Sarvesh fumed.

“Relax. Ignore them!” she winked.

~ * ~

While the first incident was my conversation with mother, the other one was a fictional narration based on the widely conceived rumour. And a common thread that connects both these narratives is ‘Whatsapp.’

People, nowadays, are fond of social forums. Whatsapp, being one of the widely used and popular social forums, has been on every smartphone. A lot of contents, articles, pictures, etc are getting shared and downloaded in this app daily. Nobody knows the authenticity of these contents, yet we share it with others. Because we go by the emotional facets of the contents rather than its scientific validity and we prefer to pass it on to others with the same emotional level.

Little did we realise about the resultant consequences while forwarding all this content, which is not authentic and valid i.e. fake. For example, consider the second story and imagine if people start cutting Mahua trees because of the unscientific message circulated in their group. This is worse. Covid-19 cannot affect India, considering the hot and humid weather. This is worse. Garlic and turmeric can cure Covid-19. This is worse. Brutally stopping the municipal authorities who were on their job to bury the Covid-19 casualty cases are the worst of all.

But all these can be avoided, had we spent some quality time researching on the contents received through social platforms. Be it an article, video or pictures, a little research can help us out in determining the authenticity. Once we are sure about the genuineness of the content, we can go on and forward it to others.

Referring to authentic sites is one way of checking the validity of the content. World Health Organisation (WHO) and United Nations (UN) are two globally recognised organisations who release only verified information. Also, there is an interesting way in which we can be a part of creating awareness – by becoming an Information Volunteer.

Likewise, we can also verify our contents through TikTok newsroom where, with simple research and reading valid articles and videos, you can get enough information. The dynamic platform shall help you decide whether to forward it or not, depending upon the certainty of the content’s and its significance to the present context.

Most importantly, this verification process must become a habit and it should pertain only to the present Covid-19 situation.

Because information can become a virus, if misused.

Let us not get carried away by ‘forward messages’, instead verify them using some authenticated platforms and if it is fake, reply boldly #MatkarForward

p.s. you can keep up with the campaign by following the #takecarebeforeyoushare hashtag

Endless Tales of Corona - The Final Chapter

2020-05-21T09:50:00.001+05:30

Chapter 14: The Ploy Revealed

- Rukma Anil

The trio sat between the forked branches of the Sycamore. The monsters laid siege around the tree. Nik looked at the scaly spiny monsters as sweat trickled down his face. Matt made slight movements as he tried to pluck leaves within his reach. Rudha couldn’t move. She was too consumed with the suddenness of the improvements. She held her breath, gauged the opposite party, thought of ways that could lead them out of this. “The Sycamore is love and protection. Love and protection,” she muttered under her breath.

There was stillness around. The monsters looked at the creatures on the tree – huddled up together, like frightened pigeons in a coop. Thoughts about smell of burning flesh seemed inviting. But they knew they couldn’t near the tree. It would spin out its branches like a whooping willow and destroy every one of them. The stillness and tension broke, when one of the branches creaked. As Nikhil dipped towards the ground, he hung low from the slowly peeling branch. “Parlay?” he said and flashed a toothy grin.

“Rudha. Do something,” pleaded Matt.

“I don’t know. Looks like we are done. I can’t think of anything.”

The monsters closed in. They waited patiently. They knew the tree would break eventually and they can take the three creatures.

Matt in vain threw the leaves around Nik hoping that it will save him from the Coronas. He even ate some. The doctor in him cringed. It was a last-ditch effort to save lives. The branch that Nik was clinging to, broke. He fell with a thud. Footsteps, flames and drums were heard and seen. It was dark. Nobody knew what was happening. All that prevailed was darkness.

The noise got heavier. They heard a lot of sounds…. The monsters were screeching. There were other sounds too.

“Nik wake up. Take my hand,” that was Matthew. He slowly woke up to a cage around the Sycamore. Apparently when the branch broke, it was like a part of the tree’s soul was sent out. The soul was responsible to protect its people. So, instead of disappearing, it latched itself onto whatever it could find that belonged to the tree.

The leaves… a lucky mistake! Nikhil realized what happened. He picked himself up and took Matt’s hand.

They saw distant flames nearing the Sycamore. “The elders! They are here,” Rudha cried with her eyes gleaming relief. There were grown men, women and children with sticks and spears. Rudha’s mother was also among them.

It was a ploy. The Coronas realized. The trio was lured to the Sycamore by the elders. It was left deserted for the Coronas to close in on them. The Coronas stood clutching the vines of the Sycamore, their spines jumping out of their hearts, they stood panting, praying and gasping for life. It was an ambush. They formed a ring around the Sycamore with their backs facing the tree. The cage burnt their backs. The elders leaned in with spears, their legs en garde. The Coronas didn’t know what to do. They were outnumbered.

A child came forward from the elder’s group and said, “we will let you go if you promise to not come back”. The Corona leader bobbed his huge head. He said, “Yes, we will not come back. We promise.” The elders gave way. Coronas flung themselves away from the village, away from the Sycamore. The trio climbed down. The tree gave way to them. Nikhil, Matthew and Rudha were welcomed with outstretched arms by everyone. The Sycamore retracted the cage and made a beautiful fence of branches around its trunk.

-------- o -------

Back in Rudha’s home, Nik and Matt prepared to leave. The elders gave them a small boat and food for the way back home…to rest to get better. They thanked the elders and Rudha and left the pretty cottage of pink bougainvillea for their home.

Cheers to life
p.c. paintthecoast.com

As Nikhil and Matthew rowed away from the waters of the island, they felt like free men. They sailed with the sun on their shoulders, the blue waters around them, and their heart free from fear. Nikhil did not want the business idea. Matthew was no more cynical about herbs and the tribal knowledge. He didn’t believe in it either. It was a grey region. The boat wafted home. They were not the same men who they were a few days back. Nikhil poured clear water into their flasks…. He offered to Matt. Their eyes met. “Fancy a drink, mate?” the two men started laughing. Two men in a boat. Laughing over plain water. On a blue sunny day. Their flasks clinked “To life.”

-------- The End -------

About the writer - Yet another millenial, Rukma writes in spurts, laughs in peals and doesn't believe in dating apps.

Endless Tales of Corona - 13

2020-05-21T09:34:00.001+05:30

Chapter 13: A Hope for Humanity

- Vidya Lakshmi

As the growling grew louder and nearer, the three of them stood completely motionless. They did not want to be seen by the corona monsters. But unfortunately for them the clearing offered no solace as they couldn’t find a place to hide. A flash of memory struck Rudha as she had heard from her mother that the sycamore tree symbolizes protection and love. She gestured to Nik and Matt, to sprint to the tree and the three of them ran as fast as they could.

Short of breath and overwhelmed by emotions, Rudha whispered “as this tree is divine and is a symbol of strength and protection, let’s climb and hide among its branches.”

Nikhil, the taller of the three took the lead.

He grabbed Rudha’s bag and spoke weakly, “I will climb first and tie the rope on to the nearest branch and then both of you can climb up”. The smooth trunk of the tree posed a little problem but then on the third attempt, he managed to reach the first set of branches. Perched on a thick branch, he stopped momentarily to admire and feel the smoothness of the pale white bark.

A Hope for Humanity
Art by Anaga N

Though weary and frightened, something about this stately tree assured him that they will be safe soon enough. Without a moment to waste, he fastened the rope and threw it down. As Rudha picked the rope, they could hear the noise of the spikey monsters from behind their backs. She clutched the rope tightly and climbed furiously. Matt followed closely behind her and all three were ensconced safely in the thick branches of the sycamore tree. To their utter amazement, the monsters stopped a few feet from the tree and for some weird reason were unable to move forward.

It was as if time stood still for the trio and this was broken only by the soft rustle of the leaves brought about by the gentle breeze.

Watching this incredible sight, Rudha gathered some courage and said, “My mother had mentioned about the sacred aura of the sycamore tree and that every part of the tree including its barks, leaves and fruits has healing properties.”

Her voice seemed to shake the boys from their reverie.

She proceeded to give instructions “start plucking the fresh leaves.”

While Nik & Matt started to collect the fresh leaves, Rudha quickly removed the tools – the mortar and pestle – that she had brought with her. The trio with their new-found courage worked hard, their sole aim being to get away from the monsters.

Each one was immersed in their own thoughts as they went about doing their work. Matt being a medical practitioner, his mind was filled with these thoughts – can humanity be saved, is this tree really going to provide the cure?

Nikhil was thinking on the lines of whether this was a business opportunity!

Rudha was wondering what happened to the monthly meeting of the tribals, were these monsters the cause for their sudden disappearance, what catastrophic event could have wiped away the tribals!

- To be continued -

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About the writer - Thoroughly enjoying her 2nd innings after two decades of being a homemaker, Vidhya believes in bringing about responsible people through careful nurturing of children with utmost care and affection. She is a thinker, writer prefers to be behind-the-scenes, enjoys dishing vegetarian fare for others and the most lovable mother.

Endless Tales of Corona - 12

2020-05-21T09:33:00.001+05:30

Chapter 12: Fear and Anxiety Awaits

- Swetha A

The three of them stopped and stood still. Rudha turned around and tried to spread the light around her to see if she could spot where the growling noise was coming from. Then suddenly, there was complete silence. The noise disappeared and strangely, so did all the other sounds from around them. There were no insects or even the thousands of crickets to be heard. It seemed that even the wind had stopped and the leaves had stopped rustling too. Nikhil and Mathew did not seem to have understood what happened. They sure looked scared but what scared them more than the sudden silence and the way Rudha looked. Rudha having grown up in the forests had never experienced something like this before. But, she had heard folktales of such events from the tribe. As a child she wasn’t much interested in the folktales. She thought they were just made up stories to scare the little kids. It was just something the elders came up with to instill fear. But maybe there was some truth hidden behind all the exaggerated folklore. At that instant, she was reminded of a certain folklore.

The story went something like this. A hundred years ago, the forest was controlled by a monster – a monster that could not be seen by the naked eye but had almost destroyed the tribe. The monster had created a silence. A silence that spread everywhere. A silence that came with fear. Everyone had resorted to staying in their huts fearing the monster. They wouldn’t see each other or meet each other for days. They had to stay in to save themselves. But still the monster didn’t give up. It waited for them to step out and got them. The monster took the lives of the tribes one by one first but then in hundreds before they found a way to tackle it. But how had they tackled it? What was the end of that story? Rudha could not remember.

“Rudha, are you okay?” asked Nikhil.

Nikhil’s voice brought her back to reality. She saw that Mathew and Nikhil looked a little shaken up as well. But there was no time to console them. They had to move quickly. They had to reach the sycamore tree at the heart of the island. That was their only hope now. Maybe mother can help us understand better, she thought.

Anxiety - Painting by Edvard Munch

The trio paced through the forest even more quickly. Nikhil and Mathew too, had picked up their pace. Maybe it is true when they say fear of survival can make you do things you otherwise thought impossible. They continued walking and did not slow down even though they could hardly see where they were heading. They did not stopped even when they were tumbling over the big branches in the way.

After pacing through the thick forest for a while, they reached a clearing. The clearing looked to be man-made. It was circular and as big as a cricket field. In what seemed to be the exact centre of the clearing, there stood a tree that was at least a hundred feet tall. The trunk of the tree stretched so wide that it was clear the tree has lived there for at least a few hundred years. Moving a little closer, Nikhil knew that it was a sycamore tree. The many nature walks that he had taken with his office buddies back in Pondicherry, weren’t futile after all.

The trio had finally reached the intended spot. But it was not at all like what Nikhil or Mathew had imagined. There was no other soul to be anywhere and it did not look like any monthly meeting or festivities were about to happen.

“Are we sure we are at the right place?” wondered Nikhil loudly.

“This is not what I had in mind when I heard a monthly tribal meeting. This looks gloomier than the monthly meetings that happen in my office,” said Mathew. “Are we late to the meeting Rudha? Is it over already?”

There was no answer. Both turned around worried, that something had happened to her. But Rudha was still standing at the entrance of the clearing, her face was pale, like a statue, like she had just seen a ghost. Nikhil and Mathew rushed back to Rudha.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so great. Why don’t you sit down for a while?” The doctor in Mathew felt it his responsibility to make sure she was okay.

Rudha couldn’t speak. She was holding her chest and seemed to be in shock. She barely managed a whisper “S..Some…Something’s wrong”.

“Is there a pain in your chest? Are you feeling dizzy? What did you eat last? Maybe you are experiencing dehydration.” Mathew just went on without taking a breath that it looked like he was going to get sick.

“STOP. It’s not me. I mean… Nothing’s wrong with me. But something has happened here. Something is wrong.”

“What do you mean?” asked a worried Nikhil.

“I have a bad feeling about this darkness around the sycamore tree. It isn’t supposed to be this way. The preparations for the meeting usually begin at least two days prior and you feel the energy of the place from a mile away with all the lamps and the fragrance. What I am seeing right now is just a clear sign something is wrong. I think it’s all because of corona. It’s much more serious than I had thought. I must try and get in touch with my mother. Maybe she will know better.”

“But wasn’t your mother supposed to be here? Now where do we find her?” asked Mathew.

Nikhil broke up the conversation looking a lot more worried, “Hate to bring this up by now but I think I can hear that growling noise again…..”

- To be continued -

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About the writer - Swetha is free-spirited being, loves to travel and explore the places, alone. With her quick thinking and exceptional baking skills, she is the person you can rely on, for any kind of surprise parties.

Endless Tales of Corona - 11

2020-05-19T13:22:00.001+05:30

Chapter 11: A Quiet Evening by the Riverside

- Soundarajan R

The three friends sat beneath a huge canopy on the banks of the river. Matthew and Nikhil occupied a levelled ground and leaning on the tree, went on a siesta. The experiences in the island they had had so far were something straight out of a Hollywood movie. While they were resting and getting energized for the rest of the night, Rudha went around browsing through the flora. The tribes and her mother had taught her how to spot the poisonous ones from the edible ones. The island was a tropical paradise and rich in flora and fauna. Rudha’s curiosity did not let her rest. Being introduced to herbs and healing from the early part of her life, her quest was mostly around plants, herbs and healing. A surprise awaited Matthew and Nikhil in the ritual, that night. Soon, Rudha had collected the herbs and medicinal plants required for the ritual.

A quiet evening by the riverside

It was late evening by the time Matthew woke up. His stomach was groaning in hunger and he started looking for food in their bags. But having fed them the whole day, the bag had nothing left. Meanwhile Rudha was back with her collection. Fortunately, the collection had supplies for the night. She sat down on a small rock and started filling her bag with flora she had collected. “Oh, you are awake? I didn’t want to disturb you guys,” said Rudha, looking at him. Matthew seated in the same position as he was sleeping, turned slowly towards Rudha. “I have heard from mother of how physically inactive the people in cities are. It is not a surprise then, that this whole day would have been tiresome for you guys” said Rudha. Matthew, although couldn’t deny her, was a bit disappointed with her blatant generalization. People in cities nowadays are walking in the morning and evenings, some go for the gym and workout, some go on trekking explorations, some cycling and some are also playing their favorite sports. After all, there are scores of people strolling on the beach. “Inactive would be an extreme word. We in cities haven’t gone that far” replied Matthew. Rudha wasn’t interested on life in modern cities, but just was concerned not to disturb them for a reason and expressed it.

Nikhil abruptly woke up, picked up the stones and started throwing them towards the river. He was yelling “I will kill you monsters. I will kill you all just by a stroke!” He made it look so simple, while countries are struggling to fight it. Matthew shouted “Nikh…...il, are you ok?”. Nikhil came back to realize his position and sat up straight to have a long breathe. There was something in the air, which relieved the trauma and tiredness. They then sat around the smoothened surface and feasted on a fruit that Rudha had got. It tasted like guava but looked like a banana.

“So, how far is the place of ritual from here?” asked Nikhil. Matthew was still busy munching the fruits. “All I know is, if we continue in this pace, we might be late for the ceremony. We should pace up,” said Rudha. Nikhil was disappointed with the reply. He expected a number, something like 20 kms or 60% to cover. But Rudha is trained to describe distance in that way, being brought up in an island and not going through formal education.

Nikhil nudged again, “How can we pace up, it is already night?”. Matthew and Nikhil only then noted the sky and was overwhelmed at what they saw. The sky was a black screen with twinkling stars that lighted up so brightly. It seemed to have seamless power without voltage fluctuation. Nikhil unable to hold himself, exclaimed, “Wow, never seen it this clear and beautiful...!” For a moment it seemed as though they had forgotten all about the dreaded disease of corona.

Meanwhile, Rudha came with a bunch of leaves in her hands – they noticed something glowing inside it. It was a fluorescent flower! How beautiful it looked! Had businessmen known about this they would have used them for all kinds of decorative purposes and in facades of modern glassy retail showrooms to lure more customers. With their enthusiasm renewed, the trio then began walking.

Rudha’s thoughts trailed on the giant Corona creature which had been spotted again in the island. The more she thought about it, the more anxious she became at finding the cure. She was quite hopeful about it. In fact, she was the more hopeful than Nikhil or Matthew. Matthew was lost in thoughts about corona, too. Even though he still had doubts about herbal cures, he couldn’t shy away from it after experiencing the healing it did and hoped that he could find a medicine for this rapidly spreading fatal disease. Nikhil could only think about going back and having a pleasant day in Puducherry strolling through the beach, eating shawarmas and gulping cheaper pint of fluids.

They continued to walk further to reach a place with thick woods and canopy blocking the bright stars, and the marshy land making it hard to walk freely. Although they had had good experience enjoying the flora of the island with its herbs, fluorescent flowers, and edible large fruits, little did they have any experience of the fauna of the island except for the encounter with the native humans. The forest, peaceful so far that night, started becoming noisy with a slow growling noise and it was growing intense!

- To be Continued -

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About the writer - Engineer-turned-Development professional who is passionate about environmental and sustainability. He adores nature, its invaluable resources and believes in its right to exist peacefully on our planet and advocates for co-existance with nature.

The Heirloom Returns...

2020-05-16T19:22:00.001+05:30

Simon woke up to a bad dream. The clocked ticked 11.30 pm. He tried to recall the dream but couldn’t do it entirely. He could only recall it in bits and pieces.

Something about the ring, he wondered. He closed his eyes again to picture the ring. He got it this time. It was a gold ring, large and wide. The case looked hexagonal in shape with three segments – two triangles and one stretched square. In between the square part, a red stone shimmered, embossed on the ring.

Peculiar ring that disturbed Simon
Art by Anaga N

This looks familiar! I remember this peculiar ring case!

‘It’s my mother’s ring!’ His eyes swelled up in horror. “She asked me to keep it safe with me, after her demise but I totally forgot” he scrunched the pillow.

All these years, he was living with his mother. She faced all sorts of troubles raising him, being a single mother from a minority community. With all the societal conformities, she had been confronted by both relatives and strangers and unrelated people, she stood like a rock. “How can you raise a child alone? Why can’t you get married? Why don’t you convert yourself?”

Regardless of the all the troubles, she had managed to raise Simon with utmost compassion. She may have left him now but there is enough money to feed him for another five years though he is just out of school now.

Her husband had given this ring, which he got from his grandmother. It is believed in their family that the ring finds a special lady and remains with her before moving on to the next generation.

Unable to handle the ruminating thoughts of his mother and the ring, Simon scurried to the cemetery to find her mother. It was 12.30 am and he couldn’t get a clear view of the atmosphere as it was pitch dark around. The rain-bearing nimbus clouds looked all charged-up. In between, peeked the moon igniting the atmosphere, which was helpful in finding his mother. After a while, he was convinced he had found her.

Standing before the grave, he looked lost in thoughts. What do I do? Should I dig it up? What if the ring is not there? What if somebody comes? What if that somebody is…?

While contemplating over his own thoughts, he heard a group of stray dogs howling from the distance that brought a chill down his spine. He had little time to decide as the clouds looked heavy and could start pouring anytime. His heart raced like that of an Olympic athlete and blended rhythmically with the distant rumbling of thunder.

Swallowed in fear, he started digging with disturbed feelings running down his memory. Beads of sweat started dripping down his brows. While he was at work, for every other minute he felt somebody observing from behind. Once in a while, he gathered courage to turn around but to only find the holy cross erected over other tombs.

After a while, he hit something that looked like a hand. It’s my mother’s hand, he jumped out of his skin. Gathering composure within a few minutes, he probed for the ring and found nothing.

What the hell! He flew into a rage.

Yet again, he started digging. This time, anger pushed him hard, and he found the other hand quickly. There it is, he heaved a huge sigh of relief, on finding the ring.

Relieved, he started pulling the ring. It wasn’t easy. Looks like she is not giving it up. But he didn’t give up either. He pressed hard, gritted his teeth, stretched his muscles and a minute later, he got it. It worked. He got the ring. But he couldn’t get a closer look in that darkness, so he ran home immediately.

After reaching home, he decided to take a shower before examining the ring. He kept it on the table and hurried to the bathroom. That’s when he heard the doorbell.

DING DONG…

A strange silence followed. The clock ticked like never before and it daunted him. The calling bell shook him by surprise.

Who could it be? Its 2 am for God’s sake! He started shaking in shock. After giving it a minute, he opened the door to see a visibly exhausted old woman. Her saree was neatly fringed and tucked. A big round red bindi flashed from her forehead, juxtaposing her bright yellow face. The disordered grey hairs strayed all over her face. Bearing a rather composed look, she requested for a glass of water in a soft voice.

‘Thank God! I thought it’s something else,’ he sighed.

‘I am sorry, are you expecting somebody?’ she grinned.

‘No… I was…I just… Never mind!’ Simon fumbled. ‘I will get you water’

He gets her a bottle of water and he notes somethings strange with her hand. HER RING FINGER WAS MISSING!

He got curious and thought of asking but something arrested the words from coming out. Maybe he didn’t know how to put it. Maybe he was scared. Maybe he did not want to sound nosy. Or maybe he was tired and wanted to go to bed. Whatever it was, she drank and left.

Blood trail
Art by Anaga N

He closed the door and noted a few traces of blood on the knob. He was taken aback by the very sight of blood on his door. He looked over his hand, which was sopping with blood and saw the drops on the floor as well. He followed the meandering droplets’ trail that went all the way till the lobby near the table where he had kept the ring.

The sight of the ring gave him a heart attack. He couldn’t believe his own eyes as he saw the ring along with the finger, which was oozing with blood.

‘Oh God! I pulled the ENTIRE FINGER!’ Simon freaked out. ‘WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?’

His lips continued mumbling vaguely for a while before coming to a halt. He sat on the couch and gave it a thought and looked disturbed again. Did this have anything to do with the old lady? Didn’t I get my mother’s ring?

Shaking and terrified, Simon carefully took the finger to get a better view at the ring. Mud and blood tested his patience. He rushed to the sink, washed it thoroughly and saw the ring. His heart pounded fast and eyes bulged out in fright. While trying to move his trembling body, he heard this…

DING DONG…

Endless Tales of Corona - 10

2020-05-08T19:12:00.000+05:30

Chapter 10 - Journeying to the cure

- Sumithra Vasudevan Unni

Nikhil and Mathew woke up chirpy, after a good night’s rest… It had been days since they slept peacefully, and they missed the comforts of Pondicherry. “It is amazing to wake up in a forest, you can hear the bird calls. I miss this in the city”, said Nikhil. “Didn’t know you loved birds’ man... If you are interested, I’ll put you in touch with a bunch of guys who go birdwatching regularly in Pondy. But you must be willing to wake up early in the morning.” “Well... I guess I could sacrifice some sleep to connect with nature. Didn’t imagine it to be so cool….”

Rudha was up and ready for the day. The guys freshened up, had a nice herbal tea and rushed to get ready for the day. At the breakfast table they asked, ‘So what’s our plan for today?’. Rudha smiled. It’s a special day today and we have special tasks to do.’ ‘What’s so special about today and what are our special tasks’, asked Nikhil. ‘You’ll know soon. Finish breakfast and let’s talk’, giggled Rudha looking at the puzzled faces on both their faces.

‘I spoke to ma and she told me about Corona. It’s deadly as it can spread very fast and infect millions in no time. It spreads through contact.’ Rudha watched Nikhil and Mathew go pale as they listened to her. ‘But, there’s hope. This forest is home to many plants of innumerable medicinal value. We could create a vaccine for it. It could boost people’s immunity and prevent the spread. Ma was telling me about the plants that could be used to create the vaccine. There are herbs that grow under the sycamore tree, at the heart of this island.’

Walk in the woods. Painting by Michael Mrozik

Mathew wasn’t convinced. ‘These herbal medicines are not really scientific, you see. Plus, there are lot of steps involved in drug testing before it can be released worldwide. How are you going to test the medicine and see that it works…’ Rudha smiled again, ‘it’s worth a shot. If we can find the herbs, and create the vaccine, you take it to the city, analyze its molecular composition and find a pharma company to produce it at scale.’

Matthew shrugged. ‘Okay, let’s get started,’ Rudha said. ‘It’s going to be a long journey. How’s the josh?’ ‘Aye, aye captain!’, screamed the two. ‘Now let’s get you disguised so that you won’t stand out. They wouldn’t want non-believers watching the ritual. It will take us two days to get there, so let us start today and we will be there right on time for the ritual. Ma will meet us there.’

Nikhil and Mathew got off their regular clothes and started off with the body painting. They were painted in black and white stripes. They wore a head gear with feathers, some tribal accessories made of shells, and a dress made of green leaves. Both the friends now looked nothing like the city lads and would easily blend in with the tribals now. “You have to get your walk straight. If you appear to be at discomfort with the forest, they’ll recognize that you are not one among them. Also, walk as quietly as possible. The tribals are usually very quiet in the forest, lest the wake up any wild animal,” advised Rudha. Nikhil raised a brow and asked, ‘What would happen if they find out?’ ‘You won’t come back alive. They will sacrifice you to the Gods.’ Rudha’s words sent a chill down their spine.

The trio walked into the forest, heading north. Rudha led the way and Nikhil and Mathew followed the trail. Both the city boys often struggled to catch up with Rudha, who glided effortlessly into the forest. ‘She is like Mowgli,’ remarked Nikhil. Mathew shushed him. They walked until sunset, barely resting in between. They stopped near a riverside and drank some water. It tasted so sweet and cold, that it took away all the tiredness until then. ‘Let’s rest here for a while and we’ll start walking again in sometime’, said Rudha. ‘But its going to be pitch dark, wailed Nikhil… How will we walk in the dark…’ ‘You’ll see,’ smiled Rudha….

- To be continued -

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About the writer - Sumithra is an engineer-turned-development professional with a keen sense of working for a cause. She is natural humourist and love to sing.

Endless Tales of Corona - 9

2020-05-08T17:38:00.000+05:30

Chapter 9 - A Brief Debrief

- Gladson M E

Later in the day, the setting sun sowed golden brown upon the canopy. The gentle flow of the beautiful stream running beside the house attracted Matthew and Nikhil.

As they rested, both the friends had flashes of memories from the past few days. Nikhil remembered one of their mutual friends, Amal Shetty who rode to North India on his bike. Amal had mentioned how during such trips, he and his friends used to have debrief sessions (which they called ‘Avalokanam’) each day. Nikhil and Matthew thought they could try doing avalokanam and swiftly started their conversation. Steffi joined a little while later.

Warli painting on music and dance

They talked and talked, at one point they felt they had clearly gone way off the track from what they had intended and now they were talking about some massage therapy in Auroville which was cheaper in the month of May, when it was off season. By this time, they realized their avalokanam was not working and they may need Amal’s help. They took a pause that very moment!

Matthew, a very energetic self-learned percussionist and an expert in snare drums, had a flare for spontaneous music. If whistling was a competition item, Nikhil would have got an Olympic medal in it. Matthew knew what to do, he quickly gathered some bamboo logs of different lengths and arranged them in front of him, he assumed a small bamboo stick as his percussion mallet and started playing rhythm looking at Nikhil if he had understood what song it was [this look is common among all self-learned enthusiasts like Matthew] ‘Dhadak Dhadak Dhakada Dhadak’ he went on. Nikhil clearly did not get the tune. He knew what needed to be done at such situations – he started whistling a song. Matthew had a blissful moment […that was close Nikhil!!]. Rudha contributed with timely rhythmic claps and they created an unusual onetime fusion the world had never heard off.

Little they knew what their music would invite.

In the bushes were a pair of beautiful round eyes looking at them. Nikhil saw her and invited her to the band. She seemed hesitant. She had two pebbles which she had collected from the stream. Percussionist and the whistler for a moment had no clue what she was up to. The next moment the sweet little damsel raised one pebble and hit it to the other, she was making a rhythm. Her wooden bangles too moved when she hit the stones together, the ‘Bamboo-Whistle-Clap-Stone-Bangles’ band took off once again. Some other tribal girls and boys also joined them with various ‘instruments’. The jam session went on till the sun had gone down and full moon had slipped in.

Suddenly, the boys and girls actioned everyone to stop, everything went on standstill and a deafening silence followed.

The kids were trying to listen to something, something from very far. Nikhil, Matthew and Steffi too tuned their ears to listen hard. They saw Rudha getting ready to do something and walking towards the tribal kids.

The voice from far away heard like a pack of fox howling. Rudha and the kids stood in a circle with hands on each other’s shoulders, facing the ground. The kids waved gesturing Nikhil and others to join too. What happened next was a strange ritual that nobody could have witnessed: the youngest girl in the group made a soft sound, others one by one with increasing age order began to imitate. Steffi and the others too joined when it was their turn. After everyone’s turn was over, all of them looked face to face and took a deep breath and blew to the sky, ‘Foooooooohhhhhh’. Matthew and the others could hear similar multiple ‘foooohhhhhh’s’ from different part of the jungle.

Soon all the kids went away. Rudha asked, “How was it? This is a tribal ritual done when they hear foxes howling. Foxes set the time for the ritual and the youngest member of any group decides what to do. Wherever they are, they stop doing whatever they are doing and stand a moment in silence, to be thankful of how each of them took care of each other. The ‘fooooh’ is a message to the sky and the jungle that they care for them too”.

Steffi felt very bad to have plotted to attack and injure a tribal guy, earlier. “We think we live an independent, I-manage-my-life-alone attitude, how ironic,” said Steffi to Matthew.

Rudha went inside, Nikhil and the others were very hungry. They just sat outside with only ‘hope’ and no ‘work’ for food. Crickets, owls, and all sorts of jungle creatures were busy with their version of the orchestra. Soon, Rudha came out with a bowl in her hand. It was filled with a semi-solid, mouthwatering, seemingly eatable stuff. Each of them got a coconut shell to be used as a cup to eat. A spoon was made by stitching together a sweet-smelling leaf. The porridge was ready for consumption, Nikhil could not wait any longer. He right away gobbled his first serving. Everyone took their part of the communion. With tasty food to savour there was a sudden silence. With their mouths busy with tasty food, nobody made any comments.

Rudha had finished half of what she had taken while all others were just stuck with what they had in their mouth. Nikhil managed to swallow and moved closer to the others and whispered something. Rudha asked “what happened guys, tell me” Matthew said, “Nikhil badly misses his mother’s food”. All of them burst into laughter.

They slept hoping for a new morning loaded with more adventure.

- To be continued -

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About the writer - With passion and dedication, Gladson believes that bringing about a change in any ordinary lives isnt impossible. He is fond of music and finds peace with it.

A Helping hand...

2020-05-01T18:21:00.002+05:30

“My God! Crossing this stream is impossible,” I screamed.

“Do we have a choice?” Mahathi gave me an intent look.

“Of course, we do! We can’t go back.” Samyuktha sounded reasonable. It was reassuring and I responded back with a smirk.

“It looks adventurous girls. We must go!” Kiara’s words caught almost everyone there and she looked visibly excited.

Jaqueline and Fayez were both excited and terrified at the same time as the sensation muted them. They were about to say something but before they could utter the words, they shut themselves. And it kept happening for a while.

Crossing the flowing river using a sturdy rope.
Art by Anaga N

It wasn’t a stream but an overflowing Kollidam river as mentioned by another onlooker. The fiercely flowing water over the road was frightening yet a sight to behold. Reaching the other side of the river meant something to us. We wanted to reach Chidambaram and take a bus home to Pondicherry. And that’s all we wanted. Being stuck in a flood situation was not easy. We were tired both physically and mentally.

As there were no direct buses to Pondicherry early in the morning, we took a bus from Karaikal to Kollidam. Instead of a 4-hour travel, we were forced to travel a whole day to reach Pondy. We took our chances and went ahead. That’s not all, we stretched our muscles and walked for hours to reach this river from the bus stop.

We were facing the river from one side and felt stranded and the idea of reaching home seemed like a distant dream. While the water level kept increasing, the task of crossing the river was not just tough but would also be death-defying. However, what mattered the most was how quick we decide our next course of action. There was a rope tied across the river along the road and a few well-built guys were assisting people to cross the river. Trust me, it wasn’t as adventurous as it sounds.

Gathering courage from my friends and people around, I stepped into the water holding on to the rope. My friends followed me on this knee-deep running water. We were watchful of our steps and started on a slow pace.

After a moment, I felt something tickling my toes. I took a momentary pause to look and saw something thin and slimy.

“Is it a Jelly fish?”, I worried. It took a hit on my daring voyage as well. This caused an uproar behind and people started to scream.

“Are you out of your mind, Anya? Water level is increasing. It’s close to our waist now. Just stop your stupid exploration and keep walking” yelled Mahathi.

“There’s something stuck between my toes and I am not able to move,” I replied in an anxious tone.

“I don’t care even if it’s a snake. Keep walking!” Mahathi sounded enraged.

The thought of a snake added fuel to my fire. Irritated, I started kicking my legs trying to get rid of that creepy thing. Meanwhile, I picked up the pace to avoid any further commotion.

The water current played its part by pushing and pulling us. The sturdy rope was our only hope and we clutched on to it tightly and did not want to let it go. It stayed like a faithful partner holding on to us yet, our lower body was losing balance. We kept losing our confidence for every step and we were just halfway through.

I saw a middle-aged person walking in front of me. He wasn’t muscular but looked in better shape than us.

“Sir, can you please help us reach the other side safe. It’s getting tough and the path is slippery,” I literally pleaded.

“Well, don’t worry. Just hold me tight. I will let you reach the bank safe. Trust me, I know swimming!” replied an unfamiliar person. His words were reassuring and kept us motivated.

Knitting the rope on to our left hands and holding each other’s right hand, we advanced forward. I was holding on to this stranger, who with his confidence-boosting words carried me.

As we started taking our strides forward, we felt this strong sense of assurance. The unknown stranger offered to help us, or should I say, ‘save us’. We were holding each other – known and unknown – closely with the belief that we will survive this hardship.

Finally, we reached the other side of the river and everyone heaved a huge sigh of relief after that awful experience.

Without further ado, we were rushing to the bus stop. While on the way, Jaqueline reminded us, “Shouldn’t we thank the guys who saved us?”

“Yeah, definitely!” There was a chorus response to that and when we turned back it was too late. There wasn’t any sign of that person.

“Maybe he was also in a hurry,” said Kiara.

“Or maybe he was attempting to save another set of vulnerable people like us”, grinned Samyuktha.

“Good people don’t expect gratitude. They just help, no matter what!” said Fayez with deepest gratefulness.

“Anyways, thanks to him we are safe now. Let’s go home!” I felt ecstatic.

We reached Chidambaram bus depot and got the bus back to Puducherry. We took our seats and felt comforted, after the adventure we had experienced. A warm breeze embraced us and greeted us with a newfound appreciation for life.

Endless Tales of Corona - 8

2020-04-11T15:04:00.001+05:30

Stephi stood up and walked towards her dull jeans bag that was hanging on the lower branch of a tree to keep her dagger back. Mathew could see her white shirt covered in blood. She tucked the dagger in and felt an acute pain as the wind passed by her bloody wound. She turned her hands around the back to feel it and realized one of her fingers went through the flesh. As she panicked and removed it, blood started pouring out of her body and she dropped down and slowly fell unconscious as her blood mixed with the rough course of sedimentary soil.

Mathew ran towards her in panic, patted her cheek and tried waking her but she did not hear him. He tore the sleeves of his shirt and tied up her wound. Now he knew that he had to negotiate quickly as both Nikhil’s and Stephi’s lives were in danger. He carried the bait they had and threw him in front of the tribal group. The guy who communicates among them came for help and they finally negotiated to trade the wounded man for Nikhil and a healer for Stephi. The so-called head of the tribe consoled an elderly tribal woman and walked towards Nikhil. It seemed that he asked the fellow tribal to untie Nikhil. As Nikhil walked by, the tribal head whispered something into the man’s ears. The man nodded his head. As the wounded man returned to his pack, the group hugged him, and the elderly women kissed him all over his face.

---------------- o -----------------

Chapter 8 - The Apothecary

- Athira Mohandas

The man introduced himself as Michael. “My wife, Sarah, was treated by a tribal healer named Rudha. We are going to her apothecary and get her flesh wound dressed up”, said Michael.

They walked through the woods for a half a mile, carrying the girl. There at the end of the road they found a bamboo hut, the foreground of which was matted with pink bracts of Bougainvillea inflorescence. It smelled of spices and limonene from lemon grass as they approached the cottage. The garden roof was covered by dark branches wrapped by lianas of Bougainvillea. It was a splendid view.

The cottage was old and had a lot of creepy vines with white flowers that had climbed up all over the shed. Its roots travelled through the walls, superficially penetrating them and when dead, left crevices on it. The whole cottage had a shabby deserted look.

Michael knocked the brittle wooden door and it gave off a lump of dust. While they waited for an answer, Nikhil found a spider web and wondered, "Such a creepy place! The old woman must be living alone”. But before he could finish his sentence, the door made a creaky noise. A beautiful young brunette opened the door, who wore sea-weed green long gown and a black and green stone beaded necklace. Her hand was slim and carried a dark metal ring with a dark emerald stone around her wrist. Nikhil’s jaw fell wide open looking at her.

“Rudha, the girl is badly hurt.” said Michael, whilst carrying Stephi to the bed inside. Mathew and Nikhil followed him. The hut was huge from the inside. There were a lot of cupboards which were filled with round glass bottles, corked with rosewood, that had a lot of green leaves including herbs, essential oils, spices, flowers like lupin, lavender, wolfsbane etc . It was a herb haven. She took a mortar and pestle and put some olive oil, basil and turmeric into it. She then ground the mixture into a paste and applied it over Stephi’s wound. Next, she placed a piece of cloth and tied it around the wound. Stephi was still unconscious.

“She has lost a lot of blood”, said Rudha after inspecting Stephi’s fingernails.

Nikhil saw the sign of ‘Om’ on the wall and realized Rudha is a Sanskrit word which means “healed”. Strange isn’t it? Why was she named as healed and not as healer??

“How do you know English?” asked Nikhil.

“I can speak both English and Italian.”

Rudha was the daughter of an Italian healer. Her father as she believed was a Sanskrit scholar at Banaras Hindu University. She suffered a serious illness as a just born and was healed by her mother. Hence, she was named Rudha by her father, shortly before her parents separated. She was on a boat with her mother in search of herbs across islands and was struck by a storm and they ended up here. Since the woman carried a baby, the tribes did not kill them. As her mother started healing tribal men who were injured during hunting, they became a little more liberated. She learnt healing from her mother along with other 2 tribal girls. Her mother along with other girls run another apothecary at the other end of the island.

“Does Go Corona Go! mean anything to you?”, asked Michael.

“Oh! Did u encounter those beasts?? I have only heard, but mum knows more about them. We meet once during the tribal worshipping ritual every full moon, under the huge sycamore tree at the center of the island near the blue waterfalls. That is two days from today”, spoke Rudha

“If you lads can disguise as tribal men, we can go”. Said Michael.

“Will she ever wake up?” asked a worried Nikhil.

Rudha burnt lavender and camphor and trapped it in a narrow mouthed brown bottle and allowed Stephi to inhale it. Stephi started coughing intensely and made an effort to get up and Rudha supported her back as she tried to get up.

“Who are you?” asked Stephi in a frightened tone

“I am Rudha. I am a healer” replied Rudha in a calm and reassuring voice.

Stephi seemed to relax a bit and managed to say, “Guys, what did I miss??” And coughed intensely, pointing her index finger towards a flask of water.

- To be continued -

------------------------ o -------------------------

About the writer - Athira is a product of creativity and passion. Blessed by Professor Dumbledore himself, she is an artist, writer and an dreamer who aspire to become phytologist. Check out her blog - Temperance - to know more about her.

Endless Tales of Corona - 7

2020-04-11T14:37:00.002+05:30

Chapte 7 - Better have it than not need it

- Puviarasan S

Stephi stopped Matthew and said, “It would be foolish to approach the group of tribes now, there is no way we can fight them all”.

"What should we do then?", asked Matthew

"Come with me. I have a plan." replied Stephi

Stephi started to sketch a plan to get Nikhil out of those tribes.

She continued, “let’s go get a lonely and weak tribal and tie him and threaten him with a knife on his neck and negotiate or force them to release Matthew. That’s the plan."

Matthew replied instantly "Listen Stephi, I may look to be in good shape, but it doesn’t mean I know how to fight."

"Who asked you to fight Matthew? "

"I’m the only man here, If I’m not fighting, then who else?" remarked alarmingly.

Stephi smiled.

Stephi, was born in Kerala and moved to USA to pursue her higher studies. Once, during a confrontation with a group of men on the streets of New York, in the middle of night, she surprised them with a set of fighting skills. None of them would have expected her to bring them all down with just the wave of a knife. Only a few of her friends knew that she has been practicing an Indian martial art called Kalaripayattu all her life.

Kalariyapattu - art by Tijo Thomas

She surveyed the whole area to shortlist potential candidates who could be brought down easily. They both identified a male in his mid-20s who walked back into the forest alone and they noticed a dagger in his hand. Stephi asked Matthew to prepare some ropes from the small hanging branches while she pursued the lone male. Stephi was all set for this one-on-one encounter. However, she did not underestimate him. After all, tribals are known for their physical agility and hunting skills.

In one of her Kalari lessons, she learned that there are two kinds of people who enter a deadly conflict: those who kill to live, and those who live to kill. If the killer type begins to lose the fight, their reason for fighting gradually fades. But if the survivor type begins to lose the fight, their reason for fighting flares up fiercer than ever. She knows she falls under the second category. After all, it is question of life or death.

Stephi’s reason to fight had become stronger because she was the survivor type fighter and she desperately wanted to live. She had great confidence to handle three men, but nothing more than that. She wanted this fight to be an unprovoked surprise attack. Stephi was never used to carrying a knife, until her outdoor enthusiast boyfriend advised her that 'it’s better to have a weapon and not need it'. He had used this line quite often. Her knife was a sharpened spike of metal about as thick as a man’s finger and little longer than her palm.

She slowly approached the tribe member like a hungry leopard walking to catch its prey. When she confronted him, he didn’t expect her to be armed, but they both, in their separate ways, expected it to be a fight to death. He wanted to kill her, and she had to kill him just to survive. After all, she was the survivor type killer.

Stephi quickly noticed that he made two mistakes. The first was to fight on the back foot. In a surprise move at first, he rushed at her with two slashes of the dagger and succeeded at cutting her across her forearm. He should have pressed on to finish it, but he stepped back instead and waved the dagger in little circles. This gave a clear message to Stephi that this kid had just taken his lessons in fighting. His amateur move gave confidence to Stephi. She thought he was just toying with her. Whatever the reason, he lost the advantage and he lost the fight in that first backward step.

Stephi with a sarcastic smile said, “You’ve made a clear mistake, kid”.

He gave her time to drag her knife from her back and quickly got into position to box him. She noticed a surprise in his eyes, and it was her cue to counterattack.

His second mistake was that he held his dagger as it was a sword like in a fencing match. A real fighter uses his underhand grip when he expects a fight with dagger, like a gun, to do the fighting for him. But a dagger isn’t a gun, of course. The winning grip is a dagger hold, with the blade downward and the fist that holds it still free to punch. That grip gives the fighter maximum power in the downward thrust and an extra weapon in a closed fist.

She knew very well that she will win this fight. She then advanced with this new-found confidence. He ripped the blade at her twice and then jumped forward. Her quick movements helped her to sidestep and throw a three-punch combination, right-left-right. One of the them was a lucky punch. His nose broke, and his eyes watered. He lunged again and tried to bring the dagger from the side. This time, she grabbed his wrist with her left hand, stepped into the space between his legs, and stabbed him in the chest. She was aiming for the mouth and lung but managed to crack only one section of his mouth. He could not scream much. She waited for a few seconds for Mathew to reach the spot with rope, but she went on to grab her belt from her pants and tied him to a small tree.

While she was examining her wounds, Mathew returned and was astonished to see the tribes-man smashed face and body tied up to a tree. Mathew also noticed Stephi cleaning her knife.

Mathew said “Thank God you had a knife. It saved us”.

Stephi looked up to Mathew and said “The knife was just there to help finish the fight. In a fight with a dagger or a knife, it isn’t the weapon that does the fighting; it’s the body and mind”.

- To be continued -

------------------------- o ----------------------

About the writer - Puviarasan is an adventure-junkie who loves to be out there on field and explore anything and everything. He believes in collective wisdom shared through active volunteerism results in development. He, along with his friends, is also offering exploratory activities to all; even during lockdown period. Check out this Facebook page for more...

Endless Tales of Corona - 6

2020-04-02T11:51:00.002+05:30

Chapter 6: Trouble or Help?

By Arulmozhi Kamaraj

“What? See Mat I know you went and touched the verge of death but this is completely insane? They are tribals, see their innocent face?”

“Every innocent face has a wild side”, shrugged Matthew.

“It’s ok I am not going to argue whether they are innocent or not. Firstly, I want to leave this sick place now. And secondly, I don’t want to play a role here. I saw these two giant mountain of spiked animals which tried to kill you! And you here, want me to find the cure, in this very damned place?!” said Nikhil in a worried frown.

Matthew blinked at him and hugged him. “I know you are worried about our lives. But come to think of it, we can save the world!”

By now, Nikhil knew he didn’t have a choice and slowly made up his mind to stay with Matt than leave him alone in the island. “Promise me we will be safe and reach our place with our soul,” said Nikhil.

Matthew grinned at him. “Of course, Nikhil.”

As they were talking, they heard a strange sound. They felt as though somebody, or something had been spying on them.

Matthew signaled Nikhil to be quiet. He spotted a shadow behind the trees. Sneaking softly, he towards it in attempt to catch it red-handed.

To his surprise it was a woman from the ‘normal’ world. She looked intelligent and smart. But, Matthew was surprised to find her all alone in the island. When he enquired, she introduced herself to Matthew. “I am Stephi, microbiologist. I came to this island with my crew to find the medicine for corona virus, but we got lost.”

“Mattttt……” the voice of Nikhil was heard far away. Matthew ran towards him. He saw Nikhil was surrounded by the tribal who were by now, tying him to a tree. They poured a greenish liquid on Nikhil, rolled their tongue and made a weird sound.

Trouble in Paradise painting by Daphne Petrohilos

Matthew, who was watching this from behind the words felt a sudden surge of fire to fight the tribes and save his friend. He knew he was outnumbered yet wanted to fight his might.

As Matthew emerged from the bushes, something held him back. As he tried to pull away, the grip tightened over his hand.

- To be continued -

---------------------------------------- o ----------------------------------------

About the writer - Arulmozhi is a creative lad, love to play with word and have fun. Deceptive in appearance, she is a fun-filled and energetic character and believes that her most valuable possessions in life are books. Read her stories here https://mozzhi.blogspot.com/

Endless Tales of Corona - 5

2020-04-02T11:51:00.001+05:30

Chapter 5: The Resurrection and Discovery

By Naveen Kumar

As Nikhil watched with a helpless torment, the beasts feasted on Matthew and devoured him. Nikhil was swirled into the eye of an overwhelming current of despair, but his eyes were wide-open witnessing the grueling scene unfold.

‘Matt...’ his lips whimpered in a delirious dismay.

Matthew was on the death’s verge, as life receded from the chambers of his body. He felt the life within disintegrate and his being clutched away the finest and final strand of life’s thread. Matthew realized these are going to be the final moments of his life. He saw multitude of images flash in mind. Sans any overlap, sans any clutter, they passed in sequence like reflections on water. His carefree boyhood, awful teachers, girls and boys of his school, his days at the medical university, his lips pledging the Hippocratic oath, him holding the scalpel for his first surgery with shaky hands, his hospital, the nurses, the patients, the distinct smell. He did not just remember, but relived every moment of his life, through the moments of joy, sorrow, angst, peace, anger, love and through every emotion that graced his life.

I Am The Resurrection - Painting by Mike Moyers

The light of life emerged from his body and gleamed through the space. It was ready to detach and shoot into the outer space, but a shiny thin strand of life’s thread still unsteadily clinked, not wanting to let go.

I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?

- John 11:25-26

Matthew heard the biblical verse in the background of the bells clanging in the towers of the church that overlooked the sea in his town.

* * *

Nikhil saw the beasts with spiked structures emerge once again. He watched Matthew’s struggle in rapt attention. He saw his legs kicking the air, and the kicks getting weaker. He noticed the shudder of the beasts when Matthew’s kicks landed on the spikes. Seeing the beast shudder, Matthew kicked with all his might, summoning up the last drops of strength. Nikhil wasted no time either. He began hurling stones targeting the spiked structures that stuck to the body of the beasts. The beasts could not tolerate the blows on the spikes on which they survived, and they scurried away heavily. Nikhil watched them falling to the ground at a distance not very far from them.

Nikhil followed the inner voice blaring from within. He collected Matthew’s crushed and crumbled body, which was now merely a blob of flesh with dark blood stains. His limbs paced as fast as it could, reaching the hot spring – the steam spewing into air made it easy to spot.

Nikhil carried the sloppy mass of flesh, that once was his friend, and sprinkled it with copious amounts of hot steamy water from the spring. The vital chemicals along with water molecules, diffused into the cells; and a million reactions began in the cells of Matthew’s body. A few strands of life’s thread appeared, forging a stronger bond with his body. As the bond strengthened, the light of life flashed into his body suffusing its precincts. The neurons fired, the systolic and diastolic beats began, the limbs moved, and as life’s functions began, Matthew was resurrected.

Nikhil leaned on the broad trunk of a tree watching Matthew in sanguine sleep. The serene surroundings, gentle breeze and the warm vapors from the hot spring all made him euphoric. Now, having seen the worst the bad looked better.

All was hunky-dory till the evening they took a pleasant stroll on the promenade at Rock Beach, admiring the exquisite facades of the French styled buildings. The Corona fever was just spreading its waves. After dropping Matthew Nikhil had gone home that day to pick-up the essentials to embark on this great awry exploration. Nikhil saw Matthew rising. He rushed to support him.

“Did you see them? They were the same thing” were the first words he spoke.

“What?”

“Those beasts, they are nothing, but magnified models of Coronas. When I saw those drawings of the monsters destroying people, I saw the spiky structures and it did strike me, but thought it was unwise to see a virus as a monster.”

“Make yourself clear Matt…I am no doctor like you.”

“The Corona virus, too has spiky structures and if a medicine can target these spiky structures and destroy them, that is the cure. Did you see how the attacking the spikes of the monsters made them flee? That is excruciatingly painful for them that it may cause their death.”

“Yeah, but I am unable to connect the dots.”

“Let me try. My gut says the virus originated from here and these tribes did it for some reason. They made the monsters just like larger models of inventions made for whatever purposes – to learn, for fun” Matthew’s face glowed as he shared his discovery.

“Do you think the man, who lost his wife, has a role?” Nikhil asked

“Maybe, maybe not, but you know what? “

“What?” Nikhil asked

“The cure is here.”

- To be continued -

---------------------------- o ----------------------------------

About the writer - He like to wander the world like a sweeping broom ingesting it's madness, only hoping to leave it better. Naveen seek purpose in life trying to be useful to others and love reflecting on life's nature in the company of words. Read his poetries here http://hedonicwords.blogspot.com/

Endless Tales of Corona - 4

2020-03-31T10:35:00.005+05:30

Chapter 4: The Unbelievable

By Gowthama Rajavelu

When Nikhil turned back, he saw nothing. But the growling noise grew harder - AAUUUURRRRR. He saw the coconut trees shuddering around impatiently. Adding to his concern was the low airstream in the forest. Yet, he saw the trees flapping its nuts and leaves to and fro. It was subtle, yet terrifying. And a shrieking noise emanated from within the forests added to the already existing roaring noise in the atmosphere.

“How is this even possible”, Nikhil trembled in fear and his feet moved backwards, instinctively as the noise seemed to come closer.

***

Matthew, stuck in the trap, was carefully screening Nikhil’s expression from below and started to worry. After a while, he moved out of sight and a huge creature appeared.

Beast Painting by Dmytry Yerokhin

‘What the hell is this?’ Matthew stumbled. Unable to believe his eyes, he rubbed and saw again. It was a massive beast. He looked confused though.

“What could this possibly be?” alleged Nikhil while observing the creature which had a huge drawn-out body like a lion, and with its skin covered by scales like a pangolin. Its feet looked tough like an elephant’s. There was no tail and its head resembled a Himalayan Mastiff.

Matthew looked absolutely stunned, contemplating over his own thoughts. And then he sneezed, which he was holding up tight for quite some time.

He looked up to check for any possible behavior change among the beast and observed nothing. There was no sign of the beast.

***

Nikhil, carefully took his steps, while observing the fast-approaching growling noise. He couldn’t see anything though.

He wasn’t watchful of every step as he was moving backward in dread. Something tripped him up and he fell on the ground. A strange silence followed. Using that moment, he picked himself up and went behind the huge rock that he climbed up before losing Matthew.

The silence continued.

He peeped to get a better sense of the atmosphere through a narrow gap between the rocks. To his surprise, everything around was calm. Yet he wasn’t sure about what awaited and the whole thing was unsettling.

Infuriated, Nikhil clenched his teeth making a cracking noise, ‘what is happening?’

He saw a light flashing from a distance. The light protruded the dense forest behind the rock. For him, it was a jamun thicket laden with dark and shiny plums.

The light flickered constantly.

“Wait a minute! Was it a Morse-code?” Nikhil wondered.

Incidentally, Nikhil’s father Major Swadeep Chand was part of the Indo-China War in 1962. He was placed in North-East Frontier Agency and was fighting Chinese force along the border of Bhutan and Burma. As one of the post-war pastimes, Major Chand used to play with his son. He used to give him a lot of puzzles to solve, as it was Nikhil’s favourite; Morse code was one among them.

He paid close attention to the flickering light, being signaled from the distance. In just a few minutes, he figured it out that it’s a three-letter word.

While cautiously detecting the signal, he was working out the code on the sand.

The first signal was a long flash followed by the short one – that’s N, he wrote down.

Next, he saw two shorter signals followed by one long flash – he decoded that as ‘U’.

The third one had short and longer signals alternatively – must be R, he decoded.

“NUR? What’s that?” Nikhil mumbled scratching his head and that’s when he heard it from behind.

“RUN!”

Nikhil turned around to see Matthew floating in midair. Hanging upside down, he tossed a reddish glue-like material towards Nikhil and cried out loud, “see through this!”

Only half of his legs were visible and rest of it – forelimb – was being crunched by something invisible. He was bleeding profusely from limb to head. Blood started flowing down his limb onto the ground flooding the surface.

Nikhil stood rooted to the spot, unable to digest the scene happening in front of him. Swallowed, he picked up the reddish substance. He was horrorstruck by what he saw through it. His eyes wide open. Beads of sweat dripped down his brows. Whatever he has seen, sent chill down his spine.

“What the bloody hell is that?” he frowned.

Two multi-breed beasts were fighting each, simply to tear Matthew into two. Matthew let out a huge cry for one last time before vanishing into thin air. For this time, he has been torn apart and eaten alive by two monstrous beasts.

- To be continued -

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Endless Tales of Corona - 3

2020-03-31T10:11:00.004+05:30

Chapter 3: The Trap

By Uthra Murari

Nikhil was horror struck as he timidly walked towards the pool of blood.

For a moment Nikhil felt as though his heart stopped as he saw his own reflection on the pool of blood. But, wait! There at the place where he expected to see the reflection of his face, he saw Matthew’s!

Shocked, Nikhil stepped a few paces back in a swift motion. Hitting a rock, he tripped and fell flat on the ground with the mud sticking to his face. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs.

Trapped in the woods - Art by Vlad Yurashko

He sat up and his mind began to race – ‘What did I see just now? Am I hallucinating? Did my face change into Matthew’s?’

Nikhil touched his face frantically in dismay to check. ‘Phew! Nothing has changed.’ With this reassuring thought, he rubbed the mud off his face. He took few deep breaths to calm himself down and gathered some courage to take another peep into the pool of blood.

Once again, Nikhil could see Matthew’s face, but this time he was waving at him. What Nikhil assumed as a pool of blood was something else. It was a glimmering liquid with a deep reddish tinge. It looked glass-like and below the layer, it looked as though Matthew was calling out Nikhil’s name while coughing intermittently. But nothing was audible.

“I can’t hear you, Matthew!”, Nikhil shouted back. ‘It is possible that Matthew can’t hear me as well. But how did he get under this?’ thought Nikhil.

Nikhil touched the strange deep reddish glass surface and found it to be slimy. As he pressed his fingers further, he found it sinking in. Nikhil threw a stone into the strange deep reddish glassy surface and it fell right on top of Matthew’s head. Matthew raised his hands at Nikhil and his mouth moved aggressively as if throwing abuses at Nikhil. Nikhil was amused how deep the slime could be. But for a while, he was glad that his friend was full of life.

Nikhil concluded that this must be some sort of a barrier or a trap into which Matthew must have fallen into and he needs to do something to bring him back. He searched around for a log of wood which could be used to help to pull Matthew climb back. Although there were many trees around, he couldn’t find one which he could use. He decided to extend his hand into the barrier to lift him up. Matthew got hold of Nikhil’s hand. He pulled with all his might. But was unsuccessful.

Matthew’s cough had now intensified, and he was beginning to experience breathing difficulties as well. “Oh no, you are beginning to show symptoms of Corona!”, said Nikhil. “What do we do now?”. Nikhil remembered the words of the ‘normal’ person with whom they had a conversation a few hours ago. He had told them that the tribal people had helped him recover from an illness. ‘Could that be Corona?’, thought Nikhil.

Pinning his hopes on the ‘normal’ person to save Matthew, Nikhil looked around to see if there was any way to get Matthew out of this trap. That’s when he heard a loud – “AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHH”

- To be continued -

---------------------------- o --------------------------

About the writer - Change is the only unchangeable thing. A universal truth that defines the very DNA of her. An ambivert at heart but an introvert by expression, Uthra is passionate about personal growth in all spheres of life & living that makes her a constantly evolving individual who mutates much faster than a virus!

Endless Tales of Corona - 2

2020-03-26T17:22:00.006+05:30

Chapter 2: Fear Looms Over Hope

By Vimal P Thomas

They waited all day for the inhabitants to return. Hours went by. Matthew started to show symptoms of fever. Nikhil placed his palm on Matthew’s forehead. It was burning.

“Lie down. Sleep.” He said.

Matthew lay down on the ground, with his head resting on Nikhil’s legs. He soon slipped into sleep.

Nikhil gazed into the wilderness. He had always been thirsty for adventure. From exploring deep forests to climbing steep mountains, he and Matthew had had quite a lot of memories together. Matthew too shared this fondness for adventure and thrill. However, this time, when Nikhil had come up with the idea of a night out at the sea on a fishing boat, Matthew had been a little hesitant.

“Not this time. Can we think of something else?” he had asked.

“Why? Are you scared Mat?! Haha… Come on Mat…”

Matthew had budged to his mate’s persuasion.

And here they were, in an unknown land, with uncertainty looming over their heads. Nikhil felt responsible for this plight of theirs. Tear drops ran down his cheeks.

The growls from his stomach grew louder. The last they had eaten was their snack at the beach. They had been at the Promenade for their weekend beach stroll. During the three kilometer walk up and down the beach, they would talk about the hot topics of the week that had passed by. This last stroll, their conversation had been about this tiny little thing, invisible to the naked eye, that had taken control of the world – corona virus. Quite possibly, nine in every ten groups at the beach were talking about it as well.

As they walked past the line of eateries, Matthew had suggested that they grab something to eat.

“How about a roll of shawarma?” Nikhil had asked.

“You think it is okay to eat chicken now?” queried Matthew.

“What’s wrong?”

“Corona?!”

“Oh God, has corona-phobia got into your head as well?!” scolded Nikhil.

“Anna, two coronas please…”

The guy who had been scraping the chicken turned his head towards them in surprise. The people standing in front of nearby shops too gave them looks.

“Shawarma, shawarma…” Matthew corrected himself.

***

Loud clanging noise disrupted Nikhil’s sleep. Lost in thoughts, he too had fallen asleep. The sound grew louder and louder. Matthew too woke up.

“What’s the noise?” he asked.

“I don’t know, let me go and check. Stay here.”

p.c. Paint Valley

Nikhil got up and walked in the direction of the sound. There was a huge rock, the size of an elephant, a little ahead. He climbed up the rock and looked around. The sky was draped in orange. At a distance, he could see the silhouettes of the tribal people standing in front of their little houses and clanging their vessels. “Go corona, go corona, go…” they chanted.

Nikhil climbed down the rock and walked back to Matthew, or the spot where he had left him. For Matthew wasn’t to be seen there. Beside the skeleton was a pool of blood.

“Maaatt...” called out Nikhil in despair.

- To be continued -

------------------------------- o -----------------------------

About the writer - A 'curious kid' who loves to travel and explore the world. Believes that 'the world is a better place, if you keep exploring.' You can check his explorations here https://lecuriouskid.blogspot.com/

Endless Tales of Corona - 1

2020-03-25T11:35:00.007+05:30

------------------------------------ o ----------------------------------

While almost whole world is locked down due to this dangerous Corona Virus Disease 2019 (Covid-19), a bunch of crazy-heads are set to spin and weave stories taking the same Covid-19 as a theme. And here it goes...

------------------------------- o ----------------------------

Chapter 1: Taken Captives

- written by Priyadarshini Selvarajan

Nikhil and Matthew had gone exploring the seas. On a tempestuous night, when their boat had capsized, they used all their might and swam to reach a shore. It was a dreadful fight against the waves. The tiredness put them to sleep at once. When they awoke the next morning, they were surprised to see what was around. They had woken up on a lush green island with coconut trees and dense bushes all around. The clearness of the sea waters was something to behold. This was like a scene straight out of the movies. Only, they wished they had been stranded in the islands with the love of their lives.

The clearness of the sea waters was something to behold.
p.c.Painting valley

Suddenly, out of the bushes leapt some tribal inhabitants of the island. Pointing their daggers and spears at the two, they looked quite scary with their masks and harshness. Nikhil and Matthew looked at each other in fright as they laid on the smooth, white sand. The tribal people led them to a spot deep inside the forest and made few noises, gesturing at them, as if to get their attention to a hot water spring that had formed in the middle of a cave. Matthew and Nikhil advanced in fear towards the spring. Outside of the cave, far deeper into the forest, they could hear their tribe singing. “Go-Corona! Go-Corona! Go-Corona! Go!”

Nikhil thought of this to be yet another tribal ritual. However, Matthew who was practicing medicine when he wasn’t exploring the lands and seas, knew what it meant. He was surprised that tribal people living in a land far away from ‘normal’ population, could know anything about the deadly virus. Matthew decided to stay silent and not panic his friend who was already shaking like a leaf. When they neared the spring, the inhabitants made an action as if to thrust their spears at them, pushing both the friends into the water.

All at once, their muscles began to relax and regardless of the dreadful tribal around, their bodies and minds were at ease. It was almost like they were enchanted by a supreme power. They shook out of their trance only when they were being pulled out of the water to their own two feet, again. However, by now they were fresh and their minds thinking clearer than before. What a transformation, a plunge into fresh warm water could do!

The tribal people led them to a shady clearing in the forest, where a huge pot of whatever was boiling over a fire. It looked as if it could devour at least ten people. The chanting of the tribal song grew louder and clearer. Fear strangled their necks, as Matthew and Nikhil were led to a tree. Looking frantically around, Nikhil nudged Matthew and pointed to a place where they saw few scribblings on the mud-cleared floor. A huge, shapeless monster was seen attacking hoards of men and women. The people in the drawings appeared powerless and afraid in the monster’s presence. Looking further around, they saw a ‘normal’ man sitting coolly on a wooden plank.

‘Maybe he would be of use to communicate’, Nikhil thought.

When the tribal had tied them to a tree, the seemingly ‘normal’ man walked towards them. He greeted them in English and seemed quite unaffected by what was happening around. He informed them about a monster that was devouring other parts of the world; and the tribal community was now on the watch-out for any new visitors to their island who might bring them in contact with this monster.

When the friends asked him how he had himself landed in the island, he told them about how he and his newly wedded wife had been honeymooning in the Mauritian islands when one exploration led to another and they landed up here. However, as ill-fate would have it, his wife had succumbed to a strange illness and had died just a couple of weeks back.

The man seemed too ‘normal’ for someone who had lost his wife in less than a month. When the looks on the friend’s face grew skeptical, the man explained how the tribal people had helped him recover from the depression and the physical illness that he himself seemed to be developing. The two friends were taken aback. But before the man could go on with his story, few of the inhabitants had come to release them off the tree. The two were pushed and shoved to lie on a spot where there were none around. What they saw there brought a chill down their spines. There were bones of a human strewn around.

While the ‘normal’ man’s story seemed too optimistic for the moment, Nikhil and Matthew themselves did not know what awaited them.

- To be continued -

----------------------------- o ------------------------

You want to know about the writer? Well, Tolkien best describes Priya in his lines - 'Not all those who wander are lost'. She calls herself a Jack-of-all-trades. For, she has her interests in a lot of activities, like - dancing, singing, writing, reading, meditating, cooking, photography, travelling, colouring, and even tarot reading! However, we wish she finds her true calling and commits to her purpose soon enough!

Dude, how did you do that?

2020-02-03T18:46:00.001+05:30

Sparkling sky
pc - etsy

It was a New Year! A fresh winter wind, passed-on from December, embraced me as I entered the school. It was 8.45 am and a cool puff of air blended with sunshine just rekindled my senses.

As I was stepping inside the school gate, a lot of things cherished me. The revitalising winter weather and regular yet wonderful New Year day. And the best part is seeing my friends after a long break; and some cute girls too.

But when it comes to girls, I perform the role of spectator (very well) as I do not have much confidence in talking to them. But this year, I decided to talk, taking inspiration from Ram and Dinee.

Ram is a genius, when it comes to girls. He is just spontaneous with them. Is he spontaneous with us? - that's a question to think about! Conversely, Dinee is not much of a conversationalist but likes to respond in one-liners (punch lines). It's short and fun. Sometimes, annoying as well.

So, Go Dinee (Inspired from Go France!), I composed myself and proceeded to the classroom. It was a five minutes walk through the playground to my classroom from the entrance gate. While on the walk, I felt an eerie sensation at the back of my spine. I turned to see my biology teacher walking next to me.

Catherine miss!!!

I heard a dog barking, sniffing my anxiety, from a distance. Crows cawing frantically from atop the tree.

With a stern look and an erected back, she looked like an imposing statuette moving forward. “Happy New Year madam,” I greeted her with a forged smile. Along came a series of greetings from around, “Happy New Year” “Good morning” “Happy morning.”

She didn’t nod, respond out loud or even smiled yet we got our answer. She signalled through her eyelids, which closed with the shutter-speed less than one. Meanwhile, her head tilted down, for a micro-second. I was awed by this not-so-majestic and annoying gesture. But the answer papers, she carried in her arms, terrified me.

Then, I smelled a sweet aroma coming from behind, deviating me from the papers. It was Keerthi, striding forward, cute as bug's ear. She went past me and I heard the sweet cooing of Asian Koel, hiding beneath the leaves, from the majestic Peepal tree near the church.

Keerthi is a popular girl in our school among teachers as well as students. While, teachers like her studious nature, we – droolers – admire her for being Keerthi. She is cute as Koala and lively as a sunbird. Being a School Pupil Leader (SPL), she often speaks in the assembly, but all I hear was the sweet melody of Magpie Robin. A girl as delightful as her deserves some followers. Adding to that is her walk; splendid and sophisticated as any cat species, augmenting her looks and appeal.

She came in colours on that day; no uniform. Yes! It’s her birthday – January 2. That’s another special thing about the re-opening day. I get to see this sparkling cat swaying her way meticulously through some dull and dusty stray dogs; both passive and dominant ones.

***

“What ma? How were the holidays?” inquired my class teacher with a charming smile.

Reji sir! Highschool sweetheart. Sweet, calm and handsome teacher, who taught us English. Unlike other teachers, his English was clear and understandable while most of the teachers fashion IDIOcratic language.

We start the year with an hour of prayer in a church; most common things to witness in the Christian Missionaries. We spend around 10 minutes in class before assembling in front of the church for the Mass (Catholic prayer). Reji sir was using that time efficiently by posing questions about holidays. After one or two answers, silence filled the atmosphere.

“Alright, lets wish our birthday girl!” He swapped the topic after sensing uneasiness in the air.

This, for sure, was the topic of interest to us as we know very well about the reward. And it's good to start a year with a sweet. Right?

Cheerfully, we sang the birthday song.

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to dear Keerthi

Happy birthday to you!

There was a little variation in tune as the rhythm peeked in the third line. A few of us got excited to call her dear. And we continued…

May God bless you

Blab bla bla blab bla bla

Happy birthday to you!

While lines like – may God bless you – doesn’t really make sense (Why do we ask God for blessing? Isn't it his job to bless everyone? And why only her? Do we need to ask for it?), I continued with pure joy. Because it’s not about the birthday girl, but what she holds!

The song ended but not the noise as the rhythm was replaced with applause. I wondered why we clap at times. Is it a gesture of appreciation? Or greeting someone? Or motivating ourselves? Or getting rewarded? – I never knew.

Yet I joined others to keep up the momentum.

Keethi started to distribute chocolates. A few shook hands, greeted her and took the chocolates and others just pounced onto the chocolate box like a starving cat and wished her without even looking at her eyes.

As she was approaching me, I composed myself to look her at eyes and wish her before touching her box. Go Dinee, I said to myself.

Sitting at the corner of the third row, I was sweating profusely out of nervousness and she was distributing chocolates in the second row. She finished and turned towards me. My heartbeat raced.

She came and offered me her box. I trembled and never looked her in the eyes. Like a flash, I raised, looked her, wished her and sat down. I told her something, which I couldn’t remember except the word happy. I was blank. She smiled, though.

After she left, my friend mumbled, “Dude, how did you do that?”

“How did I do what?”

“Your WISH!”

“What’s with that?”

“You don’t know anything. Do you?” he smirked. I noted a slight change in his attitude, and it heightened my curiosity. I looked back. The whole bench was giggling and so did Keerthi.

“What did I say?” I lost myself.

“Happy New Year not Happy Birthday, you fool!” He laughed.

Oh my God! – I snapped, irritated.

We came out of class, maintained the line and walked to the church. While everyone was making fun of me with that incident, I was happy for making her laugh. The feeling of her being happy swept away my awkwardness and like a spark in the darkness, I took a confident stride towards the gate, where the cicadas greeted me with its buzzing hum.

Cradle of Love

2019-11-10T21:36:00.001+05:30

As I paced down the flyover on my bike, I saw two policemen following me, on the rear-view mirror. One on the pillion waved his truncheon and instructed me to stop. I twirled the accelerator, taking no notice of his actions.

"We can't escape. Stop….Stop! " Carlos echoed from the pillion

As I decelerated and pulled over, my phone blared and my body shook in a shudder ending the reverie. From where do dreams creep into sleep, I wondered, opening my eyes to the bright daylight.

"Aaah….what a way to be pulled out of a Sunday morning nap!", I groaned, as I grabbed my phone and swiped the screen left.

"You in town?" - Balu's voice inquired on the other side

With the intoxicating tinge in my throat and my head cracking, I said, "Yes"

“Come down, I am coming in a couple of minutes”, Balu ended the call

"Were you sleeping?" his face broadened in a smile, as I descended the stairs in a sullen mood.

Balu stood there in his orange capri trousers and white shirt, sporting a paunch. He appeared a perfect representative of the middle-aged, middle-class men folks of Tamil Nadu

"What's the matter?"

"We have to pick up a cradle, I just got that on OLX"

"Why ? You don't get sleep on the bed, that you have to be rocked into slumber!" I asked irritated

"It's for my little baby. Come, lets go. It's getting late"

I climbed on to Balu's bike, it groaned to start like an agonizing animal. Balu stood there listening to the sound in rapt attention.

"What are you waiting for ?" I asked impatiently

"The bike has to be accelerated from rest atthe sweet spot when the engine noise dips. Otherwise the ride becomes rough, even worse, the engine goes off suddenly"

It took a couple of attempts before Balu could hit the sweet spot and roll the wheels down the road.

"Also, never apply brakes on this part of the road, you will bite the dust" Balu offered his road wisdom pointing to the gravel on the road side.

"How long are you going to battle with this bike, Balu. Get another one" I said as we passed the liquor shops on our right.

"It gives 75 kilometers. I don't want to change it now. Let me see"

Balu took a nuanced and calculated approach in life, accounting for all the subtleties without fail. From job to marriage to having a child, he did it with the precision of hitting the bull's eye.

We cruised along the lazy Sunday roads, as Balu indulged in his usual thought provoking conversation.

"You are not working today?"

"Today is Sunday, Balu"

"As a hard worker, you should be working!", Balu broke out in a boisterous laughter, teasing me.

I remained silent.

"What is your opinion on the recent developments in our office ?"

"I am an opinion-less idiot" I said

"It's like a circus. Though there are a lot of adventurous shows with unbelievable twists and turns, what stays in the mind, at last, are the buffoon’s acts" Balu philosophized

At the post office, Balu took a left and moved on the street leading to the Perumal temple. He negotiated a sharp right turn and entered a narrow street where construction materials were dumped at the center of the street.

Parking the bike near the gutter, Balu climbed the stairs of the house painted white pulling up his capri trousers, and returned holding a bamboo basket that looked like a large soap box.

"We may have to make a couple of trips. There is a stand too"

Balu brought a structure about six feet high, which had hooks on sides of the frame. Once placed on the hooks, the cradle can be swayed into a rocking motion.

"We can take both at one go. I am getting late" I urged

Balu sat with the huge setup facing the back. Two old men smoking beedis on the construction site prepared themselves to render help anticipating our downfall.

I ignited the engine and waited for the engine to hit it's sweet spot. I slowly turned the accelerator and the wheels rolled. As the bike thrusted forward, Balu lunged and lost his balance. In a split of the moment, Balu dropped the cradle and staggered along the street landing on his palms.

The two men, their predictions proved right, rushed towards us happily. I sat on the bike, enjoying the scene – a perfect revenge for spoiling my nap, I thought in satisfaction.

Balu stood up and tapped the dust of his Capri trousers.

"I have none to blame, other than me for calling you", Balu muttered staring at me

We did two trips and transported the rocking cradle to Balu's home. As we finished the task, we stood in the corner of Balu's street.

"A new one costs 2000, and I have got this for 1300. Now, she will sleep better" Balu's eye glowed in fatherly love

"Next, I'll have to make arrangements for building a house" Balu glanced at the sky in hope

"Come to my home for lunch", Balu's voice turned kind

"I'll come some other day"

"Why? Come today, there is crab and fish"

"I am reading a bit. I feel like continuing it for some time" I smiled

“Reading or drinking”, Balu winked

“Both offers a new perception of life” I winked back

I ascended the stairs to my home to catch up the lost sleep. In the afternoon dream, I saw, Balu’s unnamed daughter sleeping peacefully in her father's cradle of love.

The Matrimonial Saga

2019-10-19T22:42:00.000+05:30

On a Sunday afternoon, when the sun parched the land, I and Perumal sat under the swirling fan blades that made an unbearable hissing sound.

Perumal tilted the wine bottle in all possible angles and remarked that the wine was adulterated. On my third Beer, I wasn't in a mood to mind him.

"Monk, it is just sugar syrup bottled up" he said.

He couldn't take anything without a complaint. Perumal was a Teetotaler. He was considering drinking, upon his failure in forging a matrimonial alliance.

Mani was roasting fishes on the induction stove. The stove had the remnants of the curries and fries cooked on it since it was bought. Mani emerged out of kitchen, caressing the hairs on his chest, as if to douse the rising passion.

Mani, Perumal and I were into social work. We roamed around the city, its adjoining villages holding dear to our hearts, the hope for change. When we were not out of office, we stared at the laptop. Around 6 we went away to our respective dens. We ate and drank away the Sundays

Mani had achieved reasonable success in finding a woman through the XXX matrimony, which rendered online services for men and women wanting to get hitched. Mani suggested Perumal to register on the same website.

"Peru, you can get the contacts of 110 women for 4000 INR" Mani announced. Perumal immediately registered using my laptop.

Perumal realised that he had to pick and communicate to one contact every day. To pick one contact, he had to carefully go through 10 profiles. From then, Perumal sincerely browsed through the daily matches; expressed interests; messaged asking for horoscope. He picked contacts, called and communicated his earnest desire to marry. He did this with utmost sincerity and rigour.

"Monk, I lose focus hunting these daily matches," said Perumal under the Rain tree outside our office.

He was blown away in the initial stages of his seeking, like anyone, seeing the damsels in his 'daily matches'. He jumped with joy and used the following adjectives to describe the various women: Super, mind-blowing, charming, delightful.

Nothing worked. Those who expressed interest never responded. Those who responded, did so only to decline Perumal's interest.

On the next Sunday, Mani and Perumal reworked the strategy. Mani advised Perumal to give bulk interests, so that he can reach out too many women.

Perumal felt that interest should be send only to women he liked. Mani suggested Perumal to compose a common message and send it to 200 women on the XXX platform. Perumal composed the following message: "I am Perumal from Vellore. I have worked hard and borne life's hardships, of many kinds, to reach this position. Now, I seek a companion to walk with me through the rest of my life. I am interested to marry you. If interested, please contact me at 9362421536". Perumal forwarded this to 200 profiles not even looking at the photographs.

As a month passed, Perumal grew restless as he could make no success. He ended up conversing, over the phone, with women; their fathers; mothers; sisters; friends; brothers; and even grandmothers.

Once, in a conversation with a mother of a daughter, on learning that Perumal belonged to a different caste, she exclaimed,

"We see cassette very seriously,"

It took the flummoxed Perumal a few moments before he could understand that she was referring to caste.

"These buggers neither know English nor Tamil. All mediocre middle-class rascals" Perumal fumed, after closing the call.

Perumal found that some 'Men' were showing up on his daily matches, and when Perumal took up the issue with the customer care executives of the XXX matrimony, asking them, whether they facilitated Gay marriages too, he was told that the Matrimony cannot do much about it, but he was free to follow up with the profile and encourage to deregister or pursue a Gay marriage with them.

Among the few interests Perumal received, one came from a 27-year-old lady named Vaidehi Iyer, whose profile announced that she was a doctor in Paris. Gleeful Perumal accepted her interest and the very next day received a message asking his bank account details to be send to nicole.kidman@hotmail.com so that the bulk wealth of 15 Million USD of a Syrian war Victim could be transferred to Perumal.

Perumal also raised this issue with the XXX customer care asking them, "Is this the quality of your profile verification?". XXX compensated Perumal by offering him 2 more profile contacts.

After all hither and thither, Perumal saw himself staring at the end of his 'Premium' membership. He was left with, around 30 contacts to explore in just two days.

"Monk, do you want to see some girls for you? I don't think I could finish my contacts. I am exhausted "

"Peru, I just got a hard slap for presenting a love proposal. Women do not delight me anymore", I said in dismay.

Perumal motivated me by sending some contact numbers and pics, he said, "Ask your Mother to talk, you don't talk"

The XXX guys motivated Perumal to become a 'lifetime' member on their site by paying just 10,000 per year. They also informed that they have caste-wise matrimonial websites, which could increase the probability of finding a partner.

"Peru, this is a heartless business...How can one be a life time member on a Matrimony website? Isn't that contradicting the purpose itself?"

"Those guys are just puppets. They do what is told to them. They are driven by algorithms. They too have a stomach to fill and for that they do what they are told. Leave it, Monk"

Perumal continued to live his life immersed in his principles; he fetched water from the municipal corporation taps; drove his bike at 10 kph on the fourth gear; and, laughed innocently at life.

Johnny English was with us as we clicked our glasses on one of the gloomy evenings. Johnny was a young man of twenty-five, with the energy and passion that youthfulness was home to. He roamed around with the air of a hero.

Perumal felt that the 30 profile contacts should not go waste and narrated the entire Saga to him.

"Johnny, do you want to check out some for you"

Johnny was excited. The idea of daily matches seemed to stimulate him. But he lost interest when he knew that he had only 6 hours to pick up the contacts, and the option of daily matches will not exist after the expiry of the account.

"I believe in direct approach. I want to meet girls and set them up. Also, I loathe the word 'cassette'" explained Johnny, not wanting to pick up contacts.

"Johnny, When I was your age, I too roamed around, like you, folding my sleeves roaming like a lion" said Perumal, looking at the tattered ceiling.

After Johnny left, Alex entered. Alex was another member of the Hunter Gang, and occasionally lit up our Sunday communions. He invariably involved himself in making Egg scramble for the communion lunch. He was an expert in the egg scrambling process.

Sometimes Alex came with his three-year-old daughter Sarah. Sarah was a cute little bundle of joy, but also a keen observer. She kept a close watch on her father and reported all his misdemanours to her mother.

"Your approach is wrong. You can't marry by just click and flick Perumal. It is about building relationships and following up with sincerity" said Alex, disapprovingly.

"Alex, yours is a love marriage. you can't feel my pain. There is no dearth of approaches. I have tried multiple approaches." sneered Perumal.

"Love marriage is not that easy. One in ten proposals gain acceptance. The conversion ratio of acceptance to marriage is also low. Do you know the difficulties that I faced in marrying? Once again, I say it Perumal, it is about building a relationship. It should start at the personal level. Think of the girls you have known in your life –from your village; school; universities. There is some level of 'knowing each other' and you have to build upon this"

Perumal sat in solemn silence listening to Alex and left home after sometime.

Nothing much happened. Tomorrow repeated today in somber monotony. The frequency of the Sunday communion came down as Mani's marriage was fixed. He helped me clear all the bottles rolling up and down the house. We packed them off in bags and took it to a scrap dealer in Ariyankuppam. Forty-seven bottles fetched 25 ₹.

One morning, Mani gave me 1000 ₹ to buy any drink of my choice. That evening, Mani and I boarded the train to Bangalore, as Mani was getting married in Coorg.

On the night before Mani's marriage, I sat with Mani's friends and brothers drinking RC Gold sinking into coldness. Mani's friends were sculptors, businessmen and government employees. They shared their life's stories and I shared mine. In drunken stupor, I realised, I liked, more than the silence of the valleys, the restlessness of the waves.

I was in an acute mental and financial crisis at that time. I couldn't gift Mani anything; instead borrowed 500 ₹ from Mani and left wishing him well. After a back-breaking journey of 18 hours I reached Pondicherry. Mani came back after a week and kicked me out of the house. I found space for myself in dingy lodge full of bachelors, sharing a room each. I found one for me and squeezed myself into it. The disintegration of the Hunter Club was full and complete with my separation from Mani.

Perumal’s seeking on the XXX matrimony continued. One man was looking for a well-settled life partner who is suitable to their daughter. One girl dressed in yellow metal wanted a groom with an income between 10 lakh and one crore. Sneha, a profile from Coimbatore, said that her expectations were simple, just an air conditioned own-house, a car and nothing else.

Perumal was dismayed, chasing phantom profiles on the XXX matrimony. Perumal had caught on to what Alex had said and started exploring personal contacts. This is when Perumal realised that there are sane women on this Earth. Unlike those profiles who sat on Perumal's interest, neither accepting or declining, here the response was fast. Perumal took everything in his stride and moved on.

On a Sunday morning, when I was hanging over, Perumal knocked at my door. "Monk, I do not know how it happened, but it happened. My marriage is fixed. It will happen in Odisha". I remembered that Perumal had the reputation of studying in four universities for three degrees; one was in Odisha. I understood the sketch and did not enquire further.

Madhumita Sahoo, Perumal's fiancée, taught Hindi at a local school near Jajpur. The wedding was to happen in their native village near Jajpur.

I reached the village near Jajpur, when the evening Sun lit the dusty streets in a faint orange glow. Perumal called me saying that he was busy in wedding preparations, but everything was well arranged for me.

The wedding procession progressed towards the bride's home. Women and men danced to songs like 'eskool ke piche pipal ke neeche Tera Intazaaar…'. Women dancers were carefully separated from drunken men by a group of sober men. The boot of a car served as the mobile bar. Men took breaks to refill themselves and reinforce the inebriation.

Inside the Pandal, around 3 am, Perumal sat chanting the Mantras that the panda murmured in his ears. The marriage was solemnized around 4 am.

I met Perumal before leaving.

"Monk, do you need anything"

"No, it was great Perumal. There is Rum in my tum and the food was good. How do you feel?"

Perumal stared at the floor in deep silence. I knew what was coming.

"Why should life be such a struggle, Monk? Why are we still fighting for food and mate, spending all our time and Energy on that. Then, what is the use of this modern society? When will this society begin honouring human endeavour to rise beyond eating and mating? The stress on external superficialities nauseate me.

I have poured over pages of wisdom, pondered over the nature of life, developed a humane vision for my existence and I follow that. There was not a soul to honour me, but to insult, came many," Perumal poured down his agony.

"I do not have such nuanced sensitivities like you Perumal. I live a life like a dog of the street. Anyone can stone me and I just howl and groan in pain. When they come with food, I lick their feet"

"Anyways, Peru are you not coming back?"

"No, not to the land, where majority, are mediocre; and do not have an iota of sensibility. I will teach here at a local school and will make efforts to establish a center for well being where men and women can focus on life’s purpose rather than wasting energies in trivialities. That's it for this life "

I held Perumal's hands fondly. I wished him all the best and took leave. I walked back to my room thinking of the next day's journey to the land, to which I belonged, and the land which Perumal had forsaken.

A Tail Katha...

2019-03-23T22:53:00.000+05:30

I woke up on a disturbing note. It must be the dream.

It’s still dark outside. I reached my phone to check the time, which showed 3.30 am. My eyes bulged out and mind, voiced again – it’s definitely the dream.

“I have an early shift tomorrow. How do I sleep now?” I bite in frustration.

“And what is this stupid thing on my back!” Unable to resist this unpleasant, strange sensation on my back, I reached out to feel a tiny rubbery thing stuck on my lower back. I tried pulling it off. Holy shit! I screamed in pain.

And then I realized that it’s not stuck, but protruding from my back. Ah! It’s a Tail.

I took my phone and clicked some images of it to have a better look. The tail looked strange, somewhat similar to the dog’s tail I had seen yesterday. But it also had feathers like the Hornbill, similar to the one I saw the day before. For a moment, my face was glowing like the Super Worm Moon. The lovely encounter with Hornbill took over my thoughts. Its whooshing cacophony while on flight and its onerous call, both unpleasant yet distinct enough to amaze every living creature on earth. What a sight!

Conversely, I jolted back to present after witnessing this picture of the tail – MY TAIL – on my phone. I jumped out of my bed in horror! Only to see that I wasn't standing on my bedroom floor anymore! My feet covered with mud and I looked around to see the tall, majestic trees around. The very sight of it left me flabbergasted! Delighted, I took a stroll through the serene woods.

The yellow maple leaves and gigantic Sequoia mesmerized me. I was struck with wonder. In the meantime, a giant elephant splashed water on me from nowhere. Alas! It was a dream. I was rolling on my bed and hit the water jug on the lamp table nearby. The water was all over me. Frustration took over the pleasure of forest walk.

“God! I should stop this,” I grit my teeth.

The tail is the real issue now, not forests or Hornbill. What do I do?

Tail – Just a simple word, but strong enough to send chills down my spine. Subsequently, my uneasiness just rushed through my veins.

What has happened to me?? What will people say if they see it? Should I show my mother or wife about this? Or should I just tuck it in my pants and leave for office? I was contemplating over my thoughts.

Finally, I composed myself to start to office. My plan is to tuck my tail into my pants. But it was not comfortable at all. Every time I hopped over a hump, it popped-out, leaving me stressed for the entire ride. My thoughts were so blank that I was unable to focus on the road. Somehow, I reached the parking space of my office, sweating profusely because I didn’t know how will people react if they come to know about my tail.

One way or another, I managed to grab my seat before anyone noticed. But the seat was so high.

Why is this so high? Gosh! Not again why do people grab my chair and adjust it.

Consequently, I bent sideways to adjust it, only to find that it’s all down. Sensing something was amiss, I dashed to the washroom. And the result added fuel to the fire.

Yes!!! My tail is growing.

***

One day my tail grew longer that I couldn't keep it as secret. My pants couldn't hold them anymore. It was embarrassing. I didn't know what to do. I was clueless.

The thoughts grew larger and larger over time, giving me an unbearable headache. I could feel the heat during those times. It was intense. My heart will go to the level of explosion. But when I control the thoughts, heat goes off.

One day thoughts took control of me. The heat surged through my head and choked my throat. Unable to control, I coughed and was astonished to see my pillow on fire. I was confused and panicked. Moreover, there was a sense of relief in my head.

Yet in shock, I whispered I breathe fire? Am I a monster? and swooned.

***

I could still feel the heat running inside my head. My body was shivering, in the interim. My heartbeat racing high as ever.

And I am tangled with thoughts and emotions. A thousand questions came crushing my brain!

Will my family accept me? What could have caused this? Should I consult the doctor or will I scare him off? Is this reversible? Is it a dream? Maybe, tomorrow morning when I wake up, I would be back to normal?

Unable to stay calm I rode my bike to the Velrampet lake (Puducherry) to gather my thoughts and chalk out my next course of action. After all, nature is the only being to calm me down.

On my way to the lake in the bike, I heard continuous honking from behind. The noise was maddening. Infuriated, I stopped my bike and looked back.

One guy shouted, "A rope is dangling from your bike. Pull it up man. It’s risky." It added insult to injury. My tail has grown even longer. And I heard him laughing out loud.

Am I going to chalk out my thoughts at the lake or jump into it? I hit myself.

I tried coiling it up and rode further. The placid lake calmed my soul. I took a step further trying to ease myself, but was in vain.

I caught my reflection and startled, "Oh dear god!!! What is this? What am I seeing?" It was a frightening image of me almost identical to an ape. Also, I got reminded of evolution stories and Darwin’s theories, which I felt as unidirectional. But now things are going in different directions.

Am I a living proof of reversing evolution? Am I a human anymore? Or I am evolving/evolved to become a new species. Would I become a research specimen?

Scientists will be astounded to hear about this, I am pretty sure.

I stepped back in terror and do not want to go back again. Yet my heart wants to go. Hoping to see my old self. The face that’s not so pretty yet attractive without hairs or big nostrils. The face that is less panicking for birds, enabling me to have a better look or experience. A body without a tail enabling people to approach me. Or maybe a better look to sway my girlfriend; hold your thought, that’s my wife.

And then I saw, from the distance, a figure approaching me. He looked surprisingly familiar and as he came closer and stood face to face with me, I was spellbound. Because I was seeing the face that I have been seeing in the mirror for the past 30 years. Yes! It’s me! A tail-less me! I was awe-struck with enchantment.

While he came closer, I could see a book in between his hands wrapped in some kind of gelatinous material. It was radiant and distinctive. Maybe, there is something about that book. It was attractive, even in that bright sunshine. He stretched out his hands trying to offer that book to me.

I was totally confused. My heartbeat racing wildly. Loud enough to agitate butterflies and damselflies. Their reckless behaviour clearly conveyed it. I stared at him (or rather myself) for a while before proposing to receive the book.

In the meantime, I tried to peek beneath that gelatinous translucent cover to find something like this – A Tail...

Thrilled, I extended my hand and said, "Hi..."

***

I rubbed my eyes. I was lying down on the floor. An old man with long white hair was sitting beside me.

"Lie down. You are perfectly alright. You were about to say something to me and then you fainted." He said with a calm and soothing tone.

But I was puzzled.

Am I just hallucinating? Hadn't I seen a duplicate of me, a tailless one? Who is this strange old man? Was he not threatened by my face?

But then, I realized that my face is back to normal. I sensed it, somehow and heaved a big sigh of relief. Yet not so relieved as I could still feel my tail underneath.

Did the old man see my tail? Will he ask about it? What should I say to him?

"Don't worry about your tail." His tranquil voice interrupted my thoughts.

"There are a dozen other people like you, spread across the globe. It is called the Entailment Syndrome. There is a book – A Tail Katha – written by Shyam Charan.

“What did you just say?” I shouted anxiously. Something sparked me up.

“Entailment syndrome!”

“No. The one about the book and the name!”

“Yes. A Tail Katha by Shyam Charan.”

I was taken aback hearing it, both the title and the name.

Struck hard, I ran back to recollect my dream or a vision perhaps. Maybe, destiny is hitting hard to convey something.

A tail, beneath those translucent coating.

I closed my eyes, gripping hard to focus and found it right, eventually. The answer, this time, was neither aching nor infuriating. Its divergent and overwhelming.

Its déjà vu. One that muddled Abhimanyu in Mahabharatham. He entered Padmavyuham, which looked familiar to him, but didn’t know how to exit.

I close my eyes again, resting on the banks of the lake, took a deep breath. And in a flash, interrupted the thoughts - A Tail Katha written by me, Shyam Charan!

***

Image credit - Athira

Story contributors - Gladson, Suganya, Athira, Manasa, Preetham, Vidhya, Soundar, Meenakshi, Sri, Vimal, Divya and I (Gowthama)