The Laughing Ghost

25/04/2014

The Laughing Ghost

As usual, I woke up at 3 am in the morning, brushed, cooked tea and poured it in a cup. I picked up the history book from the pile of the books and sat on veranda under the bulb. Sitting in the house was close to impossible in the simmering heat of the died down sun. In addition, a house with a roof of steel sheets and with only a door and no windows for the air to come in, doubled the trouble.
My house was exactly opposite to the farm which was famous for the myhs of ghosts. There were two neighbours, towards my right, Vilas Kaka and Sugandha Mavashi, a couple arrived a few days before in the village and Sudhakar and Miramavshi with two children Mahesh and Siddhesh. To my right, there stayed my uncle, dad's brother.
I was completely engrossed in the book. I was reading about the second world war. When I reached the lines about Hiroshima  and Nagasakhi I heard a voice 'Why did you beat my son? Aren't you ashamed of this?'I looked outside the book to find out who was speaking but found none. Thinking that it must be hallucination, I peeped into the book.
After a couple of minutes, I again heard 'My son did no wrong, It's your fault.' I will beat you up for beating my son.' I stood up and looked around. There was nobody. The entire village was enjoying sleep. Even the dogs seemed to have uninterrupted sleep. Now, I had goosebumps all over my body. I was completely taken aback and was confident to be haunted by the ghost. I remembered people saying that there was a ghost in the farm in front of our house.
The story has it, a lady called Megha had died in the farm. She had a son called Vijay after her. Since the day she died in the farm, people started saying that she came every night and cried for her son. Now it was for sure that it was none other than Megha Aunty. I was nearly dead.
I sat stunned on the veranda. Not making any moments, took a complete control on my eyes, I did not let my eyeballs make moments for I had a fear, if they moved to the left or to the right and the ghost was standing there. Then I closed my eyes and was planning to go to charpayee and cover up myself with as many Ghodhadis (shawls) as I can, just then I saw that Sugandha Mavashi was sweeping the yard. I went to her and asked if she heard any voice.
She said 'I heard nothing.'
She said further, 'Kiran, you have gone crazy and hence hallucinating.'
She advised me to concentrate on studies as exams were approaching. I again went back to study. The presence of Sugandha Mavashi now was a support for me.
After a minute or two I heard the same voice. This time It was louder and more violent. I thought I surely was going to be haunted or dead. Then I heard another voice. It was a voice of a male. It was a voice of our neighbour Sudhakar Kaka. He gave a little swat on his wife Meerabai’s face and said 'zopnav shidi, kiran ghabari gayana, kabar badbadi rhyani'. It meant 'Sleep, why are you sleep talking, kiran is afraid.'
These words were like the words pronounced by God and Sudhakar kaka was a savior for me. Thank god, it was Meeramavshi sleeptalking. Just think, if there was a ghost.

The Village in Flames

30/05/2014

The Village in Flames

Chintu and Mintu cried 'Run!', 'Run!', 'Rush to the roof!', 'The chillies are burning!' 'The carpets are burning.'  'Bring the water and pour it.' The cries were heard on that summer day in the afternoon. Everybody was bemused. The villagers came out of their houses, some with lungi around the waist, some with underwear, some with the marks of mash of bhakaris on their hands and mouth and some with a cloth wound around their head. They all ran to the place where the cries came from. It was Vikas aaba's home. Chillies were burning and the smoke coming out of them made villagers cough. The carpets were burning and the clouds of thick black smoke were coming out of them. Nobody was able to understand how the chillies and carpets caught fire. The carpets and the chillies turned to ashes but gave birth to the gossips and speculations. There were many gossips for the hour.

'Run!', 'Run!', 'Rush to the cowshed of Bhima appa'. People listening to the cries again ran to the place, unaware of what made people scream like this. This time almost all the men were half-naked with only a towel over underwear around the waist. Almost everybody was sweating. The drops of sweat on their chest hair sparkled in the afternoon sun. It looked like dew over the grass. But the grass was black and white, some of it had both the shades, black and white. This time it was a big shock for them. The leftover of the dry grass eaten by the cows and bullocks was burning. The bullocks and the cows jerked the rope they were tied with. This incident drove the villagers crazy. They took the incidents as an omen and feared the impending doom. They went back thinking to come back again

This time a single cry 'Run!' was enough for the villagers to come out of their houses. The people came and thronged at Chiman Bapus's bathroom. All the men were properly dressed.

The story has it, Chiman Bapu was bathing in the Gunnysack bathroom, often outside the house, after his hefty work of grazing buffaloes. He was busy bathing. Just then the the gunnysacks caught fire. Chiman Bapu ran outside the bathroom, half-bathed and half-naked and started crying for help. The third fire was enough to create tension among the villagers. This ,now, demanded serious attention.

All the people gathered on 'Chavadi', a place in village where people came together and brooded over the important and trifle matters of the village, most often they were trifle ones. The speculations were presented. Some said 'It is due to heat of the sun chillies caught fire and then the carpets.' Some conjectured 'It is because of the smokers. They smoke carelessly and throw the unfinished and burning cigar and bidi anywhere.' The smokers must be going to the roofs so that nobody notices them' Bhausaheb added. All the people laughed at this and the boys who just had started smoking withdrew themselves from the throng and vanished. Viju Kaka, the man gifted with incredible humour was pretty serious about the issue. According to him, the prophet, who visited the village today, was a culprit.

It was decided upon to catch the prophet and teach him a lesson. In fact, there was neither any reason nor any evidence against him, but as usual the villagers did not want to sit idle and directionless. The extensive search started. Teams were formed and sent in every direction. Meanwhile, the cries of the other people and women were heard since there was fire at many places; Krishna Bapus cowshed, Munna's thorn compond, Vilas Aba's newspapers on the roof and at other nine places. The prophet was lucky enough not to be catched. He must be aware of his own future.

The tension had seized every mind in the village. Nobody knew when, where and what would set on fire. The women were more afraid. They did not let their children come outside the house.

Now, almost two hours passed, there was no fire. People were happy. The series of fires had stopped. People were busy with their usual kind of work. As usual I went to play cricket. It was 5 o' clock. We had a little discussion about the fires. Soon we started playing. We batted first and now had fielding. I was running on the ground to deliver the fifth bowl of the over. I reached the stumps and was about to bowl, I heard 'Run!', 'Run!', 'Rush to the Vinay's home!'. The moment I heard this, I missed my line and length and the bowl was hit to the boundary. I started running to my house. Other followed me. I saw the adjoining room to my study room was in flames. The dried dung and the firewood was burning. Thanks to Chintu and Mintu! They noticed first and made people aware of fire and my house was saved from burning. We then all went to ground.

I was fielding in the gully and my friend Kiran was in the third man. The batsman hit the ball in the third man. Kiran ran after the ball. Let me introduce with Kiran. It was Kiran whose chillies and carpets were burnt. He was after the ball and was about to stop it. He noticed something and stopped chasing the ball. The ball went to the boundary and he went behind the wall of the school, hid himself and looked towards the dugheap. I went to him and looked at the dugheap and to my surprise what I saw was shocking. Chintu had an injection in his hand filled with kerosene and Mintu had a matchbox in one hand and the matchstick in the other. Chintu injected the dungheap like an experienced doctor, of course this was the seventeenth time he was injecting, and Chintu was lighting a matchstick by rubbing it on the black panel of the matchstick. Mintu was about to set it on fire, Kiran and me rushed to them, caught them and brought them to the Chavadi.

All the people were very angry to see the culprits, but were helpless to do anything since there were hardly 10.

Since then Chintu is known as "Laden' now and Mintu as 'Saddaq'.

The Unheard Cry

4/04/2012

The Unheard Cry

Vinay came home with tears in his eyes. His mother was busy sewing clothes, so hardly she could pay heed to his crying. She thought that he must be hungry and so was crying. Without looking at him she told him to have 'bhakaris' and 'besan' placed over the cupboard and continued her work.

Vinay didn't stop weeping. Listening his cry, mother got irritated.

"Stop crying or I will beat you." she said.

Listening her words Vinay kept mum and went on veranda. Wanting to blurt all out that was prickling his heart, he controlled for he knew that mother would not pay any attention while she was busy sewing clothes.

Next day, Vinay came home earlier than usual. Mother scolded him for coming early from the scholarship tution. After this he was never late.

After a month, a man came to his house. He was angry and shouting.

"Where is your son?" He said.

Mother calmly replied "He has gone for scholarship tuition."

She said so proudly as though Vinay has gone for a war.

"If he has gone for tution then who hit my son." He said.

Mother again said that Vinay had gone for scholarship tution.

"No!

"He was playing with my son and while playing he hit my son and ran away". The man said.

Mother was hurt to hear that Vinay did this, but she was more hurt when she realised that Vinay had bunked tuition. She asked the man to go home and pleaded sorry.

Vinay came home thinking that his mother was unaware of the mischief. The moment he entered, his mother cried at him

'Vinyaaa'.

She started beating him with a broom.

'I didn't do anything. I was playing with Akash and ....... ',  He could not complete. Mother hit him on his face. After giving hits with boom on his face and back she asked

"Why did you bunk the tutuion?

Vinay didn't say anything, just looked at her. Every time this question was accompanied with a hit of the broom. He didn't say anything and did not even move from his place.

"Next time you bunk it and see what I do!" Mother warned him.

 Realising that she has spent a lot of time she went back to work as spending more time their meant loosing 10 Rs for her that was not the affordable deal during the period of destitute.

Vinay wiped his face, opened the book and started studying. He kept mum and preferred to be beaten because he did not want to hurt his mother. He did not want to tell her that the door of the classroom was closed on his face. He just closed his eyes, tears came on his wet chicks. The words were prickling him,

"You are poor and your father is a drunkard. Don't come to the class."

"Somebody, please bolt the door from inside."

He was told not to come to the class for he was poor and his dad was a drunkard.

What should I write about?

What should I write about?

It was a regular office day until I received a mail from my lead at 12’ o clock. The mail read that I had to write a short story and send it by the end of the day. Of course, this was an unusual task and not the part of my profile. Thinking that there must be a motive behind the assignment I started thinking about the topic. The question, ‘What shall I write about?’ kept on hovering in my mind. My mind responded to the question and there were a couple of topics I found interesting.
The first topic that peeped in my mind was ‘I should write about my initial days in Mumbai. The problems I faced and how I came up with the solution over them. How difficult was it to find a room in Mumbai. How happy my parents were when they heard that I got job in Mumbai.’ Then a second topic came up discontinuing the first one and I thought that I should pronounce through the story ‘Hey I am the first man in my family and relatives who attended college and found a good job in Mumbai.’ ‘May be that is very personal and I should not share it with anybody.’ So I dropped it.
Then I checked if there are any new mails. And there was one from my lead. Reading which, I was a bit shocked. The mail read that I had to finish the story and submit it by 3 am.  Writing a story in 3 hours and I had already spent thirty minutes. Only two and half hours left! I was yet to find any topic. There was a kind of heat coming out of my skin. I was not able to concentrate. I was not able to think. Writing a story in such a short time! That’s impossible!
I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds and communicated with myself ‘Why am I panicking? This is a very small amount of task. This shall not bother me. There can come many such tasks which will demand me to work upon and complete them in a very short time. Come on man! They must have a motive behind curtailing the time period and bring it to three hours.’
When I opened my eyes, everything was clear now. I was as cool as before. I again started thinking over the topics. A thought came up, I should write about a man who, once I had met in train in the last summer. He carried big cold-drink bottles with water in them and offered water to the commuters. In return, the commuters offered him some money but he refused saying he was a teacher in a school and that was simply a social work. May be, it was a lie. But it was a social work, indeed!
Then another topic interrupted and I thought to write about the incident when there were seventeen incidents of fire in my village. All the villagers were afraid that some supernatural power was behind it. May be a ghost or something! At the end, everybody was surprised to learn that Sonu and Pappu had set the entire village on fire. The soothsayer who came that day was held responsible for this. Thank god, he was out of the village then, otherwise he was dead!
But writing this may require more than three hours and it would be a very lengthy story. So I dropped the idea.
It was two o’ clock. I had not penned even a single line. Last one hour was left and I was yet to finalise the topic. Then an idea struck my mind. I thought that I should surf internet and find out the topics. I found many topics such as blind woman, the rainy day, the road accident you encountered, a stolen ring, your good or bad experiences with people, good or bad incidents in your life and my observations.
‘I am such a stupid man!’ I said to myself. I should have done this earlier. If at all I did not know how to start, I should have searched for topics on internet. I could also have found some guidelines on writing a short story. Then I could have thought about characters and develop a story. After finishing it I could have gone through it and made a quick spellcheck and some grammar changes if required. Oh God, only a half hour is left!
I completely messed up. I could have written a good short story. But, what now?
Now, I know how to write a short story. I should start it now. What should I write about? I think I should write about ‘How I met Revati and how our love story flourished? Oh, it’s very personal. May be I shall write about the incident when Viveks’ ilnesss was wrongly diagnosed and how he responded and behaved. Later when, another doctor diagnosed it as something different and....
Oh no, its 3, o clock. What shall I do now? No, I am going to tell my lead that writing a story in three hours is not possible. But what if she asks me as to what did I do in the three hours?
Oh man!

Vinay - A story

4/05/2014

Vinay - A story

Vinay was desperately waiting for his father since his father used to teach him Maths and English. His father was educated till 2nd of the primary school. But he was intelligent for he could read some simple English words and was very fast in addition, subtraction, multiplication. He owed his skills to some of his educated friends.

Vinay was in second or third of Marathi primary school. He always wanted to be noticed in the class for he thought that he was very special and never thought that the so called poverty would come his way. He was as eager to learn as his father-teacher was to teach.

Vinay saw his father coming. His father was working in 'Wipro' and used to earn 50 Rs. per day. He started dancing and jumping on the Charpayee as he saw his father coming. A child becomes happy on arrival of his father for he assumes that his father may have brought him some sweet or hotel food. This wasn't the case with Vinay. He was happy because his father had the intellectual food that (Vinay) he was craving for. His father became fresh, drank  tea and came with a slate and a chalk. He started with ABCD again, introduced the vowels and taught how vowels are used to make words. Then he introduced Vinay with signs of multiplication, addition, division and subtraction. This went on for a few months untill Vinay was able to read vernacular names spelled in Englih and multiplied, subtracted, added and divided numbers faster. His father being vinay's first teacher, had subtracted his lenience for learning, added skills in him, multiplied his skills and aspirations and divided his poor thinking that 'the below poverty line people can not learn' with his positive approach towards learning.

Vinay was in Marathi School. Those days ABCD was introduced to students in 5th standard. But In third Vinay was able to read Hindi Names and Marathi names typed in English.

Vinay did not have TV in his house so he used to go to the neighbours' house. The house of neighbours was always filled with the people watching TV. When a  movie or a serial started, Vinay read the Hindi and  Marathi names typed in English. He was loud to read the names so as to be noticed by the people sitting around him.  Often his neighbours asked him to leave as he read the names so loudly that the children in the house woke up and started crying. He took pride in reading names as nobody in his class did even know the alphabets.

Vinay was so good at numbers that he played with them very easily. He multiplied at the blink, divided faster, added in a second and subtracted in a couple of seconds.

14/05/2015
It was 5.00 pm. Vinay threw his schoolbag on the veranda and cried "Aai, I am going to play." and he disappeared in a minute. This was his usual practice coming from the school, throwing the bag on the veranda and going to play. When he came home at 7.00 pm, bacame fresh, and has his dinner. This was his daily practice. On Sundays. most of time he was outside the house. His father used to go in Wipro so hardly could pay any attention to him. His mother was always busy sewing the clothes. So none of them was free to look after him and his two sisters.

Vinay's parents were completely unaware of the company he was keeping. They felt that their children would do no wrong for they took it for granted that their children were aware of the hardships they were taking to bring up them.

Being barely 10, Vinay had hardly any knowledge of what hardships his parents were taking.

After his school was over, he used to go to the Kirana shop where all of his friends gathered. Some of them were his classmates and some were his seniors.