THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 18): JACKFRUIT

“Not all wars are won by bullets and cannons! Some are also won by conviction and reason! And some are won with… JACKFRUIT!”. Indeed, the power of conviction is so big that it can move an entire generation. At this stage of my disease, I too need to hone up this power and thus I am noting down this story today. I strongly believe that with my strength of belief, I shall be able to regain my personality through the contents noted amid the pages of this journal. But JACKFRUIT? Yes, indeed, this is an interesting story that I must remember!

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I understood the value of the above statement from my beloved uncle Major Dr. Paramveer Singh. Yes, uncle Singh was my father’s childhood buddy who often visited us in Mumbai during his vacations. I loved his company especially because of the bouquet of interesting stories he used to garner. Being a soldier, uncle Singh had seen many places and had been through many difficult situations from which he had been able to gather wide experiences that he weaved into interesting stories. I remember spending entire afternoons listening to his discourses. Today I am noting down an incidence that happened when I was in the middle of my teenage and uncle Singh had just returned from his commission from Kashmir.

Baba was overjoyed to play host to his old pal while Maa and Aunt Padma were thrilled with the arrival of their lovable brother. I was happy because I would be able to extract my share of adventure stories from uncle Singh over the next few days. Major Dr. Paramveer Singh was single and had his home in Delhi, where his old parents lived. However, he himself preferred to roam around the stretch of the country and dreamt of becoming a globe trotter one day. He was a doctor in the army and had been with the troops through thick and thin. He had treated ailing soldiers and had also held the rifle to counter the enemy. Still, he strongly believed in the philosophy of peace and harmony.

That monsoon, Major Dr. Paramveer Singh arrived like a gust of wind, with a dash of freshness, and filled our house with an energy that all of us savored. The trickling drops of rain were in harmony with the vibrancies that he carried. Maa and Aunt Padma ensured that the best recipes are served and Baba took a leave for three days from office, to spend some quality time with his old buddy.

It was a Saturday morning and I came up to uncle Singh, who was sitting on the couch and reading a newspaper. I sat beside him and said, “Uncle, where is my quota of your collection of stories this time?”

Uncle Singh folded back the newspaper, sat back with an air of relaxation and said, “Pravin, my boy, not all wars are won by bullets and cannons! Some are won by conviction and reason! And some are won with… JACKFRUIT!”

“Uncle, is this the topic of our story today?” I asked enthusiastically.

“Yes! Today I will not tell you an adventure story. Instead, I will relate to you something I did a few years ago. I am sure you would enjoy it and also get a good lesson from it. Trust me, JACKFRUIT can do wonders!”, he added.

I nodded my head in agreement and sat back on the couch while uncle Paramveer Singh began, “My ancestral village Bikrampur in Madhya Pradesh is one of the remotest villages that exists in this country! I don’t think anybody has ever heard of Bikrampur and I don’t expect anyone to do so in future also. The location of the village is so far away from modernization that the residents of the village have maintained their rural beliefs from time immemorial. Yet, I, Major Dr. Paramveer Singh, managed to come out of that abode with my parents and made my place as a doctor in the Indian Army! I have seen many wars, fought amid valiant soldiers, provided treatment to ailing men and had trotted across remote lands, as part of my duty to the Indian Army!”

“A few years ago, when I visited Bikrampur after many years, I was surprised to see that the villagers had developed a kind of respect and high regard for me, which made me feel somewhat godly!” uncle Singh continued, “Even though I was a bit uncomfortable with this treatment, I refrained from protesting. One thing that I observed, was the sedentary lifestyle of the aging men and women in the village, due to lack of any inspiration. Most of the elderly folks preferred to stay within the premises of their houses and hardly engaged in a healthy and hygienic lifestyle. I understood that the reason for a rising trend of lifestyle diseases was due to this routine. However, there was no manner in which anybody convince them, who were more engrossed in their daily chores and respective religious activities. The modern amenities of urban India had not creeped into their lives and the sentiments of the folks remained rural. The younger folks worked in the fields, while the middle-aged and the elderly remained mostly inactive. This was truer for the women, compared to the male population, and thus the mortality rate sharply degraded due to slithering diseases.”

“My childhood friend Vishnu was a fruit-seller in the village and lived a life of destitution. His income was low and he had to feed his wife and three children with that meagre earning. One item that he grew in his garden was jackfruit. I must say, Vishnu’s jackfruits were the sweetest and the tastiest ones I had ever tasted. But, unfortunate only a handful of the residents of Bikrampur bought them!”, said uncle Singh.

He continued, “So I hatched a plan. Since the elderly folks in the village held me in high regard, I called a congregation of all the villagers, one evening. They considered me as a great doctor and I used that bait to fulfil my intention. I told the folks that through my medical research I had invented a superpower within dried jackfruit pulp that has the capacity to give enormous vitality within humans, especially women, and can triple their life expectancy!”

I chuckled on hearing the story while uncle Singh said, “At first the people were skeptical but I convinced them that after eating the dried jackfruit pulp for a few days, every person would be able to walk ten rounds along huge playground adjacent to my house! I had seen the perimeter of the playground remains mostly barren throughout the day and used it as part of my plan.”

Uncle Singh continued to speak animatedly, “Even though suspicious, the villagers agreed to my proposal and since Vishnu was the only jackfruit seller in the village, everybody flocked in front of his house for one! Within just a few days, the conviction yielded fruit and the men and women came out from their sedentary lives and the playground became vibrant with activity! The perimeter of the playground gathered human momentum and soon my plan succeeded.”

“So, did the jackfruit pulp indeed have a superpower?” I asked uncle Singh.

“I don’t know Pravin. But the power of conviction helped in two ways. The lifestyles of the elderly men and women changed and made them more mobile. This resulted in higher life expectancy and lesser diseases. On the other hand, Vishnu was able to increase his earnings almost tenfold!”

“The war against illiteracy and superstition was won with the power of belief! I indeed won that war!” finished uncle Singh.

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Today, after so many years, as I recall that story which uncle Paramveer Singh told me, I make a promise to myself… it is a conviction that I impose on myself that I shall never lose hope. Every time I would see a JACKFRUIT, I shall remember the story and I am sure that it will give me strength to fight all odds that would come in front of me.

THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 17): PRESSURE COOKER

Every day is new learning… I learnt it from my Baba ever since my childhood. Today I plan to note down one such learning that I received from him many years ago, when I was a child. I must say, that Baba’s practical teachings had been an integral part of my character and today, as I sit and wait to face the ultimate fate of my ailment, I feel the urge to note down this vital learning for my future.

A word that often haunts us in life is “Pressure”! We all face situations of social pressure, economic pressure, romantic pressure, emotional pressure and so many other varieties of this invisible element of a modern lifestyle! As a child, I too was no exception to this.

Every year, after my annual school examinations, Baba used to take us on a vacation. When I was in class nine, I remember, Baba took us to Darjeeling for vacation. Maa, Aunt Padma, Baba and I reached the picturesque hill station with an overburden of luggage and hearts overloaded with excitement for exploring the beautiful mountains girdling this small district town in the eastern part of our country. Darjeeling enthralled me with its scenic beauty, natural bounty and a breathtaking view of the Kanchenjunga!

Baba had rented a “Holiday Home” for us. It was a small but quaint bungalow with a scenic view of the mountains. Located in the outskirts of the town, our place was perfect for a serene getaway into the lap of Mother Nature. The small garden outside the bungalow reflected a colorful vibe with its bouquet of numerous flowers. Soon after we arrived, Maa and Aunt Padma became busy with the cooking as soon as we arrived and I roamed around with Baba to explore the town.

Two days passed and the freshness of the hills rejuvenated our thirsty souls. The pressure of studies during the annual examination had drained me out completely. The mountains cleared much of that cloudy burden. One afternoon, I sat beside Baba and asked, “Baba, I feel so much pressure of studies in school. Why is life becoming so stressful? Why can’t we be stress free always?”

Baba smiled at me and said, “Come with me and I will show you why…”

I followed Baba as he walked up to the kitchen. Maa and Aunt Padma were busy with their cooking chores. Baba asked me, “What is your Maa doing?”

I replied, “She is cooking vegetables in the pressure cooker.”

Baba smiled back again and said, “Do you know why?”

I answered smartly, “Because in a high altitude the vegetables do not get cooked as the boiling point of water changes with the atmospheric pressure!”

Baba took me out to the garden and added, “Pravin, our lives are also girdled with beautiful things all the time and the natural atmospheric pressure differs. Thus, when we face the syllabus of studies or the workload at office, our minds cannot process them!”

I looked at Baba silently while he continued, “Consider your life as a pressure cooker. With the stress of steam you can achieve the unachievable! The vegetables get cooked in no time inside the pressure cooker. Similarly, we accomplish our studies and our workloads inside the pressure cooker named LIFE!”

“But Baba, too much pressure would burst the entire cooker and lead to an accident!” I protested.

“Listen carefully, can you hear something?” asked Baba.

I could hear the whistle of the pressure cooker and said, “Yes, it is the whistling of the pressure cooker.”

“Exactly son! Every pressure cooker needs to have a safety vent! It is this vent that produces the whistle and relieves the stress! Thus your vegetables get cooked properly and the pressure is released too, without an accident!”

I could not hold back a smile at this beautiful example from Baba. He said, “Son, this annual vacation with family is the safety vent! The thrill that we are enjoying in this beautiful surrounding is the whistle of the pressure cooker! Always remember, every PRESSURE COOKER in life needs to have a safety vent and a loud whistle!”

Baba patted on my shoulder as the two of us headed back inside the bungalow. Maa and Aunt Padma served us with freshly made “Lassi” and the four of us sat down for a chat. The vacation got over soon, but the impact of the simple learning remained within me forever.

As I write today, I cannot help but realize how true the learning was! Baba taught me something so important through an example that was so simple. Indeed, life is simple, the whole world is simple, we should not complicate it with the burden of stress. Even when my amnesia erases my mind, I must remember the PRESSURE COOKER and how it can help me achieve great feats. After I finish my writing, I shall go down and give Aunt Padma a big hug! It is a vent; it is the whistle that would keep the pressure cooker safe in my life!

THE FLOATING DIARY (Short Story Journal – 16): PLANTAIN FLOWER

Often a thought of remorse grips my imagination, ever since my disease had begun erasing my memory. I started to write this diary so that I can reinvent myself after my memory is completely obliterated. However, I don’t know whether this experiment will work or not. It is just an endeavor that I am making to fight back an encroaching unknown darkness.

Yet, at times, a sorrow overcomes me and tells me that soon I would become obsolete and redundant and a waste to this wide and colorful world. It is a question that has plagued my mind, until I found an answer from somebody from who I least expected to get it.

Ramu Goral, the vegetable vendor, has been visiting our locality with his small wooden vegetable vending cart from a time I cannot even remember now! I can only recall that I had seen him in this locality ever since we arrived in Mumbai and settled in this apartment. That means, since my childhood, Ramu Goral had been selling vegetables to the residents of our housing society. He must be an octogenarian, considering the fact that he has been around for a very long time. However, till yesterday, the arrival of Ramu was like a routine task that took place around my house and I had never bothered much about him. I had seen him almost every day, I had looked at his vegetable loaded cart too, but have never given it much attention.

Today morning, I was standing near the window when I saw Ramu. A strange inquisitiveness gripped my imagination and I summoned him to wait and went downstairs. I had never looked at Ramu with so much scrutiny, but today I did. He was a short man of around five and a half feet of height, he had a thin emaciated body while his skin looked crumpled due to the burden of age. Yet, the remarkable part was his vibrant energy and the high pitched voice that this seemingly old and feeble man carried.  I was completely taken aback by the power in his expressions and the animation with which he was hawking his vegetables.

I asked, “Hi Ramu. I had been seeing you ever since my childhood. I am really amazed by the energy you carry, compared to your age!”

Ramu smiled in return, while wiping away the drops of sweat from his forehead. I fiddled with the vegetables from his cart in order to continue the conversation and bought some too. This brought a satisfactory expression on his face.

A sudden thought struck my mind and I asked Ramu, “There is something that I had often wondered in my subconscious mind, but today I would like to ask you. Why is it that you always carry so many Plantain Flowers in your cart every day? As far as I can remember, I had never seen your cart without the presence of this vegetable! Is there anything special about it?”

Ramu smiled at me again and said with an air of respite, “Sir, there is a little story about the Plantain Flower and it is not just a mere vegetable! Would you like to listen to it?”

I felt amused and agreed to his proposal and Ramu began his little speech, “Sir, the Plantain Flower has so much to teach us! I carry it in my cart not only to sell it but also as a source of energy for myself. The Banana tree is born from the Plantain Flower and it is a tree that never goes waste! Every part of the Banana tree has some good use to mankind, be it nutrition or household applications. And the source to genesis lies in the Plantain Flower which grows atop every Banana tree and then moves on to give birth to another!”

A smile came over my lips while I continued to listen to Ramu, “Sir, I am eighty-seven years old now, but ever since I was a five-year old child, I had been working hard to earn a living for my family. First it was for my mother and then for my wife and children and now for my grandchildren.”

He added further, “My son was a fisherman and the waves of the Arabian Sea engulfed him two years ago. He left his widow and two toddlers. My wife passed away last year. However, I cannot rest now. I must make myself useful, I cannot go redundant. I must be like the Plantain Flower and yield prosperity for my daughter-in-law and my grandchildren. The stack of Plantain Flowers in my cart gives me a constant power and tells me that I am not redundant yet, I can never be so!”

Ramu went away with his cart but I stood on the footpath for a few more minutes contemplating whatever I just heard. The negative thoughts about the encroaching unknown darkness cleared away from my mind. The story of Ramu and the Plantain Flower opened my eyes.

I said to myself, “Whatever happens, I would never be redundant. There is so much left to be done, so much I need to know, so much I need to give. I too am like a Plantain Flower, and can never go waste, whatever happens!”

The faint outline of Ramu and his vegetable cart was still visible at the end of the road. However, his shrill and strong voice was clearly audible. I smiled, turned around and went back home with a contented heart.