THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 25): WATER BOTTLE

There are some emotions that cannot be expressed in words! We can just feel them as pangs in the heart and experience the sweet pain of a sensitive prick. Today, I would note down about an episode where I felt such an unexplained pain.

On 15^th August, this year, during the Independence Day celebrations in our locality, the organizers had invited retired Major Anuj Aggarwal. Aunt Padma and I reached the venue on time and took our seats. At the stipulated time, Major Aggarwal arrived. The man came in his army uniform, flaunting his badges of valor and victory. He walked with the help of a metallic crutch and the organizers escorted him up to the dais.

Looking at the perplexed expression on my face, the man sitting next to me whispered, “Major Anuj Aggarwal had fought during the Kargil War! During one of his missions, he was hit by a bullet on his right leg! However, he kept on fighting until the combat continued. At last, due to excessive bleeding he fainted. The fellow soldiers brought him to the hospital and the doctors were able to save his life, but he lost his right leg. After his retirement, he works as a motivational speaker and runs an NGO for children.”

The flag hoisting ceremony was followed by a chorus singing session of our national anthem. After that, the hostess invited Major Aggarwal to say a few words. The tall, slim and stout Major Aggarwal got up from his seat, took out a small plastic water bottle and placed it on the table. He then took the microphone and began to speak.

“Good morning everyone. Today on this auspicious occasion, I will not deliver a speech. Instead, I will tell you a story. It is a real story, something that I faced. It is something that I cannot forget, ever, and I keep relating this story to many. The incidence happened during Kargil War!”

All of the spectators sat up with renewed attention on hearing the topic. I focused my concentration to listen to an interesting discourse from a person who had actually fought in the battlefront.

“I was posted in a remote location along with my regiment” continued Major Aggarwal, “I will not reveal the exact name of the place, for security reasons. However, that is insignificant in the current context. One morning, we received news about heavy shelling from the other side of the border, on one of the neighboring villages. The high-command instructed our regiment to prepare reinforcements and retaliate. We were also asked to evacuate as many civilians from the village, as possible.”

The Major paused a bit, took a quick look at the faces of the spectators and then started again, “A violent confrontation took place and our troops retaliated with a strong response! The combat took place for an entire day, and many of our soldiers valiantly evacuated the residents of the village, which included men, women and children! Finally, the confrontation ceased, and our regiment moved in to secure the place.”

I wondered what the Major was trying to relate, while he kept speaking, “The entire village was in a devastated state. The air was filled with the pungent spell of gunpowder and dust. There were many casualties, who were being rushed to the nearby medical camp. The news media had already arrived to cover the story, but were restricted to a perimeter until the army secured the entire area. Presently, I saw a shattered building, which used to be a school. The burnt down signboard still flaunted its name in green color. My heart was beating fast and quietly, I walked inside and took a look around.”

Major Aggarwal had a serious expression while he continued, “As I looked through the pile of destruction, I found something at a corner…” he paused and picked up the plastic water bottle and said, “I found this! A water bottle. I didn’t know to whom it belonged. There was no name on it. There were only some bloodstains on its sides! I held the water bottle in my hand and sat down on the floor. I didn’t know why, but tears rolled down from my eyes!”

I felt a sudden prick of pain in my heart when I heard the words of Major Aggarwal. He kept on saying, “After a while I came out from the school building, with the bottle in my hand. As I stepped out, a journalist from a leading newspaper came and asked me… Sir, what is the necessity of this war? Why do we fight and why such huge loss of life is being incurred?”

“I didn’t reply… I handed over the water bottle to her!” said Major Aggarwal, “The lady held the plastic bottle in her hands, looked at the bloodstains and began to weep. I said to her… We don’t want war. Nobody wants war. I strongly believe that a soldier on the opposite side of the border, too, feels the same! However, we are all fighting our own demons! We are fighting the demon, we humans create, and give rise to borders! Do you know to which child this water bottle belongs? Do you know whose bloodstains are those? Do you know whether the little innocent owner of this water bottle is still alive or not? No! … The answer is NO! And that is why we fight… We the soldiers who protect the nation, whichever country that might be, we fight so that no such bloodstained water bottle remains abandoned, and every child smilingly goes to school.”

Major Aggarwal held the water bottle high in the air and said, “That war is over now! However, we human-beings would perhaps never learn from the losses we suffer! Look at this water bottle. The innocence in its design, the little sipper on its top would paint the face of an innocent boy or girl drinking from it playfully. That image has haunted me for days and years! It will haunt you too. It will haunt every soldier here and across the border, but we have to do our duty! Only when the entire human race understands the futility of war, will peace prevail. Till then, I will continue to display this water bottle to as many people as possible as a symbol of the uselessness of rivalry and warfare!”

The pain that I felt within my heart, didn’t have any properly outlined boundary. Was it weeping for the owner of the bottle? Was it crying for the bloodstains? Was it lamenting the futility of enmity? I didn’t have an answer.

Major Aggarwal finished, “Today, on Independence Day, may this water bottle be a messenger of peace and harmony so that children across borders can live a life of harmony!”

Tonight, as I note down the above incidence, a few droplets of tears rolled down my cheeks from my eyes. I wanted to capture this emotion within the pages of my diary. Perhaps I might never meet Major Aggarwal again. However, the image of the water bottle will remain engraved in my heart, forever!

THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 24): LOAD SHEDDING

What is more important? Is it the presence of light or its absence? The answer to this question is really fascinating! Yesterday I had a unique experience! Even though the incident might seem trivial, its significance means a lot to me. On Aunt Padma’s request I paid a casual visit to uncle Tom. To be more specific, uncle Tammaghna Kumaraswami, our distant relative who was once a valiant sailor, is popularly known as uncle Tom! After his retirement, he had chosen to live a calm and quiet life in his ancestral house in Little Colaba.

Uncle Tom had heard about my impending amnesia and has presently expressed his desire to see me. Thus, yesterday evening, I went to meet him at his home. There are many fond moments that I had spent with uncle Tom, many of which I have forgotten, but many I still remember. Drawn by a wild attraction towards the enigmatic personality of uncle Tom, I thus went to meet him with a heart full of excitement.

Uncle Tom’s ancestral house is perhaps over a hundred years’ old with wide walls, high ceilings and wide thick pillars. The septuagenarian, uncle Tom, occupies three rooms on the ground-floor and had rented out the entire first-floor to tenants. He lives alone in this house, after his wife passed away a few years ago.

After the initial meet and greet, uncle Tom and I sat together in his living room and chatted casually. I told uncle Tom everything about my amnesia and my endeavor to write a journal to capture my most precious memories. I felt a melancholy about how fruitful my efforts would be and shared my concern with him. He had always been like a friend to me. Even though we had not met for quite some time, I always appreciate the teachings he had given me ever since my childhood.

“I had been writing this diary for so many days. However, I don’t know how useful it would be. At times, I feel worried about whether it will be helpful at all or not!”, I said.

“Would you like to have some tea?” asked uncle Tom. I nodded in agreement and uncle Tom replied, “Good. Wait a while and I will make your favorite lemon tea for both of us.”

Uncle Tom went away to the kitchen for preparing the tea and I sat and looked around the living room. The large and spacious room had an abundance of vintage furniture comprising of a large mahogany writing desk, chairs, a large sofa, a tea-table, tripods with flower vases and five large cupboards stacked with books! Perhaps, the mini library contained books on every possible topic on earth! Uncle Tom is indeed a well-read man.

Presently, uncle Tom came back with two cups of hot lemon tea and both of us savored its intricate taste while sitting on the sofa.

“This is an exceptional flavor that I have specially bought from Assam!” said uncle Tom. “You know, there are a few rare manuscripts on the Himalayas that I have procured recently. Take a look at them. They are on the third rack of the second cabinet”, pointed out uncle Tom.

I felt excited and walked up to the cupboard. Just as I was about to take out one of the manuscripts, the lights went off! It was a power cut. The entire room got engulfed inside a thick blanket of darkness.

“For the last few years, load-shedding has been quite rare in these quarters!” said uncle Tom, “Maybe some problem has occurred. Come back and have a seat. Unfortunately, I don’t have a candle, so we have to wait in this darkness!”

I tried to find my way back to the sofa, but stumbled upon a chair and then bumped into the writing table. I winced in pain as my knee got hurt against the hard wood.

Uncle Tom said loudly, “Wait Pravin. Don’t move. If you move in this darkness, you would get more hurt. Stand quietly and then visualize the room, as you had seen it. Try to visualize the outlay of the furniture, and then maneuver your way back to the sofa!”

I stood still, closed my eyes and tried to visualize the layout of the room. Slowly, the image of the furniture and their positions flashed across my eyes and I gently maneuvered my way. Carefully, I walked past the chairs and the tripods and finally reached the sofa. Specs of sweat crowded on my forehead as I sat down and I wiped them off with my handkerchief. As the pupils of my eyes dilated a bit, I could see the outline of uncle Tom, sitting across on a chair. The entire locality was still shrouded in a veil of darkness.

“So, Pravin. What did you learn from today’s experience?” asked uncle Tom.

I didn’t know what to answer. Understanding my silence, uncle Tom continued, “Is the presence of light more important or its absence?”

“I don’t understand what you are asking?” I replied.

Uncle Tom said in a calm and composed voice, “When the lights went off, there was complete darkness and you stumbled upon the furniture. However, when you focused your energies and recalled the layout of the room, you were able to come and sit on the sofa! Isn’t that fantastic! It really brings out an important fact.”

I tried to grasp the significance of whatever uncle Tom was saying while he continued, “Pravin, life is like LIGHT, but its absence brings out two equally important factors… they are KNOWLEDGE and WILL POWER!”

I couldn’t see uncle Tom’s face but kept listening to his discourse, “Only during the absence of light, we are able to explore our inner knowledge and use it with our will-power! The absence of light is not just darkness; it is a rich shelter of our experience that guides us through all difficulties with the strength of will-power!”

“Your present life is like the blessing of light! Your impending amnesia is the LOAD-SHEDDING, the power cut that will bring in a prevalent darkness. Yet, your knowledge is within your journal, the recollection of your experiences that will navigate you to lead a happy life with your will-power!” added uncle Tom.

As uncle Tom finished his words, the electric power got restored and the room again became illuminated. “So what is more important? The presence or absence of light?” I asked with a smile.

Uncle Tom stretched his arms and said, “Both are equally important. They complement each other. You too must cherish your present and past life as well as the future! Your journal, your diary is a special knowledge that you are building and I am sure it will augment your personality at the right time!”

I got up with a happy heart and returned. Indeed, the load-shedding taught me a trivial yet important lesson. I have learnt to appreciate the presence of light as well as its absence, in a manner that I had never done before. I note this experience here in my diary today and I know that I will always cherish it.

THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 23): KALEIDOSCOPE

On a lazy afternoon, a platter of Mixed Vegetable Pakora can be a perfect companion to sit and retrospect. This evening, as I sat at the little dingy teashop and munched on the hot crispy Pakoras, my mind wandered around my daylong subtle experience. There are so many incidences that happen around us every day, that it becomes impossible to arrive at a conclusion about them. Life is like a Kaleidoscope whose individual colors might be monotonous, but a collective effect gives an enthralling experience. Today I shall not note something that is a part of my own identity. I shall note down a short experience which I consider is important for me to know, when my amnesia completes its full-circle!

Today being a Sunday, was usually supposed to be a lazy one. However, I had been invited to a colleague’s house for attending a religious function followed by lunch. I got dressed up early, finished my breakfast and weekend chores and bid farewell to Aunt Padma. The rainclouds were hovering and thus I decided to take an umbrella along with me.

I reached Mr. Saurav Pandit’s house around noon. The intense aroma of burning incense sticks clogged the nostrils, whereas the smoke-filled misty atmosphere welcomed my eyes with a teary sensation. No doubt, a Puja was in progress. Saurav, my colleague, welcomed me inside and I moved through a mini crowd of devotees to take a peep inside the hall room, where the enormous Puja was being performed.

To my surprise I saw Saurav’s little daughter, Melee, sitting in the middle dressed in a saree and lots of flowers. She looked like the idol of some baby goddess! A priest was chanting some mantras relentlessly, while another was performing the rituals. Everybody chanted the mantras, following the first priest, and occasionally showered handful of torn flower-petals at Melee. Somewhere within my heart I felt a pain for Melee. She was a sweet innocent child whom I had seen so many times. Today she sat with a blank expression, unable to understand what was going on.

Saurav came over to me and said, “This is a Kumari Puja. The traditional worship of the Girl Child. We are running a bit behind schedule...”

Uma, Saurav’s wife came and interrupted, “Saurav, tomorrow Melee has her class test and I have given her a target to score at least eighty percent! Please wrap this up soon. She has to be rushed to the tuition after lunch, so that she can get the suggestions from her teacher!”

The couple got busy in their squabble and I slyly slipped away. I don’t know the reason, but I felt like laughing at whatever was happening. I finished a quick lunch and headed back home. However, a heavy downpour started and I took shelter under a shade. Quite a few other people crowded and crouched in that scanty place as we all tried to protect ourselves from getting drenched. I don’t know how long, but I must have waited there for at least two hours!

As the rains receded, I came out to head back home. Presently, a man came up, holding the hands of a little girl. At first I thought that he was a beggar. However, he didn’t do anything that seemed like begging. He simply stood in front of the shade and looked here and there. A food-vendor came out from his shop and handed over a parcel to the man and he thanked him.

Looking at the confused look on my face, the man smiled and said, “This is Usha. She is not my daughter. She is my Mother! I found her here on the streets, about seven years ago. It was the dreadful day when I had lost my mother. I had just lit her pyre and was returning home when I heard her cry. I came running and picked up the infant. She held my finger and stopped sobbing. The first word that came out of my mouth was… Maa!”

I stood stunned without any words while the man continued, “I am not a beggar. I work as a masonry’s labor. There is nobody in my house to cook during the day. All the shop-owners in this locality help us with food for my little Maa. We come here every day and get their blessings.”

The man went away and I began to walk back. I didn’t take the bus, but walked instead. Something weird was happening today. As evening fell, I arrived at the teashop, near my house. Sitting on the small wooden stool, I ordered a cup of tea and a platter of Mixed Vegetable Pakora. This can be a perfect companion to sit and retrospect. What is happening today? What is life trying to tell me? I wondered.

As I munched the hot crispy Pakoras, a girl arrived at the shop. She was probably in her early twenties and from her attire it seemed like returning she was returning from office.

She came up to the teashop owner, Ramu, and said excitedly, “Ramu uncle, please give me a platter of hot Pakoras! Today was my first day at work! I am super happy today! I want to surprise Baba with some tasty Pakoras. You remember, when I was small, every year after my school examination got over, Baba used to surprise me with Pakoras from your shop.”

Ramu handed over the Pakoras and the girl went away while I observed the entire episode. An unknown melancholy filled my heart. It was not sorrow; it was not happiness… It was something unexplained.

As I sit and write my journal today I wonder about the incidences that unfolded throughout today. All the three incidents were connected to a father and his daughter. All of them were episodes that related the intricate relationship of a father and his little girl. Somebody was worshipping his daughter as a deity while forcing her to perform in studies. Somebody was impersonating her as a mother and somebody had groomed her into a confident and self-sufficient lady! Every incident was unrelated, yet connected through an invisible string. Every point of view is so unique yet had some similarity. Nobody was wrong, and nobody was right! Perhaps everybody was right! I don’t know.

This is a sweet confusion and I didn’t want to arrive at a conclusion. However, it taught me something important… Life is a Kaleidoscope whose individual colors might be monotonous, but a collective effect gives an enthralling experience. There are so many things that happen around us. Some of them are happy, while some are sad. Yet, their collective impact is the true essence of life. Just like today’s episodes, we must cherish and honor womanhood and respect it. That is the essence. It is something that all men and women must do.

My learning from today is to cherish everything in life. I must do so when my amnesia erases my memories. I must understand that not one single episode is important. The collective effect is the true kaleidoscope of life.