freedom

The sleeping countryside rolled past through the window of the train. I was returning home after a conference.
I love conferences. Excellent presentations and discussions... meeting old professors, seniors and friends... good food... wine... laughter... shopping... and finally goodbyes till we meet few months later.
The lush greenery of ‘gods own country’ was soothing after the heat, dust and bustle of Chennai.
The monsoon had carpeted the earth luxuriantly with green. The clear still waters reflected rows and rows of coconut palms. Lilac water lilies bloomed in clusters…
Fat contended cows grazed on wide open fields. Eagles swooped across clear blue sky... fluffy whilte clouds floated lazily. Bright yellow butterflies flitted from one flower to the next.
Trees swayed in gay abandon. The exuberant grass and rushes waved merrily. The banyan leaves danced wildly...
I longed to drift out of the window and blend with all the harmony and rapture.
The train was slowing down. More tracks appeared. Huge poles... cables... lights... plastic bottles, bags and cups were littered all around. Garbage accumulated here and there.
We were approaching kollam station.
I watched the people on the platform.
Men and women rushed. Bodies bent with heavy shoulder bags... clenched frowning faces… some waddled along balancing huge suitcases in both hands. Women carrying sleeping babies tried hard to keep up with rest of the family.
A family slouched on a bench looking tired and bored... probably waiting for some connecting train.. Luggage was littered all around them. Their two kids rolled on the ground trying to amuse themselves
A railway official was talking grimly into his wakie talkie. His body drooped with fatigue. The white uniform was crumpled and dusty...
Today is supposed to be a holiday..! ... We are celebrating our 57years of independence!!!
The train started to move... I felt relieved...
We were leaving the clenched frowning faces celebrating their independence...
We were again entering the enchanting world of swaying palms... lazy clouds... contended cows... dancing leaves and flirting butterflies…

Realization

She sat before me. Dressed in white… Saggy face wrinkled with time. Thinning silvery hair...The dulling eyes stared into mine... The nose stud twinkled.
My role was to break the bad news. That she had carcinoma stomach.. Progressed beyond surgical cure... we could give Chemo a try. But it could ransack her frail body. She had other complication too... diabetes... hypertension...
To treat or not..?
Her two sons and one daughter were unable to reach a decision.
They wanted me to find out what she felt...
I looked into the eyes………dull solemn eyes... with hundreds of tales to tel...
The warmth of her father’s chest... the tenderness of her mom’s touch...
Moonlight... The intoxicating smell of the damp earth ..and a soft buttery voice.. whispering her name...
The molten pain of goodbye...
An alien house... Her body being plundered by a man she hardly knew…
Warm brawling babies nestling on her breasts ..as love almost like pain shooted through her...
His proud smile as she lit the first fire in their own home...
Quiet evenings spent listening to him talking... about his dreams for their babies.
.Holding the cold body of her 12yr old... and pleading with the silent heavens …to take her life too
More monsoons...
Marriages... grandchildren...
Sitting besides him... holding his hands... and feeling him slip away...
Slowly... softly—silently...
I had finished speaking...
To treat or not..?
The solemn eyes gazed into mine. “Just sooth away the pain baby... she whispered I need only peace...”
I waited for more words... but no...
She had taken the burden of the decision for her children’s sake...
I rang the bell and asked the attendant to let the children in...
She got up to leave. Then turned back...
“Had a wonderful life... should have realized it at the time...” she smiled...
My eyes filled... A lump formed in my throat..I smiled back...

A Perfect Red Rose

The road was damp and chilly from the last night's rain. Oil spilled over the dirty puddles.
She lay there... her soft tender body bruised and crushed under hundreds of callous feet… Her radiance sweeping out.. Her fragrance long gone..
Her dreams were shattered...
Once upon a time there had been millions of dreams. As she had peeped out shyly from beneath her lashes. A pure innocent rosebud.
Dreams as sweet as the fragrance she treasured deep within her..
Lavished by the soft moonlight.. Drenched by the morning dew.. Caressed by the soft breeze..
The warm Sun had made promises .. As he cajoled her to unfurl into the most perfect Red Rose.
Her loveliness and fragrance would spread all around. Inspiring lovers.. Poets.. Ordinary folks..
She would be adored.. admired.. Cherished..
Her lover would come to her enticed by her loveliness Her softness and fragrance would be his agony as he drowned in her nectar.. Dissolved in her love..
He would murmur her name softly in her ears as he surrendered wholly..
Again and again..
But she had been cheated out of her dreams.. Betrayed.. Sold out for a few petty pennies..
She lay there.. Beyond caring.. Beyond the loneliness that seeped though her. Beyond the pain.. Her insides ripped out..
The huge tyre were more than she could bear… I watched numbly as she dissapeared without leaving even a trace of the loveliness and fragrance behind.

Maybe..

Sabeera beevi’s husband told her that the smell in his breath was that of the 'tincture' he had taken for stomach upset... that was on the third day of her marriage...
A shy 18yr old from an orthodox Muslim family her husband was her God. Her parents were proud of the match...
It took her a few more days to realize that her God was a drunkard...
She was beaten up by him within twelve weeks of married life... she was pregnant at that time...
He was a loving husband during his dry spells... He promised that he would stop his drinking... she would trust him...
She delivered a male baby and then the next one in two years.
By then she was used his violence.
She had been punched in her gut... kicked in her lower abdomen... marked with his belt ..several times..... Her head had been hammered on the wall … she had been hit on the head with a stool…arm twisted till she pleaded for mercy...
She would just sit in a corner and cry her heart out...
She had quiet moments of happiness too .. playing with her babies.. embroidering cute figures for her boy’s cloths…
Quiet evenings during his dry spells ..cooking lovingly for her family while she waited for her Man to come home... Listening to the sound of her boys reading loud from the bedroom... and soft music playing on the transistor on the kitchen shelf...When she would be quietly happy and believe that he would give up drinking forever and everything would be fine.
But the dry spells became shorter and shorter...
She started running out to other quarters when he started to beat her... crying for help... her sons helped her... always kept the doors open...
Then they started to jump in between the parents... their father kicked them away... but they flew back howling and crying...
Years passed and the boys got more stubborn... they were open to him...' they wouldn’t permit it... he could drink if he wanted but he couldn’t hurt her anymore...'
He started non cooperation .. refused to support his "ungrateful" family... sulking... disappearing for days together...
"She was a bitch..!. She had ganged up his own sons against him...”
She started tailoring for the families in nearby quarters ... She went from door to door selling cloths...she had to support her sons...
When I met her she was a fat woman in her forties with chubby cheeks, light brown eyes and an infectious smile. She would sell cloths on installment payment basis among the hospital staff...
Stitch for them too...
I wondered how this woman who had suffered so much could smile so easily... she would come to me for painkillers for the neck pain she got from long hours spent stitching cloths...
She came to see me today...
She was upset... needed money to pay fees for her son... he had got admission for BSC nursing...Her husband had no money... he was sulking... blaming her ..
I consoled her and arranged a bank loan for her son’s studies... she thanked me tearfully and left...
I felt sad. For her... for her sons... for her husband...what made him behave so badly...?’I wondered... Some personality disorder probably.....’
Maybe one day he would realize his wife’s worth. His sons feeling... his responsibilities... ..Unlikely...
Maybe one day she would find happiness... when her sons were well settled... when she held her grandchildren in her arms... when her husband realized her worth...
She would find the happiness she dreamed of in her kitchen...
On quiet evenings spent cooking for her family...waiting for her Man to come home...
Listening to her sons reading loudly from the bedroom and music playing softly on the transistor on the kitchen shelf...

happiness

The happiest people often seem to be the ones with the least reason for being so...

wisdom

Next to knowing when to seize an opportunity, the most important thing is knowing when to forgo an advantage.

BLESSINGS

The platform was crowded. I waited for the train to roll in along with hundreds of passengers. There was anticipation and thrill in the air around me. Anticipation of the weekend ahead... People waited eagerly to meet their wives... girlfriends.. kids..moms... friends... after a week of rush and routine..
My mind was troubled... too much pain and heartburn during the past few weeks...i felt batterd bruised..sort of distant from my world...
I needed a break... badly... I was off to my parents place for the weekend. To destress and recharge...
We found our seats quickly... my boys settled on both sides... I sent an SMS to my husband that everything was fine...
Gautam complained about lack of adequate leg space. He fidgeted for some time... then pulled one end of my dupatta over his eyes... and promptly went to sleep...A,irconditioning always make my elder baby drowsy..
Taj sat quietly reading his set of comics. His huge dark eyes glowed greedily when he saw the cutlets and vadas being sold around... his favourites.
.
I took out an old Jackie Collins novel from my overnighter and started to read… hhhmm… the antics of the fiery smart and bold heroine with her cloud of black curls failed to hold my attention... I smiled to myself... difficult to belive that I had wanted to be like her during my teens...
George of 'Famous Five' had been my role model during my childhood... And Jackie Collin heroines during my late teens.....
i thought about the woman I had grownup to become... soft... emotional... I laughed softly...

I turned the pages trying to find out what was it about the heroine that had made me to adore her...
A folded tiny paper fell down from between the pages... I opened it and read...

“Open your eyes and give your life a glance. Are your basic needs met..? Do you have a home? Food on the table. Cloths to wear..? Is there a regular paycheck coming..?Do you have dreams? Do you have your health…? Can you walk talk see the beauty that surrounds you... listen to muscic that stirs your soul or make your feet want to boogie..? Do you have family and friends whom you love and who loves you..?”


My eyes filled... I thought about the young girl who had copied it from somewhere and placed it between the pages of a favorite novel. She had forgotten about it... but it had come to her when she needed it the most...
I looked out of the window... the stillness of the ashtamudi lake was breathtaking in the setting sunlight...birds were flying back to their nests, a kid was taking a group of goats home...
I thought of my lovely home with its beautiful garden. I thought about the love and security I got there...my parents and sisters who waited for me at the end of the journey...my work which gave me so much certainity and satisfaction...
I signed contently... I couldn’t count my blessings... like stars in the sky I loved to watch at night from my terrace garden they were infinite...
My life ahead beckoned me lovingly. So much love to be shared... books to read... muscic to listen... food and wine... flowers... sunets... rain... and good company to share them...
The beauty and power of simple pleasure that made life beautiful...
I closed my eyes and gave my thanks...

Pure Pain

The pleasure of pure pain…
Betrayal of the closest friend..
Today..
The last day of an extraordinary friendship..

One more chance..

Yesterday I met a cardiologist. A woman of about 33yrs. Smart, pucca professional.. Authoritative.. I felt envious of her..
I am also a doc. But I couldn’t make it professionally as good as her. Due to many reasons.
I am not the typical studious type of doctor. I love my hobbies and entertainments too much.. I am married to a person who loves fun and entertainment and prefers to have me besides him always. I had to bring up two active boys depending solely on maids..
I am happy.. I enjoy my work especialy the human part of it..I am paid well. I enjoy my family, my friends, my reading ,my gardening.. I get time to find pleasure in nature in her different moods..
But I couldn’t reach excellence in my profession. I could have achieved it had I given it the time and effort..
I have no regrets but when I saw this girl I couldn’t help feeling a bit envious.
I asked her about her family and she told that she was unmarried.. Must have been tied up with her studies.. Her profession..
I wonder about the paths we have both chosen. She her profession and reaching excellence and me my family and not achieving that excellence in my profession
If given one more chance would I do the same with my life.?. I ask myself..

DESPERATION

“Professionally helpful people must sometimes learn what life is at the receiving end of welfare”. The words crossed my mind as I sat waiting in the reception launch at SCT with my son and husband..
‘Lionel blue..’ The name of the book I couldn't remember.

SCT is a place where all patients are treated based on clear-cut norms.Usually docs are allowed to by pass the formalities in hospitals.. but not at SCT
So I sat there along with other patients. Waiting for my son’s EEG report.
My gut burned. My heart felt heavy. My head felt numb. There was a lump in my throat. I prayed silently..
Anxiety, despair. and terror hung around most of the people around me.

A mother sat besides me. Her 18yr old daughter was admitted in the ICU with encephalitis. she had been unconscious and had recurrent fits since one week. She was allowed to see her daughter only for 10mts daily. But she sat there in the lobby anyway.

I saw a father bent double over the balcony praying. he stared unseeingly at the garden down below a lush garden with the soothing sound of flowing water,. .. His daughter was undergoing brain tumour removal surgery in the theatre.
I saw a family of father, mother and son pushing a trolley on which lay a 15yr old boy unconscious.
I saw a skinny woman carrying a sleeping teenager with shaved head and blue pen markings on the scalp for radiotherapy ..in her arms ..trudging up the stairs slowly.
A nine-month-old baby with a weird shaped head slept on its mother’s lap besides me..But inspite of the odd shape the resemblance between the mother and child was striking...
Suddenly.I noticed a woman waving at me. She sat at a distance. I tried to recognise her. But I couldn't.
She then gestured commanding..confident. Calling me to her side.
“ Must be some old forgotten patient “ .I thought... I went to her side..
An elderly woman...grey face.. haunted eyes. Drab sari. Hair carelessly knotted.... No I dint recognise her.
“These are my son’s records. He has brain tumour ..need to start radiotherapy tomorrow. You have to help“ she literally ordered me...
I was confused. I started to read the records...
My husband tapped me on my shoulder. Gautam name was being called.
“Whats wrong with you”. he admonished me.
“Frauds immediately recognise they can cheat you easily.”. He looked irritated...
I handed the papers back to her and went to my son’s consultant’s room.

“EEG is normal“. I was told.
"No need for medicines. Just give him more care and support."

My heart lifted. I thanked the consultant profusely and walked out.
I looked around for the woman. Fraud or not..I wanted to give her some money.
The chair she had sat was empty.
SCT is a place where entry is very restricted. Frauds wouldn't be permitted to beg around.
I knew in my heart that she had been genuine. It was desperation that had made her call a stranger and order to help her
But why had she chosen me..?

I searched for her all around the OP section. But she had disappeared...