[This story is a continuation of this.]
A short n' brisk walk and Kimu reached Pearl White Dairy.
"One and a half kg", said Kimu. Maarg Singh ji started measuring his Pearl White milk. He started measuring milk even before Kimu could finish his sentence. It was a routine for him and for Kimu as well, but he would always say the same words everyday - One and a half kg.
"Are you not going to school today?"
"It's a second Saturday. No school."
"Lucky fellow. No second Saturdays for me.", sighed Maarg Singh ji. "But what would I do on a second Saturday? May be both of us can go for swimming." Kimu gave a polite smile, collected the milk packet which Maarg Singh ji bundled while dreaming about a free second Saturday, and started walking back towards his home.
He placed the milk packet on Kitchen's granite slab which was recently polished and was shining as if it was an ambassador representing of the whole granite clan in Kimu's House Nation. Kimu went to his room. His room was minimally furnished with a single bed and a table, both wooden. A light blue plastic chair which had Kimu's clothes carefully cluttered and spread in an arranged chaotic way, on its arms and lap. Kimu's bag was silently lying on the table enjoying his share of a free second Saturday. Table also held a fish bowl on its top. Kimu lifted the bowl and sat on his bed with his legs folded into a comfortable cross legged posture and the bowl held against his head, watching his purple fish carefully.
After having examined her purpleness and liveness, he gave a big bright smile to the fish. He watched her move here and there in circles, sometimes stopping by to watch Kimu in turn. Kimu kept the bowl back on the table and opened his bag which was otherwise busy enjoying his free Saturday. He took out his Art File and carefully unbundled a sheet out of it. Art file is defined as a loosely or tightly bound bundle of plane white sheets, some empty, some colored and drawn upon, carefully fitted inside a card board like thick sheet which is colorfully decorated and carries the bearer's name, class and subject etc. along with the rest of the decoration on its top. Kimu carefully unbundled the sheets, took a plane white sheet and bundled back the rest. Bag was still waiting for the Art File to be pushed back again. But Kimu did not care. Poor bag kept waiting with his mouth wide open.
Kimu started drawing his fish on the sheet. He was intently following her eye shaped body and fin shaped fins. Her scales, her big fish like eyes. It was due to her fish like eyes, that Kimu named her Meenakshi. But the purple fish never called herself with that name. She would have preferred calling herself something else if ever some other fish would talk to her and ask her name. Kimu then jerked his bag once again to take out the color box. He took out a purple color started painting her new flat fish into a purple flat fish, when Seine entered the room. She watched him for a while. "Ohh", she said with an appreciating "O", her head bent slightly to watch the picture better while her hand gently placed itself on the table.
"Is this Meenakshi's painting?", she asked lovingly.
"Yes! It is."
"But where is her bowl?"
"There should be no bowl, she should be free."
"But she can not live with out water," she smiled again at the thoughtfulness of her little son.
"Oh I forgot", Kimu hit his head with his hand in a quick response. "How can she live without water."
With light blue colored, he started drawing waves of water.
"Finish it and brush your teeth. Breakfast is ready." She gently tapped his head and gave a peck on his cheek. Kimu hugged her back.
"Mamma, what is there in the breakfast?"
"Your favorite"
"Bread Chilla!!", he exclaimed with bright eyes and jumped straight towards the bathroom.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Short Story - Flow
Kimu was sitting on the bank. Lost deep into himself; yet following the flow of the river, neither too fast nor too slow, just about right. He could feel the flow under the seven layers of epidermis he was wearing all along. Like the river, his seven layers kept replenishing themselves day after day, month after month and year after year. It was an 11 year long period of losing the old skin and getting new one, inhaling the fresh air and exhaling the stale one. Was the air really fresh or did it keep circulating between being Co2 and O2 through the dark green leaves? Is this water fresh, or has it been here some other time, some other day, in some other form, may be. Lost in all those thoughts, he almost lost the track of time when his mother's shout from inside the house reminded him that he had to go and get milk from White Pearls dairy.
White Pearls dairy produced milk in place of the pearls but his owner Marg Singh ji, thought of each of his milk products viz. milk, curd, paneer, zeera paneer and ghee as distinct perls in their own right. He was a huge man with thick mustache and pearl white dhoti. He wears dhoti in all seasons but perhaps during winters, dhoti is being helped by an extra inner which would help the dhoti keep Marg Singh ji warmer. With dhoti, what would never change is his leather black shoes, ones with pointed ends and giving Marg Singh ji his typical traditional and gracious Jaat look. But during that birthday party, he was not wearing those leather black shoes. Nor was he wearing the same white dhoti.
[Flash back]
He wore a cream colored dhoti which had a golden rim along its length and both its breadths. His shoes were also different, they became brown in color and were extra polished with a golden shine about them. It was a warm bright afternoon of an otherwise dull and shivery winter. DJ who was also the waiter serving a gathering of about 37 people, was playing 60s and 70s oldies of Kishore Kumar. Oldies of Rafi, which was the only other choice he had in old songs, would be too sad for the party. Other than Marg Singh Ji and the DJ, there was Seine who was busy moving here and there and calling some people and smiling at some others. She was basically calling those who were at the party for more than past one hour. These were the people who could help her arrange things for those who are coming or yet to come. Those were coming were the ones at whom Seine was smiling simultaneously. In between her callings and smilings, she called someone and told her to make a call to Seine's husband and ask when will he be reaching home. She wasn't waiting to smile at her husband but was waiting for smiling at Rincha whose birthday party was being attended and organized.
Before the caller could call, house bell rang. Seine rushed to open the door, but somebody else already did it for her. Seine was looking for Rincha, she was coming back home after 2.5 months of her internship. Seine was desperately searching everywhere, at the door, at her husband, even trying to see behind him. Him. Who's he? He is not Rincha's husband. He is their neighbor. Oho, all guests have arrived. "Call him fast", Seine shouted. Neighbor was also in a hurry, he hurriedly came to Seine and silently shouted, "Mr. D'Souza met an accident at Pearls dairy. Mr. Sharma is taking out his car to take him to hospital. You come with me." He said all this without taking a single breath and Seine could only look at his face before he finished. She lost the sense of space and time and started walking with the neighbor. Kishore's song were still playing. DJ will soon stop them from playing and will not turn on to Rafi's songs, though they would definitely match the sadness in the party that persisted after that moment.
Seine reached Pearls dairy. Mr. Maarg Singh and others soon followed. She looked at her husband who was in arms of a neighbor cum friend. She looked around to see Rincha when she noticed a badly sandwiched stomach between probably what would have been a tyre and black tar covered road. That stomach was Rincha's and soon as Seine recognized it, she lost her senses and fell down only to add a count to the number of bodies lying around.
[Present]
Seine shouted again, "Kimuuuuu. Dairy will be closed by the time you get up." She was watching him from the kitchen window and though she knew he was sad due to cruel separation from his elder sister Rincha, she wanted him to fetch milk and take one more step in an attempt to flow with life.
White Pearls dairy produced milk in place of the pearls but his owner Marg Singh ji, thought of each of his milk products viz. milk, curd, paneer, zeera paneer and ghee as distinct perls in their own right. He was a huge man with thick mustache and pearl white dhoti. He wears dhoti in all seasons but perhaps during winters, dhoti is being helped by an extra inner which would help the dhoti keep Marg Singh ji warmer. With dhoti, what would never change is his leather black shoes, ones with pointed ends and giving Marg Singh ji his typical traditional and gracious Jaat look. But during that birthday party, he was not wearing those leather black shoes. Nor was he wearing the same white dhoti.
[Flash back]
He wore a cream colored dhoti which had a golden rim along its length and both its breadths. His shoes were also different, they became brown in color and were extra polished with a golden shine about them. It was a warm bright afternoon of an otherwise dull and shivery winter. DJ who was also the waiter serving a gathering of about 37 people, was playing 60s and 70s oldies of Kishore Kumar. Oldies of Rafi, which was the only other choice he had in old songs, would be too sad for the party. Other than Marg Singh Ji and the DJ, there was Seine who was busy moving here and there and calling some people and smiling at some others. She was basically calling those who were at the party for more than past one hour. These were the people who could help her arrange things for those who are coming or yet to come. Those were coming were the ones at whom Seine was smiling simultaneously. In between her callings and smilings, she called someone and told her to make a call to Seine's husband and ask when will he be reaching home. She wasn't waiting to smile at her husband but was waiting for smiling at Rincha whose birthday party was being attended and organized.
Before the caller could call, house bell rang. Seine rushed to open the door, but somebody else already did it for her. Seine was looking for Rincha, she was coming back home after 2.5 months of her internship. Seine was desperately searching everywhere, at the door, at her husband, even trying to see behind him. Him. Who's he? He is not Rincha's husband. He is their neighbor. Oho, all guests have arrived. "Call him fast", Seine shouted. Neighbor was also in a hurry, he hurriedly came to Seine and silently shouted, "Mr. D'Souza met an accident at Pearls dairy. Mr. Sharma is taking out his car to take him to hospital. You come with me." He said all this without taking a single breath and Seine could only look at his face before he finished. She lost the sense of space and time and started walking with the neighbor. Kishore's song were still playing. DJ will soon stop them from playing and will not turn on to Rafi's songs, though they would definitely match the sadness in the party that persisted after that moment.
Seine reached Pearls dairy. Mr. Maarg Singh and others soon followed. She looked at her husband who was in arms of a neighbor cum friend. She looked around to see Rincha when she noticed a badly sandwiched stomach between probably what would have been a tyre and black tar covered road. That stomach was Rincha's and soon as Seine recognized it, she lost her senses and fell down only to add a count to the number of bodies lying around.
[Present]
Seine shouted again, "Kimuuuuu. Dairy will be closed by the time you get up." She was watching him from the kitchen window and though she knew he was sad due to cruel separation from his elder sister Rincha, she wanted him to fetch milk and take one more step in an attempt to flow with life.
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