The Lotus Pond - Short Story

It was the month of June and the rainy season had already begun.  It was also the time when the new school year begins.  Eight year old Chandu used to walk to school with his Mum and everyday they passed by this pond brimming with lotuses in full bloom.  He had never seen a lotus pond this closely and would wonder if he could go and may be pick a couple of lotuses.  The other children in his class would get flowers for his teacher sometimes.  This was perfect he thought, his teacher Miss Brenda would love the flowers and may be even appreciate his gesture if she knew they were handpicked.

When he shared his idea with his Mum the reply was a stern NO.  She explained that it's not so easy to get to the lotuses and there is a good chance he might even get stuck in the swampy rut. Its very difficult to get things out of that muck and that its like quicksand if he were to step into it he will go lower than expected. Chandu simply thought it was a grown up story she was making to keep him away.  After all how difficult can it be? The flowers are sooo close he need not even step in the muck and get his feet dirty.  He was sure he could reach them if he could only stretch out a little bit.  There was just one problem - his Mum would no way let him even try. He had to devise a plan.

Few days later he woke up earlier than usual and got ready much before time.  His Mum wondered what had gotten into her otherwise slumber-boy whom she had to coax to get out of bed.  When asked he excitedly replied that he was eight years old and was confident he could walk to school on his own. He tried his best to sound honest and was able to convince her.  He happily set off to put his plan into action.  He thought he would tell his Mum of this little adventure once he returns home and prove to her that he was able t get the flowers and without hassles.

When he arrived at pond he scanned the bank and saw that none of the flowers were close enough for him to reach without stepping in.  He had decided he would get the flowers and had woken up early and convinced his mother.  There was no way he would possibly proceed further without his prize.  He decided he would go in.  He moved a step closer to the pond - he had never been this close to it before - and he put his left foot in.  The cold sluggish mud felt yucky against his foot and he realised the ground was not as solid as he assumed it to be. Mother was right but now he could not back out, he was just one step away from the lotuses. Next the right foot went in, he reached out and pulled out five lotuses.  He was very much pleased with his achievement as he thought that was a cake walk.

He turned around and stepped out right leg first and realised the slipper was missing off his foot. He stepped back in to find his slipper and dug his foot in the swamp only to feel more muck.  The slipper was nowhere, he started to panick and tried to first get himself out.  Mums words were now ringing in his ears and he was scared.  He managed to step out of the pond but sans his slippers. He could not go to school without them.  The lotuses he was holding now seemed worthless, he threw them back in the water and started walking towards home. He was afraid but wasn't sure what was worse - his mothers wrath since he did not listen or that he had lost his slippers and was now walking home barefoot. 

He realised the people coming from the opposite direction were awkwardly staring at him because he looked like a poor little lost kid - dressed in uniform and backpack on his shoulders with naked muddy feet and a sad look on his face.  He felt weak and dejected and could not believe he had actually thrown away the lovely flowers that he had picked. One recurring thought in his mind - his mother was right, only if he had listened.

The Keepsakes - Short Story

Ananya and her husband were preparing to move into their new home.  They had started packing up the boxes to be moved.  There were also the older boxes from the attic that needed to be shifted.  Among those dusty boxes was an old cardboard box which had MEMORIES written on it.

When Ananya saw this box she stopped and stared at it before dropping everything in her hand and then moving toward the box.  She was suddenly excited and was opening the box like it was a birthday present.  She found a couple of slam books with old photographs of school and college friends, bunch of friendship bands, greeting cards, soft toys she had received as gifts packed a in plastic bag, some fairytale books, thriller novels, a wristwatch case with the warranty receipt still in it and an old umbrella.  All these things were really special to her each one had their own story but the most favorite item in the whole lot was a the old umbrella which had broken ages ago. She could not bring herself to throw it away and it had to be kept as long as she would live.

The slam books had stories of an era that was long gone or friends and adventures and also the first love and crushes.  It made her smile thinking of all the silly things they had done and the gossips and secrets they had exchanged. The friendship band reminded her of friends she had made, some of them still retained the glitter on them though even though they looked dusty. 

The greeting cards collected from childhood, were a huge bunch.  she had saved every card that she had got on every occasion- Birthdays, Valentines, Anniversary, New Year, Diwali, Holi, Christmas and even some really good Wedding invitations of friends.  The wristwatch case belonged to the first watch she had received from her husband as a valentines gift from before they had got married then her boy friend. The soft toys her best friends had gifted her.

But the most prized gift of all was the umbrella which was given to her by a most dear teacher - Madam Shelly.  Teacher Shelly had taught her English in school and was her favorite teacher.  Madam S had given her the umbrella because she has won first place in three competitions at a school fest - Elocution, Poetry and Essay writing.  Before the fest Ananya was nervous but it was Miss Shelly who told her that she could do anything that she puts her mind to and she was so right! She was responsible for imbibing the love for literature and language in Ananya.

It was a rainbow coloured umbrella and she absolutely loved it.  It was the most special gift she had ever received and was also the most prized possession.  She used it very carefully for years in rain and sun.  Until one rainy day when a strong gust of wind turned the umbrella inside out and broke couple of the frame wires. That was the saddest moment for her to see the lovely umbrella in a tattered state.  She got it fixed but then it did not last long. This was not just an umbrella but was her teachers blessing and love that inspired her in life. It was the most important item in the box of Memories. All thanks to Miss Shelly she was encouraged to become a writer and was an established journalist. Sadly her beloved teacher was now no more and the umbrella was all that was left of her. It reminded Ananya of the encouragement and saw it as a blessing and always came looking for it when in need of inspiration.

As for the memories, she had carried this box to her house after she got married.  It contained far too many precious memories to be left behind.  It was magical how every single time she opened the box she would go back in time. The box of memories was her little time transporter.

Two Chatty People

Everyday I travel by the Mumbai local to get to work. For the last one week I've been noticing two very chatty young girls arriving on the platform same time as me.  They always seem to be really into the subject they are discussing and talking very loudly.  Some people would look at them for a moment and then carry on.  I tried to understand what they were talking about.  Looked like girl stuff really - exclaiming, discussing, other friends, latest gossip, hair, clothes, etc. The train arrived and one of them had to board.  They shook hands what looked like their own good bye handshake and went in opposite directions.

Both the girls were conversing in sign language and were deaf  and very much unlike the image of deaf people that comes to our mind when we think - DEAF.  They seemed very cheerful and happy and if it wasn't for the loud gestures they were making nobody would think anything was wrong with them (not that deaf people have a way to peculiarly look different). They had hearing aids on and attended regular college.  It was a pleasure to see them talking and they always look so happily lost in a world of their own.  This episode reiterated my belief that life is beautiful and it is always how we choose to face the hardships that makes all the difference.

They were not so out of the ordinary considering all the deaf people in the world and there are people who have worse to manage (read story of woman with no arms and the woman who managed her household and had no limbs) But when you think about how we let the small things from day-to-day upset us remember this -  There is always another way, a better way. We are the ones in control.

Here is what Barbara de Angelis said:
No one is in control of your happiness but you; therefore, you have the power to change anything about yourself or your life that you want to change.

Big Bird

As much as I try to write about recent events I keep going back to my childhood which I think was more exciting and eventful.  Not because there so many great adventures but because when I look back now and remember how differently I saw the world then and how all the stories I read influenced me.  I was a story lover ever since I can remember.

So today I thought of sharing this incident that occurred when I was about seven or eight.  I grew up in a small town that had vast field lands and a small streams running by.  It was a safe and peaceful place to grow up in, as a kid I would wander off into the fields or play fishing in the small stream with my friends.  Some of them were skilled at fishing and caught more than a couple fish. I don't remember being able to get any but i do faintly remember to clumsily drop a fish back that my friend had caught!! I was only allowed to hold the small jar of water to hold the fish.

During summers our little gang would wander into the fields and spend an entire day gathering raw mangoes or cashews.  We would climb the low branches of trees and sit in them or sometimes make a swing out of rope and cloth. Those were some days!

Once upon a summer evening I wandered into the fields alone I was bored sitting at home and decided to take a walk all by myself.  When I was in the middle of the farmland I happened to look up and saw a huge bird perched up on the coconut tree.  It had a long neck without feathers and a bent bent beak and huge wings - It was a Vulture.  I realized it was bigger than than me and I froze.  I did not want to move lest I should attract the attention of the bird.  I remembered a story I had read some time ago it was about this merchant lying to his friend that his some had been carried away by the Vulture.  The story did say that he had lied to his friend but when I saw the bird and that it was bigger than me I seemed like a possibility.  I was alone and wouldn't be able to call for help if anything happened.  I stood there for a while without making a move hoping the bird would fly away.  It was still sitting perched up on the tree.

I decided I couldn't wait there any longer so I started taking a slow small step backward while my eyes were fixed on the bird and then another step backward and a third step back. Then I turned around and ran till I was in the house.  I told my mum about the huge vulture i saw and if I hadn't run I might have been carried away and that the story might have been partially true. My mum  quietly heard me out and then burst out laughing telling me no matter how short I was the vulture wouldn't have attacked me as they devour only dead creatures.  I refused to believe that and imagined I was lucky to have escaped... until i grew up a little more :)

Growing Up and Growing Old

I imagine most of us have read this - Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional'. 

Time is what you cannot stop. There was this phase when I was little (till about 10 years) when I could not wait to grow up.  Then there was also a phase (11-13) when I really did not want to grow up.  I dreamed about Peter Pan and all the fairy stories and hoped a land like that really did exist and I would hope to find a secret doorway to the world of fairies. I remember watching the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit where all the Loony Toons enter into the real world.  Bugs Bunny was the love of my life! And I hoped even more that such a thing was possible :)

The teenage was magical and I grew tall during this time (considering how short I was when I was younger) :D.  But I realised I was growing old when I turned 23. That was like a mid point towards the mid twenties.  That was a tough number to accept and I did feel a pinch.  When you are 19 and turning 20 you don't realise that teenage is over because you're excited about the magical number 21 coming up next.  The legal age to do a lot of things, I was already working at 20 and turning 21 was cool.  The 22nd B'day was still fine, but 23..... it scared me a bit, I realised I would be in the mid twenties bracket soon. Kids calling out to me aunty now sounded a little annoying. 

24 was fun because it seemed like a good year and after accepting 23 did not hurt at all.  Turning 25 for women I think is a BIG deal.  It's like turning 30 for men. Sort of a deadline for achieving things in life. I think I did just fine.  But to explain how I feel thinking about the years to come (26-30) is like coming down the roller coaster from the highest point.  I’m sure it won’t be so bad at all but that the view from this side of 25 :)

Days left before I turn a quarter of a century old and I might say this to feel better but there is truth in it – Age is but a number and it’s what you are at heart that matters (I’m stuck at 22 although I do go back to 5 and 10 occasionally)

Casey Stengel said ‘The trick is growing up without growing old’