soniasmusings

A new chemical bond

Trilok ran towards the assembly hall at the sound of the school bell. He had been playing football and barely noticed the playground becoming vacant. The class monitor was sure to reprimand him for coming late again. He could never convince anyone that his motivation for the school came from its playground.

After reaching his class, he was surprised to see a new girl sitting on the same bench that was designated for him and his friend Tushar. Tushar had moved to the bench in the next row. Their class teacher Nalini announced, “Class 7B, this is Trisha Sen. Her father has recently been transferred here from Delhi. Please extend your co-operation in helping her settle down.”

Trilok gave her an annoyed look. Their school had seating arrangements according to their names in the alphabetical order. That’s how Trisha had replaced Tushar. He decided to ignore her.

For Trisha, this was the fourth city and third school change. She was tired of adjusting to a new environment every few years. She was an outstanding student and very soon became a favorite with the teachers. However, that became a deterrent to fostering new friendships. Her bench mate Trilok had become quite vocal about his dislike for her. For the past one month, the jovial and friendly Trisha had started withdrawing into a shell.

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Let’s explore this together

Disha was packing the lunch box as her father Aravind Rao rushed inside the kitchen. She knew her father was a stickler for punctuality, “Appa, I’ve made puliograhe (tamarind rice) for lunch today.” Aravind smiled, “So I get to eat my favorite food on my last working day.”

Fifty-five-year-old Aravind worked as a postmaster in the only post office in his town. Disha had always been her father’s pet but it was the pain and grief of losing her mother that had strengthened their bond. Disha had just turned fourteen a month before her mother passed away due to cardiac arrest.

Despite not so favorable circumstances, Disha had been a meritorious student. Aravind had always been supportive of Disha pursuing a career although his friends and relatives had pestered him to get her married after she turned eighteen. Disha not secured admission in the only Engineering college in town but was also chosen for the scholarship.

In her final year, Disha was the first student to be recruited from the campus by India’s top IT company. Her job location demanded a daily commute of two hours from her native as she was unwilling to move away from her father. Once Disha settled down in her profile, she started convincing Aravind for voluntary retirement. Her father had struggled the whole life for her betterment. Now she wanted to let him relax.

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They coexist away from the crowd

Jane opened the door with her key. As she walked towards the sitting room, she heard sounds from John’s room. That idiot had again brought a girl home. Jane turned on the television to the maximum volume. Soon John came out of the room in a disheveled state with the fair and a voluptuous lass trailing behind him.

“Hey, didn’t hear you open the door. Meet my girlfriend Sandra. She is my colleague at the departmental store. Sandra, that’s my twin sister Jane.” Sandra gave a warm smile. Jane nodded curtly.

After John bade goodbye to Sandra, Jane asked, “It’s not even two months that we have moved here and you are already back to your philandering ways. I am really tired of this whole mess.”

“I like Sandra. I am hoping to make this work.” John assured Jane.

“I’ve heard this before. We have managed to escape twice but we might not be lucky the third time. Stop getting emotionally involved in relationships.” Jane was fuming. John shuddered at the recollection of the past incidents but he knew his heart was sold out to Sandra.

They coexist away from the crowd.png — *They coexist away from the crowd*

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The difficulty of making a choice

At the sound of a ringing doorbell, Tia looked at her wristwatch and cursed, “Which idiot wakes up at 11 am on a weekend?” Reluctantly, she got out of the bed, only to find her girlathon buddies outside. The group of nine women belonging to various age groups looked appalled. “Were you sleeping while we were completing our rounds for the day?” Tia helplessly looked at the enthusiastic bunch of women.

That night when her doctor boyfriend Sameer broke up for the third time in a row over her ridiculously lazy nature, Tia had returned to her apartment dead drunk. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at the tires of fat bursting out of her L-sized dress. In a fit of rage, she had vowed to get that revenge body like Katrina Kaif and make Sameer fall on his knees, begging her to come back.

In all her previous attempts related to fitness, she had never stuck to the regime beyond seven days. Her increasing cholesterol level had put Sameer on an alert making him personally handle her diet chart and fitness schedule. When Tia failed to stick to the instructions, all hell broke loose. But this time she was confident of her move. Her society had a fitness club and she had signed up for the upcoming girlathon-1k run which was basically marathon for amateur runners in the society.

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In search of the right purpose

Myra woke up to the sound of the alarm. The outside world was submerged in darkness but she had a mission to achieve. Changing into a t-shirt and track pants, she took out the newly purchased running shoes. As she left, her father smiled at her mother “Hadn’t I told you that the day Myra gets the right motivation, nothing can stop her?.”

Myra started her warm-up exercises in the society gym. At 5ft 3inches, her 85 kg frame had always invoked ridicule and laughter. It had started as a toddler when any random person would seek an opportunity to pull her chubby cheeks. As she grew up, the remarks changed to fat and ugly with people asking her to lose weight. Sarcastic statements and rude remarks related to her body had become a way of life. Despite an academic record that could put her peers to shame, she lost out on opportunities because of people’s mindset related to her overweight frame.

The cruelty and harshness of the world bothered her initially. Except for her parents, no one really understood how much it affected her. As Myra grew up, she was tired of one too many instances of body shaming. Using the veil of dry humor, she started retorting to those caustic remarks. A high-profile and well-paid job kept her busy. She had a couple of affairs in the past which mostly ended because of her weight. Her mother had tried various routes of an alliance but in vain.

In search of the right purpose - Bar-A-Thon — In search of the right purpose – Bar-A-Thon

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The phoenix rises out of the ashes

Winning story for the Lights, Camera, Chatter contest by Blogchatter.

The ambulance rushed through the empty lanes with the loud siren to keep signaling the emergency that its occupants were facing. Sanjay kept comforting his mother Renu, “You will be fine Mummy. Don’t worry. ” The unconscious frame of Renu in blood-soaked clothes was hardly in a condition to hear her son. His wife Gauri had been crying incessantly. Sitting beside the driver, Pema kept wondering about the fate of this family on vacation. She had been woken up by the call of a hotel staff Kodor who informed Pema about Renu’s fall.

The old lady had tumbled down the stairs and slipped into unconsciousness. Kodor had been manning the hotel reception at night though it was a rare occurrence at the hill station to see visitors check-in so late in the night. He immediately called Pema, the hotel manager who had brought the in-house doctor along. The doctor had suggested immediate admission to the nearby hospital though he had also expressed his doubts about the patients’ survival, considering the heavy blood loss and her age.

Pema was moved by the emotional state of Gauri. She must have loved Renu like her own mother, Pema thought. Rongapuri was a secluded hill station in North Bengal. The place ran on basic amenities. The Government hospital functioned despite minimum set-up and basic facilities. The nearest private hospital was a minimum of four hours journey in the hilly terrain and they had couldn’t afford to lose any more time.

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I write because of you

Dear Ma,

I have lost count of the number of letters I have written to you for the past 7 years. All I know is that there are going to be still many more. If only you had left behind an address where I could have posted them, you would have known how much your absence has affected me.

I am sure you know that I have become a writer now. The idea was planted in my head by you through constant encouragement on every single piece of my writing (even though some really deserved to be trashed). Baba – the Maths Professor took credit for any progress in the science subjects while arts was majorly your domain of expertise.

I was in the second standard when I wrote an essay by myself. I don’t even remember the topic today. All I remember is the butter-laden hot paratha as a reward for my efforts. As I grew up, I stopped involving you in my projects and assigned tasks but I know you never stopped reading my Bengali and English notebooks. Sometimes you came back with suggestions for improvement and I felt angry with you for interfering. I hope you know that it was my teenage confused mind. Because today I realize that you were the reason for me to keep writing. I might have inherited the love of reading from Baba but my love for penning down of thoughts came from you.

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The angel guards her steps

Father John came out of the board meeting with a heavy heart. The meeting had proceeded as per expectations which meant they only had two months time to shift to the new premises. As he handed over the signed documents to the new director of the board Rishabh Kundra, John felt utterly helpless.

“Father, this is the best we can do. Two months should give you and the school committee members sufficient time to get the new premises ready.”

John made one more feeble attempt, “But Sir, this building was allotted for this school by your late mother Savitri Devi. While undertaking of philanthropic work through her NGO, she had realized that very few schools in the city were welcoming towards the kids of the downtrodden and lower middle class. She wanted her charity work to continue through the education of these young minds. In the last fifteen years, we have had so many bright minds passing out from here.”

Rishabh had recently returned to the country from U.S. after completing his management course. He glared at the fifty-six year old Principal of Savitri Devi Memorial School (SDMS) with annoyance.

“Listen Father, I am neither interested nor do I have any intention to carry forward my late mother’s charity. She lacked business acumen and was incapable of leading Kundra group of companies. I am a businessman whose sole interest is maximizing profits and expansion of business. Your school looks like a good proposition to me on paper. That’s because it takes care of the Kundra group’s corporate social responsibility. Precisely the reason why I am not shutting it down by withdrawing all forms of support. However it is a loss making proposition. So I have decided to tighten the finances allocated to running this school. Besides why do you want those lowly kids to enjoy so many facilities when they can’t even pay a single penny for them? It would rather do you good to accept that SDMS has to move to the old factory site that is to be designated as the new school building henceforth. I intend to turn this well spaced-out structure into a leading B-school. And that would be the end to any further discussion on this subject.” Rishabh gave a final nod as John left dejected.

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Love in the sands of time

Samar stood on the balcony smoking. He had given up cigarettes long back but today was different. He was both stressed and excited. Shikha had been noticing her husband for the past few days. Between the two of them he seemed the one most affected by Myra’s wedding. She decided to take a momentary break from the list of things to be completed before the rituals started in the evening.

“Samar, do you want tea?”

Samar turned around. His eyes were moist.

“How will she manage without us? And how will I stay without her in our house?”

“She’s getting married. You should be happy for our daughter. She would be broken if she knew what her father’s going through. Tirtha is a great guy. He is surely going to ensure that Myra stays happy and pampered.” Shikha held Samar’s hand.

With a grip on his emotions, Samar went out to attend to his fatherly duties in a while as Shikha continued with her instructions over the phone.

The wedding was planned as a private affair in Goa. The bride and groom had decided for a registered marriage. Neither believed in social customs and rituals. Only handpicked relatives from Myra and Tirtha’s extended families were invited. Few of their close friends had been called. They had thought of throwing a reception party afterwards. Royal grand resort was one of the few five-star resorts with the facility of a private beach. Today the beach area had been converted into a wedding venue.

Myra had chosen a baby pink gown while Tirtha picked up a blue Tuxedo suit. The guests had started arriving. Samar went inside his room to bring Shikha. The gorgeous red Mysore silk suited Shikha’s plump and dusky frame. She had chosen to wear her own wedding saree on the day their daughter stepped into a new life. Samar gently touched the wheel chair. Her eyes and smile still managed to make him fall in love. They hugged briefly before Samar wheeled Shikha out towards the venue.

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Dreams and wheels under his feet

The sound of azan from the mosque nearby woke up Pratim. His body was tired from the extra load that he had to carry yesterday. But he knew that he didn’t have the luxury to sleep any longer. Pratim got up from the floor. He looked at the exhausted frame of his mother lying on the floor in another corner of the room. Pratim went outside to wash his face and attend to nature’s call. Gulping down some water from the tube-well, he went inside to get ready. He took out the only pair of second-hand running clothes that he had managed to buy from the cheap Khanna Market. They had cost him his weekly pay but he knew that they were a necessity. Then he took out his most prized possession – a pair of blue running shoes.

The street outside was still dark. His lane was darker than the rest of the town. The town municipality cared about the downtrodden only when the elections arrived. Until then the lanes didn’t even exist in their books. Pratim crossed two streets and then started running. Even the wee hours of the morning brought along heat and humidity. Barring a couple of street dogs, there was no other form of living creature visible on the road. Lewis Sir had told Pratim that he would be waiting on the beach by 5:30 am. Pratim couldn’t afford a watch. But he had learnt to adjust his daily timing to the morning azan. The beach was a 10km run from this area and Pratim had been covering this distance every single day for the past two and half months.

While running alone, Pratim always thought about his father Anukul Saha and their village Shyamlapur. They had owned a small tea shop near the village bus stand. His mother Radha also assisted in the shop whenever the crowd grew in numbers. The room adjacent to the shop was their residence. Pratim studied at the municipality school. He managed to just – about pass in all the subjects but had been marked as the best athlete that the village school had ever produced. By the age of twelve, he had already won all the sports awards in the district related to running. Life would have gone as usual until the last panchayat elections a year back.

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