Intentinal mistakes

Excerpts from the editorial on a leading news paper:

Today marks a new beginning in the political history of Tamilnadu, as Bharath, thirty four year old IIM graduate, will be sworn in as the chief minister of Tamilnadu. He will be the India’s youngest chief minister and also the first chief minister in state since Bhaktavachalam not to have any links with the Kollywood (excluding the brief period during which Mr. Panneer Selvam, was the chief minister). He thereby brings to an end the era of Rajkumar, who ruled Tamilnadu for the past seventeen years in a sort of dictatorship manner.

Though readers will be aware that our editorial board never agreed with the various policies of Rajkumar, we ought to give him credit where it is due. In the past thirteen years under his helm, Tamilnadu attained 100% literacy, became a huge industrial hub attracting MNC companies from across the globe, and its infrastructure became the role model for not only developing countries but also for some of the developed countries.

At this hour, we wish and hope that Bharath would follow the developmental path of his predecessor and at the same time perform them in a more democratic way, thereby creating a developed Tamilnadu free of severe restrictions placed on media and opposition parties during the previous regime.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

I reread the editorial written by my father, who was chief editor of the same newspaper, in which I am working as a political correspondent. I have been entrusted with the special task by my father, to write an article on Sunday, analyzing the reasons why Rajkumar, considered as a demi God by most of his followers, who won two consecutive elections with huge majority, who was described by Indian media as ‘21^st century Chankaya’ for his political acumen, lost to a party founded just three years ago by a youngster from a remote part of Tamilnadu.

Rajkumar – was born as the only child of the third wife of the liquor contractor, who was also a close aide of the former film director and the then leader of a famous party. Few years later, when Rajkumar was attending residential school in Ooty, the former film director became the chief minister of Tamilnadu, and he repaid Rajkumar’s fathers loyalty by making him the education minister; which took every one by surprise as Rajkumar’s father had never attended school.

Rajkumar however, unlike his father, did attend school, and even got the most outstanding student award when he finished his twelfth; though every one knew the only reason for that award, was the school principal’s extra effort in pleasing the education minister, as the school management had plans of opening a new engineering college soon. Rajkumar then went to US to do his undergraduate course, and since the college management in US had no plans of opening any new schools or colleges in Tamilnadu, he had to return back to India having spent five years without obtaining a degree.

Back in India, he decided to try his hand in almost all business, and tried doing business in almost all districts of the state. The only positive to the state because of his irresponsibility, was that some of the ill earned money of his father was lost due to his stupid ventures. Though in business, Rajkumar was a failure, he was highly successful in another of his venture – that of seducing girls. So when ever he left any district, he left behind not only a bankrupt business but also a grieving girl with unborn child of him. He selected the right girls – girls who neither had power nor strength to fight against the son of the education minister.

By the age of thirty five, he began to realize that he needs to be more sensible – after all as his father had already had two heart attacks, he could become the next education minister. With many more engineering colleges all set to open his father assured him that lots of money could be made. But just the education minister post didn’t satisfy him. He dreamt of more power; and it brought about a huge transformation in him.

For the first time in his life, he sat down and started to make plans for his future. He did an analysis of himself and found out that one field where he could do well was acting; he has easily deceived so many girls acting as a perfect lover. So he felt he could easily do the same in front of cameras too. When the then, chief minister’s son who was very interested in poetry, was busy writing lyrics for Tamil film songs, and also at the same time preparing himself to be the next chief minister under the able guidance of his father, Rajkumar decided to embark on this great journey, which if turned out successful, could help him achieve his dream.

With the help of his father’s money and power, he selected the promising young director, beautiful young model from Mumbai, famous comedy actor, make up team from Hollywood, who made him look more younger and smarter, strong marketing team and as a result his first film was a super hit and collected loads of money especially in B and C centre, in spite of the critics dismissing the movie as ‘Yet another normal masala movie’.

With the television run by his father’s party, continued to give him all the support he needed, he soon became a famous hero, giving super hits after super hits. He even managed to act in one critically acclaimed movie, and won a national award. It was then his father died, and few months later the chief minister also died, and his son became the new chief minister. When the new chief minister offered the education minister post to him Rajkumar politely refused saying that he wanted to concentrate on his film career. “It’s your job that I want” – he said within his mind. He continued to be an active member of the party though.

His party under the leadership of the former chief minister’s son lost the next general election. Though it is widely speculated now that Rajkumar played a huge role in the party’s loss discreetly, at that point of time every one genuinely believed that Rajkumar was sad like any other party member about the party’s dismal performance. Some of the prominent leaders in the party, started to the question the ability of the leader, and some even started talking openly about Rajkumar taking over the party’s leadership.

Surprisingly, Rajkumar declared his support for the former chief minister’s son and even campaigned through out the state for him. The corrupt rule by the other party over the past five years coupled with the active campaigning by a famous hero meant that the party came back to power winning almost all the seats in the assembly election. During the swearing in, the new chief minister told the media “No one in the world could dream, of having a better friend than Rajkumar”. The new education minister Rajkumar smiled.

Tamilnadu understood the full significance of that smile only two years later, when Rajkumar delivered the now famous speech in front of the entire national media. “Betraying a friend is a great sin. Today I am going to commit that sin, as I feel betraying one’s own mother land is much greater sin than that.” He handed over the documents in his hands to the media, with tears in his eyes. The documents were so meticulous enough, that based on them as evidence the High court would convict the Chief minister for five years of prison over corruption charges.

A week after the dramatic press meet, Rajkumar took oath of office, and said he was reluctant to accept the post, but only did so to save his mother land Tamilnadu and its people in this hour of crisis. Every one believed he would be yet another normal Chief Minister; but he proved them all wrong. His agenda for the first two years was no village in Tamilnadu without proper road and twenty four hours power supply. His hidden agenda for the same first two years was no opposition for him in the state.

He achieved both the agendas in such a way that, visiting US senator, remarked that village roads in Tamilnadu are comparable to highways in US, and on the same day almost all the second and third rung leaders in the major opposition party joined his party; they joined because they liked my principles – Rajkumar remarked, but people neither believed him nor dared to disagree with him openly.

It was then during Rajkumar’s first term in office, Bharath came into public picture for the first time. Bharath, who was born in a poor family in one of the most backward district of Tamilnadu, and had studied in a local Government school that had no Physics teacher for twelfth standard, nevertheless managed to score centum in maths in public examination. He couldn’t get a seat in any of the Government engineering college, because of his low mark in physics, and he couldn’t afford the fees in any of the private engineering college, hence he decided to do B.Sc Maths in Loyola College, Chennai.

When he was studying in college, staying in his uncle’s house in Ponneri, he was distressed by the continuous late running of electric trains in the route. He felt every one was unhappy about it, but none was interested to bring it to Government’s notice; that led to him spearheading the train boycott that lasted for four days. It was held so peacefully, that not even one rupee worth of public property was damaged or a singly person attacked during the first three days. On the fourth day, an angry young supporter of Bharath threw a stone at one of the passenger, who felt watching a movie with his friend was more important than helping the protest. The stoned missed the person’s head but broke the glass pane of the electric train.

Bharath immediately called off the boycott and surrendered to the police saying, since he led the protest he was responsible to any damage caused to the public property during the protest. And when he wrote a short story in prison about five different people were affected because of the late running train, and it was published in famous Tamil magazine, ‘Bharath’ became a house hold name.

Most of my friends in media think that Rajkumar didn’t consider Bharath to be his competitor then. But on careful research I found out that, a couple of friends organized a similar protest in a village against the poor drinking water condition, and media gave good coverage to it. Within six months one of the friend died in a road crash, and the other friend joined Rajkumar’s party, and since then has never spoken about his dead friend. If some one else does some thing positive, they should be either under him, or should not be there at all was Rajkumar’s same policy. Why was the same policy not applied in Bharath’s case?

Bharath later went on to pursue MBA in IIM Bangalore, but on completion of the degree, unlike his friends he did not accept a lucrative offer from MNC. He started an NGO in the Tamilnadu, that worked on identifying and converting the hidden talents among the villagers, and helping them convert their talent into profit making enterprise, thereby proving them an opportunity to come out of poverty and also give them lot of self respect.

Rajkumar was in is second term as a chief minister then, and I don’t understand why he didn’t weed him even then. A young girl who decided to start a NGO in Tamilnadu to improve the educational standards here two years before, suddenly decided that Somalia needs her help more, and went there to become a teacher. On careful research I found out that it was Rajkumar’s close followers who got her a job in Somalia and also her flight ticket; may be she didn’t accept to join the party and at the same time was also not foolish to die in a road crash.

His NGO created such an impact world wide, that a renowned writer down under wrote a book entitled “Silent revolution”- the book was in New York Times best seller list in Non Fiction category for ten weeks, and the book was translated into almost all Indian languages. The Tamil version sold more than one lakh copies. After Rajkumar became CM, no books about any other living person in Tamilnadu other than Rajkumar was published – A publisher who dared to publish a book about the former chief Minster, whom Rajkumar replaced, suddenly became bankrupt for no reason and the book was never published. But once again Rajkumar decided to be a silent spectator as Bharath became more famous.

The last straw came when Bharath announced the formation of the new party, “Citizen’s democratic party”, and Rajkumar responded by saying, “No one can defeat me, since people will vote for me, even if I myself ask them not to vote for me”. Even media believed the same then, as in those years Rajkumar had single handedly made Tamilnadu the model state for India to follow; but the same media now believes that it is his over confidence that led to his defeat.

I am not a great fan of Rajkumar; but one thing I’m sure is he wouldn’t have been over confident unless he himself wanted to be. He is too shrewd a politician to not to know when to be over confident and when not to be. If I need to write an article that brings out the true reason for the downfall, I need to find out why did he made such intentinal mistakes thereby letting Bharath replace him?; because I am certain that he couldn’t have let this mistakes occur without his knowledge.

Fortune favored me as I got an information from a reliable source that a man who was simply roaming around in Bharath’s native village suddenly got an job in Canada, and his only sister who was still then struggling to pay a monthly rent of thousand rupees, now brought herself a posh apartment in Kovai. On further investigation I found out that he was currently employed in an automobile manufacturing company, run by Rajkumar’s friend in Canada; and that he was the son of headmaster of the school in which Bharath studied.

If Rajkumar had sent him out of India, then I was sure that he will have some information that would help me in my pursuit of truth. I some how got the contact of that guy in Canada and made him believe that I am the agent of the Government of a developed nation, who were keen on stopping India’s progress. Thus I assured him that if he gives information regarding Rajkumar he would be safely protected by the security wing of the nation I am representing; the fact that Rajkumar was no longer the CM also helped and he agreed to part with the information. However he demanded huge sum of money, sort of money I could never hope to pay him.

This meant I needed to figure out a way by which I could extract the info from him, without actually paying him any money. I went to the Besant Nagar beach, as I usually do when I try to figure out a solution. When I was enjoying the fresh air there, a decent man in Raymond suite came up to me and said “Leader wants to meet you”. There were only two important leaders in Tamilnadu, and if Bharath had wanted to meet me, his personal secretary would have called me. So now I know that since I had come so close to find out some hidden truth about Rajkumar, I would be either offered a job in CNN or BBC in lieu of keeping my mouth shut, or my newspaper would print news in a small tabular column in third page tomorrow, “Political correspondent died in a car crash”.

I was taken to Rajkumar’s ECR apartment where he usually goes to take rest. “Good morning, how are you” – he came in front of me wearing a causal shirt and shorts, costume in which 99.99% of public in Tamilnadu could never hope to see him; they have to be satisfied watching him in his usual white shirt, white dhoti attire. I bought all my courage to the forefront and replied “I won’t accept your job offers abroad; neither have I want to die in a road crash. Please use some new method to kill me.”

He laughed loudly. “Who said we are going to kill you? I only weed out people when I find the truth they have will affect Tamilnadu at that moment, or things they do may affect the state in the long run. There are so many people who know so many truths about me, but they keep silent not because they are afraid of me, rather because they also understand that it is in best interest of Tamilnadu that the secret remains secret. That headmaster was one such person, though his son betrayed me.”

He continued after taking a sip of hot coffee, “Any way I actually invited you to tell the truth myself, so that that guy doesn’t end up making more money. It doesn’t matter if the truth comes out know, because my objective has been already achieved.”

He handed over to me a big book, perhaps it is his diary, I thought. I opened it and was surprised to find, ‘Mahabharata’. “Do you know the story about Shakuntala that comes in Mahabharata?” – He asked me.

I know that story. Shakuntala was the daughter of sage Vishwamitra, and she lived in the forest under the guardianship of another sage. It was then king Disyundhan came to the forest, and married her on being attracted by her beauty. They spent some happy days together, and Disyundhan left back to his palace to sort some problem, and promised to Shakuntala that he would come back and take her to the palace, once the problem was sorted out; he never came back.

Meanwhile Shakuntala gave birth to a baby boy, and after few years out of desperation went in search of the King. In the palace, Disyundhan said he never knew them, when the holy voice from Heaven informed the king that the baby was indeed his. Shakuntala thus become the queen, and their son went on to become the first empire of India. His name was Bharath.

“Bharath – I don’t know why that cute girl whom I seduced when I was young, named him so, but when I came to know that Bharath, was my son through the headmaster when he held that train boycott, I thought the name was indeed true; that he will be a great ruler like the ancient Bharath.”, Rajkumar said.

“I could have made him the chief minister then, but Tamilnadu at that stage was not ready for a good, just ruler like Bharath. It needed a sort of cruel ruler like me, and hence I had to make him wait so long. Now he could rule Tamilnadu in a just manner and also help the state make huge progress, me having laid the foundation.”- He added.

“But when you felt, Bharath was ready to be the CM, he could have easily declared him as your son and made him the CM. Why you intentionally made so many mistakes to allow him become CM, when you could have followed the easy way, as people would have voted for anyone you pointed out?” – I asked.

“Read the book carefully and find out the explanation given by king Disyundhan for not accept Shakuntala as her wife, when she came to the palace with Bharath. My explanation is also the same.” – said Rajkumar.

I read out loud from the book. “Shakuntala, I know that you were my wife and Bharath was indeed my child. However if I had accepted you just like that as soon as you came to the place, People may doubt your credentials and the credentials of Bharath to become their ruler. So I wanted to accept you only after the God himself said from heaven that Bharath is indeed my child – said King Disyundhan”.

“Who is the God in Democracy?” – asked Rajkumar.

“People” – I said.

“That’s why I waited for people to say that he is their ruler, rather than me saying it” – Rajkumar concluded.

Wife's best friend (Short Story)

The coffee that had been given to me by the young maid in our house was obeying some Law of Physics, studied by me in my school days, and was steadily losing its heat to the surrounding atmosphere. Sitting next to that coffee is me – Yes, I have that peculiar habit of asking for a coffee, when I am busy thinking about something, and then forgetting to drink it. That too when I am trying hard to find a solution to a problem, I let the coffee reach an undrinkable temperature, before asking for an another cup of coffee, which nine out of ten times would end up reaching the same fate as its predecessor.

The problem that I was facing was to search for a girl friend. No. I was not searching for a girl friend for myself. I am happily (sadly, if you insist on the truth) married for the past two years; one year, ten months and six days to be more precise. Rather, I was searching for a girl friend for my friend. I am not even sure whether I could call him as my friend. Truth is that he was my wife’s best friend and hence become my friend by default. I first met him two and a half years ago ……….....................................................................................................................................................

I was waiting at a restaurant, ready for my first date. First Date- This is how I described my second meeting with my future wife to all my friends. Our first meeting was an official bride seeing ceremony, where I could only see her for few minutes among my fun making cousins, uncles, aunts and all those who are in some way or other related to either of my parents or her parents. She was wearing a saree, and here uncomfortable ness in that clearly suggested that it was for the first time she was wearing it.

Though I didn’t talk to her then, I did talk to her non stop for hours in mobile after our first meeting. It was then that we decided that we will meet in some restaurant to get to know each other better. The first restaurant I suggested to her was rejected by her – “food will be very bad there” was the reason, second due to cost factor – “Oh damn, costly!” was her reaction, and when I suggested the third, her tone suggested that she was convinced that I had never been to any good restaurant in my life. She suggested this restaurant – if my friend’s feedbacks were true, this one was definitely more costly than the second one I suggested. I didn’t say anything though, as I didn’t want our first fight to be over a choice of a restaurant.

As I ate the first course, I was sure the food quality was also bad then the first one I suggested, nevertheless I kept quiet, admiring the beauty of my wife for the first time without the interruptions of the others. It was then he came.

“Hi Praveen. How are you dude?” her face became extra bright on seeing him.

“He is your bridegroom, isn’t he?” – He said handing out his hand towards me.

I shook his hand. Meanwhile her sweet voice was saying to me in the background that he was her best friend.

Actually I was happy then that my wife had a good male friend. The last thing I wanted was to marry a conservative girl, who never spoke to any other person of the opposite sex and also expected the same from me. I couldn’t even think of ceasing to interact with my friend’s and female colleagues, just for my wife’s sake. At the same time, at that point of time, I wanted to spend time with her alone – I wanted to talk about so many things to her – things that I couldn’t say with another known person near by. I felt it would be better, if he leaves. After all this was our first date.

He must be a good mind reader. “Sorry guys for disturbing you in the middle of your date. I will leave now. Will meet you later” – he said.

I wanted to say “Yes. Thank you. Please leave”. But all that I ended up saying was “No, no you can have dinner with us. It’s a pleasure.” After all I’m a liberal person who doesn’t mind his wife/future wife having a male friend and I wanted to portray my liberal nature to her at the first instance.

“No any ways, I got to leave. I have a personal work. Bye” – saying he left. I was happy that he declined my invitation; but my happiness was short lived.

Her face still had the same brightness that she acquired when he first came, and she decided to fill her friend’s absence by talking about him. By the end of the dinner, I couldn’t say any of those things that I wanted to say to her, but if whatever she said after Praveen left were to be true, then he must be a better cricketer than Sachin, better writer than Jeffery Archer, better music director than Illayaraja, better actor than Kamalahasan and better singer than SPB.

However, what made me angry was the last statement made by her, “You know” – she said, “It is very good to have friends of opposite sex. But sorry, how will you know? Your mum said that you have never even spoken to any other girl” – she said laughing.

“How does my mother know” –my tone was raised for the first time that evening. Then I exaggerated and narrated about the female friends I had - I didn’t lie actually. I described the college friend who always called me to get the study materials before the examinations as a “Best friend who always relies on me during crisis and calls me.” – It isn’t a lie, right?

I don’t think she believed whatever I said. She wanted me to believe all that she said about her friend, but she will not believe things that I said about myself. I didn’t leave the restaurant; in the happy mode I entered it. I wanted to prove her some how that even I had lot of friends in the opposite sex.

When I was distributing the marriage invitation I made it a point include as many girls I know as possible in the guest list. I found it very hard to trace the address of that best friend of mine, who called me for study materials, as the last time she called me was before the final semester and that was solid five years ago. I finally traced her address to Bubaneshwar and made it a point to personally go there to invite her. Her husband and she both were equally surprised that I took so much trouble to travel such a long distance, when I could have easily emailed them. They promised that they will come to my marriage, although she said, her son’s primary school has some function that day. As I left her house, I thought I heard her say to her husband, “I was not even a close friend to him. I don’t understand why he traveled so long just to invite me.”

She didn’t come to the marriage – her son may have persuaded her that his school function is more important than the marriage of the guy – who used to give her study materials in her college days. In spite of me dishing out invitations – the only ladies who turned up for the marriage other than my aunts, grandmas and mother’s friends were two of my colleagues, and even them left in half an hour.

On the other hand, Praveen was there for the entire marriage, and also helping out in lot of arrangements. In middle of that, he also found time to come and giggle something to my wife, now and then. Her face always turned rosier, after he said something. I don’t know what made me angrier – he giggling with my wife, or the fact that I didn’t have any female friends to giggle with me. Any ways I didn’t show my anger – I did not want to be seen as a yet another normal conservative husband, who couldn’t digest the fact that his wife is talking to her male friend during the marriage.

After the marriage – I had to find a new house, as I was still then staying with my friends. Though my search for a new house began well before marriage – all the houses selected by me were rejected by her – she invented new reasons to reject each of them – one was too big, other too small, one too far away from the city, other too close to highway, - she even rejected one saying that it was too close to a police station. At the end I had to accept the house chosen by Praveen, near his house – the house described by her as a Heaven on Earth. I felt it was the worst possible house in the worst possible location on earth – but as you would have guessed it by now, I didn’t offer this opinion to any one and kept it within my mind.

Actually his trouble became more pronounced after the marriage. With both of us working – weekends were the only time we got to spend together – and he made it a point to visit us on exactly on the same day – and his logic was flawless. “I could meet my friend only on weekends” – easily forgetting that his visit means, I couldn’t spend lonely moments with my wife even during weekends. As usual, I didn’t say anything and acted as a very happy host on those weekends.

The major problem with these visits, were that whenever we were together on the weekends, they made it a point to discuss things, about which I didn’t understand a word. “’By the age of sixteen, the only thing he didn’t know about smuggling was how to spell it’- this is how he describes about a spoiled teenager” – said my wife. Today, they were discussing about a guy called Jeffery Archer. Praveen suddenly turned to me and asked “Have u read Archer’s novels?” He has that unusual knack of asking questions to me, for which the only answer I could give was ‘No’.

“I read only Tamil novels” – I blurted out.

“Oh! Exciting. Even I like Tamil novels more than English ones. Have you read ‘Ponnyin Selvan’? – He asked.

I had once seen that novel in our college library, when I went to get some ‘No due’ certificate there. (The only time I visited my college library in four years was then) It was such a big novel with six volumes. Considering my reading speed, if I had started reading it I’m sure I could never complete reading it before I die. The largest fiction I have read so far were the one page short stories in Tamil magazine ‘Kumudam’.

However I said “Yes” as I did not want to give yet another No as an answer to him. But he seemed keen on irritating me. “Which character in Ponnyin Selvan you like the most?” – He asked.

“Ah! Mmmm. I forgot the name. That heroine character. I like her very much.” – I said hoping such a big novel will have at least one heroine.

“Heroine. Whom you will call as heroine? Few may say it’s Kundhavi; but I differ with them. For me ……..”

He went on speaking, and I didn’t understand anything he said; but my hatred towards him become more prominent, as my wife seemed very happy that my ignorance has been exposed.

In few weeks time, both of them were convinced that I was worse at every thing than either of them. I didn’t help my cause any further, when I broke a bulb when I tried to change one, uprooted a rose plant when I was gardening, thinking it was a weed, and by breaking a beautiful wall clock presented to her by her college lecturer for our marriage, when I was trying to help her clean the house. In their eyes I was a person who was good for nothing.

Then came that weekend, when there was an India – Australia test match. I was happy because if there was anything on world I was bit knowledgeable about, it was cricket. At least today I could prove to them, that I know more than them in at least something I thought. We were watching the match – Sachin scored a beautiful pull shot that bisected the fielders to the boundary. “Good shot” – I said clapping my hands.

“Pointing is missing a trick here” – my wife commented.

“What?” – I exclaimed. I am that sort of cricket fan who only claps hands when Sachin scores run and not bother about the mistakes the opposition captain is making.

“Sachin’s legs are injured, and hence he won’t be able to move them properly. So Pointing should ask his bowlers to bowl full length, which will induce the edge. They shouldn’t be bowling this short pitched stuff.” – Praveen justified my wife’s comment. I was the only soul there without any support.

I decided to watch the match more seriously from then on, hoping to analyze something before they could do. It was then I found out that Sachin was easily milking singles behind the square on the leg side. “Eureka” I shouted with in my mind.

“Pointing should have one more fielder there, behind the square. Sachin is scoring singles easily in that region.” – I said loudly proud of my discovery.

“But there are already two fielders there” – my wife’s only purpose in life must be to disagree with what ever I say.

“Why not one more fielder? They can move that fielder from point to there. He is being wasted at point” – I wanted to win the argument at any cost.

They both laughed. “According to the laws of cricket, they are not supposed to have more than two fielders behind the square.” – Praveen said, now controlling the laughter; but she was still laughing at my ignorance.

“Oh! When did they change the law?” – I looked perplexed.

“Long before we were born. After the controversial body line series between ……” – Praveen went on narrating the salient points of that series between England and Australia and why that law was introduced.

It was then I decided that I could never hope to better than either of them in any field. That actually frightened me. I was afraid that one day my wife would come to me and say “Sorry. I could no longer live with good for nothing fellow like you. I will better marry my best friend”. I can’t afford to lose my wife to this guy.

People like you might have decided of thousands of solution to the problem – removing him from my path could be one solution – but my brittle heart would never allow me to cause harm tp any one leave alone murdering. Or I could say to him directly to not to come to my house any more – but I didn’t want to lose my image and get that ‘conservative husband with lot of suspicion about wife’ tag attached to me. So then I decided that I needed to find him a girl friend. So that at least I could get to spend time alone with my wife. I didn’t mind getting humiliated by my wife. It’s just that I didn’t want him to be there when I was getting humiliated. I also wanted to convey the fact that I am going to search for a girl friend for him in such a way that, it will also get me a good name from my wife, that I am trying to help her friend.

I got that opportunity one day when he along with my wife came back late in auto. The retired Government officer living opposite to our house looked at three of us suspiciously. He must be wondering with in his mind about me, “What kind of Husband is he? Allowing his wife to hang out with strangers in night. ” Even I felt the same about me. However I kept quiet as usual.

“He had a severe headache. I took him to hospital” – my wife said.

“See Praveen. This is why you should find yourself a girl friend and marry her. They will help you very much when you have headaches like this” – I said to him and looked at my wife proudly.

She smiled at me and said, “Ya, even I helped him (pointing to me) so much, when he had head ache last week. Though the only help she offered was getting me a tumbler of hot water to swallow my tablets, I didn’t differ with her, as she was helping my cause.

“Will you help me get a girl friend?” – Praveen asked me.

“Ya sure. I replied.” My wife looked at me more proudly now.

From the next day, I began my search for a girl friend for him. It was very difficult; though Praveen didn’t set any restrictions – no religion, caste, language or nationality bar- it was difficult to satisfy the only condition he set – that is he must like the girl. He said he was even ready to marry a girl from Mars, if he liked her. I wished there were girls in Mars.

If he should like a girl, I was sure that the girl should be as knowledgeable as him – not in one field – bit in wide range of fields from sports, politics, history, environment, language, religion etc. I did manage to find few girls, and arranged Praveen to meet them, but he was yet to say whether he liked them.

It was then I was sitting, letting my coffee go cold, as I was narrated to you earlier in the beginning of the story. After few minutes, Praveen came into our house with a big smile as usual and said “Sorry mate. You did select very good girls; but unfortunately I didn’t like any one of them.”

“So the only girl you like is my wife, right?” – I wanted to shout in anger. Before I could do it, he came up with very happy news.

“But I found myself a girl friend. I am going to marry her in few months.”

“Wow” – I said “When will you introduce her to me?” – I was very happy. My problems were going to be solved.

“I’m not going to say who it is; but already know her very well. Try finding her out” – he said, as my face started to darken again. The only girl I know very well is my wife, and I felt like crying.

“Religious Heads oppose Divorce” – he read the headlines in ‘The Hindu’ loudly. “Still these ultra conservatives exist? How on earth do they expect a person to continue to live with a person even if she doesn’t like him, just because they are married? They should have the right to divorce. Am I right? What do you say?

“Yes” I said mildly. I wanted to say, “Ya I approve divorce; but not when my wife is going to divorce me to marry you”. I kept quiet.

I couldn’t sleep properly that night, though my wife was sleeping peacefully next to me. I was wondering from when the other side of the bed would be empty. I couldn’t control it any more. I woke my wife at half past eleven.

“What?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “Do you know who Praveen’s girl friend is?” – I asked her sure that the answer would be “Who else other than me?”.

“You woke me up in the middle of the night to ask this question?” –she asked.

“Please tell me.” – I literally begged her.

“It’s Shanti.”

“Shanti – our maid?”

“Ya”

“I thought that he was looking for some one as intelligent as him” – I was happy that now my wife is not his girl friend.

“Do you think all people would like to marry people who are as intelligent as them?” – She asked.

“That’s what I thought” – I replied.

“If so, how on earth, do you think I agreed to marry you?”.

I know she was taking a dig at me, but I had never felt happier before. I pulled her close and hugged her, with out thinking about Praveen, for the first time in our marriage life.

A Cute Love Story (Short Story)

( I would recommend the readers to read my another short story "Beautiful Love Story" (before reading this one. )

“That’s a good story”, - she said handing over the hard copy of my short story “Beautiful love story” to me. “But then when are you planning to have real girl friends rather than being just satisfied with imaginary ones” she added.

It was six ‘o clock in the evening, and I was returning after visiting my college friend, who insisted on reading all the stories I wrote after the college days. As I was going through my own stories in bus, as I used to do whenever I feel very bored, a lady sitting next to me, took one of my short stories and started reading it. (Of course with my permission). Few minutes later she came up with the above mentioned comment.

“Thank God. At least you understood that was an imaginary story. Most of my friends insist me to show them my train girl friend after reading the story.” I said.

“In real life you don’t get girl friends or boy friends just like that as you have written in the story.”

“Is it so? So what should one do to get a girlfriend?” - I asked happily that the conversation is getting interesting.

“You got to take some initiative – In real life, you just don’t sit and wait, hoping for God or Nature to send you some beautiful girl, who asks for an instant story, so that you could propose through a story. You got to put in some effort.” – She started speaking as though she has done a doctorate in this field.

“I agree. My story is imaginative. But then I have also heard and written a true love story, where God or Nature or Coincidence whatever you call it, played a major role in joining two hearts made for each other.”

“Joining two hearts made for each other? You are sounding too poetic” – she said mocking me. “Any ways give me the story. Let me read it.” – I handed over the true love story that was narrated to me by a stranger few days ago.

Stranger’s true love story:

I love collecting information. When my friends were fascinated by Rajinikanth’s cigarette smoking style and Kapil Dev’s out swingers, for me the fact that I knew the names of Rajini’s first, twenty fifth, fiftieth film names, Kapil Dev’s hundredth, two hundredth Test and Ranji wickets gave me more happiness, rather than their styles. So when a particular girl started to interest me, I did the same thing; collect as much information about her.

I first met her, when we shifted our house to Annanagar, and I started to travel in 7F bus to office. Getting in the bus at the bus depot itself, gave me an opportunity to select the seat in which I can sit; I always choose the fifth seat behind the bus driver and she always sat in the ladies seat parallel to mine.

Some one like you might have decided to do things that would help capture her attention, once you were fascinated by her; but as I said earlier I started collecting information about her. Initially I settled for things that I could come to know without much trouble. In three months time, I knew that she takes head baths on all Fridays, she wears yellow salwars on sixty percent of the Thursdays, and that she uses her mobile in bus once in approximately three days.

More and more I saw her, and more and more information I got about her, my interest in her was slowly transformed into love. If you are thinking that at least after that I would have stopped collecting information and started doing something to capture her attention, it means you still don’t know about me properly. Actually what I did was exactly opposite; I started collecting more information about her, that in six months time, I knew more about her family than a census officer would know. To be fair, to the census officer, how would he have known that her younger brother hates math and just managed to pass in the subject in the tenth public examination, though she had scored centum in the same subject in her tenth.

It was then my friends came to know about my love, as they stumbled across the data I had so secretly kept. They initially made fun of me; but later advised me to take some real effort to win her, rather than just keeping on accumulating info about her. I nevertheless persisted in doing things in my way. By the end of one year since I saw her, I actually knew more about her than she herself would have known; I’m not sure whether she knew that her father’s short story had been published in Ananda Vikatan (famous Tamil magazine) thirty years ago, or that her father was the third bride groom to visit her mother. Mean while my parents began to wonder how I suddenly acquired so many friends who were getting married in Salem, her native.

“Excuse me” where the first words she spoke to me and I still remember the occasion vividly. Though I had known so much about her, I was yet to even speak her, leave alone gathering the courage to go and propose to her. It was on the children’s day of 2006, when she came and sat next to me in the bus (seat that was usually occupied by a ninth standard school student), rather then the usual parallel ladies seat and uttered those words. “Can you do me a favor” – she added.

Before my dumb struck mouth could gather enough strength to say “Sure” she continued, “I am doing Msc Psychology final year….” – “I even know that you scored 78.6 % in your third semester”, I wanted to add, but kept mum.

“My final year thesis is on “Traits Chennai youngster’s look for in their future wife”, and I have been talking to many people regarding that, and I want you also to share things that you would like to see in your future wife.”

I was sure that I could not be given a much easier chance to propose to her. Still I hesitantly asked, “What sort of information you are looking for?”

“Things like whether you prefer your wife to be house wife or working women, like that”– she said.

“I prefer working women as wife” – I said immediately, as I have read the article she wrote in the college magazine about why women should go to work.

She smiled and added “Working women. Fine. Do you have any more criteria on how your wife should be?”

“Ya, I have. In fact I have so many strict criteria that I am not sure whether any one would meet them” – her constant smiling face emboldened by and I decided I am going to propose her no matter what happens.

“Interesting. Please share those criteria with me” – she said.

Bringing all the courage to the forefront, I began to say the criteria, “I prefer to marry a Bank Manager’s daughter; she must be the eldest daughter; with probably one younger brother; she must be Rahul Dravid’s fan; must have read all the novels of Jeffery Archer till date; she must hate black grapes, but devour green grapes, her favorite color must be yellow; she must enjoy….”

“Stop, stop. Don’t keep on adding those conditions. I think only one girl would satisfy all these conditions.”

“And that’s you” – I said blushing.

We were married three months later.

“So you are saying that it is nature that helped their love by creating a situation where she did the thesis on “Traits Chennai youngster’s look for in their future wife”, which in turn helped him to propose, that eventually led to their marriage. Am I right?” – She asked and her smile was actually more pronounced now than ever before.

“Yes, other wise he never would have got the courage to even propose. He himself said it.”

“He knew every thing about her girl friend, but he didn’t even know that her final year thesis was actually not on “Traits Chennai youngster’s look for in their future wife”, and she asked about this traits question to only one guy – handsome guy who was searching diligently for past one year to collect details about her.”

“How do you know?” – I was perplexed.

She didn't answer my question directly. All that she said was, “If you want a girl friend, you either start taking some initiative, or hope you get a girl friend like me, who out of frustration will take the initiative her self as I did. But don’t sit hoping that nature will help you, and then you will end up with only imaginary girl friends.

If computers had been invented (Short Story/ Artice)

“Currently it takes around seven years to produce a new drug.” – I closed the three seventy six pages hard bound book, titled “If computers had been invented”, and looked out of the window. As the train I was traveling in gathered speed, I decided to spend the remaining few minutes of my journey, admiring natural beauty outside rather than reading this book written by a leading scientist from the other side of the globe who seemed to believe that all the problems that the world faces today, would not have existed if only this imaginative machine called computer had been invented fifty years ago.

I had been reading the eighth chapter before closing the book and having read the previous seven chapters, I can easily predict how this chapter would end. The author would talk about various scientific terms, which I won’t understand, and then he would explain those scientific terms in what he thinks as ‘Layman’s Language’, which again I would not understand, but nevertheless by the time he ends this chapter he would some how come to the conclusion that if only this imaginative machine had been invented, the drugs which takes seven years now, could have been produced in less than a year, and so many Africans dying of Malaria would have been saved. (I think this scientist cum author had gone for an African safari recently, as he never seems to end any chapter without referring to Africa once.)

I looked at my electronic watch that showed the time as 8.15 am and the date as 8^th August 2008. If the scientist who had written this book were to be sitting opposite to me, he would have reminded me that, if only computers had been invented, I would not have needed the watches and the Computers would have shown (or told) me not only the local time but also the time in all other nations in the World, including Africa. (Am I also getting that Africa mania? Does that disease so highly contagious that it spreads through books or what?)

Fortunately or unfortunately, it was not that scientist who was sitting opposite to me, but rather a sixty five year old man, who was staring at the picture of a computer in the front cover of the book, with a bit of venom in his eyes. “Are you reading a book about T.V”, he asked in a tone that clearly conveyed his displeasure of someone wasting his time by reading about the Idiot box.

“No it’s not about television. It’s about an imaginative, yet to be invented machine called Computer”. I said quickly, hoping the answer would reduce the venom in his eyes to an acceptable level.

“Can we watch television serials in it?” – asked the middle aged lady who looked like the old man’s daughter in law. Now I could understand why the old man hated televisions. A small boy who was sitting next to me doing his math homework looked up at me, and his face conveyed the fact that he wanted to ask whether we can watch cricket matches in it. However he quickly thought otherwise and went back to his work. May be his cerebrum reminded him about the punishment his math teacher usually gives to Home work defaulters.

“Yes I think we can.” – I answered the lady’s question, thereby creating a competition between television and computers on which was most hated by that old man, but before either of them could reply I added “But it has much more use than just watching serials or cricket matches. (I am always proud of the fact that I could read questions on other people’s minds, just wanted to convey to that young guy that I know what was on his mind) It can solve wide range of problems.”

The old man’s attitude towards computers changed the moment he heard that computers could solve problems, and he decided to put the computers to a test on problem solving. “I had not received my old age pension of eight hundred rupees for the past two months. I have been meeting the Tashildhar every day for the past one month, but I am not getting any satisfactory reply. Will this machine solve my problem? – asked the innocent old man.

I was stumped. That scientist had not written anything about the problems of Tashildhar. (May be there were no Tashildhar in his country) I mumbled “I am not sure. It can do things like complex math problems………” I, completely aware that solving complex math problem won’t interest either the old man or his daughter in law, tried to think of something from the book that would fascinate them.

However the phrase ‘Solving Math problems’ did fascinate that ten year old kid sitting next to me. He looked up at me, hoping that suddenly some one would invent the computer and threw it into the train.

The train slowed down to stop at yet another station, where as usual more people would get into the already packed compartment. As I had to get down in the next station, I kept the book inside the bag and pushed, pulled and stamped people on my way to exit. Meanwhile my mind was racing back to last Wednesday, the day when I got this book – the book that had taught me so much about this imaginative machine, which if had been invented could have changed the world. (According to that scientist, of course)

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LAST WEDNESDAY

I was calculating the interest the bank should pay to a customer, who had invested a million dollar. No. I am neither working in a bank nor I am going to invest one million dollar in a bank. (With my monthly salary, investing one million won’t even qualify as a day-dream.) Rather the bank is my company’s client, my company being one of the prominent in our nation that specializes in doing back end operations for banks, hospitals, super markets, universities etc, in a nation that is situated exactly across the globe. (My office colleagues forgive me, for writing a paragraph about what you already know, I am planning to post this article in my external blog too, and hence it became necessary to write about what I do. My cousins/ college friends read them there, and they think I am getting salary for doing nothing. I got to prove them that I do something in return for salary I get.)

“Hi Subramani.” It was when I was dealing with that amount of money, my colleague Siva approached me. “Any contributions from you for the next edition of ‘Thendral’.”

“So you want another story that I had already written in the Bulletin board for Thendral’s next edition?”

If you didn’t understand the previous sentence properly, then it means I need to explain to you about both ‘Thendral’ and our Bulletin board. Thendral is our DC’s newsletter, brought about by some enthusiastic members of our DC of which Siva is also a member. Bulletin board is a board kept near our entrance, where the employees can write, whatever they think as creative and pin it up. (Whatever they think as creative doesn’t literally mean whatever they think. There are rules to be followed.)

Thought I don’t like boosting about myself, I felt it is necessary to point out here that I had gained a bit of reputation among my friends and colleagues for my creative writing abilities, thanks to some of the short stories put up by me in the bulletin board. So when Siva approached me last time with a request for a short story for the DC news letter, I happily sent my most famous short story in the BB (short form of Bulletin Board) “A Beautiful Love Story”. Now I might have to think about some other story for this edition.

“No. I don’t need a short story from you this time. I need something different from you” said Siva probably reading my mind.

“What are you expecting then?” – I asked, but at the same time silently praying to God that he doesn’t ask me to write a poem. The last time I wrote a poem was when I was in my twelfth standard entitled “Terrorism” and I am sure, any one well versed in English would not even call that as a poem.

God saved me from writing poems, but he pushed me into something worse. Siva asked me to write a scientific article.

“What scientific article? What do you think I know about science? The last science book that I read was my twelfth biology text” was my shell shocked response.

“I know about you. That’s why I brought this book from library”- said Siva handing me a hard bound book.

“What’s this book is about?” – I asked him skimming through the book. Then I read the back cover and got to know what the book is about and said “Thank God. This machine has not been invented. If only this machine had been there our company would not have been there. People from that country could have done all the works I do now, easily themselves.”

“Don’t worry. Even then those people would have depended on us to maintain this machine. They would have outsourced that work to us. Any way, now I got to go; but for this edition of ‘Thendral’ I need an article about this machine, not in scientific language, but in a way that every one could understand it” – saying this Siva left, leaving me with that book, and the responsibility of writing an article.

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Walking in the railway station, I was wondering what to say to Siva, as I had yet to write even a single page of the article that he wanted. Every time I started writing the article, it turned out to be worse than some technical journal, and I can assure you that no one would understand a word, if I am going to write an entire article that way. As I came out of the railway station, in a DVD shop, I saw a DVD titled, “Making of a….” followed by some Movie name. It was then I got an idea. Why not write an article about making of the article “If computers had been invented”.

And If you are reading this article now, it means that I have not able to write an original article, and so have submitted this “Making of an article” itself to “Thendral”. I have tried my best to point out some of the benefits that would have happened if computers had been invented in this “Making of Article” itself, but still if you are angry at me for not writing an proper article and are rushing to buy rotten tomatoes to throw at me, please wait for a second, as I would now add more benefits of computers, hoping that would reduce the number of rotten tomatoes that I would receive.

1) If computers had been there, you would not be reading this article on paper, rather you would be reading this in a computer.

2) You would not have been forced to rush to a vegetable shop to throw a tomato at me. You could have easily stimulated the effect of throwing a rotten tomato at me by just clicking a button on your computer.

However as computers are yet to be invented, now please rush fast to buy the rotten tomatoes. As more and more people read my article, the rotten tomatoes may reach record price today.

FREEDOM (SHORT STORY)

“My mother’s advice is no more valid” – I thought to myself on hearing the conversation below.

“What is Freedom?”

“Freedom means we can do whatever we want, as long as it does not affect others”.

The question about freedom was asked by Gayathri, a five year old girl, daughter of my brother in law (my husband’s brother). In fact even I wanted to ask that same question, as the people all over the railway station were shouting - “Bharat Mata Ki Jay”,” We got the freedom” were some of their shouting’s - and dancing in Joy. If they were so happy in getting freedom – then the freedom must be tastier than the ‘Adhirasams’ (a sweet) my mother makes – I thought to myself, before being enlightened by the answer given to Gayathri by my father in law.

I, born on a day before Pongal, thirteen years ago, am now in a distant land called Jhansi, sitting in the third class compartment in the train going to Delhi. Sitting near me is my husband, who speaks one or two words to me, only when his mother is not watching. Until two years before, I had been going to school – Convent school run by Christian missionaries- in the next street to our house. I, having completed sixth standard was the most educated girl in our caste. It, along with my beauty (headmistress at my school was so much stunned by my beauty when I danced in a frock for a song praising Jesus Christ during Christmas celebrations) were the reasons that I was selected as a bride by a highly respected family from Delhi.

I was treated like a princess – my father kept repeating that I was so lucky – and I was provided with the finest of sarees and golden bangles; but that was not I wanted. All I wanted was to play with my friends as I used to before. I wanted to go out with my friends and eat ground nuts in a shop near school, but I was gently scolded by my mother when I told my desire- “Don’t ever tell it when your father is near – he is so happy now. Don’t make him angry”.

It was two months before my marriage that I was given the advices that I told to you in the first line of the story. Some of the prominent points of those advices were – to obey everything said by my mother in law, sister in law, or far that matter any of my in laws, not to play with dolls as I used to at home, not to talk to any male relatives other than my husband and thousand other things – and I literally memorized all of them as they were told day after day. Besides these theoretical lectures and advices, I was also given practical fast track courses in cooking, washing clothes etc.

In the train, as Gayathri was playing with toys, jumping in a pink frock – similar to the one I used to wear when I was young – it brought back my childhood memories and I felt jealous of her. I also wanted to play – but my mother’s advice and lectures kept me under control.

It was then Jhansi came and I was enlightened about what Freedom is by my Father-in-law. Now, my entire mother’s advice was not valid. They were valid only when we did not have freedom. Now we have freedom and we can do whatever, we want, as long as it does not affect others. Definitely- I jumping and playing with Gayathri will not affect anyone. I can do it as we have freedom. My mother’s advice is not valid now as we have freedom. I jumped with joy and rushed towards Gayathri to play.

I don’t want to say what happened after that (I don’t believe in sharing negative things), but one thing -- my father-in-law is not as intelligent as other’s think. His definition of freedom was proved wrong and my mother’s advice is still valid.

Sorry, it’s not a story, it’s a confidential report. (SHORT STORY)

Scene –I

He was standing in the bus stop in a slightly arrogant way characteristic of any college going student in Chennai. His eyes were showing very keen interest when ever any teen age girl passed by that side, but even half of that interest was not shown when a 56P bus came and halted in front of him. In fact the bus would go to his college. However he would travel only in the next bus, in which is gang of friends would come- travelling with his gang would make the otherwise boring travel so interesting

The bus started to move after no one got down from it but at least twenty people tried to force their way into already fully packed bus. Just as the bus was gaining momentum, he noticed her. She was sitting in the third row from rear in the women’s side. He was just wondering, why was she here, why she is travelling in this bus when her house is at a walk able distance from collage.

She was college’s dream girl. Every one in the college right from students to watch man just loved looking at her from morning to evening. No one except her close friends had ever dared to speak to her – leave alone flirting with her. There were rumors in the college that she had even slapped one of the lecturers once when he tried to flirt. Today was a God given opportunity – he thought to himself. If only he could go in this bus, travelling with her would make him a hero in his gang. He would be envied by others. He need not even talk to her. He could just make stories about how she was so friendly with him in the bus, and so on.

He knew he had to act fast. The bus had already travelled quite a distance. He began to give it a chase. He was collage champion in athletics and it helped. Then in athletics field, you don’t find an old woman with basket of fruits, a tricycle, and a group of school going kids with bags twice their weight coming from the other sides. The road wet as a result of the rain day before, did not help his cause in any way.

He was about to give up, when she turned and looked behind from the bus. Her face game him all the motivation he needed. He picked up speed and come so close to the bus. He managed to put one foot into the bus, when the dreaded thing happened. The wet shoes didn’t give the grip he needed, and the next moment, he was not inside the bus, but unfortunately under its wheels.

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Scene 2:

His eyes were so reddish. He had just come out of the Tasmac shop. His aunt- he was her favorite- had come home today from her native village, and she had given him hundred bucks to buy some thing useful. She would not have expected that useful thing would be the same liquid that was responsible for her husband’s death. He went and sat inside the Maruti. He some how convinced his innocent mother of the special class, and how he could never make it to it in time because of the unreliable public transport system, and how the master cruelly punishes anyone who turns up even a second late.

“These days’ teachers are so bad” – She had always found the teachers at fault right from the day, his first standard teacher complained about his love to pinch the students sitting near by. She could never believe his son could do some thing wrong.

He had decided to go and have a great ride. He just loved driving like they drive it in formula 1. There was no one to tell him that the last thing formula 1 drivers do his to consume alcohols before driving, and they don’t drive in roads used by common people. He started off fast, and immediately shifted gears. He drove as fast his maruti would allow him, in the process terrorizing innocent road users. There came that sharp turn, with a warning “Accident Prone Zone. Keep slow”. He loved this sharp turns. He loved to make those turns in great speeds. Today he decided to do it again. The extra hundred bucks given by her aunt meant extra alcohol – which in turn meant poorer reflex. He tried to turn the steering wheel with great speed, but all he could manage was to dash his dad’s hard earned maruti against the banyan tree, that had seen many such accidents in two hundred years of its existence in that corner.

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Scene 3:

He was one among the few who got down at Pallavaram railway station in that non peak hour. His face was tense as he was expecting a call from Madurai, where her wife is going to give birth to their first child any time now. He must have been now in Madurai, standing in the hospital, waiting for the privilege of being the first person to be informed about yet another new entry to this world. His manager spoiled all this.

The manager had forced him to go to Chennai on some urgent work, work he despised so much. “I should have been in Maudrai” – he was constantly thinking. He had already done most of the work in Chennai, and after he finishes this one last work in Pallavaram, he would be travelling in the first available bus to Madurai.

He got a call from an unknown number in Madurai. He was sure that was from the hospital. “Hello” he said, fully engrossed to listen to what the other person on the line had to say. “Hello” he literally shouted again, poor network connection which meant that he was not able to listen properly. The person at the other end was saying some thing, but unfortunately he was not able to listen to it.

He was so keen on talking in phone, that he did not listen to “Train is coming” shouting’s from the people around him. He even did not listen to the loud horn sounded by the express train coming at a good speed. He was just keen on listening to what the other person had to say on phone. An image of a beautiful baby was flashed by his brain and he was smiling, as he received happy news from the other end. He did not know that he could never see his child alive. The train was coming fast…..


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Conclusion:

When you, The Almighty God said that you are going to destroy the Earth, I was one among the many who felt very bad about you. After coming to Earth on your insistence, and after seeing the many incidents in Chennai, as assigned to me, I was fairly convinced that any way most of the people here are already trying hard to kill themselves, which was evident from the above mentioned scenes and various other scenes that I had seen but not mentioned. So hereby I conclude my report saying that you could go ahead with your plans of destroying this earth.

Yours truly,

Angel No – 90453,
Senior Consultant (Chennai Division),
Heaven

REFUSAL (SHORT STORY)

Discussion going on in "Nayar Kadai"

“She might have told him not to accept” (She – Leading Tamil heroine)

“May be he was afraid that seniors in the team might not cooperate with him and he has every right to fear so”

“Seniors. For every problem, why do we bring them in” – the ardent fan of one of the seniors.


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Mukesh was sitting leisurely in the comfort of the sofa in his house, unaware of the discussions going on about his declining the captaincy of the Indian cricket team in the 'Nayar kadai'; though he was completely aware that through out India, his decision would be the discussion topic today. Lying in front of him were various English dailies, each having a special report written about his decision right from a yester year superstar to that guy who had played only one day international so far, that too thanks to his uncle who was the selector of the Indian cricket team then.

Mukesh fortunately or unfortunately did not have any selector uncles, but he made up for it with a string of good scores in the domestic circuit. He was the leading run scorer in the Ranji trophy for three consecutive years, but what really sealed a spot in the Indian cricket team in his favor was the three double hundreds he scored in a trot: one in Ranji semis, the next in final against Mumbai, and the third for the Indian Board President Eleven against the visiting Pakistani side. From then on he never looked back.

The last ball six he scored against Pakistan to seal off a memorable series win in front of his home crowd at Chepauk, made the world turn around and take a look at him. Five hundred run in a three match test series in seaming South African tracks is what actually convinced the World that he was a superstar in making; but it was what happened in Australia that showed he is of a special kind in the cricketing world which seems to be rapidly forgetting that it is a gentleman game. He scored two ninety nines in the final decisive test; in the first innings he was declared out caught behind by the umpire when there was a huge gap between the bat and the ball; in the second innings, he faintly edged the ball behind, but this time the umpire didn’t see the edge; but he walked. “There are certain things in life more important than hundreds” – he would later remark about it.

“You are saying no, because of that thing that happened so many years ago. You must be kidding.” – said his manager, who takes care of his endorsements, still unable to believe that what he just heard was true. The time he heard of rumors of Mukesh being appointed captain after India’s world cup debacle, in spite Mukesh scoring three half centuries, he had already started making plans of how much more money through endorsements that meant for Mukesh and more importantly how much more for him through commissions.

“You must be kidding”- he repeated once again this time little louder in a tone that he had never used before in the presence of Mukesh. “No I’m not” was the reply from Mukesh who now got up from the comfort of sofa and walked towards the corridor thinking within his mind that these people never understand anything other than money. He used the rails to support himself as he closed his eyes and began to think about the incident he narrated to his manager few minutes before.
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Mukesh, eleventh standard student in the Government High school, was kicking the soil in his school ground, standing at long off, as their opponents continued to celebrate their victory. His anger was not at the opponents but rather at his childhood friend and his captain Ravi, who gave the last over to Ashwin, in spite the fact that Mukesh virtually begged him to give it to Suresh.

He felt let down once again as it was the second time in as many matches, his friend has done exactly opposite to what he asked him to do. He started to walk back, when a comforting arm fell over his shoulder, followed by an apologetic remark, “My instincts told Ashwin would be a better choice, Mate”. Mukesh abused curses at the instincts of Ravi in a language that could not be used in the Infy bulletin boards.

“Ya. It’s fine. I accept that you would be a better captain than me; but what about our childhood challenge?”- Ravi.

“Don’t worry. I promise you that I would never become a captain without defeating you in a challenge” – Mukesh’s anger always flies away as soon as his friend comes near him.

The challenge they were talking about is the running race between the coconut trees in the Mukesh house to the palm tree near Ravi’s house. It may sound comical, but they came up with this idea when they had a row over who would lead the team when they were ten year olds, and they have been following the idea ever since. Ravi was the better runner, and he had always lead Mukesh from then on.

Mukesh knew that no one other than two of them could ever captain their school side, since they were simply a notch greater than others in terms of cricketing skills. If only he could defeat his friend in the challenge, they would both talk to their PT master and he could become the captain at least in the last year of his school. He knew Ravi was always ready to scrap the challenge and let him be the captain, but he was too proud to accept it. “I will give it one more tries next time” – he said to himself.

Schools closed for summer, and Mukesh went to his uncle’s house in Chennai, where he had requested his uncle to arrange him to attend a special coaching camp conducted by a former Olympic athlete. He thought that only way he could defeat his friend could be with the help of professional help. His uncle, who once had a dream to play in Ranji trophy but could never go beyond club level, readily obliged.

Chennai, for Mukesh who was born and brought up in a village, gave a new experience. When he saw a girl in his uncle’s next house wearing dresses that he had seen before only in movies, and giggling like the heroines, he started to spend more time chasing here, rather in the coaching camp. As the summer vacation came to an end, he returned back to his house, hoping he could see the giggling girl next year, and also guilty at heart that he could never lead the school side.

When he entered his home, he knew something was wrong. His mother was trying to tell him some thing, but she couldn’t muster enough courage. When he said, he would go to Ravi’s house, to accept defeat; she knew she had to say it then. Ravi had sacrificed his life, trying to save a small child who was drowning in the near by pond. The pond had ten victims so far, and it added the young girl and Ravi to its account gleefully.

“No sir. Let Ashwin lead the side” – Mukesh replied to the PT master who asked him to lead the school side.

“But Why?” – asked the PT Master.

“Because I am yet to win the challenge” was the reply.

PT Master did not understand, but definitely he was not the last one, not to understand. His club manager, ranji team mates, and now the Indian Public all of them were confused and could not understand when he is refusing captaincy; but he knew his friend there in heaven would understand and that is all that mattered to him.

“There are certain things in life more important than hundreds and captaincy” – he would say to the press the next day.