The End. Of Another Month

As November comes to a rainy close, at least here in Chennai, I’m proud of myself for dedicating a month-full of posts on this blog. Though it was just an edited chapter of my two-year old attempt at something of a novel, I’m happy with how things turned out.

But I’m still not done. I’ve published 26 chapters, but I have more on the way. So I’ve decided to take on another full month of publishing every day.

This month, however, instead of publishing a chapter everyday, I’ll alternate my chapters with random thoughts as well.

If you’ve been reading the novel in parts, let me know what you think. I’d love to hear how others felt reading whatever I wrote.

Thanks for stopping by today. It means so much to have you here. Have a nice day, you.

Victorious Closure

Shakespeare is my love. And though I’ve read and enjoyed his sonnets, I had never managed to read his full plays. I read the abridged editions, yes, but the original was always beyond my ability.

An then, it changed. With some encouragement, I tried reading Hamlet — the full play. I loved every bit of it. By the time I finished reading it, I grew hungry for more.

It felt great to accomplish such a big feat and I will cherish the thrill forever. Here’s my victory: reading a complete Shakespeare play.

National Blog Posting Month – Day 15.

I’ve taken a break today from my schedule of publishing one chapter a day from my NaNoWriMo novel from two years ago. I’ll publish chapter 14 tomorrow.

Chapter Thirteen: A Helpful Voice

The class seemed to go on forever. Praveena couldn’t concentrate, but she was careful not to drift away from the lesson. She didn’t want Ms Marrie thinking she was playing the fool.

Ever since Ms Marrie had assured Praveena that she was open for discussion, Praveena had been feeling an unmistakable urge to talk to her. But she was also a bit scared of the outcome. What would Ms Marrie think of her?

As she watched Ms Marrie teaching, Praveena thought about talking to her. She had a lot of agony within her and she wanted someone to open up to. Ms Marrie was the only person who had given any indication she would listen.

Praveena decided to talk to her.

‘Are you sure?’ her inner voice peeked up. She silenced it with a definite yes.

When the class ended, Praveena trailed Ms Marrie out of the class. Spotting her, Ms Marrie said, “Hi, Praveena. How are you?”

“Not good, Miss.” she replied without looking in to Ms Marrie’s eyes.

“You want to talk about it?”

Praveena nodded. It seemed odd, asking a teacher to talk to you about personal things. But she didn’t care anymore. She missed her mother more than ever; she wanted someone to listen to her, to console her and to chide her. She wanted her mother. She wanted to tell someone that what happened to her was unfair and she wanted affirmation.

Ms Marrie nodded curtly and walked towards her room. On the way, they came across Ms Selima, Praveena’s English teacher.

“Why aren’t you in class?” She asked sternly, peering at Praveena through the top of her glasses.

“Oh, I’m borrowing her for a while, Selima. Sorry I didn’t let you know.” Marrie smiled brightly.

“OK,” Ms Selima said and went on her way without giving Praveena a second look. Praveena stood watching her with a queer expression. “She and I aren’t the best of friends,” Ms Mary mused, watching Praveena.

She looked up at Ms Marrie. Smiling, she led Praveena to her room.

Before they went inside, Ms Marrie offered Praveena a stress buster. “How about a cup of tea, Praveena?” She asked picking up the kettle that had been sitting on a table just behind the door.

“Please.” Praveena was surprised. Personal beverages within the school campus? She was sure Principal Vanitha would never hear of this.

Ms Marrie bolted the door and settled behind the desk as Praveena sat facing her. Noticing the room darker than it had been the last time she was there, Praveena saw that Ms Marrie hadn’t opened the window.

“Alright,” Ms Marrie began with an air of getting things done. “What’s bothering you, Praveena?” she asked in a more serious tone.

It surprised Praveena. Just a second ago, Ms Marrie had sounded casual and lighthearted. And now she was all serious.

“Praveena?” she repeated. Praveena looked up at her.

“Hey, look. I know you’ve had a lot of problems. But just remember, you’re not alone.”

“What?”

“Everyone has problems of their own, only the degree of it differs.” She shrugged. “Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not belittling your suffering,” she paused tilting her head towards Praveen. “but I’m only saying you should be aware of others’ problems too.”

“But how could I do that? Should I just walk up to them…” Praveena trailed away thinking of Priya.

“No.” Ms Marrie replied. “you don’t need to do anything like that. Just keep in mind that people you meet every day are undergoing tough stuff. Even if they don’t show it.”

Praveena nodded.

“Now, tell me. What were you upset about the other day?” Ms Marrie wanted to help, Praveena could see that. ‘She could give you a better insight, you know’ her inner voice said. ‘and another perspective’ the second voice added.

“Mr Andrew.” Praveena paused, not knowing how to open the matter. Now that she had someone to talk to, the matter seemed trivial. Maybe she was just being stupid.

Ms Marrie egged her on, “What about him?”

“He told me — ” she swallowed, “he told me he hated teaching.” She waited, expecting Ms Marrie to say something. But she showed no sign of surprise. Apparently it wasn’t news to her.

“And?” Ms Marrie urged after a while.

“He said he had wanted to be an archeologist and that he changed his mind because someone convinced him to.” Once she heard it come out of her mouth, it sounded a bit funny that such a thing had worried her so much.

“So, that’s what upset you,” Ms Marrie confirmed, nodding curtly.

“Yes.” Praveena’s voice was small.

“Good.” She nodded in approval. Praveena had not been expecting that.

“What?” she was perplexed.

“What exactly about Mr Andrew’s life bothered you?” Ms Marrie had a strange expression on her face, as if it was a perfectly ordinary matter to discuss, “Don’t worry, be honest.” she added, seeing Praveena’s unsure look.

Praveena thought. What had really upset her was, “he gave up on his dream too easily, and I couldn’t accept it.”

“Exactly,” Ms Marrie exclaimed jubilantly. “That’s good.”

“Why?” Praveena was confused.

“If you’re upset about someone else not realizing their dreams, it just means you have a passion to see others succeed in life.”

Praveena wore a quizzical look. She had no such passion at all. Perhaps Ms Marrie had misunderstood her. This conversation was becoming pointless.

“Let me explain,” Ms Marrie seemed to have read her thoughts, “You strongly believe people should realize their dreams. Right?”

Praveena nodded silently.

“So, when Andrew ended up a teacher, your belief was tested for the first time. That’s why you were upset. You couldn’t accept it because you had never heard of it happen before. Am I right?”

Praveena now saw the picture, as understanding drew on her face. She nodded.

“But don’t mistake the power of society. It will continue to test you and surprise you. You will face the same confusion every time your beliefs are questioned. It’s up to you to decide how to react. You follow?”

“Yes, Miss” Praveena sounded happier now. Her heart felt lighter. “But Miss, does it mean that my trust will always be broken?”

“Maybe,” Ms Marrie shrugged “you can never be sure.”

“Then,” Praveena was again confused. ‘’what should I do if I’m not sure?”

Ms Marrie was silent. Her eyebrows creased as she thought. “I don’t know.” she said at last. “Maybe that’s for you to find out.”

Praveena nodded in agreement. “Maybe…” she trailed away.

They were silent for a while. Then Marrie broke it.

“How’s your father, Praveena? How’s he taking your mother’s death?” Marrie wanted Praveena to talk, to open up and reveal her innermost feelings. She knew Praveena had never done that before.

“It’s really difficult for him, he can’t come out of it.” Praveena’s voice went all squashy. It was strange, talking to Ms Marrie about her mother so easily, when she had reacted so badly towards Priya.

“I see,” Ms Marrie observed, “and,” she paused now looking directly into Praveena’s eyes, “what about you?”

“I’m fine, really”

Ms Marrie smiled. ‘Did I sound convincing?’ Praveena wondered.

“You know, that’s a bit too quick to be true.”

‘Perhaps not.’

“What’s going on, Praveena? Tell me exactly, don’t be shy and don’t be scared. Just talk.” Marrie’s voice was gentle, urging Praveena.

“I feel — ” she stopped and sniffed, “sad. Like I have no reason to live, like I’ll never be the same again.” she gulped.

“Like a part of you had died,” Marrie helped.

“Yes.”

“That’s how you should feel, because that’s what happened.” Ms Marrie wore a smile on her lips, a content and satisfied smile.

For some odd reason, Praveena felt better.

National Blog Posting Month – Day 14

Chapter Four: Shattered Dreams

School. ‘What a pathetic place to be,’ Praveena mused, ‘when you could be anywhere else in the world.’ There was nothing she could do though. She was on her bicycle, riding to school. Youngsters crowded the streets rushing towards their schools. At the end of a five-minutes ride, Praveena was at the gates of the Benjamin Higher Secondary School. Lining up behind the thronging students, she waited at the gate for a few minutes.

Once she had managed to part from the crowd, her next task was to find a cozy parking spot for her bicycle. ‘Why does everyone have to be in such a hurry?’ She thought to herself as she strode in leisure towards the bicycle parking shed. It wasn’t even a proper shed; just a sheet of asbestos propped up and held in place with a few wooden sticks.

‘They should fix this before giving us homework on Renaissance architecture’ Praveena bit back her anger as she parked her cycle in a corner. Her anger returned, but she didn’t know why, and it angered her even more. Kicking hard at one of the wooden sticks lying on the ground, she turned to leave. All around her, students rushed towards their classes with heavy bags and long faces.

What was the day?

Tuesday. ‘Oh, no. It’s Tuesday!’ She slapped her forehead with her hand. ‘It’s Andrew’s class first thing in the morning!’ She realised misery rising within her. She didn’t feel like going to class anymore. The assembly had already begun, and she heard it from the other side of the school. She stopped where she was. If someone saw her not being in assembly, she would have a lot of bats to answer to. Hiding behind one of her favourite Neem trees, she waited, inhaling the medicinal scent of the leaves.

The assembly went on for what seemed hours. At last, Praveena straightened up as the final notes of the national anthem faded away. Now, before anyone figured out she had been missing, she had to join the queue walking from the assembly hall to their class.

It would have been easier to come early and attend the assembly. She ducked down the tree and crouching low, went creeping towards her class queue. For a split second she waited, taking in the atmosphere. There were plenty of teachers roaming the rear of the queues. There is no way she could join one of them without being noticed. She decided to take the chance.

Just as she made to walk towards the nearest queue, there was a commotion on the other side. The principal had had confiscated some electronic gadget from a student. All teachers were distracted and Praveena seized her opportunity. Thanking the student who just got caught, she reached the dreaded class without anyone noticing. A couple of minutes later, Andrew arrived. The class began.

“Good morning, class” Mr Andrew peered at the class through his magnifying glass. “Alright everyone. Submit your papers.” His instruction was clear, yet his voice sounded childish. It wasn’t natural though, maybe it was because of his age. It sounded like he spoke to a three year old. It was annoying, and that was a strong enough reason for Praveena to despise the teacher. That, the subject, and the way he lovingly spoke of it, caressing the think bound book.

All of a sudden, for some odd reason, Mr Andrew looked like a-century-old ghost to Praveena. She wondered why the thought had occurred to her. Andrew had always appeared the same way, yet today she thought he looked as if he had dropped into the class from the 1920s. Ancient. That was the appropriate word to describe him thought Praveena. Yes, he had sunken eyes, and veins that almost popped out of his skin. The few hairs on his balding head stood distinctly white against his brownish head. And he looked tired, something Praveena had never seen in the teacher’s eyes. His eyes had always been sparkling with the excitement of the next lesson. He may be an old fool, she thought, but there’s no denying that he loved his subject.

She appreciated Mr Andrew for doing what he loved, but once he started explaining the day’s lesson, Praveena began to hate him again. He was a good historian, but not at all a good teacher. The class was as boring as ever, and it didn’t help that it was the first period of the day. Praveena soon drifted off into her own thoughts.

An hour later, Andrew was gathering his things and set to leave the class. Praveena offered to carry his papers for him, and on the way she braved enough to ask him about his subject.

“You seem to really love History, Mr Andrew”. She made it a light statement. Not many teachers appreciated private conversations with their students. They felt it made them vulnerable at times. Andrew startled as if interrupted from his thoughts. “Huh?” He tried to remember what she had said, “yes, History. Love it. Yes.” he stopped speaking and continued towards his room. Praveena tailed behind, not knowing how to go on.

People walking past them threw shameless looks at Praveena. No one offered Andrew to carry his things. Praveena saw them and wondered why she hadn’t done this sooner. Andrew, on the other hand didn’t seem to notice. In fact, he didn’t notice anyone in the corridor. He just kept walking.

At last, he found his room in a corner and went in with Praveena still at his heels. He tuned abruptly to face her. “What are you doing here?” He seemed surprised to see her.

Praveena was taken aback. “Sir, I bought your papers for you,” she responded and left them on the desk. And as she did so, she noticed his room was covered with images and sculptures of historical artifacts. His desk was empty except for a tiny coffee mug that read, “Best Dad”.

“Ah, yes. Thank you.”

Praveena turned to leave, then stopped and faced him. He wore a quizzical expression and tilted his head sideways like a child pleading for ice cream.

“Sir, I just wanted to say, you’re brave for doing what you love.”

Andrew’s face hardened. “What?”

Praveena repeated, now a little scared, without missing a single syllable.

Andrew folded his hands. “You think I love teaching?”

Praveena’s eyes widened and she nodded as doubt creeped into her head.

“No. I hate teaching. Archeology is my real love. There’s a huge difference.” He said it matter-of-factly. As if it didn’t matter that he had ignored his passion and opted for another profession altogether.

‘But why?’ Praveena wanted to ask. He answered her unasked question.

“Because they told me Archeology was useless, and I was stupid enough to believe it.” He dropped his hands and his body went limb. He look depressed again.

“Every morning I convince myself that teaching is good, and every night I weep silently.” he turned to face the wall and hung his head.

How could he give up on his dream? Praveena was speechless. She left the room without saying a word.

Chapter Three | Chapter Five

Chapter One: A New Welcome

It was a dark night, no moon and not a single street light shone as far as the eye could see. But that was the least of Kamal’s worries. He wasn’t outdoors enjoying the gentle July breeze that swept through the streets; instead, he stood under fading tube lights, distraught between shooing flies away from his face and staring at the door waiting for it to open.

They had told him to wait. He couldn’t, not anymore; he had waited for an hour already, and his patience was running out, fast. It was as if an invisible force stretched him from both sides, trying to discern how long before he’d snap.

He had waited, along with his wife, for ten long months. Now he understood what they meant, that time would creep when you expect something — or someone. It was torture.

He tried leaning on the decaying walls. He sat, but couldn’t for long. He began pacing to and fro the narrow windowless corridor. He couldn’t think straight; his mind was garbled with emotions he couldn’t explain — even to himself. It was his first experience; he was excited, filled with enthusiasm. But he was also worried, his wife needed him — now — more than ever. But here he stood instead, waiting with bated breath and an uncontrollable urge to break down the door.

For months leading to this day, he had assailed his friends and colleagues with questions about their experiences. He had dedicated more attention to their words than he had ever done during his Economics classes back in college. However, no matter how much he had been tutored to stay calm and relax, it was nothing — nothing compared to what he now faced.

The nurses all laughed at his restlessness; the sight wasn’t new for them. Day after day they would watch, as expecting fathers stole longing glances at the closed door.

Each moment seemed an age, and Kamal was growing desperate. He looked around the corridor. It had a surprising sense go gloom, for a labour ward. The lights above his head flickered. In the farthest corner, he saw another agitated young father clinging on to the door knob, expecting news of his child. Turning to his own door, Kamal noticed the paintings on the walls. There were babies. Three babies huddled together in one picture while in another, a baby peeked from behind a fluffy white pillow. Kamal’s lips parted in a tiny smile, and before he knew it, his smile had reached his eyes; he couldn’t wait. He pressed his ear to the door in eager anticipation, hoping to hear the doctor’s footsteps coming towards him. But there was no sound.

Why wasn’t there any sound? He thought back to all the movies he had seen, where relatives waiting outside would celebrate as soon as they heard the baby’s cries and the mother’s wails from within.

What was going on?

A nurse decided to explain; “It’s a sound-proof door, Mr Kamal!”

And a minute later, the mahogany door swung open and out strode the doctor, with two nurses at his heels. The doctor grinned at him through his grey-lined mustache, “Congratulations, Mr. Kamal. You are now the father of a beautiful girl.” The effect was instantaneous — Kamal’s face split into a huge smile and tears escaped though his eye lids. His legs almost gave away, and he clutched the lined chairs just in time to balance himself. For a few seconds, he stood speechless. He opened his mouth but couldn’t form words. Clearing his throat, he tried again gesturing towards the inside of the room.

The doctor threw his head back and laughed. A high-pitched belly laugh, “Yes, you can go and see them.”

Kamal managed a weak “Thank you”, before dragging his weak legs into the room. There on the bed lay his pretty wife, her eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. He saw beads of sweat on her forehead, and next to her, was the cot. He stood at the door, watching his wife. She had suffered in his absence, but he was going to change it. He swore to himself never to leave her side again.

Walking over to the cot, he peeped in slowly, for fear of waking his baby. But she wasn’t asleep; she looked up at her father, smiling and cackling. It awoke his wife. Stirring, she sat up and smiled at him; the same smile that had made him a hopeless lover.

He lifted his girl in tender arms and, trying to be gentle, planted a kiss on her cheek. She began crying immediately. With a baffled look, he handed his baby to his wife. Once settled in her mother’s arms, the baby stopped crying. Smiling at his confusion, his wife mused, “Your beard.”

“I’ll shave it.” He waved a hand, “First thing tomorrow.” He was dazed; his daughter had succeeded where his parents and relatives had failed. For the first time in his life, he agreed to give up his beard. He would give his daughter everything, she would grow up the happiest girl in the world.

“I love you,” He declared to his daughter and she smiled in return. Smiled as if she understood every syllable her father uttered.

Chapter Two