Chillamma, the Widow!

A two wheeler hit a dog and left him badly hurt. He was almost dying. The dog was abandoned by his master. He threw the dog on the streets.

Chillamma saw the abandoned animal and decided to feed him during his "last days." But for good or bad the dog came back to life and health.

He did not go back to his master again. He became loyal to Chillamma. He became very protective of Chillama and her two kids.

Chillamma was a young widow with two kids.

The dog had a problem. He was angered by the very sight of two-wheelers. Whenever a two wheeler passed by he'd try to frighten the riders. Many got hurt, as they fell on the road. Then they'd curse and scold Chillamma and her kids.

Once it was the turn of two policemen to be frightened and they tumbled down from the bike and got hurt. They came down heavily on Chillamma. The "keepers of the law and order" shouted at the lady and the kids, knowing that she cannot say any thing back, but to cry. They did not give a chance to Chillamma to defend hereself. They threatened her if she did not lock the dog they'd "do what is needful".

The impact of the incident was so bad that the kids could not write their exams next day. They failed.

Now Chillamma wants to get rid of the dog, but doesn't want to kill it. She isn't able to get anybody's help to find out someone to adopt the dog. Because if she talks to anyone about it, that would leave many a eyebrow raised. Because she is a widow!! An Indian widow!!.

The society will be watchful of her. Not to protect, but to find fault.

Chillamma, though in need of help, does not complain to anyone of her woes.

Every day has it's bitterness and toughness in store for Chillamma since the death of Maran, her husband. She's a widow!! An Indian widow!!

There's so much for an Indian widow to take care in the society!! There's a lot she must not do... There’s a lot she must do...

She's so cautious of her widowhood. She is so scared of the society that would blame her if it finds that she interacts with others, especially men. What a pity!! What a society!!

Taj Mahal

I don't want you to vote for Taj to get it a place among the seven wonders....
I don't want to beg to others to vote for Taj...

If it's actually a wonder the people naturally will know it...
If it's not, naturally people won't...

But we... we know it's a wonder....

Let it continue to be the subject of wonders....
Let it shine in the minds of many who love the art...
Let it shine in the minds of many who love a monument of love...

Waiting...

Sheila was waiting for Niran, out side the railway station with a pounding heart. She was waiting for this day for the past five years.
The train came and almost all the passengers came out.... It started to rain too... but Niran never showed up. A car went past her. She heard a someone crying for help from within that car. She ignored it as she was looking for Niran.

..........

Niran couldn't recognise the people around him inside the car. It was dark too.... Only he could know that he was mistaken for someone else. They were asking questions to which he couldn't answer. He was tortured.... He gradually fainted...

..........

Years went by...
Sheila was waiting for Niran, out side the railway station with a pounding heart...

Empty Pocket?!!

Nilan began to tell me his story :

"People could not recognise me easily. Even if they did they simply ignored me. Actually it was easy for them to remember a person like me by the wounds in my face and arms -most of them the aftermaths of drug abuse and street fights. Most of the time I was boozed (I say 24x7 a week.) I talked like children as I had to strive hard to control my tongue because of the booze.

I start my operation by winning the heart of the fellow travellers in the public transport; mostly buses. I help them to get a seat in the crowded bus or tell them the exact stop where they want to alight.

There'll be two or more assistants for me in the operation. We will never talk to each other inside the bus. So the people will not know the tie between us. The assistants would squeeze, push, and pull the passenger-the prey. They would make him really get annoyed.

Sitting or standing closer to him I would scan his pocket thoroughly. Then my "tool"- my index finger & and middle finger - will go into his pocket. The poor prey can't even see this as the assistants will make him busy with resisting the "troubles" created by them. They'd cover his pocket from his sight. So the operation is not a risky one for me. I can do it at times without the help of the assitants too. Once the "tool" finishes its job the pocket will be left empty.

Now we move to the next prey, or bus."


He finished his story and left.
I smiled when I realilised that his "tool" had left my pocket empty too...

Sorry Nanda

..And Now you must know the truth Nanda...

On that day I recognised you , but I passed by you as if I didn't...
You looked the same as you used to be during our childhood days...

I didn't want to "waste" the "precious" time with an "old buddy."
I had to meet someone "more important" than you....
(see how I've learnt successfully to use the word "important" wisely over the years!!)

The memories of the days we were together is hurting me since then...You know why...
I disguised myself a stranger to you... and without looking at you I went past you....
I had to do it because of the person I've become now...
Because I'm not what I'm....

So I hate myself to be what I'm....