Chapter 24 - The Past Revealed

 Read the previous chapter : The Games They Played

               The formidable building that lay sprawled infront of him, with inexplicable and hideous facts tucked away safely into each crevice, brought jitters to Aryan’s already muddled thought flux.

Blood Is Red, So Is A Blush

Team Name :  Maximus Dramaticus

Read the twelfth part of the story here :- Into The Clutch Of Fate

‘Life is a rollercoaster ride’. Wasn’t that the phrase people utter eloquently to define life in the most pragmatic of ways! Paresh recalled as he sat manoeuvring the steering wheel of his Porsche, staring deep  into the gloominess, cloaked in black, that lay seamlessly ahead. Getting a bail was the easiest thing a person of his stature could do! Did they miss that! 

The Warning

                       Team Name :  Maximus Dramaticus

Read the third part of the story The Enigmatic Exploration before proceeding please


                                                       ~~~~~~~
         
                              Meanwhile, the days were rolling slowly in yet another part of the country. Shekhar sat stooped forward in his study drenched in the caressing gaze of the setting sun.

The Silver lining

                                  There comes a day, as the body's work cycle makes a complete circle, when you feel the drive draining from your body. And by drive here i mean the demand of your inner diligent self to be the best in whatever you do and not that spark in you to be alive and smiling. Losing it is not worthless, nor should it sound tardy, for once in a while it would be the best sidetrack you take to reach your milestone the earliest, for it serves you just like a few second stop to recondition serves a racing car.

If a thought or an idea keeps ticking, nagging you at the back of your heart, consider it being deserving enough to be fulfilled. Whether true or not, this nugget has guided me for long since it dawned on me one fine day when the teen in me used to worship every paulo coelho book that came my way. The idol has since been replaced by quite many other authors, yet the nugget has managed to stay put.

So, as my biological clock started pushing and shoving me to take a break, i found my brain involuntarily polishing the nugget which got buried beneath an unnamed sulcus some time back. 

And thus saw the entry of these gems to the seemingly unenthusiastic world of another unrelated genre of books. An amalgamation of fiction and non fiction ( if medical books can be tagged so). 

Down with 'Another man's wife' i am already the happiest soul in the world. Sometimes, a book can fill that much dreaded vacuum in you like no other thing can - atleast in its own reassuring way. 

Sadly, i had to take to the new habit of reading a book few pages at a time owing to the many constraints.Harking back, that too had its perks. It helped me savour every page in its entirety as i was in no hurry to lap up the whole book in a few hours time, which used to be my habit otherwise, more due to ardor than impatience.

That said, let me wrap this account up. There is more to read and even more to learn. 

But before you go, is there something new you did this week ? Or maybe a new book you read ? Tell me about it:)

The Belief

Far away, tucked in the sleepy downhill of one of the tallest mountains, existed a village named Lakora, peppered with dusky women and even duskier men. They spoke a language which was yet to metamorphose into strings of words written with a hearty soul. The hill peaks gave birth to sun every morning, well before six, showering the brightest rays on Mother Earth’s cheeks. The unrelenting cries that accompanied the same as birds fluttered their wings to distant places in search of food, settled into pleasantries at the warmth of the baby’s touch. 

This small space was intriguing in varied aspects. It was a mystery, the many dungeons hidden away in this murky of a place and the many secrets that had accumulated in those over the years.

‘ They brought illness to the family. They did. Those big blue marks!’, Buja stated explicitly. 

Lova listened to her grandmother, wide eyed as strands of jet black hair flung lower down onto her waist. She involuntarily caressed her pregnant abdomen, stretching her wrought, swollen legs on the steel cold cemented floor. The waft of spices being crushed at the nearest mill brought tears to her eyes. She suppressed a sneeze with the inside of her hand  as the old lady continued in her hoarse voice, diseased with abuse over the years,

‘ They kicked you a lot,Lova.They kicked you a lot. It never happened with the good ones. Terrible creatures they are - with blue sinful marks! But see, God exists. Never was devil of that sort delivered in this village after the aftermath that happened in Boa’s family.

‘ What happened to Boa’s family?’

‘ Not one member of her family survived the outrageous fire that broke out in their haystack years back the day that young girl gave birth to the ugliest little baby with the largest blue mark i have ever seen on its back, the last of that kind ever sighted in this village. Poor Boa and her husband. How happy were they before that dark cursed day!’

A soft groan slid through Lova's flushed lips. The tiredness of pregnancy was starting to take a toll on her delicate body, with each kick of her baby’s feet against her womb, every five minutes, sending a strange shiver down her spine. 

A torrent of deep burning thoughts rushed through Lova’s mind at the instant her grandmother shut her mouth up, a handful of betel nut leaves now engaging her tongue. Her village never had such a baby ever since? What were the odds of that happening? No one of that sort existed atleast in the near vicinity of the mountains. How strange! 

Lova shifted her place onto the armchair which gave her more space to relax while the baby moved inside with fervor. Her grandmother’s sordid words lingered in her thoughts as her heart started pacing to and fro in an arrhythmic pattern - 'sinful baby!'. 

A tiny droplet settled on her forehead startling her from her reverie. Huge black clouds raced towards her, wrapping her house in the heaviest of the blankets.

The next morning  Lova’s house woke up writhing in the wails of its occupants. Lova rested crying in her grandmother's arms as her distraught mother wiped away with trembling hands, the fresh blood stains on her daughter’s thighs.

' Why Lova, Why?' 

Lova muttered in between helpless sobs,

‘ The devil. It kicked me a lot, Ma. It kicked me a lot’

The fiery shade on Buja's face gave way to an implicit smile which dangled at the corners of her mouth. A blood stained death to a blood stained inception! Buja wondered at the tenacity of the belief that stained rooted over the years. She awed at how it stayed preserved amidst neololiberalism and modernity - safe in the manipulative hands of the midwifes or further yet, in the amateur quivering hands of the young hapless mothers. 

In Lakora, wasn't belief all that mattered ? 

Buja caressed Lova's restless locks as fresh strokes of pride blossomed on her cheeks. Her grand daughter had just saved them from a havoc. 

                                       _______________________
    

So, do you love what you do ?

                       I never yearned to be a doctor. But my parents knew better. They wanted our family to have a doctor who could take care of the members without having to go through the direness and hazzles of apprehensively rushing to a hospital not knowing what the diagnosis would be. Not that a doctor could treat a person solely within the confines of the four walls of a home, but nonetheless, if I were a doctor I would judge the situation better and would pacify the members for good – such were the reasons that formed the crux  of the long yearned for dream.

God listened to parents. True. He is there for me. I know. But He listened to them more than He listened to me.  I wanted to be a journalist or an engineer or at the least someone who could spent atleast five days of a month sans the worries of work. But, no. He made me a doctor. And then he flung me past the biggest hurdle that is the post graduation exam to place me safely on the other side.

So, do I regret that God listened to my parents more than he did to my prayers?

Life is an illusion. The things that we desire for the most cease to be worthy once we get a grab on them. On the other hand, something repulsive at first glance turns out to be a life long treasure in the course of time. Life is such.

So after toiling for one whole decade of my life I find myself  in a place where I belong to more than anywhere else. White overcoats, green surgeon’s gowns, cape and mask and emergency procedures. Life has painted itself white – Peace.

Peace? No, never. Three migraines a week is more that I can handle. Sixty hours a week. Sometimes more. Being a resident is no cakewalk- someone had told. I remember dismissing it with a jeer.

Being there for others is no easy matter. But then, isn’t that part of your job? Yes, it is. But I am pretty sure the number of doctors who sweat out day and night,without bites of food at times, far outweigh the ones who serve people solely as an ordeal.

Harking back, I feel I made the best mistake by filling up the premedical entrance application. I really did. How can I explain to you why? I cannot. I live the answer to the question. Every single day.

So, are you someone who love what you do ? 

Wiping Away The Dust

One whole year. Unbelievably so ! A year passed by sans a single post on my blog. A year passed by with no creativity firing up my grey cells. A year passed by engulfed in the smoky mist of white coats. A year passed by trying to decipher the course of nerves, the worth of ganglia and the mechanisms that keep humans breathe with peace. A year since i embarked on my post graduation course in ENT surgery - A lot to say, a lot to share.

I wouldnt be here yet if not for two incidents that occured a period spanning the last two months. 

*  My school reunion that happened last week
*  For that wonderful, smoldering mail from The Tamarind Rice team ,letting this proud spirit know about their decision to showcase her article At The Bookshop at their literary meet ' Literary Lapses'

School reunions always arrive carrying a mixed bag of emotions . Nostalgia mounting beyond seams can be overwhelming at times and at other times they can leave you all brooding when reminded about the good things that withered away over the time. And this time, it came as a common query - ' Why dont you write these days, Maliny?' 

Oh, i missed writing ! I did. But these were months when the thought of sitting lost in a fluffy cushion typing away word after word, spewing posts felt like a luxury. 

And i am not yet sure how long away is my next post. Nevertheless, i badly need to satisfy my itch to write something this very moment and that too,with all my heart. Now that i have done it there are few words to describe exactly what i feel right now. Enlightened, maybe?

There are times when you need to sail with the wind. So that you derive as much power as you can to sail against it when your mind years for it the most. There are low times. There are duties to be performed. There are goals to be achieved. There is a time to toil. There is a time to let free. There is a time to celebrate.

Life runs a course. This moment,i realise that sometimes,it is fine to abide by the rules of fate. Sometimes it is alright to float and not to fly. But never let the spark die out. Let it burn within in the lightest of the shades. You never know. The very next minute might very well be the that perfect polishing moment you had waited for all along. 

Delicious Tamarind Rice

Life might seem like a precarious boat ride on an enraged sea amidst cold showers at times, but still, interlaced with snippets of calmness granted by a sunny day and the pacifying hopes of the sight of a sandy shore past the horizon, the ride can transform into an enticing one at the most unexpected of times. Such a sliver of joy knocked at my door last week, while my days had gone haywire for a few irrevocable matters. For a writer, to receive a mail with the subject emboldened in bright letters which screams out that ' YOU WERE PUBLISHED', in any sort of medium for that matter, would be an intoxicating feeling sans doubt. And one such rewarding moment completely made my day when i received a mail from the Tamarind Rice people notifying me that my story was published in their July issue. 

Being their subscriber,i could read the issue wholly and all the more easily by downloading the pdf and it wouldn't be ornamental if i state that i was thoroughly amazed by the quality of the contents, a few by bloggers i read and enjoy on a regular basis too. The readers can vote for their favourite write ups in the vote and win section of the website and better yet, can be winners too in the process if you are lucky. 

In the August issue, they are breaking free from their usual norms and are sticking to a particular theme, the details of which could be found Here. Go ahead and contribute if your nerve cells have already started firing away at the mention of the theme!

Tamarind Rice, in my opinion stands out from the rest of the online literary magazines owing to the fresh and absorbing contents and the vibrant ideas that they come forward with every new issue. 

They say, 'Never to judge a book by its cover'. And maybe extrapolating the idea a little bit, here we could say, 'Never to judge a magazine by its title'. But i would advise each of you to unhesitatingly go ahead and judge this online magazine by its befitting title, for every little bead of rice in this particular dish is as delicious as it could ever get.

You can reach the magazine here at Tamarind Rice. I had re posted my entry in this magazine 'At The Bookshop' as a fiction on my blog by another name- That Final Arc. If you like the story, vote for me here at Vote and Win. 

That Final Arc - Fiction

The overpowering scent of freshly brewed coffee hung invitingly in the air. It had been remaining so for the past few minutes, quite daringly challenging my alacrity - the alacrity of a professional who was unflinchingly feeding raw materials in constant streams to the contraption at hand, so that it would churn out the desired products in another blink of her eye. “ The elixir will just have to wait for another half hour more”, I muttered under my breath as the tantalized bundle of nerves in charge of my senses kept firing away diligently, seeking respite. 

It was close to 6 when I left my cabin, hurriedly sloshing down my throat a cup of tepid coffee. Half of my colleagues had already dashed for the cab which would take the employees to their respective homes.

“ Hey Maya, late as usual ? No shortcuts to success eh! ”

The clutter of the rattling keys that accompanied the raspy voice was allusive. I turned back and flashed my boss my widest grin before embarking on the elevator that led me to the lowest floor.

The sky was alarmingly pale that evening. No crimson tinge. No home bound birds. The scenario that but unraveled before me was entirely one that defied the signs of nature – public vehicles that swished past me emitted venom from every single crevice of their being and the pudgy man who knocked me down to the pavement was more a critter of a less civilized world than that owned by Mother Earth, thanks to the cords that drained him of his senses through his ears, both figuratively and literally.

The loud blast of an unidentified vehicle ( The latest SUV perhaps ? ) nudged me back to the problem at hand – That I was ten minutes late. And that unfortunately meant I had to wait for twenty minutes more for the next bus which took me home. And they say troubles, when they attacked you, they did so in torrents. The street vendors, all at once, started shifting their temporary workplace to more secure corners as bulky drops of rain started pouring down on the already weighed down world rolling before me, igniting both a fury and inevitability in the home bound people to move faster.

My eyes had already started vying with the cue of sleep, the frozen joints of my body badly in need of soothing. Sans an umbrella, the wisest way to evade the unwelcoming shower was to seek solace under the nearest roof and I did just that, undoubtedly and unerringly.

“ Ma’m would you like to take a look at the newest additions that we have?”

People had a way with pouncing on me from behind when least expected and as always I jerked my head in startle to the gleaming, albeit coarse face of a middle aged man standing right next to me.

“ Oh ! Sorry. I was trying to keep myself from drenching in the rain. Maybe some other time, if you will let me share an inch of your shop now till the rain subsides? Out of compassion of course?”

The chime of the golden bells left suspended from the entry door rang through the dingy, yet well cared to shop. A customer let himself in, brushing aside silver droplets of rain from his hair, though with an air of inquisitiveness, quite unlike the way I had barged in. Not caring to reply to my query, the shop keeper left my side, leaving me high and dry amidst a flock of customers who found their way through the shop with ease born out of practice. And that was what prompted me to look around and look around did I for the next few minutes.

Minutes zoomed past in a jiffy until that moment when the shop keeper startled me once again from behind.

“ So, are you from Kerala?”

“ No. Why ?!”

“ From the way you were sniffing the pages of ‘ The God Of Small Things’ a while back near the Booker Prize section, I deduced, however falsely, that you were intrigued by the theme of the book. “

“ I cant deny the fact that you were partly right. Indeed am i intrigued by the theme of the book, but that wasn’t the sole reason why I was found bonding with it”

“ So, have you read the book?”

“ A couple of times, yes. “

“ I see. Do you need anything from my book shop now?”

“ No, I don’t. I am not allowed the privilege of savoring the alluring pages of a newly bought book anymore. Working woman. Mother of a two year old. I guess that explains a lot!”

“Please enlighten me, will you ? I didn’t quite get the relation between the two.”

I watched the man as his sharp jet black eyes narrowed down to two slits, peering at me as if he was indirectly solving a riddle for me, a riddle which needed to be solved with utmost precision and direness. A desperate customer kept calling out to him from around the far dimly lit corner of the shop, perhaps seeking help to dig out his favourite book from the pile of Classics stacked against the edge. Ignoring the calls, he kept staring at me as if his next move depended wholly on my answer. 

I tried to laugh his query off, with a smug on my face, replying in a haste , “ You see, it is complicated. Reading was so much of a passion way back when I was in school and i used to be the happiest while cuddling up in my bed reading a new book. But now, the habit has died down or maybe I lost the drive someway down my neglected shoddy lane while I was scurrying past the polished highway in this mad race. I can squeeze in time if I need to at this point of time, but whether there be time or not, in the end, it is the inclination of mind that matters and unfortunately that is where i failed or rather that is where my life hassles failed me.”

“You cannot be truer ma’m. And maybe that is why only a focused few manage to live their lives the happiest while others live in desperation or at the least nurturing a slight yearning forever when all it takes is the right inclination of their minds to draw that final arc to perfect their life circle.”

As if it dawned on him just then that he had a customer waiting, he left my side, draped back in the cloak of a considerate shopkeeper, to lend his hand to the person at the far corner who was in search of that particular book he was dying to get hold on.

The street lay washed of all its sins at the mere touch of that steady rain. The parched sun had almost vanished behind night’s pall seeking a good night’s sleep, albeit not forgetting to hang his envoy, the round silver snippet of beauty, in charge of his kingdom while he peacefully slept. The city had r eclined back at the cue of nature and I stole a look at the book shop before boarding my destined bus. The shop keeper stood watching me from inside, his gaze implicit and his smile knowing. I tightened my grip on my newly purchased book, drawing it closer to me, before nodding a goodbye to the person who, out of sheer serendipity or perhaps even advertently, descended before me and slowed me down.
                                                 __________



P.S : Completely unrelated i know, still can't help but shout out that this is the 150th post :)

P.P.S: This story was published on Tamarind Rice, an online magazine, in its July issue. To know more about the magazine, visit their page Here. 

Rivulet

A flash of beauty,

The crack of dawn,

Shimmering sun's ray,

The scent of rain.

A surreal soundtrack

Or a soulful note ;

They take me back

And leave me sour.

I tried my best 

To make you mine;

The fire in me

But,burnt me whole.

I let you go

As someone told

For if only you sought

You were mine.

 Counting tides

I waited days

But no one came

Nor anyone spoke.

Why didn't you notice

That i was gone ?

My screams had echoed 

Through mountain mounds.

Tears rolled down

Formed eddy streams,

Till my rivulet grew

And left you far.

Wasn't he right ?

Who faithfully said;

That things sans reclaim

Were never truly ours to claim.

And that was when
It struck me hard;
That life was such -
So undeniably real!
_______