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.

THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 22): PHANTOM OF CHINARPUR

Yesterday night I met him… The Phantom! Yes, The Phantom of Chinarpur! Before I delve deeper into the details of this story, let me begin today’s journal with the sequence of the events that led to my experience yesterday. As the months have eroded away, my amnesia has also progressed into a more advanced stage. There are so many things I cannot recall anymore. However, I have made it a practice to read my past journals every night and it works really well. I feel that all my efforts have been worth it. Yet, a feeling of dejection about my own self and body keeps creeping into my mind. Understanding this condition, my friend and colleague, Mehul, asked me to accompany him on a weekend trip to the Karnala Bird Sanctuary.

The trip began on Saturday and I must admit that it was a real refresher. Yesterday, that is Sunday, we decided to visit the Karnala Fort and the Ransai Reservoir on our way back and return to Mumbai by the evening. The day was well spent and the two of us had a sumptuous late lunch at a local restaurant. However, as unpredictable as it gets during the monsoon season, a gust of rainclouds brought a flash of heavy downpour. Such was the force of the rain coupled with a strong thunderstorm, that it seemed impossible for us to head back. We decided to wait, but the incessant rains seemed unperturbed even after another long hour. It was already six-thirty and the darkness was covering

As we were preparing to leave, the restaurant-owner’s help came up to us and said, “Sahib, do you know about Chinarpur?”

Both Mehul and I gave a perplexed look while the boy continued, “Sahib, in this weather condition I believe it would not be safe to drive back to Mumbai. Moreover, the night is descending fast. Chinarpur is a small village about three kilometers away from here. Not many people have heard about it, but there is a good news. There is a bungalow of the ancient zamindari of Chinarpur. It is said that Raja Shoorveer Arya built it centuries ago. Even though nobody from their lineage lives there, the local caretaker still takes care of the place. He is my uncle, Balwant Singh. Go there and spend the night. Tell my uncle about me. My name is Veeru. He will allow to spend the night there. In the morning, you can head back to Mumbai.”

Considering the prevailing weather condition, the suggestion of the boy seemed quite logical. Mehul and I consulted each other and decided to head towards the bungalow of Chinarpur. The strong downpour was making visibility difficult but we managed to drive down to Chinarpur within half-an-hour. The village was indeed remote and sparsely populated. Amid the thatched huts and muddy roads, we approached the bungalow. It is worth mentioning that the bungalow of Shoorveer Arya was indeed a masterpiece and the magnanimity of the palatial building enthralled both Mehul and me.

Balwant Singh heard the reference from Veeru and welcomed us inside. He said, “Sahibs, you can stay here tonight. I shall make arrangements in a room on the first-floor for you. However, you would have to manage with a meagre dinner from my own limited resources.”

We thanked Balwant Singh and gave him some money, as a token of respect for his hospitality. The rains continued undeterred and Mehul checked the weather report and declared that it won’t recede before midnight. We got freshened up and, around nine-thirty, finished our dinner with Balwant Singh. After dinner, the three of us sat on the veranda and chatted. Balwant Singh narrated the history of Chinarpur and how, after Raja Shoorveer Arya, the village passed away into public oblivion. Presently, my eyes fell on a structure at a corner of the courtyard. It was a small temple-like structure inside which a small lamp was glowing.

Looking at my inquisitive expression, Balwant Singh said, “That is the Temple of the Phantom! It was built by Raja Shoorveer Arya himself. It is said that the Raja saw the Phantom inside this temple. There is no deity inside the temple. The four pillars at the four corners carry four large mirrors of Belgium glass and the center of the temple’s floor carry the footmark of the Phantom himself. The local people believes that the Phantom visits this temple, at night, and protects the residents of Chinarpur. Look at that inscription on top of the door…”

Mehul and I stared at the top of the door connecting the veranda to the courtyard. An edifice was engraved on it with the following words…

Love Thy Phantom, and the Phantom Loves Thy Men

Hate Thy Phantom, and the Phantom Grieves Thy Name

Mehul laughed away the entire topic and picked up some light discussion to ease away the mood. After another hour we went away to sleep. Within a short time, Mehul was fast asleep, but I kept wondering about the “Temple of the Phantom”.

As the clock ticked past midnight, the rains receded slowly and the clouds began to blow away in the breeze. Presently, a clear sky peeped up with twinkling stars. I got up from my bed and tiptoed out into the courtyard. At a corner room on the ground floor, Balwant Singh was also fast asleep. I didn’t disturb him and headed straight towards the temple. A rush of adrenaline gushed inside my body and a deep sense of adventure gripped me.

I went inside the temple. The lamp was flickering in the mild breeze and the darkness was prevailing inside the stone structure. I went in and took a quick look at the interior. My heart was beating fast. The huge dome-like roof seemed like the mouth of a Phantom, trying to engulf me. I gathered courage and went to the center and placed my feet on the Phantom’s footmarks engraved in stone. I was not scared but wanted to experience something that I had never experienced before. Presently, through the skylight, the bright soothing moonlight entered the room and fell on me. There was a romanticism in the entire ambience that I cannot depict on paper. I looked around and observed something interesting. On the four mirrors, placed on the four pillars, there was a reflection of me! Front the four directions… East, West, North and South… I could see myself!

Suddenly, everything became crystal clear in front of my eyes! The words engraved on the edifice started to make sense. I was amazed by the philosophy of Raja Shoorveer Arya…

We ourselves are The Phantom! We, the mortal, the privileged or underprivileged… we are blessed with this beautiful life. We must love ourselves, the gift of life! Only then can life help us love the men and women around us! There is no Phantom, no ghost… it is just we! Life needs to be cherished and we must love ourselves, our bodies our souls our lives! If we abuse them, then The Phantom suffers. If we love them, then only can we appreciate and take care of everything else.

I smiled at my realization. I understood that my anxiety and feeling of dejection about my own self and body was so very wrong. The cool breeze calmed my mind and body and I returned back to my room. I didn’t tell anything to Mehul or Balwant Singh about my experience. It is something that cannot be said, it is something that needs to be felt.

As I finish today’s journal entry, I urge myself, The Phantom of Chinarpur, The Phantom within me needs to cherish this gift of life forever!