THe Nativity Play

 

It was Christmas Eve, the streets were festooned with colored streamers, stars and other ornaments. Work was slow Amal and Rumi chose to take time off to collect some medical reports from the hospital before the celebrations began.

They arrived early only to find a long line had snaked its way out from the waiting hall to the long corridor. Barely had they managed to squeeze a place on the bench when Amal felt a hand on his shoulder. His first thought was that he wouldn’t give up his place but it was a woman’s voice, “I need to go out urgently for a few minutes.” 

The woman disappeared thrusting a soft bundle in his lap. It was an infant who beamed back with a beatific smile. Amal prodded Rumi, “I‘ve been left holding a baby.” Rumi looked around nervously, “Where is this woman. We need to return the baby. You know how suspicious people are and will imagine we are kidnappers.”

 “Calm down. You always imagine the worst? After all it’s her baby.”

 Rumi got up and started scanning the room before there could be any trouble. Their names had been called and Amal transferred the bundle to Rumi and rushed to meet the doctor.

By then the crowds had thinned but the woman was still nowhere around. “The baby has to be returned to some responsible authority,” urged Rumi. Amal realized the gravity of the situation and walked towards one of the hospital staff manning the gates.

 The guard was suspicious as soon as he heard that they were not the caregivers. “This is a serious matter not to be taken lightly at all. You should go immediately to the help desk at the main office.”

 The office was overcrowded there were people milling around the desks and outshouting one another. Confused by the turn of events Amal didn’t know exactly whom to approach. Finally he found an empty space in front of one of the desks and asked hesitantly. “A woman asked me to mind her baby for a bit but she hasn’t returned. Where should we deposit the baby?”

The man at the desk was taken aback, “What made you do this? Are you in your right mind?  The police can take you in to custody. You look educated, haven’t you read messages warning people not to accept anything from strangers?”

Rumi replied crossly, “This is a baby and not a package. It was shoved in to our lap.”

“We aren’t equipped to deal with such matters. There is a police station outside the gates and it would be advisable to report at the earliest.”

The infant who had been sleeping blissfully unaware about all the confusion it had caused decided to wake up and announce its presence with a shrill cry that pierced through the surrounding din. All conversation was temporarily silenced. Red in the face, Rumi struggled with the infant that had changed to a wriggly and noisy creature. One of the by standers advised them, “Go to the children’s ward. The nurses there may be of help. Most probably the child is hungry.”

 Unable to calm the baby, they ran towards the hospital and hoped to leave it with some responsible authority.

Amal admitted “What if the police are suspicious and lock us up?” In a hurry and breathless they almost collided with a woman who stood midway on the steps. She took the weeping infant and held on to Amal’s hand. “Where did you disappear?”

“What do you mean? You are the one who vanished without a word.”

 “I didn’t think I would be gone for so long and it would be close to feeding time.”  

Rumi prodded Amal, “Time to go. We have had enough drama for one day.”  

The woman looked sheepish and sounded apologetic, “Don’t get angry. I didn’t realize that it would take so long to meet the doctor. I was running late and had to ask my husband to take my niece for the Christmas play. He has a fruit stall near the gate but wasn’t there. All this took more time than expected and I was delayed.”  

Rumi was surprised by the woman’s reaction, “How did you choose to leave your child with us? The baby could be missing and lost forever?” 

“True I took a chance as you looked honest and decent not people with evil intentions.”

 Amal’s confidence in his fellow beings people was restored. In her hour of need, the woman hadn’t doubted the innate goodness of those around her. Mother and child were united and the baby nursed in silent contentment.

They hurried down the stairs and walked towards the parking area. Rumi heard a child’s cries that sounded familiar and it was the woman trying to balance a heavy bag and the infant.  She looked over her shoulder, Much against her better sense, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the woman flustered and smiling weakly.

 Rumi asked, “Should we give her a lift up to the gate?” 

“Are you sure she won’t saddle us with that shrieking creature?”

Rumi turned around and signaled and the woman was quick to follow. “We can drop you up to the gate as it is a long walk from here.”  The woman climbed in with her bag and belongings and as they neared the exit she interrupted, “I have to go to the building next to the church across the road. The traffic is heavy and it would help if you could drop me there.”

“You are not shy to ask are you?” said Rumi.

 “It isn’t really far away and you offered me a lift. My son has been selected to play the role of infant Jesu. My niece is one of the angels.  If you take me to the church hall then you can also watch the play.”

Rumi couldn’t get over the mother’s laid back attitude but Amal readily accepted the invitation. Rumi wasn’t keen but Amal stopped her midway. “May be it is her way of being contrite. It is Christmas Eve and the season for goodwill and peace. In any case we are late and another few minutes won’t make much difference.”

They entered the hall and the curtains opened on to a nativity scene and before long the infant started to cry. There was some confusion on the stage but a substitute was most probably being arranged.

 Rumi whispered,” It is a sign from heaven asking us to leave.”

 Amal sighed, “We were lucky that nothing untoward happened or we could have been in big trouble.”

”Did you learn a lesson? You must learn to be mindful. I guess you have realized that we escaped without any damage.”

Amal smiled quietly and was happy that random acts of kindness didn’t necessarily end in disaster

 

While on their way home Amal mentioned,” We got so caught up in all that rigmarole that we forgot to look at the test reports.”

 “I did and now it is our turn to announce and celebrate.”

 

 

  

The Home Chefs

 

Parul’s family couldn’t fathom her fretting about a situation that should not and did not involve her.

“Is it interfering with your job?” asked her husband.

Parul snapped back, “I don’t expect any one of you to understand but her family is the limit as they have turned a blind eye to the old lady’s affairs.”

“Is she carrying on with that man,” piped in Manju’s daughter.

“Mind your language. Remember Didi is much older than you.”

“Come on Ma. Where do you think the television shows get their story lines?”

Lost for words Parul stomped out of the room.

 The person causing such anxiety was Parul’s dignified elderly employer Manju Sen, the experienced, wise householder who had transformed her from a novice house maid to an accomplished cook.

The Sens were one of the oldest residents in this quiet middle class neighborhood and Manju was not only much loved but respected. Now it would all change, the family would lose its standing and good name because of this upstart Mr. Dey who had stealthily bought his way in to Manju’s heart. He had found an easy entry with his ever ready smile and ubiquitous lap top while he guided and traced her fingers on the keyboard. Manju giggled and joked and escorted by Mr. Dey was   away from home at unknown destinations.

 Outings with Mr. Dey took precedence over routine appointments like lunches for her bridge playing friends, her social work clubs and other visits. Parul not only missed her employer’s presence, her daily interactions but above all she was genuinely worried that Manju Sen was hurtling towards her doom. It was frustrating that after all these years of hero worshipping to see somebody behaving so foolishly.

Could she broach this problem with the family? Manju’s son and daughter in law were a fleeting presence during Parul’s working hours. The couple was forever in perpetual motion running to meet schedules. The only other person was Manju’s grandson Monty who was equally challenging to meet unless he wanted a snack.

  Monty was not only young but the most pampered of Manju’s grandsons and might not be the appropriate choice to voice her concerns.

Indecision wouldn’t solve matters but she would try her luck with the junior most in the family.  Parul approached Monty, balancing a plate of freshly fried chips and steaming cups of coffee. His girlfriend Tanya was as usual draped elegantly in her favorite armchair and remarked, “Your radar is fine tuned to Monty’s stomach.”

Deciding that she wouldn’t be riled, Parul looked Monty in the eye, “Have you noticed that Didi isn’t around during the day?”

“Must be busy playing cards, chatting or visiting? Do you personally need to speak to Didi? I could call her up if there is a kitchen crisis?”

 “I don’t know where to begin but Mr. Dey has been coming almost every day and then there’s the business with the computer and lot of laughing and teasing.  Both of them are out for the day and often not even home for lunch. Her head has been turned by that glib talker.

If it continues like this I may have to hand in my notice. Soon we will be the talk of the town.”

Monty as usual was nonchalant about Parul’s concern, “May be Didi is bored of all these ancient kitties that party and gossip.

 The old lady is too savvy to let anybody take her for a ride. In all these years I haven’t succeeded in pulling the wool over her eyes. She is often the first one to catch me out but also may be the only one who can see through me.

 Good things don’t last for long. When you are together you are either disagreeing or complaining. Just relax and be happy that for the time being you are in full control of the kitchen.”

 Monty was dismissive and paid scant attention to Parul’s words. It was so typical of Monty not to even give her a careful hearing. Though Tanya recognized Parul’s anxieties and told her, “If it is bothering you so much then speak to Monty’s mother. Hope fully she might find a solution.”

  The only person left to appeal was Manju’s daughter in law Rita. The topic might be delicate but necessary given that not only the family but more so Manju’s reputation was at stake.  Parul mustered courage and resolved to speak her mind. But as she handed Rita her morning cup of tea she could not find the right words to express the situation.

 “I have something to say….”

  “What is it?  You can’t get another loan. You just got one last month?”

“No uh not money…”

 Weekday mornings weren’t meant for slow moving conversation, “If it is leave you better clear it with Ma. She is the one who runs the home. I’m already running late.”

Rita’s parting words clearly indicated that the discussion was over for the time being. May be Parul’s family was right and she should stop getting so worked up.

The next few days saw Manju busier than usual while Parul was being driven crazier by Mr.Dey’s prolonged presence. So it was totally unforeseen when Manju instructed Parul, “Tomorrow I need you to accompany me. Please be neatly dressed and inform your family that you will be staying back for the night.

 I know it is at short notice but no excuses as it is important that you are here.”

All this went over Parul’s head so she asked, “Are we going out of town?  I don’t know if my husband will agree.”

 Manju was in no mood for explanations and was explicit and unlike her usual self said tersely, “Don’t be late. We will leave by ten thirty in the morning.”

 

“It’ll be impossible to finish all the cooking.”

“Leave everything to me. Follow my instructions and that will be enough.”

Next morning Mr. Dey transported them in his car through city streets unknown to Parul until he pulled up in front of a well maintained building. Instead of entering through the highly polished main doors they turned in to a yard that led to the rear of the house. As Mr. Dey held open the door for the two women, Parul caught a glimpse of people working in a well-appointed kitchen. 

Before she could pose any questions, Manju beckoned her to one corner.” You will only fry the starters but you will observe how the rest of the cooking is done. There are people who will help with the ingredients for your dish. The prep has already be done and remember to maintain oil temperature and don’t over fry.

Keep in mind all that you have learnt and concentrate on the task at hand.”

Manju walked away while Parul stood dazed, clueless about the occasion or the guests. The orders had been precise but Parul didn’t know why she should be cooking when there was an entire array of people who were busy at the stoves and counters. She knew better than to get in the way of the waiters and the cooks but noted that she had still a lot to learn. She found opportune moments to find out more about ingredients and cooking techniques.

The menu wasn’t too elaborate and was like those served at a family lunch. Parul noticed that almost all the traditional dishes had been given a slightly different twist.

At last Manju appeared with a smiling face. She thanked everybody,” All of you did a splendid job and our guests appreciated the meal you cooked.”

She turned around and held Parul’s hands, “Unlike the others here, I didn’t discuss or prepare you for the task. All these years in the kitchen have paid off and not gone in vain.”

As they drove home, Parul burst out, “I know I shouldn’t be speaking like this but Mr. Dey should be more respectful and particular in the company of older ladies.”

Manju laughed out loudly, “You were upset yet no body in the family even noticed him. He showed me a new direction, one that could benefit you and me and hopefully may continue to do so in the future.”

Parul was more puzzled than curious as Manju continued, “Mr.Dey’s nephew runs a restaurant and has been on the lookout for people who could cook for small exclusive groups.

Mr. Dey had sampled our cooking and gone through some of my recipes.  He suggested that his nephew could use our services for a pop up meal.

The past few weeks have been spent in meeting and discussing with others on how to make this project successful. I have cooked for the family but have no commercial experience. It was Mr. Dey and his nephew who were helpful with much needed advice on details regarding catering on a different level.

The experiment has been worth my trouble as the guests enjoyed the meal. If you gave me a hand then you could easily be a part of these events.  On some days there would be longer hours and heavier workload but extra staff will be available. It would give you the opportunity to expand your skills and earn extra cash.

You don’t have to respond immediately. Both of us have to consult our families, think of the terms and conditions and then finalize the details.”  

The day’s events had been strange and out of the ordinary but it had started the ball rolling towards a brighter future or what Rita would have termed a “career”. Generally not at a loss for words Parul found her eyes tearing and a hard lump in her throat and could just about say, “Catering companies have names. Will our company have a name?”

Manju Sen looked fondly at Parul, “Your thoughts travel at lightning speed. You had no idea of what the day held but in a few hours you are ready to run a business.  You have the makings of an entrepreneur. Does The Home Chefs sound like a good name?”

  

 

 

 

 

  

 

The Cook Book

 

The early morning train engorged a milling multitude of people on to the city platforms. In minutes they disappeared in to the hungry maws of households that were waiting to be served. If they were late then the cogs in the daily urban machinery stalled and played havoc with schedules not only in homes but in almost all spheres from children’s daycare to top bureaucratic levels.

The station clock showed six as Parul scrambled to board a bus to her destination. Barely waiting for the door to be opened Parul whizzed in as fresh as the morning breeze.  By the time her employer was midway through her brusque directives Parul had the kettle on, the tea tray arranged, the breakfast going and started prepping for the lunch boxes.

“Pack two vegetarian lunch boxes. Try and use up the leftovers in the fridge.”

Parul was used to these quick fire instructions from her employer Rita who having finished her tea and breakfast would leave in an hour’s time for work; secure that her mother in law Manju would take over for the rest of the day.

Manju and Parul reached out for their morning cups of tea before they took stock of the day’s chores.  Parul addressed her immediate needs, “Take a look at the fridge. I’m in a hurry as the Boses are having guests for lunch and some suggestions for their lunch menu would be welcome.”

“When aren’t you in a hurry? I often wonder how you manage to work in three houses and still board the return train.

 Tell me what is there in the fridge and get me my book. And have you cooked for these guests earlier?”

“Yes. They are very critical. So just tell me some easy to cook dishes.”

Manju consulted the proffered diary, gave some tips and watched Parul rush out with her usual speed. The battered notebook bulged with loose magazine clippings, old letters, bills and warranty cards for long replaced appliances and she wondered if all the culinary information bound between the covers would ever be used by anyone else.

There were guest lists for special dinners along with the menus so that there was variety and repetitions could be avoided. Expenses were noted for meat, fish and poultry for festive meals. There were pages devoted to children’s birthdays and picnics and ladies tea parties. Manju had discovered that sandwiches could have delicious and unusual fillings quite unlike the ones she packed for school lunch boxes. Kitchen disasters filled the earlier pages accompanied by salvage operations and quick fixes. Short cut procedures to traditional favorites were noted along with successes and failures. Later entries emphasized on lighter and healthier meals.

Manju didn’t want the book to be trashed but there were hardly any takers in the family. In these days of fast food and instant deliveries was there anybody who could make use of all that information. And then the thought struck her that Parul would be a grateful recipient.  

 Later in the afternoon, Parul found Manju dozing in the armchair and a bit restless. “Were you unable to rest in the afternoon? Did you have your lunch on time?”

“I was waiting for your arrival. How good are your reading skills?”

Taken unawares, Parul answered hesitantly, “I learnt to sign my name but I know little beyond the alphabets. “

“I was thinking of handing over some of the recipes.”

“What will I do with that big, fat book? I use only a few recipes. And anyway you are always available.”

“You think I’ll live forever.”

Parul wiped her eyes, “Ma what is all this talk about dying. Are you feeling unwell? Let me make you a cup of tea.” 

Barely had Parul moved when the latch clicked to let in Manju’s grandson Monty and his girlfriend Tanya.

Monty smiled beguilingly at Parul, “Can we also have tea and something to munch.”

Tanya noticed the book lying on Manju’s lap, “What is that ancient manuscript?

Puzzled by Tanya’s query, Manju looked around and saw Monty pointing towards her cook book. He laughed, “It is not a manuscript but the secret key that every morning sets our family on its feet. If this book is stolen we would all be lost. Why, even Parul would lose her job.”

Manju smiled to herself, Monty could sometimes be intuitive. This wasn’t just a compilation of cooking procedures it also recorded her progress from a novice housewife to becoming the family matriarch. It was a witness to her learning to balance resources with a growing family’s needs, her understanding of a child’s longing for a birthday cake, of a dinner to impress at a family reunion and of course the tea parties that were so critically assessed by her peers at the card table. Often Manju scribbled comments and tips along the margin. Turning the pages was a review on the health and wellbeing of her family. It was a compendium of cookery, market prices and useful information including quick fixes for minor kitchen injuries like cuts and burns.

 “Would you mind if I have a look?”

Manju was reluctant to hand over the book as it was falling apart; afraid that some loose pages would be misplaced or damaged.

Monty knowing Manju’s weakness; spoke with mock sternness, “Tanya you will be under house arrest if you try to steal any sensitive document and smuggle it to the enemy.”

“Have a look but I don’t think it will interest you.  These days young people aren’t in to cooking at home. I was trying to figure out a way to let Parul have a copy of some of the recipes that she uses. Unfortunately her literacy level is minimal.”

Out of politeness, Tanya glanced desultorily through some of the pages but soon became engrossed in the contents.  Many of the pages were dog eared, spotted with grease, splotched by liquids and spices.  This was a mini encyclopedia of matters related not only to the household but to family life that stretched over decades.  

 Tanya’s silence prompted Monty to quiz Manju, “The tea and snacks have been lying untouched. Are there dark family secrets behind the covers?”

“Stop talking nonsense. Family scandals aren’t written. They are housed in memories.”

Tanya wasn’t interested in the recipes it was all the other information about prices of groceries and fresh produce, of meat, poultry and fish and cooking fuels that caught her attention. These weren’t only facts and figures but a social commentary. Newspaper and magazine clippings that advertised fancy food items, shiny cookware and crockery were haphazardly filed. It was an eye opener that refrigerators were considered luxury items and that and their freezing capabilities were limited.

Manju was intrigued by Tanya’s interest and couldn’t help asking, “This is not like a regular book with an index. Are you looking for any particular recipe?  If you tell me I can see if I have what you want.”

Tanya smiled sheepishly, “The recipes are good but there are records that many people would be glad to lay their hands on. I work for an agency that provides facts and figures to entertainment and media companies. You have originals of bills, price lists and so much else that I would love to examine.

As for Parul, she can follow your recipes if you record them on the phone. If Monty isn’t too lazy, he can scan and print them out.”

“Thank you for the suggestion. I noticed that my cook book is on the verge of disintegration, the ink has faded and the script illegible towards the latter part. Others may not be able to decipher some of my shorthand or abbreviations and the dish might turn out to be a disaster.”

 Monty teased Manju, “Are you going to immerse your beloved kitchen companion in the river or bequeath it to an unknown stranger in your will?

“I am going edit and digitalize them for present use.  Some of the material is outdated but I have and will add relevant matter. I learnt along the way and I expect others to do the same.”

Monty was taken aback by his grandma’s reply. “You always come running to me when you mess up your phone. Who is going to help you with this major tech project?”

“I always believe that a genuine prayer is answered.”

“Surprise me. You found your savior.”

“Of course I have, he is Mr.Dey our new neighbor. A few months ago, he moved in to our neighborhood and had dropped in for a friendly visit. It didn’t take long to establish that we are both keen cooks and to top it he is a supplier for fish and meat to some of the well-known city restaurants.

Do you remember the prawn cutlets that were a hit at your birthday dinner? Mr. Dey organized the tiger prawns. They were expensive but cheaper than the market prices. So…”

“And now he wants all your recipes for the one time supply of sea food that wasn’t even free?”

“Monty, must you always interrupt. He happened to have noticed the tatty condition of my cook book and offered to help out. We had several discussions and decided that the internet would be a better option than print. A lot of editing and planning has to be done and it is happening slowly but it will happen.

Parul is my tried and tested apprentice and she deserves a copy of the popular dishes that she serves faithfully. Through the years she has also learnt to change and improvise. Also she keeps me abreast about the current food trends.

Whether the book ever gets a makeover is still uncertain but Parul is my first consideration.”

  Monty was momentarily silent and then burst out, “I don’t care what you do. Just don’t hand Dey the recipe for the prawn cutlets.”

Manju looked fondly at her grandson, “A recipe helps but it is the cook’s sweat and tears that transforms an ordinary dish to a mouthwatering one.”

Tanya decided that this was her chance, “If Parul has claims to some of the recipes may I make a request. You might scan all the clippings, bills etc but please don’t throw away the originals. If you do think of disposing those may I have the first refusal?”

Glossy illustrated books, internet reels, hastily scribbled recipes from mothers to daughters, friends and family members would always enliven dining tables. Manju hoped that a few of her recipes would continue to bring joy to her family in the future.

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Sister's Ghost

 

While the city slept Tina was conducting business half way across the globe and hoping that soon she would be able to catch up with much needed sleep. Digital connectivity played haywire with the traditional clock and business hours.  A familiar ring tone pierced the long awaited silence.

 Tina picked up the call, “Dolly, I’m packing up for the day. Can this wait until I come home or better still tomorrow?”

Tina was too tired but she noticed that Dolly hadn’t prolonged the conversation with her usual gripes or request for help. The proverbial tomorrow might prove to be a new dawn.

Dina and their mother were primed for her arrival with a hot cup of tea and a fixed smile. This would have to be some not recently asked favor. 

 “Please note I’m not asking for money. It is to let you know that next week I have this fabulous offer to audition.”

“How does that concern me?  Is this urgent?”

Dolly rattled off,” My luck is finally turning. I have a chance to audition with one of the better known studios. Also there is a big event where I will be one of the lead dancers.”

“What is holding you back since you don’t need money and neither have you ever needed my permission?”

Dolly hesitated and then went full steam, “I had signed a contract with Shomik that I would work with him until the end of the season. He won’t release me until the final staging of the play.”

“How do I figure in all this? I don’t run an agent’s office? And did he give you a loan?”

“He wants me to find a substitute.”

“You have been in this business for years and you recommended me? I am the drone who pays the bills.”

“I was surprised when Shomik mentioned that he knew from earlier experience that you could deliver at short notice and it isn’t a big role.”

Bubbles of frustration and anger were exploding in Tina’s head but she had learnt to hold her tongue. Dolly was the older sister, the one who was expected to keep an eye on her.  It hadn’t worked out that way. Tina was always either rescuing or being responsible for whatever went wrong in Dolly’s life.  Ruchi had been young when she had lost her husband and had barely scraped enough to keep the household running. Whether it was her father’s absence or the lack of money but Dolly managed to grab Ruchi’s attention.

As Dolly grew up she sulked or threw tantrums for whatever were her momentary desires. Their mother Ruchi would find the lamest of excuses to give in to Dolly’s whims and fancies. Tina was asked to make way for Dolly by taking second place in music and dance recitals. Yet Dolly didn’t excel or earn much in no matter what she did.  Neither Ruchi nor Dolly stopped to consider Tina’s needs for them as she was their instant cash supplier.

The two of them were relieved as Tina was silent and looked out of the window. Dolly forever in a hurry said, “It’s all decided. Right. Tomorrow I leave and you go and meet Shomik. Everything will work out.”

Tina kept staring out and then spoke quietly but firmly, “I’ve handed in my papers at work and will quit working in a month’s time.”

Ruchi was trying to make sense of Tina’s words but it had the opposite impact on Dolly. “The timing couldn’t be better as my departure gives you an opening. Now you can meet Shomik and I won’t be there to rob the limelight.”

Dolly prattled on, Tina gazed out and Ruchi tried desperately not to have a breakdown. Bills had to be paid and without Tina’s earnings it was an almost impossible situation. Ruchi found it daunting to imagine the depths that the household would reach if Tina took off. It would be wiser to wait until Dolly left home before she could broach the topic.

Ruchi attempted to break the silence around Tina’s decision. “You aren’t really considering giving up your job. Dolly goes from one job to the other and continues to be unpredictable.”

“Ma, I haven’t had a break, got a chance to follow my dreams. I will leave next month but I will send you a monthly allowance for as long as I can.  How you use the money is your business? ”

This was not Tina, the obedient and quiet daughter and Ruchi burst in to tears. “How can you be so cruel? You won’t know even if I die.”

“Don’t be so dramatic Ma. Anyway Dolly is your favorite and will be by your side. It took me years to muster courage to give myself a chance.”

Neither tears nor accusations moved Tina and she left. Ruchi realized that she was now responsible for Dolly and herself. Tina sent the money but left no address. Ruchi tried all possible ways and means, calling colleagues, friends and acquaintances but Tina remained untraceable.

Dolly swung from high to low, more often slipping in to oblivion but forever believing that the next opportunity would bring her fame. As time went by it became more the routine to return and seek refuge in her mother’s approval.   

Tina’s only connection to the family was the monthly allowance. It didn’t bother either Ruchi or Dolly that they took Tina’s existence for granted. Ruchi was taken aback when Tina’s money stopped coming. She assumed that Tina who had remained dutiful was probably no longer alive. Their attempts to find her proved futile and they let the matter rest. It was as if Tina had become a stranger and was no longer a member of the family.   

It was a winter evening when the grey sooty fingers of smog were gradually enveloping the neighborhood. In a few minutes the streetlights would wink through the haze and mothers would call out for the children to come indoors. Girls were winding up their skipping ropes; boys were fighting over scores and toddlers waiting to be dragged home  by their older siblings.

A neatly dressed woman walked through the almost empty lanes, peering at houses, stopping to examine the signboards of the small shops that crowded the lane leading to the main road. Neglect and poverty had stripped the buildings and not much remained of the genteel respectability they had once possessed. The lady lingered, taking in the scene, watching one or two  youngsters hanging around the tree shaded corner, an open window where a woman was on the lookout or a man filling a bucket from the common tap.

A thin sliver of the new moon shone faintly on the dilapidated buildings, the paint long bleached from the walls, the brickwork peeping out in lopsided grins from the walls and a desolate air around the place. The lady appeared familiar with the layout and found the stairs to one of the houses. 

There was a glimmer of light coming from under the door. She rang the doorbell but there was no response. It was probably out of order and so she knocked quite loudly. The door opened slightly and there was a loud scream from inside before it was slammed shut.  The sound of muffled voices could be heard but the door remained closed.

 Holding on to a gift wrapped box she stood hesitantly in front of the closed door.  There was a slight movement behind her and she saw an elderly woman looking curiously at her.

 The woman looked like the domestic help and spoke knowingly, “The bell hasn’t been working for a long time. Did you bang on the door?”

“I did but I can’t wait any longer. Can you give them this box?”

“If you wait a few more seconds then you can meet them”

The visitor replied, “I don’t have the time.”

The door was opened a bit cautiously and it was the older lady who spoke, “Was there anybody in front of the door? Did she speak to you? What did she look like?”

“I don’t have time to while away. It always takes you hours to open the door and she couldn’t wait. “

Dolly grabbed the box and screamed, “Ma I was right it was Tina. She remembered my birthday and came with my favorite sweets.”

 Tina’s long absence had led her to believe that her daughter was dead. Ruchi was terrified and she snatched the box from Dolly’s hands, “It’s not Tina but an evil spirit.  Why would Tina come and leave without meeting us.”

“How are you sure that Tina is dead? We closed the door on her face. Ma let me have at least one sweet.”

Dolly wanted to disbelieve her mother and prove her wrong.  Night had closed in and had cast strange shadows on the walls. The lane below was dark and silent. Nothing met her eyes except for an empty box that lay on the ground below.

     

The Park Bench

 

The park bench stood under the spreading branches of the rain tree, a survivor for many years and worse for the wear. Though they had started life at almost the same time, the tree had grown from a fledgling plant to a mighty one that sheltered birds and other small creatures

Time had robbed the bench of its glossy green paint, the surface gouged and scarred by idle boys or zealous lovers, its iron ribs bared by the sun and the rain. But it still welcomed ardent young couples declaring eternal love, weary feet tired with their daily journey and the old burdened with the years. Nobody including dogs and cats were denied shelter.

The bench could feel a tremble in the iron bolts that secured it to the earth and could guess the reason in every crack of its rusted bones. It was the dreaded arrival of Shere the djinn who had made his home in the tree but very often stretched out on the bench. If he didn’t want anybody to sit on the bench then he would make the occupants itch, feel that they were being attacked by ants or as if the very seat under them was about to break down.

Now Shere didn’t belong to the world of humans or animals and it was annoyed that those who belonged to the world of spirits were treated with scant respect. People shouldn’t assume that djinns should behave according to human expectations and remain imprisoned as in Aladdin’s lamp.  So it all depended on Shere’s moods and he could really play the vilest tricks. His travels to a remote sphere were over and he was back at one of his favorite places. Balancing on the topmost branch, he called up sharp gusts of wind that scared the squirrels and the birds and laughed to watch them rush helter-skelter. Amused with the confusion he was now ready for his place on the bench.

 A lady clutching on to her phone and handkerchief had beaten him to his rightful place. He was on the verge of tripping her up while he could take the opportunity to occupy the seat. Shere stopped when he noticed fat tears rolling down her cheeks. He waited to hear her conversation.

 “Are you at the park and looking across the road?” said the voice on the phone.

“I just can’t help coming”

“It isn’t going to change anything.”

“I feel guilty that we had the tiff just before he left home. I didn’t say goodbye.”

“Well you didn’t know that you wouldn’t see him again.”

“The accident happened because he was upset.”

“There is no way you can bring him back. “

She held on to the phone and kept crying while wiping away her tears. In a few seconds Shere had guessed what had caused the grief. The woman was in a daze while Shere sat next to her.

 She heard a familiar voice was. “Don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was in a hurry and it was getting late for work.”

“So was I and didn’t notice that the traffic signal had changed.”

“Who knew that this would be our last meeting?  At least if I had wished you goodbye.”

“You must try and be brave. Don’t come back and keep looking for me at the traffic crossing. Let us both say goodbye.”

The woman felt that she was being comforted by her husband and an acknowledgment that neither of them was really to blame. She fumbled for her phone, she wasn’t too sure but there was a closure and finally they had said a last farewell.  Those few moments had been deeply personal and had helped to lay at rest the pain that she had been carrying. It freed her from regret, lessened her heartache and made the return to her daily life easier.

  Shere stretched out as taking on a human form was taxing. Of course he could sustain a physical shape but it was more convenient to be an invisible spirit and do as he pleased.

Shere’s midafternoon nap was broken rudely by a briefcase being placed on the bench. Though Shere was a spirit he still didn’t like being jumped upon. Immediately the briefcase fell to the ground and the contents were all over the ground. A young man fell all over himself trying to gather the papers which were being blown in a sudden eddy of dust, dried leaves and grass. These were the papers that he was to present at the office meeting that he hoped would pave the way to at least a raise if not a long desired promotion. Frustrated and helpless he waited for the wind to die down before attempting to get everything in order. Smudged, dirty and creased these bore no resemblance to their original state but maybe he could get another set printed if he hurried. Clambering to the ground had made him look grubby too. In his anxiety he hadn’t noticed that his lunch box had fallen to the ground and was under attack by a determined line of ants

The bench was sorry about Shere’s bad behavior but was happy that the young man did sit down for a few minutes before he continued his day. After all the bench had been set there to provide relief to those who were in the park and not for Shere.

The park was steeped in the simmering sunshine, stupefied in the intense heat. Shere sat on the uppermost branches and surveyed the scene that lay below. There was barely any activity and nothing much to interest his ever active mind, His vision encompassed the near and far and today nothing looked pleasing. Shere knew that as the sun started going down, there would be people of all shapes and sizes, old and young who would entertain and amuse him. It was the schoolboys with their hastily drawn up teams that often kept him busy. This probably would be the last game of cricket that Shere would join. He laughed to himself and made the ball fly through the air in the quirkiest paths and made some of the bowlers look foolish while the batsman hit resounding sixes. It depended on his mood and in a second he allowed the ball slip through the fingers of a nimble fielder. 

Upset and disappointed the young boy made his way to the bench as he watched the other team running to an unexpected victory. As he sat there downcast he found a puppy carrying the ball and sprinting in his direction. In a moment the dog’s attention was diverted to the lunch box that lay under the bench. Hunger proved a bigger attraction than the ball and he gobbled the scraps that lay in the lunch box.

Upset with his defeat and lost in his thoughts, the boy didn’t notice the homeless puppy following his footsteps. As he reached the door, the puppy stated barking and wagging his tail trying to enter the room. At the last moment he had a brilliant idea.  The family had not recovered from their father’s sudden death. It was his brother’s birthday and the puppy would make an ideal gift.

 Evening had set in and Shere’s plans were made. Maybe it was time to look for another haunt, leave the human world and travel to the dark underground. Through the corner of his eyes he looked in to some of the windows as he whizzed through the city of buildings bridges and towers. He noticed a woman and two male figures gathered around a table and cutting a cake. A puppy lay fast asleep near their feet. He was flying so fast that they became mere specks those three humans whom he had met in the park.

The bench stood still in the darkness of the night, knowing that the next morning he would be leaving for the scrapyard. The municipal authorities had marked him for removal and he would no longer provide a resting place for humans or djinns.

A surprise awaited the next morning. Shere in a generous mood had made the bench appear in a better condition. The demolition squad took one look and said, “The bench can remain for some more time. It doesn’t look so weather beaten.”

 

 

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