At last - Short Story

It was a fine Sunday evening. I was browsing through the television channels jumping from “Nakka Mukka” song in Sun Music to Rahul Dravid’s double century in Star Cricket to Breaking News in NDTV to some War Film in HBO, hoping at least one of them would distract me. However my mind was constantly thinking about only one thing. Tomorrow my Girl friend, or to put it correctly, my Ex Girl friend would be getting married to that guy, described by her parents as “Nice, Handsome, High Earning Guy of our Caste”. Though I had accepted this would eventually happen, six months earlier, today I couldn’t control my feelings. Sharp pain engulfed my heart.

“Is your Dad there?” – My thoughts were diverted by the voice of our neighbor, who was standing outside the entrance of my house. “Come in Jacob Uncle, I will call my Dad in a second.” – I said trying to come up with a smile that might mask my inner feelings. As my dad came out, welcoming him, I decided to go upstairs, hoping that a walk under the evening sun would make me think about some thing other than her marriage.

As I walked past, Jacob uncle, I felt a tinge of guilt in my mind, as usual; guilt that always haunts me when ever I meet him or his son Stephen. Stephen was one of the ten new students who joined in my class, during eleventh Standard. As I found out, that Stephen’s family, were the new tenant in our near by house, we naturally become friends. We also did few share few commonalities. We both liked Rahul Dravid more than Sachin Tendulkar, loved reading Tamil Magazines, and both of our secret dream was to publish a Best Selling Novel that will also win the Nobel Prize for literature.

Besides these miniscule things, our lives were completely different though. Though my parents were not ultra rich, being their only child resulted in extra luxuries. Be it the Bicycle I needed when I was in Third, Cricket Coaching Class when I was in Seventh, I was always provided with whatever I needed. Stephen, had two elder sisters, and with his Dad always concerned about saving money for their marriage, he had to sacrifice many things, that I took for granted.

It was not only in the materialistic things that he was at a disadvantage. My parents never fought at home, and rarely raised their voices when I was around. On the other hand his house resembled a mini Kurushetara most of the times. Fight between his parents, between his elder sisters, between his mother and eldest sister, and some times fight with the neighbors, over even trivial things, meant he never got some peaceful time to study.

Whenever he comes to my house to study along with me, I would assume that he would feel envious of the easy life of mine compared to his. However I had never even seen a tint of jealousy in his eyes. “Your dad studied hard and worked hard in his earlier days, and you are enjoying its fruits today. I will also study hard and give my kids, life similar to you”, he said one day revealing his true feelings. He wanted to emulate my father and was not resentful of his success.

As our class teacher usually remarked, both of us were equally talented, but Stephen invariably scored more than me, because he put tons more of hard work. I continued to read Tamil Magazines, and enjoy Dravid’s knocks, even in twelfth, but he sacrificed them for “Greater Good”. Both of us wanted to be engineers, however the force of our motive varied. I wanted to be an Engineer, just because my Dad wanted to be one; but he saw being an engineer as a tool to fight his family’s problems.

Public exams and the entrance exams came and went. And the day of results arrived. On seeing the reaction of both of us after getting the result, strangers could be excused, if they felt I had got School First and he flunked. However the truth was that he scored ninety seven marks more than me; though we both know our cut off would not get us a seat in prominent Government Engineering colleges, as our Dads had envisioned. That didn’t bother me much, however that bothered Stephen enough to make him cry for two days.

“They are asking for 2.5 lakhs, the other guy said 2 only, but their college don’t have good placement”, my Dad was discussing with mother about the capitation fee in Private Engineering colleges.

“Why are you trying to get Management seat. He might get a seat through counseling.” –said my mother, and my Dad gave her, “What an ignorant lady she is!” look.

“He will get in some useless college in a useless department for his marks. And after four years, he would be jobless Engineering Graduate. Let us pay some money and get him a seat in good college. He will get placement by the end of third year.”

Meanwhile I was wondering about Stephen. He had gone that day to get an application form from a leading Arts and Science college to do B.Sc Chemistry. “I might get a seat in Private Engineering College seat through counseling, but my dad said that he can’t pay so much. He said if I had wanted to be an Engineer, I should have studied harder, and got a seat in Government College.” I felt guilty that he scored more than me, but I am able to do a course that he won’t be able to do.

“Dad, I’ll rather study B.Sc, than paying so much”, I slowly told my Dad, so that I won’t have to live with the guilty conscious.

“You don’t know about life, son. I will do only what is good for you.” – My dad didn’t even bother to give my request a thought. He just rejected it.

Months rolled by, and we both went for different colleges, myself to a prominent private Engineering college, and Stephen to an Arts and Science College. With me staying in a hostel, we rarely met, and one evening when we came across each other, we had so much to share.

“It seems your college has 100 % placement, and the average salary is 2.6 lakhs per annum. You might even get a new house like your Dad, with in five years you leave the college.” Stephen seemed to have more knowledge about my college than me. I didn’t ask him about the placement record of his college, but his eyes conveyed to me, his thoughts, “When you get a new house, I will continue to live in the rotten house of mine, for no mistake in my part”.

I felt so guilty, that I skipped my dinner, and couldn’t sleep properly for next two days. I always tried to avoid Stephen and his Dad thereafter, and even when I meet them, I lowered my head with a sense of guilt. Next time I met him, was during his sister’s marriage, and he was so very happy then. He had already been placed in a reputed IT concern that had recently started to recruit Arts and Science Graduates too. My guilt seemed to reduce a bit then.

However my guilt resurfaced from the bottom again, when I met him in his next sister’s marriage, couple of years later. By the time, I had also completed my Engineering, and landed a good job in a leading IT company. I began to talk without a feeling of guilt, as I felt that was a thing of past. We were delighted to know that we were both working in same Technology. However he seemed to know more than me, his work seemed to be more complex than what I was doing.

The talk turned around to salary, and as he heard my salary, he just smiled but again his eyes revealed to me the message. “You are earning so much more than me for the same technology, just because you have a better degree. And what more, you didn’t get that better degree also because you studied well.” This time, I skipped dinner, as well as next day’s breakfast, and didn’t sleep properly for three days.

After that day, I never met Stephen. With problems caused due to my Ex Girl friend, I had even forgotten about him, but my guilty feelings resurfaced, as I saw his Dad today. Assuming his Dad would have went back by now, I decided to go down. However he hadn’t left and was only just about to start.

“So you also didn’t tell us about it right.” – Stephen’s Dad asked me.

“About what” - I sounded perplexed.

“About Stephen’s love.” – He said smiling. He, as my parents were under the assumption that I and Stephen were still close buddies as we were during school days. They were not aware, that we don’t even see each other frequently now.

“Stephen is getting married to his girl friend next month.” My dad came to my assistance.

Did Stephen love a girl? And he has also managed to convince his parents, her parents to arrange a marriage for them. What studying hard, Working Hard failed to materialize, Love had materialized.

My guiltiness subsided, and my sharp pain in heart due to my Love Failure seemed to have some how subsided, as I learnt he had at last succeeded where I had failed. It’s good that there is still some thing left in the World beyond Money.

Atonement - Short Story

Atonement => It is the process of showing that one is sorry for having done something wrong, by doing a good deed as a kind of repayment or self punishment. In Tamil, it is called as ‘Parigaram’ or ‘Prayachithham’. In many religious beliefs, it is widely accepted practice that one needs to atone, if he/she had done some thing bad against God.


“This is one of the best Atonement that I have presided over. Here after, the children will receive God’s blessings without any hindrance” - said the short, fat priest with mouth full of artificial smile; he was still counting the hundred rupee notes handed over by my father in law. The children he referred to were I and my wife. We were just married a week ago; and with tons of relatives and temples to visit, we are yet to spend some private time. Today’s quota is this ancient temple built by Cholas, about hundred mile away from our home, to do an atonement, for some unexplained mistake done by Father in Law years ago.

I, to be honest, detested the whole thing, and would not have come if not for my wife’s pleading. First of all, due to new policies that my office had come up with following recent recession, we were allowed to take only two weeks of leave for the marriage. And then to make matters worse, even in those two weeks I couldn’t spend time alone with her in Mauritius or Munnar or even in local Ooty as I had envisioned; I wished I could have been more stubborn and said a strong “No” to this temple Visit

It’s not that I hate temples. Though I’m an agnostic, I love temples, for its aesthetic beauty and its sculptural wonder. I love standing still in front of God in our native village, as our village priest goes through the chanting of Mantras, sincerely believing that God listened to them. Here it was different through. In between his mechanical reciting of mantras, the priest talked about his lunch plans in his mobile, discussed Dhoni’s tactical error in the previous days match against Pakistan, and also shouted in obscene Tamil at some of the devotees.

I don’t understand how my father in law, who was such an educated man, who had read all the scriptures by heart, would believe that God will forgive his mistakes done long ago, due to the Atonement, that he believes, he did today. If at all, his crime rate should have increased in the God’s book, for he encouraged Corruption in Temple, bypassed hundred’s of waiting devotees, and gave hundreds or rupees to a priest for whom a cricketer from Ranchi seemed more important than God.

I held my wife’s hands, as we walked out of the temple. That was the only little thing that can be said at least remotely positive about this trip. She knew I didn’t enjoy this trip. She must have praying all the while that I don’t make my unhappiness too evident in front of her relatives. After we went around the temple once, we sat in the couple of staircases that lead to the “Prasad Counter”. I wished her parents and relatives would at least sit few meters away respecting our privacy. However, as I know would happen, in spite of my wishes, they swarmed us like bee.

They all talked about a “Good Darshan” they got. “Its good to know priests in big temples like this” – My father in law replied with pride, soaking in glory of arranging a “Good Darshan”. I tried to avoid listening to the conversation. My wife also wanted me not to listen to it, as she feared I might retort. I tried to divert my attention by looking at the fellow devotees. A small five year old kid was playing with his parents, and I was wondering, if I would be playing the same games as his parents, few years down the lane.

Suddenly I could see an influx of college students walking past us, all with Chapels in their hand. I have never seen such thing before; people walking with chapels in their hand inside a temple. I looked at them in amazement. “Are they carrying their chapels, inside the temple, because they don’t want to pay two rupees outside to, take care of the chapels? Or is it some form of worship?” I wondered so, but I know it didn’t make sense. There must be a more rational explanation. I looked at my wife in bewilderment, for besides me, she seemed the only rational person in the gang.

She seemed to understand my doubt. Within a week of our marriage, she seemed to understand the meanings of each of my looks. “They have not come inside the temple to worship. They are going to the college on the other side of the temple, and using the roads will take lot of time. So they take the chapels in their hand and go across the temple to reach their destination. This detour saves them time.” This seemed rational enough.


Few minutes of silence followed. Her relatives were consuming Temple Prasadams like anything, even though just an hour earlier, we had lunch. I was admiring the beauty of my wife silently. My mind was dreaming that we were alone in Kulu Manali. My dreams were disrupted my Father in law’s shouting. “They should have been chased out of our country during independence itself. See now they are polluting our temples.” Besides being a business man, he was also the district secretary of the political party that believed India is a sole property of one religion. I wondered, what suddenly provoked his anger.

A Muslim lady (the costumes portrayed her religion), in her middle ages, was walking across the temple. I am sure she was using the temple, as the same way as the college students, to reach her destination quickly. However, she was wearing her chapels, instead of carrying it in her hands, like the college students did. That was what initiated my father in law to suddenly remember what happened more than half a century ago.

This time, I couldn’t control my anger. I wanted to shout at him and say, “Wearing a chapel inside the temple was no sin, compared to encouraging corruption inside the temple”. However I was distracted by my wife as she had got up and walked behind that Muslim lady. She completely detests her father’s party, so I was sure she was not going to pick up a fight with her, for wearing chapel inside the temple.

“Akka (Sister)”, my wife called her.

“Yes ma.” Muslim lady replied and turned around immediately. She was wondering, why a stranger was calling her. The fact that she was inside the Holy place of other religion must have added to her anxiety.

“Akka, you are not supposed to wear chapels inside”. My wife said in her usual, gentle sweet voice.

“Oh! I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that.” She immediately removed the chapels, took it in her hand and began to walk. Her apologetic face clearly conveyed that she had no idea that one is not supposed to wear chapels there. Meanwhile, my father in law decided that it’s time for us also to start, so that we would be able to visit (encourage corruption) in couple more temples, before we could reach the safety of our home.

So we started walking slowly towards the entrance of the temple. I was still worrying about the fact that I was also a partly responsible for encouraging corruption. If God Exists really, then I’m sure He would punish me more for encouraging corruption in his place, than for questioning his existence. And I also wondered about the foolish Atonement that my Father In law did. The whole trip seemed to be a foolish one.

As we are about to exit the temple, the Muslim Lady called my wife. She was standing near a small flower shop, run by an old lady. I walked along with my wife.

“Can you do me a favor”, the Muslim lady asked with bit of embarrassment.

“What you want us to do, Akka” asked my wife.

“Can you give this flower to God” – saying she tried to hand over flower that she had brought for ten rupees to my wife.

My wife was trying how to say No, as we have already visited the temple, and it would take lot of time, to stand in line and visit the God again. Her father had already got into the van, in which we had come. I understood her confusion, but took the flowers from the Muslim lady’s hand.

“Sure. We will give it to God.” I started walking again inside the temple with flower in the hand, without bothering about my wife. My wife followed me, as I expected. I stood at the end of the line where hundred’s of devotees were standing. I was sure this time I will get the “Best Darshan”, and If God was even half as good as what the scriptures say, he would consider this ten rupee atonement of Muslim lady thousand times more than the one My father – In law did.

Suddenly the Trip turned from a foolish one to the most meaningful one I have ever made.

Note: This story was based on the true incident narrated by my friend Padmavathi.