A short story..

Few days back ..

Had a dream few days back. I saw a cottagehouse in a lush garden. I saw myself in there, lying on the grass and playing with a small kid (around 1-1 1/2 years old). It was beautiful, with its soft skin. It was sitting on my tummy and was trying to pull my hair. It had curly hair and while it was playing with me, its hair kept falling on my tummy tickling me.

Moments later, I saw myself being taken away from the kid, and the kid is left alone. A smoker comes along and tries to bully the kid. I was not able to do anything though I could see everything. Then, a van came along that way. It tried to kill the kid, and the kid started crying and I tried running towards the kid to save it. Then I woke up.

Thunai

Its been almost a decade since I read tamil novels. My aunt was a die-hard novel fan and I used to read whatever she brings home from the library. Mom used to scold her for spoiling (!!!) me. “Adhu enna, muzhachu moonu ella vidala, adhukkula novelaa?” .. That was the trademark scolding.

Then, schooling and peer pressure got the better of me and I entered into the rat race to get more marks. Novels became a thing of the past. It was only when I entered into college, that I again got time to read novels. This time, it was Sidney Sheldon, Archer and Cook likes. Mystery, romance, action thrillers and what not, I read almost every other kind.

And here, after I started working, I still read those novels. Also, those management and self improvement books like “Goal”, “One night at a call centre”. And when, I got a day off today, all I thought was that I need to sleep for some quality time.

It was then, I noticed the book on my fathers’ desk. This book, “Thunai”, a book by Balakumaran is a pleasant breeze. An indian doctor who is practising in US, takes a short break and comes to India to find a girl and get married (a typical 1 1/2 months leave). What he finds there and how he returns to US, his changed mindset forms the rest of the story.

The story is quite predictable but what makes it interesting is how the characters are shaped and defined. They remain in the memory for long. A typical middle class story – well told. A must read – if you are coming down to India to get married ;).

Joy To The World!!!

I wish you all a very happy Christmas.. Have a wonderful feast and fun filled day 🙂

Got so many wishes and emails wishing for happy christmas… And one of my friends had chosen to send me a story rather than a simple wish. Would like to share it with you all.

Big GOD …

Two men went fishing. One was an experienced fisherman, the other wasn’t. Every time the experienced fisherman caught a big fish, he put it in his ice chest to keep it
fresh. Whenever the inexperienced fisherman caught a big fish, he threw it back.

The experienced fisherman watched this go on all day and finally got tired of seeing the man waste good fish. “Why do you keep throwing back all the
big fish you catch?” he asked.

The inexperienced fisherman replied, “I only have a small frying pan.”

Sometimes, like that fisherman, we throwback the big plans, big dreams, big jobs, big opportunities that God gives us. Our faith is too small.

We laugh at that fisherman who didn’t figure out that all he needed was a bigger frying pan, yet how ready are we to increase the size of our faith?

Whether it’s a problem or a possibility, God will never give you anything bigger than you can handle. That means we can confidently walk into anything God brings our way.

You can do all things through God. Nothing is too big for God.

REMEMBER:

Stop telling God you’ve got big problems.
Tell your problems you’ve got a BIG GOD!

Lets remember that we all have got a mighty God who takes care of all our needs and loves us like anything that he even came into the world and gave his life for us..
So, Never, never Give up 🙂

The Tagged Tree Story – A part of mine

Thanks Anbae for tagging me!

He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather’s words “You will fail in the city and return penniless”; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, “Don’t worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site.” Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23.

Pushing his luggage under the seat, he sat close to the window. “Papa, when will you be back?” – his four year old daughter Munni asked innocently. He stared into those soft brown eyes of the motherless kid. He held her frail palms in his, through the window. “Munni, Papa will get you a nice gudiya from the city..Say tata,” his sister spoke to the kid, to avoid an emotional outburst. In a minute, the train pulled forward, and Munni’s little fingers parted from between his. “I need to go..”, he thought, “I have to, at least for Munni’s sake..”

The humid summer breeze and the rattling train coaxed him into an uncomfortable state of drowsy consciousness. He dreamt that Munni ran away, the closer he ran to her, the farther she was, like a mirage. He woke up with a start and squinted at his watch.”What is the time please?”A smallish woman, a meek voice as if she was scared that her existence would annoy someone. Her only noticeable feature was her rather large, expressive eyes.”4.30″Something made him look at the woman again. He had stopped noticing women long back. Ever since Meenakshi passed away…

But this woman was different. she reminded him of someone he knew. In an instant he realized who and the painful memories came flooding back. She looked exactly like his childhood sweetheart Madhu. As teenage lovers in a conservative society, they had often met secretly and had declared undying love for each other.

Then someone had found out and all hell had broken loose. The elders in the village Panchayat had ostracized Madhu’s family as she was from a lower caste. Unable to bear the humiliation, she had committed suicide by drowning. That was twelve years back…

Could it be? Could it really be him? He seems different, weary and downcast. Oh no will he recognise me? No, I am dead to the world. Still she cautiously wrapped her saree end around her head and across her face. Behind the cotton screen, her mind drifted to happier times, languid strolls in the corn fields, games at the riverbed, his gentle caress, whispered sweet nothings, stolen glances at the temple fair.

Tempted to take one last look, she consoled herself that he wouldn’t notice. Slowly she lifted her eyes only to find Rupak staring back at her.

She quickly glanced the other way.

‘No, this girl looks too close to be any other person. She is infact Madhu!! “Hey, Madhu!” he called.

She struggled hard not to respond to that call. And successfully managed it too.

“Hey Madhu, you forgot me?” he inquired her and came closer.

The old lady sitting opposite to him was looking at this unapprovingly.

“No, you are mistaken, My name is not Madhu.. I am Supriya” she lied.

“Hey Ram!, a young girl cannot travel safely in this country without being stalked!” the old lady muttered angrily.

The girl walked briskly away from him, trying to escape his glances, as though she was hiding something, not wanting to be discovered. He stood confused, she had said her name wasn’t Madhu, and should he run after her? Or should he let it pass, after all he still had a train to catch.

His heart told him it was Madhu, followed her, all thoughts about going to the city vanished; he was on delighted to have met Madhu after such a long time. He was filled with memories of their time together. He finally caught up with her. Looking into her eyes he said

Why Madhu? Why this to me?

“Please dont lie to me anymore”; sounding more like the Mani he used to be ten years back when he had first met her at the Village temple, rather than the arrogant side that seemed to rule his life now. “I know it is you, nobody else but you Madhu”. Tears roll down her cheecks as she tries to remember why they ended up this way. Was it destiny or fate that they had to meet now?

As she speaks up, the train which for a while had be at a halt, slowly starts to move.

Her sorefull identification attests him her, ruined him mentally out.

Rusted evergreen black pages viewed in quick glace for moments “I love him and we got to marry one another despite the caste bar…” a louded talk roared by her before the panchayat made him to burst in tears…..

Rooking train wheels fast slowly…. young daughter oneside and lover – a shaped heart on other side… inevitable centimentals couldn’t miss anyone…..hav to pick that train for her daughter, cant leave madhu as she s deserted in her life still nw…..

Confused, tears wetting his eyes….. Train rails away the station …… Hero still in station…

For the second time, Madhu hated the Ashramwadi who saved her. If it hadn’t been for him, she would be dead by now. She had been washed away by the shores when that ashramwadi found her. After she gained consciousness, he probed her gently about the cause. She refused to divulge any information. But he and his little daughter were very kind to her and made her realise that suicide is not the answer to life’s tragedies.

Slowly she started working in that ashram itself. One day, she had a vistor from her village.

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Everything below the dashed line above should be copied and pasted with every accepted tag)

This is a Story Tree and is best nurtured as follows:
1. A blogger can add only 90-100 words (not more or less) at a time
2. All previous snippets of 90-100 words need to be copied before the new set of 90-100 words are appended.
3. Each entire snippet should be linked to the respective author (and not just the first sentence or so)
4. Characters, scenes, etc. can be introduced by an author
5. Bizarre twists, sci-fi, fantasy sequences are best avoided.
6. A tag must be accepted within 7 days else the branch is a dead branch
7. After appending 90-100, the Story Tree can be passed on to at most 3 bloggers.
8. If more than 1 branch leads to a blogger, s/he is free to choose any one of them but cannot mix the snippets of the individual branches.
9. The Story Tree is best left to grow than concluded
10. Please attach the image of the Story Tree below with each accepted tag (the link address can be copied and used).

Now I bestow the Honor of being tagged to:

Vb
Kalai