The Trophy

Short Story

The twirling continues to the never ending music and his infinite energy. He smiles and pulls me closer. I know he wants me to smile, loosen a bit, look around, pretend to enjoy. My eyes take a sensuous sheen when I relax, he says. I have had a couple of glasses of wine, one more than what I usually take, at his insistence. But it doesn’t help, knowing…

Knowing that the show will end, when the guests depart, the chandeliers are switched off, and the red dress will be off. I will be left alone in the gilded palace, lonely on the four poster bed, cold silken sheets… listening to my own yearning breaths, aching. 

My fingers tighten on his, to bind him to me, and never let him go. He flashes his handsome smile again, but the next second, glances at the figure near the pillar, to the one who holds his heart, his devotion, his soul. I ache… oh how I wish…

Bringing his gaze back to the audience, he steers me around the periphery of the dance floor to show me off to his friends, relatives and the world. His trophy wife; envied by thousands, ignored by the one, perfect on the outside but broken inside.

Yet, I have lost my right to protest, the day I made the pact with him. This is my choice, my destiny… for it was I, who once rejected true love and coveted the golden cage. 

It was I, who chose to be a trophy… 

For the Picture Prompt by The Book Club

Ancient Wisdom

Story:

Amma was a formidable lady in her white starched sari, always in control and in-charge. I had never seen her frazzled, angry or upset with anyone or anything. Was there some ancient mantra she practiced? I thought.

She played various roles of an adviser, companion, friend, or she was sometimes an adversary for my aunts or simply a responsibility for my uncles. Though she was my maternal grandmother, she became my amma or mother, after my parents passed away long time back.

‘Why is aunt always thinking about my cousins and not me, she never tells me to study or scolds me?’ I asked amma one day. 

She looked at me thoughtfully and smiled, but remained silent. 

That day amma didn’t call me for dinner! This was the first time in thirteen years, she ate without me.

I was upset, close to crying and didn’t speak to her. I sat, sulking, under the banyan tree in the courtyard the next day. Suddenly, I felt something moist touching my feet; it was a small brown Labrador pup licking my toes. Overjoyed I squealed and picked it up. Amma was standing smiling at my delight.

‘Why amma, is this an apology?’ I asked in my superior tone cuddling the pup.

‘No child, it’s time you learn a lesson,’ she said and sat beside me. ‘When you expected I will have dinner with you and I didn’t. You were hurt and sad. Today you got a gift without any expectations, it brought you pleasure.’ She lovingly stroked my hair. ‘While having expectations from someone close to you is healthy, but having hopes from everyone will bring you pain and disappointment.’ 

I sat there nodding my head, absorbing her wisdom mantra.

‘But, promise me you will never have dinner without me, ever.’

She chuckled, ‘Never.’

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Chemical Magic

Picture Story

“What have you done?” Alvina whispered taking out her wand. “Which incantation did you chant? Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” Kimbra mumbled, chewing her cloak’s strings.

“Look’s like a potion making room,” Alvina said.

The tubes and bottles glinted as faint sunlight filtered through wide rectangular openings. Alvina fingered the smooth glass tubes. They didn’t have such smooth and same sized ones in their academia.

“Are we in the future or in the past?” She wondered aloud.

Kimbra was of no use in this fiasco, Alvina could hear her sniffling. Though they were friends and in the same study group, Alvina was the one who had her head on her shoulders.

They had definitely traveled in future, she concluded, for Alvina knew everything about their history. She couldn’t see anything related to past. The place appeared to be deserted; future people were not early risers.

Curiosity won over fear.

Alvina started to explore the neat surroundings. The room was square, most of the things were square or rectangular. The tables were of metal, not wood, metal bent in odd shapes. The caps on the bottles were of different colors of a soft material, one she had never come across.

“Alvina…,” Kimbra called. “Look at this small bottle, isn’t it pretty?” Kimbra was holding a small phial with a red cap. “It could be perfume,” she said.

“Leave it. Don’t touch it,” Alvina said, but Kimbra had already opened it.

She sniffed it. “It smells good, it’s a perfume.” Kimbra chuckled and then giggled.

“Close it.”

Alvina snatched the cap from her hand and put it on the bottle, but it did not fit. She tried again and accidently twisted it. She felt it catch the bottle opening. She again twisted the cap and it settled down firmly on the bottle. Hah… so that’s the trick. Kimbra laughed aloud.

“Shh… don’t laugh…, “ Alvina said.

But Kimbra went on laughing.

“What’s happened to you? What was in the bottle?”

Panicking Alvina picked up the bottle and tried to read the information. It was in a strange language with three main symbols ‘N’, ‘2’, ‘O’. She looked at Kimbra still giggling and felt tears well in her own eyes. What should she do now?

Alvina heard someone opening the door, her heart thudded. She caught hold of Kimbra’s hand and looked here and there for a place to hide. All of a sudden she felt the familiar pull and a moment of blackout, she had experienced when Kimbra had chanted the strange incantation in their book.

Alvina found herself back in the academia book room with their Head Scholar thundering in front of them. Kimbra was now smiling like a fool.

They had to do all their work without magic for the next two full moons!

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Breakfree

Story:

Photo Credits: Digital painting called Boats Valley by llamllam on Deviant Art. http://llamllam.deviantart.com/art/Boats-valley-444638898

Bullets flew from all sides the moment they reached the port. Firing blindly they ran for cover and took refuge in a broken armored car.

"It's an ambush, Sir," his commando shouted.

Lieutenant Eshaan fired and saw a body fall on the right from one of the buildings window. The enemy already knew of their operation and time of the arrival. According to the recon report, the port and surrounding buildings were supposed to be deserted.

One of his men aimed and took a shot. On the left, another terrorist fell from a damaged ship’s main deck. They got a breather. The Lieutenant could hear only a few, scattered shots, probably due to lack of visibility. Falling dusk had given them much needed respite to form an escape plan. He had fairly good idea about the layout of the place and they were in touch with base camp. If they don’t reach the helipad by eight pm, they would be dead meat.

“We wait for another thirty minutes before moving,” Eshaan said. He looked at two of his team members, lifeless, lying on the sand and fought his own battle of rage, inflicting silent wounds on his soul.

The smell of gun powder, blood and rotting body parts assaulted him and he thought of how much the place had changed.

His thoughts went to the last day he was here… a lifetime ago.

****

Muthu ran fast on the shore with Eshaan close behind.

“Muthu wait!” Eshaan called, his gait slow and awkward, unable to run barefoot on dry sand.

“Go away,” Muthu shouted and climbed the main deck of the half built ship in the abandoned shipyard.

“Running like this will not help.”

“Go to hell.”

“Why don’t you talk to your grandfather?”

“Now a rich high flying brat will advise me.”

“Brat! Are you referring to me?” Eshaan pointed at his chest.

“Do you have any other f…g name?”

Eshaan gave up and sat on another ship’s deck throwing wooden blocks on the shore.

He had come to spend his school holidays with his father’s close friend, an industrialist. The port and shipyard was his property. Ships always fascinated Eshaan. He had met and befriended Muthu wandering in the shipyard last year.

Muthu came after a while and muttered, “Sorry, I hate it when your holidays are over.”

Eshaan patted the bench beside him. “Even I don’t feel like going. But I have to start my Navy Academy training.”

“Yeah…I know.” Muthu stared at the roaring ocean.

“Tell you what…” Eshaan took off his prized possession. “Keep this. When you wear this, I’ll be with you.”

Muthu’s face broke into wide toothy grin. “You really mean it.” He took the three-dial sports watch.

“And make peace with your grandfather, he is your only relative.”

Muthu nodded, fastening the watch on his wrist. “But you will see Eshaan, I will break-free from this god-damn place where survival means only fighting.”

Eshaan lost touch with Meethu after two years. His father’s friend relocated due to constant strife in the area. The port and shipyard since then became a refuge for terrorists.

****

A sniper bullet ricocheted off the armored car pulling Eshaan out of his reverie. They ducked.

“It seems he has night vision,” Eshaan said. “Can you guess the location of the bastard, officer?”

“The bastard is sitting at the helm of the broken ship at 10 O’clock. Sir!”

“Okay, taking him down is the only option. I am going around and up, cover me.” Eshaan put on his NV Goggles and took off from the other side of the car. He ran fast to the ship and climbed the rope ladder. Luck was on his side when he peered and saw the back of the sniper, the swine was too confident.

Eshaan aimed and pulled the trigger. Sniper’s body stiffened, as if in surprise then slumped forward. Eshaan turned to leave when something familiar caught his attention, his heart lurched. Ignoring years of training and risking his team’s safety, he crouched and approached the body, the three-dial watch on the sniper’s wrist glowed in the dark.

Lieutenant Eshaan turned the dead and looked at Muthu, finally at peace and free.

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Stranger

Short Story  

‘Is this in the center?’ Riya asked aligning the ‘golden’ back portion of the throne with the seat.

‘Move it slightly to the right,’ Saahil instructed. He was sitting on the makeshift platform on the other side. ‘Yes that’s it.’

Riya fixed it with pins and fevicol. They were supposed to complete the set design today. The crisis demanded all hands to pitch in and complete the set for shooting to start the next day.

As Riya came out of the studio it was getting dark that winter evening.

She started to walk towards the bus-stop and heard someone coughing behind her. She turned around and saw a bald hefty man about ten paces behind her. He was looking at her legs, it seemed. He raised his deep beady eyes to her and smiled. His let’s-be-friend-gaze chilled her to the bone. The various newspaper headlines glided in front of her eyes. She regretted refusing Saahil’s offer of dropping her to the bus-stop.

She reached the bus-stop and to her relief found an old lady there. The man also reached the stop and waited at a distance. She gathered the courage to glance at him. He was still looking at her with that same smile. He grinned when he caught her stare. She tightened her lips and looked away.

To her alarm the old lady took an auto-rickshaw and went away. From the corner of her eyes she saw the man coming towards her. Her heart began to race in panic. Riya put her hand inside her purse and caught hold of the pepper spray Tina had given her a long time back.

‘Madam…,’ he said approaching her. Her heart thudded.

She went a step back. ‘Look mister… stay away from me.’ She frantically tried to bring out the spray, but the can got stuck in the narrow opening of her bag. She wildly pulled at it.

He raised his hands in the air. ‘No… no… it’s just that---’

‘I said stay away. If you touch me I will break your head,’ she yelled. She was becoming hysterical, the can was still stuck. To her surprise the man stepped back.

‘No… no… you have something at the back.’ He gestured with his hands.

‘Huh…’ She scowled, no way. She wasn’t going to listen to him and look back. It must be a ploy to attack her. ‘Just stay away from me or I won't be responsible for anything,’ she threatened.

He raised his hands, palms out and backed away.

She took deep breaths to control her racing heart. She twisted the can upright and brought it out of the bag. Now she was in control. She glanced at the man, he looked a little miffed and stared at the road.

She felt something was amiss and discreetly felt her back. She recoiled in disgust when her hand touched something coarse and hairy. She turned her head and saw a black thing stuck behind her. She took it off. It was a fake moustache-beard from the king’s costume. 

Saahil would be murdered tomorrow – she thought and smiled.

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Venom & Elixir

Short Story  

The little girl was standing at the threshold of the room, unable to understand the fuss around the two babies in the cribs beside her mother’s bed in the hospital. 

Her mamaji, was standing at the only window in the room, deep in his thoughts and her mother was sobbing with occasional hiccups. The little girl waited for her father to take them home so that she can have hot, soft and fluffy rotis, her mother was famous for. Today was their third day in the hospital and she was fed up of cold food coming from mamaji’s house.

Mamaji turned from the window. ‘What’s taking him so long, he should have been here by now?’

‘He will not come,’ her mother replied. One of the babies squirmed, her mother mechanically rocked the crib.

‘What nonsense is this? Children are a gift from God, how can he not acknowledge them! It has been two days and no one from his family has come to see the babies!’ He started towards the door and said, ‘I will go and call him from the reception again.’

Were they talking about her father? He wasn’t like that! He will come to take them home. He loved them. The little girl frowned.

Her mother started to sob again. She had been crying off and on since her two baby sisters were born. Sure they looked red and squiggly and cried for milk at times, but looked cute when they yawned or opened their eyes. She had been helping her mother for the past two days and had got a little attached to them.

‘He says, he is not going to take you and the girls home.’ Her mamaji came thundering inside the room. ‘He will send Neha also and wants a divorce!’ Saying so, he sat heavily on the only chair in the room with his head in his hands. Her mother stopped weeping and looked listlessly outside the window.

The little girl stood frozen at his words. That’s impossible! Her father was sending Neha here and would not be taking them home? But why? Her little eyebrows furrowed, she looked at her mother and then back at her mamaji.

‘Ma?’ She called out. Her mother continued to look outside without any change in expression. ‘Ma!’ she repeated, pleading now.

Her mamaji beckoned her and cuddled her in his lap. Her mother looked at her and started to cry again.

‘Papa will not do that, he will take us home. He loves Neha, ma and me.’ She reasoned trying to comfort her mother. To her chagrin, instead of smiling and agreeing with her, her mother burst into another inconsolable bout of crying. The eight year old could not understand anything and started to cry herself.

****

Night came and still her husband had not sent any word or message. Her brother and his wife had left, consoling her with the promise to talk to her husband the next day. But she knew nothing will come out of any discussion. Her husband and mother-in-law would not allow her to step inside the house. She was carrying twins. They had made very clear that if she gave birth to daughters again; she would have no place in the house. Her mother-in-law’s astrologer had predicted that there are only daughters in her chart and they wanted a son.

Dry eyed, she looked at Naina, sleeping on the couch and fingered the phial under her pillow. If she was not there, at least he would keep the daughters, even if he married again. Her daughters will have a roof on their head and food in their bellies. Will he take care of them if she was not there? Who will feed and bathe them? What if they fell sick? Who will look after them? She wasn’t sure? She wasn’t sure of anything these days? Was this the end? The final journey and her destiny. A tear escaped from her eyes and got soaked in the pillow. She took the phial out.

‘Ma?’ She came back to present with a jolt.

‘Ma…’ Naina was awake and stood beside the bed. Naina wiped the tears with her little fingers and said, ‘Don’t worry ma, don’t cry. It’s alright. I will take care of you all.  I will never leave you.’

The phial slipped from her fingers and crashed on the floor.

She pulled her joy… her pride on the bed, hugged her hard and started to cry. This time the tears were of hope and courage!

****

Solemn Vow

Story 

My sister and I planned to visit ‘Humanyun’s Tomb’ in New Delhi on Saturday. Purpose was to enthuse both our sons on India’s history. Both kids were reluctant to go as usual and complained throughout in the car. As we approached the place, I began explaining the historical significance of the monument to build some excitement and curiosity. ‘Imagine a three - four story structure build in sixteenth century, without the help of cranes and still standing without any iron pillar,’ I said.

‘Will we get potato wafers there?’ my twelve year old asked. Gritting my teeth I gave up and ignored him.

Thankfully the weather was pleasant, cool breeze and warm sun made it a perfect day for the excursion. I silently blessed Almighty, when I found there were no eateries or kiosk selling potato wafers or other fast food.

The tourists from other cities and countries were far more excited than our children about the heritage, next door. Some of them had started clicking pictures right from the ticket counter. There was a trace of excited impatience amongst the tourists to quickly enter the premises.

Right after the security clearance, we found ourselves in a massive courtyard with lush green garden and tall trees along the boundary wall. A long oval shaped shallow pool, with a fountain in the middle, was flanked by two trails of red sand. My sister and I again tried to instill some enthusiasm by pointing put the huge structure visible across the courtyard through an arched gate in front. But the kids just dragged their feet, making us feel guilty without any words. Exasperated, my sister and I glanced at each other and moved ahead.

The huge arched entrance gate, through which even an elephant could pass, was constructed as per the Mughal architecture prevalent in that era. Teams from archeological department were restoring the paint-work on the gate perched on self-supporting wooden ladders or makeshift platforms. The main structures were made of red sandstone, popular amongst the royalty in that period. I clicked some pictures, but my son refused to smile. I gave up all pretense of involving the kids and planned to enjoy myself.

The central building housed the grave of not only Mughal emperor Humanyun but of his queen, Bega Begum and numerous other royal family members. The main hall housing the marble clad graves was built on a fifteen feet high square platform. This hall was twenty meters high with four entrances on each side. Inside, a circular room dominated the space with four corridors on each side leading to other smaller rooms. The central room had Humayun’s grave. The other four rooms had graves of other princes and their families with their names engraved in Arabic.

As per the information displayed, the actual burial happened in the room below the massive platform, giving the place a mysterious aura. The graves above in the hall were dummies, just for praying and tourists. Curious tourists were trying to peek through the small blocked balconies on the platform, with stairs going down, to get a glimpse of the actual graves below.

Marveling at the architectural skills some 450 years ago without the benefit of modern technology, we came out.

‘Can we go to McDonalds now?’ asked my sister’s son. I vowed that I will never plan a family educational trip again.

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