"I will have more students in my class if you allow the Dalit kids to join. That way our school survives."
"But you're doubling up your work my dear, because you will be teaching them after school under that tree."
"I will take this bargain to begin with.".
She fell in love with his poem. She gathered the courage to write to him anonymously, her feelings for 'The Endless Love'.
"No. It's perfect. Let me post it," said her best friend.
Days later, came his reply.
They exchanged letters regularly. Feelings were mutual.
Years passed by, married life seemed strangely different.
And, tragedy strikes. His Bone Marrow Transplant. Doctors found ONE matching donor, who refused.
"Please let me try."
"Okay," they said, giving her the details.
"It's you?!! Why take my anger out on him?"
"I want YOU to tell him the truth," she said. .
She: You know today I met a lady and she was asking about you.
He: About me? Really?
She: We are married 30 years and you are still an enigma.
He: Come on, what's the problem?
She: That lady has been searching for you so many years.
He: What did you say?
She: I have invited her for dinner.
He: What do you mean?
Just then the bell rang. She went and opened the door.
They both came into the room. He looked at his mom and fell at her feet crying.
He: Please forgive me..
à¤•à¤°à¤¨à¤¾à¤² à¤¸à¥à¤Ÿà¥‡à¤¶à¤¨ à¤ªà¤° à¤•à¤®à¤²à¤¾ à¤®à¤¾à¤ à¤•à¥‹ à¤•à¥Œà¤¨ à¤¨à¤¹à¥€à¤‚ à¤ªà¤¹à¤šà¤¾à¤¨à¤¤à¤¾, à¤²à¤—à¤à¤— 8 à¤¸à¤¾à¤² 6 à¤®à¤¹à¥€à¤¨à¥‡ 22 à¤¦à¤¿à¤¨ à¤¹à¥‹ à¤—à¤, à¤®à¥à¤à¥‡ à¤¹à¥€ à¤¦à¥‡à¤–à¤¤à¥‡à¥¤ à¤•à¤®à¤²à¤¾ à¤®à¤¾à¤ à¤¯à¤¹à¤¾à¤ à¤à¤• à¤†à¤® à¤¸à¤«à¤¾à¤ˆ à¤•à¤°à¥à¤®à¤šà¤¾à¤°à¥€ à¤¥à¥€à¥¤ à¤¸à¤¾à¤²à¥‹à¤‚ à¤ªà¤¹à¤²à¥‡ à¤‡à¤¨à¤•à¥€ à¤¨à¥Œà¤•à¤°à¥€ à¤¸à¥‡ à¤¯à¥‡ à¤°à¤¿à¤Ÿà¤¾à¤¯à¤° à¤¹à¥‹à¤šà¥à¤•à¥€ à¤¹à¥ˆà¤‚à¥¤ à¤ªà¤° à¤ªà¥‡à¤‚à¤¶à¤¨ à¤•à¥€ à¤•à¤¾à¤°à¤µà¤¾à¤¹à¥€ à¤®à¤¾à¤¨à¥‹ à¤¬à¥€à¤®à¤¾à¤° à¤¹à¥‹, à¤†à¤—à¥‡ à¤¬à¥à¤¨à¥‡ à¤•à¤¾ à¤¨à¤¾à¤® à¤¹à¥€ à¤¨à¤¹à¥€à¤‚ à¤²à¥‡à¤¤à¥€à¥¤ à¤‡à¤¸ à¤¤à¤ªà¤¤à¥€ à¤†à¤— à¤®à¥‡à¤‚ à¤œà¥€à¤¨à¥‡ à¤•à¥€ à¤‰à¤®à¥à¤®à¥€à¤¦ à¤†à¤à¤–à¥‹à¤‚ à¤®à¥‡à¤‚ à¤¬à¤¸à¤¾à¤¯à¥‡ à¤à¤• à¤›à¤¤à¤°à¥€ à¤•à¤¾ à¤¸à¤¹à¤¾à¤°à¤¾ à¤²à¤¿à¤, à¤†à¤œ à¤«à¤¿à¤° à¤…à¤ªà¤¨à¥‡ à¤²à¤¾à¤šà¤¾à¤° à¤¸à¤µà¤¾à¤²à¥‹à¤‚ à¤•à¥€ à¤Ÿà¥‹à¤•à¤°à¥€ à¤¸à¥€à¤¨à¥‡ à¤¸à¥‡ à¤²à¤—à¤¾à¤ à¤¹à¤¾à¥›à¤¿à¤° à¤¹à¥‹à¤—à¤¯à¥€, à¤²à¥‹à¤—à¥‹à¤‚ à¤•à¥‡ à¤à¥‚à¤ à¥‡ à¤µà¤¾à¤¦à¥‡ à¤¸à¥à¤¨à¤¨à¥‡à¥¤ à¤¨à¤¾ à¤œà¤¾à¤¨à¥‡ à¤à¤¸à¥€ à¤•à¤¿à¤¤à¤¨à¥€ à¤®à¤¾à¤ à¤•à¥€ à¤‰à¤®à¥à¤®à¥€à¤¦ à¤…à¤§à¥‚à¤°à¥€ à¤¹à¥‹à¤—à¥€, à¤à¤• à¤…à¤šà¥à¤›à¥‡ à¤œà¥€à¤µà¤¨ à¤•à¥€ à¤¤à¤²à¤¾à¤¶ à¤®à¥‡à¤‚à¥¤.
There is â€˜no country for old manâ€˜, cried Ishtar Devi, Come with me where your life will have more value. Sunita was already so devastated, She did not know where to go, Sunil and Reeta had thrown her out of the house, Evening was drawing close and feeling lost she started walking with Ishtar Devi. Another man joined them, Ishtar Devi told her, your body will give you solace.
The newspaper read next day: Body of elderly lady found near garbage, her vital body parts missing!
-It's there. Take first right then turn left after marriage hall. Old age home is the next building.
-Are you alone?
-And your son?
-He runs a shop in this city.
-What a pity! He left you alone in this hot summer to find a place to live a meaningless life. How our own children become so heartless.
-It's not like that. Today my son is organizing a 'Preet bhoj' there. I want to surprise him.
My son lost his father in his childhood. He feels serving the old is a way to serve his father. .
I am in search for happiness, can you please guide me to where I can find that?
Oh, you too are searching for happiness like all of them. As I said to all of them, here is my word for you, there is no way to happiness. It is within us. It is that feeling which gives us smile, which comes from within our hearts. It is not about looking road to happiness. It is about exploring within oneself, for options where one gets that sense of satisfaction in our hearts which makes us smile..
As a writer I have lived many lives but have shown path to very few.
I always wanted to though.
Now at the age of 65, I am happily retired from all the chores of my life, just for one cause â€“ to live for others, to guide them, to empower a few more.
I visit this park every day. Guiding people around - no matter how younger or older they are, this gives me peace. At the end of the day the writer in me pats my back â€“ for living hundred more lives each day for motivating others..
â€œHow is Tanush today?â€, Anita asked, as soon as she met her friend Sangita.
â€œNo temperature today, but he is still weak. Shruti is at home todayâ€, replied her friend.
The frown on Anitaâ€™s forehead deepened, â€œHe was playing in that park the other day. It was raining! Before I could reach, Shruti had come.â€
Sangita patted her friendâ€™s shoulder, â€œHe cries for you in his sleep.â€
Anita sobbed; both friends hugged each other. They were now partners in pain.
Once best friends, the women now met here to talk, since their children had divorced.
She had always been a rebel of a kind, even at her times. Born in the 60's, her demeanor drew a lot of flak. NGO's had not mushroomed yet; keen on educating the destitute, she set forth into the slums. Now she's a headmistress of a reputed school. Teaching in an open field.
"If Trudeau can teach sitting atop a tree, then why not me", she mused.
While amidst a heated debate with her former classmate and bully, she gave it back to her.
'à¤¤à¥à¤® à¤¸à¥à¤•à¤¨à¥à¤¯à¤¾ à¤¹à¥‹ à¤¨à¤¾, à¤…à¤°à¤®à¤¾à¤¨ à¤•à¥€ à¤¦à¥€à¤¦à¥€ ?'
'à¤à¥‚à¤² à¤—à¤ˆ...à¤…à¤°à¤®à¤¾à¤¨ à¤•à¥€ à¤¸à¤‚à¤—à¥€à¤¤ à¤ªà¤¾à¤ à¤¶à¤¾à¤²à¤¾?'
'à¤“à¤¹, à¤—à¥à¤°à¥‚ à¤®à¤¾à¤..., à¤•à¤¿à¤¤à¤¨à¥€ à¤¬à¤¦à¤² à¤—à¤ˆà¤‚ à¤¹à¥ˆà¤‚ ! à¤®à¤¾à¤¸à¥à¤Ÿà¤° à¤œà¥€ à¤•à¥ˆà¤¸à¥‡ à¤¹à¥ˆà¤‚?'
à¤¬à¤¾à¤¤à¤šà¥€à¤¤ à¤¸à¥‡ à¤œà¥à¤žà¤¾à¤¤ à¤¹à¥à¤† à¤•à¤¿ à¤®à¤¾à¤¸à¥à¤Ÿà¤° à¤¦à¥€à¤¨à¤¾à¤¨à¤¾à¤¥ à¤•à¥‹ à¤—à¥à¤œà¤¼à¤°à¥‡ à¤•à¥à¤› à¥« à¤µà¤°à¥à¤· à¤¹à¥‹ à¤šà¤²à¥‡ à¤¥à¥‡ à¥¤
'à¤…à¤°à¥‡, à¤‰à¤¸à¥€ à¤•à¥‡ à¤ªà¤¾à¤¸ à¤°à¤¹à¤¤à¥€ à¤¹à¥‚à¤, à¤šà¤²à¥€ à¤†à¤¨à¤¾ à¤…à¤°à¤®à¤¾à¤¨ à¤•à¥‹ à¤²à¤¿à¤¯à¥‡ à¤•à¤à¥€ !'
à¤•à¥à¤‚à¤ à¤¿à¤¤ à¤†à¤à¤–à¥‹à¤‚ à¤•à¥€ à¤†à¤ªà¤¸à¥€ à¤¬à¤¾à¤¤ à¤‡à¤¸ à¤¬à¤¾à¤¤à¤šà¥€à¤¤ à¤¸à¥‡ à¤•à¤¹à¥€à¤‚ à¤—à¤¹à¤°à¥€ à¤¥à¥€ à¥¤
à¤¸à¥à¤•à¤¨à¥à¤¯à¤¾ 'à¤²à¥‡à¤¡à¥€à¤œà¤¼ à¤¹à¥‰à¤¸à¥à¤Ÿà¤²' à¤•à¥€ à¤“à¤° à¤¬à¤¢à¤¼à¥€, à¤¤à¥‹ à¤—à¥à¤°à¥‚ à¤®à¤¾à¤ 'à¤µà¥ƒà¤¦à¥à¤§à¤¾à¤¶à¥à¤°à¤®' à¤•à¥€ à¤¤à¤°à¤«à¤¼ ! .
No one took Mrs. Chandrasekhar seriously when suddenly she started noticing one of her old students in the school playground!
"Look, Jamila! There she is, as always. Avoiding Maths for a game of badminton!"
"That can't be Jamila, Mrs. Chandrasekhar! She passed out twenty years ago! You're growing old!" I kept telling her.
Until one day, I shockingly noticed a Jamila lookalike in Mrs. Chandrasekhar's room. "Look, my Jamila!"
Only months later, I chanced upon an unopened telegram addressed to Chandra ma'am:
False charges of murder. Escaping country. Daughter in your custody. Called Jamila too.
Girija and Lakshmi, lifelong friends and rivals would meet each month. Each woman would spend the previous month conjuring up a well to do story upon which to outdo the other. If Girijaâ€™s husband was promoted one month, Lakshmiâ€™s would report of her husbandâ€™s ridiculous pay increase the next month! When Lakshmiâ€™s daughter qualified as a doctor, Girijaâ€™s announced the following month her son was now a surgeon! The only thing that both could harmoniously agree upon was that neither could ever recollect where they parked their car!
â€œGirija, I think we parked the car over thereâ€.
â€œI am never going to wear my necklace again in my life. Itâ€™s very difficult to cope with all the creepy stares, dirty comments and unwanted physical contacts from the commoners of this kingdom on street. This way I feel safe to roam around in this City.â€ Mellissa said with utter annoyance in her voice to Melisandre. â€œYes, I agree. This is much better. But you know what, on my way here one pervert made pass at me anyways.â€ Both red priestesses then shifted their conversation to gentler topic of fire magic..
One sunny afternoon, when the world appeared to be standstill, they met again after several weeks.
They first met in the park which they frequented with their husbands, they had both suffered minor stroke. The two frequented the park, bringing their husbands for a stroll. Both looking tired, weary and worried. Their friendship grew. Then one day, Gangamma didn't come. Lakshmi was worried all day when Gangamma didnâ€™t turn up. The next day, Lakshmiâ€™s husband passed away. She now knew why Gangamma stopped.
Today, both looked visibly relieved, as if a weight had been lifted off their chest..
"It has always been inevitable that he would leave, one day, and never come back. There has never been any other choice but for him to go, and for me to let him. There is no alternate dimension where he said, or I said, weâ€™ll get the vegetables tomorrow, it can wait. My husband has dementia, he forgets. Now I lost him, have you seen my husband? He left this morning and never came back."
"Velluamma, your husband is at home, where you left him, 8 years ago. You forgot that he doesn't have dementia, but you do.
Once upon a time, water in abundance flowed in the river. People were happy. And then water started becoming less and less. Nobody knew the reason. Committees of wise men were constituted, but they had no answer to when the water would return. Nature is angry, said the less wise people. Government wanted to create jobs; so guards were appointed to prevent people from stealing scarce water. And then one day, water completely disappeared. Corrupt guards stay at home today and still draw their salaries. Except for that solitary guard..
The scorching heat did not damper the spirits of this lady in search of his son. She went from one corner of the city to another hoping for some relief but all she got in return was pain and agony. She last heard her sonâ€™s voice reverberate in the park. She came to the park and inquired with a lady friend about the whereabouts only to face despair once again.
She was so affected with Alzheimerâ€™s disease that she forgot her son had become a martyr and laid his life serving for the country.
â€œSwami has told me everything, Mrs. Muralidharan.â€
â€œI..I donâ€™t understand.â€
â€œYou beat my son black and blue with your umbrella. Come with me to the principalâ€™s office, now!â€
As the drama unfolded before Swami, he hid his face with an umbrella after throwing his report card in the dustbin. Not only did he fail in Mathematics, he had also been beaten by his meth dealer for delayed payments. He reveled in silence though. The sexual abuse had lasted for years. â€œSweetheart, you must always lieâ€, she had taught him in her office during the lunch period..
35 years back she had chosen to marry him, against her father's will. They'd fled. To a different city, in an unknown state.
After 35 years, and receiving the news of her father's demise years back, she decided to come back to her home.
As she walked hand in hand with him, she stopped midway noticing a familiar figure from far. Instantly he knew and crossed the road.
'Are you happy?'
'Yes mother. More happy than I ever was at home.'
'Who is he?'
She pointed out.
Her mother wished she had made the same mistake..
"Why is the school so quiet today? "
"They, they killed the Principal, the majors' children next, without making any demands only brutally killing all innocent children."
"What are you saying?"
"He looked familiar behind the mask, like my neighbour's son. I hadn't seen him since I believed his whole family was massacred. The women were dragged and taken away on the streets and.. I thought he didn't get away."
"Did you talk him into surrendering?"
"I tried but then his accomplice showed up. Both of them started firing aimlessly."
"Then how'd you escape?"
" I didn't.".
Two middle-aged friends standing on a shady street; one of them wanted to be an actress and spent all her youth chasing her dream. She was independent and free, but could never find a love while the other was a housewife, another victim of child marriage. Assaulted by the husband all of her life until she decided to move on. Two women, two stories of highs and lows, ups and downs with one story of friendship to cherish. When time lapses and youth is gone, a hand of friendship is all that we want. .
One moment it was all unreal, quiet and peaceful. Nobody was talking more than required. There was nothing beyond an occasional friendly banter.
Then Kanti-ben told Saraswati-tai, "Did you know the watchman is said to have a second wife in the city..."
Ancient myth had it that when the stars were aligned in a fixed pattern, any act covered by a triangle formation witnessed by dual elements of nature, would have a multiplying effect on that species.
Turned out the watchman wanted his wife to stop taking him for a ride. The women folk suddenly started gossiping..