The Story of a Doe-eyed Jinn

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Thousands of years ago, when mankind was still young and believed in magic, there was a tiny green island peopled by simple, god-fearing fisher folk. In the little village by the seaside, there lived a beautiful girl with pale white skin, pomegranate red lips, jet-black hair. She flit from home to home through the day, bringing happiness with her good nature and helpful attitude. She would play with the children and do little tricks that kept their tears at bay. She would climb tall trees and pluck fruit for the little ones. She would help mothers and wives with household chores and she would listen to the old folks’ tales of glory till they were filled with blessings for her kind heart. She was a winsome little soul and everyone agreed that the man who won her heart would be a lucky one.

One day, a great magician came to the village in a fabulous flying carpet made of gold and silver. He glowed with a magical aura and no one could touch him. He wore a strange robe made of glistening orange and black. He had a long beard and long hair and spoke in a deep, drowning voice. He was like a king from heaven. No one in the village had seen anyone like him. No one knew why he had come to their village and no one asked. He went to the village elder and demanded shelter. The village elder fell under his spell and gave him what he wanted without any questions. In fact, the whole village fell under his spell.

They were stunned by the magic he performed for them. He could stop the rain from wetting the village. It would fall all around but not into the village. It seemed like he had built a dome to keep off the thunder and lightening. He could extend night and day for the village.

The young doe-eyed girl watched him with fascination. The magician saw her from the corner of his eyes and followed her with interest. It would be nice for him to have someone like her around, he thought to himself. In any case, he was tiring off the village and the time had come for him to move on…

The magician came from beyond the stars and the moon. He had travelled around the world in quest of a special magic that would make him more powerful than the men who ruled his home. He wanted to be a king. He was a man who loved power and lived for only his own needs. This young girl could ward away his loneliness and help him find the magic. The magician approached the village elder and asked for the girl’s hand. The village elder was totally under the magician’s mind spell. He would do whatever the magician asked. He agreed. The young girl agreed. Only her mother worried. But the magician put a spell on her mouth so that she could not utter her protests.

The girl went off with the magician on his flying carpet…

For the first few days, the girl lived as if in a dream. They soared among the stars and the moon. From the carpet, which turned invisible and became like a big home, she could see the aurora borealis, fabulous sunrises and sunsets, even the whole Earth as she flew further towards the moon with her magician. Oh! How the girl loved the magician as she saw the wonders of the universe soar past her…the fabulous nebulae, the distant suns, the stars with their swirls of gas and fire…oh! She was fascinated!

At last, they landed on the snowbound ice-cap of the polar region. The magician said, “Now, I will train you and then will begin our real work.”

First, he created a home for them under a warm glowing dome where the temperature was as warm as that of the doe-eyed damsel’s island. It was like a little oasis of warmth in the cold desert of ice and snow. There, he started training her. Sometimes, they would step out into the cold and create a fire with a powder. Sometimes, they would create illusory landscapes, like a volcano or a flower garden. The magician taught the maiden how to keep her body temperature constant in cold and warm weather. He taught her to change into a bird and soar the skies. He taught her how to control her and others’ minds, how to move objects from a distance. She learned fast.

After six months of intensive training, the magician told her it was time to start work…to look for a new magic…

They set sail on the magic carpet and soared the world, visiting deep caverns, river and sea-beds for ancient magic. And the doe-eyed winsome girl became an expert magician. She could turn to dust a predator lurking in the deeps of the sea, swim like a mermaid into underwater caverns, create light and darkness…just like her magician. In addition she had a pure heart, a necessity that the bearded magician for all his charm lacked. It was with the echoes of her heart that she would be able to feel the pure magic. Unfortunately for the magician, his heart was tainted by personal ambition and greed. It could not sense the echoes of magic that needed a pure heart. He had searched everywhere on Earth for the magic but it was lost to him.

Another six months passed. The magic was still concealed from them. Then, one day as they delved deep into a dark cave on a mountainside, they found the magic in a rock. It echoed in the doe eyed girl’s heart. She heard the echoes and told her magician. The magician took out a ring and put a halo around the rock. It floated up, became tiny and swept into an empty socket of the ring. It was strange magic. The magician was very happy. He said, “I know this is the right magic because it responded to the call of the ring.” That day they went to a nearby village and partied with the villagers. They had visited the village earlier and the villagers knew them as a devoted couple. They had fireworks and fancy food. They sang and danced late into he night.

That night they all went to bed late.

The sun caressed the doe-eyed damsel with its morning rays. The doe-eyed damsel woke up to an empty bed. Her magician had left with the ancient magic, ring and carpet. He left a note bidding her farewell forever. The doe-eyed damsel wept till her eyes were swollen and red.

When the villagers heard of her plight, they condemned her as an abandoned woman. Her husband left her because she was flawed, they said. The doe-eyed girl cried and cried and then decided to return home. She took to the skies like a swallow, alighted at her village and returned to her original form. When she returned without the magician and wept out her tale, people turned their faces away. Her mother hung her head in shame for an abandoned wife was considered a valueless and shameless commodity in the world of men. Her mother could not take in the shame and died of a broken heart. The doe-eyed one no longer brought smiles to the villagers but, in their opinion, only bad luck.

She lived in the outskirts of the village and perfected her magic. One day, embittered by a sense of rejection, she took the form of a black crane and flew all the way to the desert sands. There she haunted caravanserais for a few years hoping her magician would return at some point and find her. When the bearded one did not return and men jeered at her and wounded her self-respect, she started turning them into lizards and cockroaches. People began to regard her as a woman with a black heart. Only the wicked came to her for magical help and she obliged. She was a woman who had lost her senses in a battle to survive with honour.

Sometimes, she would turn herself into a whirlwind and baffle men who had jeered at her. Sometimes, she descended like black smoke on unsuspecting wayfarers and frightened them with ugly faces.

One day when she descended on a group of travellers as a whirlwind and started making frightening faces at them, a clever trader outwitted her. He said, he did not believe that she was a powerful magician. The doe-eyed one wanted to convince him. She asked, “What can I do to convince you? Should I turn you into a worm?”

He replied,“ I will believe you are a really powerful magician if you can get into this tiny jar” and he waved an empty wine bottle under her nose.

“Oh that is easy,” she replied and turned into black smoke and entered the jar. The trader promptly closed the jar. However much she shouted, he would not let her out. He took the jar to the next caravanserai and threw it among all the empty bottles that littered the garbage area.

The doe-eyed one waited patiently for someone to open the bottle. She turned herself invisible and made a home in the old wine jar, waiting for more than ten centuries to be let out…

 

 

Vanda, Ms Joaquim

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First there was a name. Then there was a flower. Then there was a story… and a new story.

In the garden stood a maiden, a young woman in the first bloom of her youth… olive skin, dark-eyed, with a soft fringe and a pert nose. She wore a red dress and had red lips…then came a tall stranger from beyond the seas and swept her off in a whirlwind of romance…

That is how the story should have gone, but it did not. There was a garden and in the garden were many flowers. There was a young woman and she had scratches and cuts all over her knees, which she ignored. She was walking through the bushes and the thorns and twigs had left harsh imprints on her soft flesh. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a blue t-shirt. On her head was a straw hat. She was dusky, short and had hazel hair and eyes.   She was looking for something…

As she peered into the bushes, a football came and hit her, hard on the back. She fell. A group of boys playing football nearby had sent the ball flying into the bushes, unintentionally. But the young lady was angry, her dignity being injured. She started getting up from amid the bushes and shouting, “How dare you?! You vandals! You nitwits!”

A strong arm came and helped her up and a deep voice said, “Come! Come! It was not intentional… what were you doing in the bushes anyway?”

“ I had a keychain. It had orchids in it. I was taking my landlord’s dog, Chester, for a walk and had a ball in my hand too. As I flung the ball for Chester to fetch, the keychain with it’s bundle of keys flew out too and I could not find the keychain anymore. I dropped Chester back and came to look for my keychain. It has the national orchid of Singapore in it, Vanda Ms Joachim, but actually, of the Papilionanthe family.” She nodded her head fiercely trying hard to look dignified and offended.

The owner of the strong arm and deep voice started to smile and almost laughed for the spectacle she provided was funny. She had a smut of dirt on her nose of which she was oblivious and dry leaves from the bushes in her hair. He threw back the ball at the group of boys playing football and dug his hands into his pockets.

“Would this be it?” said the deep voice dangling a keychain in front of her. “I found it lying under a bench near these bushes and had picked it up hoping to drop it off at the nearest police post.”

“Yes. Thank God. Thank you so much!” said the owner of the keychain.

She smiled and stretched out her arms to get it. The owner of the deep voice was a young man in his late twenties. He gave her the chain and smiled.

“ My name is Michael,” he said.

“I am Madhu. I am a botanist and have come to research orchid hybrids in Singapore. This keychain holds my favourite. It is pretty and the flowers are resilient and sturdy. I love the colour. So, this was very important to me.”

“How long have you lived here?” asked Michael.

“Oh! For almost a year…”

“And do you like it?”

“Well. Yes. I miss my family though…”

“I live in the houses across the road,” said Michael.

“I need to run home now. Bye,” said Madhu. She had become a bit wary… a stranger in Botanical Gardens. He did make her feel shy though.

Michael looked at her receding figure, shook his head and smiled. She disappeared.

The next day he saw her at the bus stop. She was waiting for a bus. Michael was driving past, returning from work. He slowed down but the bus came before he could halt and she was gone. He smiled when he thought of her. She was like a whiff of fresh  spring breeze.

Michael had grown up in Singapore. His family was an old Pernakan one. Pernakans were Chinese immigrants who had intermingled with the local population of the Malay Archipelago during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Over the decades they had developed a Westernised culture and converted to Christianity. Michael’s family had a few Indians and Westerners too. They celebrated every festival and were culturally very open. They accepted all people, all customs. They were rich traders who had the money to acquire the best in the world. They owned real estate firms in Singapore and China and gold mines in South Africa.

Michael had studied in Singapore and USA. He was a businessman too, like his father, and contributed to the family business. He was in the habit of getting what he wanted but always with a smile and graciously. So, now when he found himself thinking more than necessary of the hazel-eyed girl who popped out of a hedge in Botanical Gardens, he really wanted to know her better.

Every now and then he saw her at the bus stop in the evening but could never catch her. One day, he returned home early and went walking to the bus stop at the time he normally returned home. He saw her coming at a distance and pretended to look at his mobile. When Madhu reached the stop, Michael felt very nervous.

With his heart in his hand, he said, “Hi! Do you recognize me?”

Madhu looked at him surprised, “Oh! You are the one who found my keychain! I did not know you came to this stop.”

“Yes. I live very close. Do you research at the Botany Centre in the Botanical Gardens? ” Michael asked.

“I do. What about you? Where do you work?” Asked Madhu.

“I am a businessman. My head office is in Clark Quay.”

Madhu saw her bus coming, “My bus is here. Bye!”

She got onto the bus and so did Michael.

“So, where are you going?” asked Michael taking the seat next to her.

“I am going to the national library at Bras Basah. I normally get a book from there and have dinner and return to my room every night.”

“What a coincidence, I am going there too…I want to pick some reading material too…”said Michael.

They chatted on the way to the library. They talked like old friends. Somehow, Madhu felt she could trust him and liked him.

Madhu borrowed a couple o Agatha Christies and Michael borrowed a Dan Brown. They ate dinner at the cafe outside the library and took the bus back home. Madhu had rented a room in a bungalow at a little distance from the Botanical Gardens.

The next day Michael was there again. Madhu accepted his presence naturally. This went on for almost a couple of months with a few breaks on weekends. Then one day, Michael invited her home to meet his family.

It seemed the most natural thing to do. Madhu bought some chocolates and flowers and went over one Saturday afternoon. The family was very nice to her. Aliya, Michael’s mother, gifted her a hand painted white silk scarf with Vanda Ms Joachim on it. Madhu loved it. They even had the hybrid in their garden. Michael’s father, Alvin, was very nice to talk to. He knew many things about plants because he loved collecting rare ones. Michael’s younger brother, Melvin, came in for lunch and went back to study. He was a final year student in medicine and had exams to face. They had Nonya chicken curry in honour of Madhu for lunch. The food was really nice. Madhu loved it. She ate with gusto.

The next Monday, Michael took her to the library in his car. Madhu was gracious about it. Then, they walked to an Italian restaurant for dinner. And as they waited for the food to arrive, Michael took out a tiny box from his pocket and opened it. In it was a beautiful ring with an orchid holding a cluster of diamonds. The orchid was of pink and purple gold. It was beautiful and exotic!

He held the ring up to Madhu and said, “Marry me!” in a pleading whisper…

“What?!” exclaimed Madhu.

“Will you marry me?” asked Michael.

“I have not thought about it at all,” said Madhu. “Can you give me some time, please?”

Michael nodded and tried to look understanding. Then he said, “You mean, you did not figure out even when I invited you home?”

“I have not thought about marriage as yet because I have my work and I am away from home. I know my parents want me to marry … an Indian boy and settle down in India… I have been running away from this whole thing… just give me some time… and then I will have to break it to my parents too… Can we just continue friends for some time…I do not want to lose you…”

“All right. I will wait and we will continue as before. Will you keep the ring?”

“No. I will accept it after I work out things with my parents. In India, marriages are between families,” said Madhu.

“I got the ring made for you. I ordered it at the jewelers a month ago and I received it yesterday… It is also a Vanda Ms Joaquim… only for you… no one else can wear it…”said Michael.

“I promise you I will wear it… but give me a little time. I have to go for a cousin’s wedding in a fortnight. We will talk after I return again. I will be back in ten days,” said Madhu. “I will be leaving in a week.”

Michael and Madhu met everyday of the week and tried to continue like old friends but there was an element of conciousness in their interactions. On Friday, Madhu told Michael she would be taking a flight on Sunday. Michael insisted on seeing her off at the airport. He took her address in New Delhi from her. She told him she would not be wirelessly connected outside her home… and during the wedding she might be unreachable… Michael felt a little apprehensive but he had to let her go to get her back…

Ten days turned to a fortnight, Madhu was still not back. Michael was now really anxious. He called but no one answered. After the first few days, Madhu had stopped responding to his messages. She was not active on Facebook… When he contacted the botany institute, they said that Madhu had extended her leave and would return at some point. They did not know when.

Enough was enough. Michael flew down to New Delhi. He had booked into Taj Mansingh Hotel. He took a car from the hotel and drove down to the address Madhu had given. He got off outside the bungalow in Hauz Khas and walked in through the gate. There was a lawn outside the front door. A little child of about eight was playing in the garden bouncing a ball. Michael rang the bell. The door was opened by a plump, middle-aged woman in a sari. Michael asked if Madhu lived there.

The woman cocked her head to one side.

“Who are you to enquire?” she asked in a gruff manner.

“I am Michael, Madhu’s friend from Singapore,” he answered. He could hear voices inside.

“Why can’t you leave her alone? She will be married to a nice Indian boy. His family is visiting. Go now. I don’t want them to see you,” saying this, she banged the door shut on his face.

Michael’s head was reeling. He had to see Madhu once at least and hear from her that she was marrying another man. He sat on the steps of the front porch. After sometime, the little boy with the ball came to him.

“Who are you and why are you sitting here?” he asked.

“I am Michael. I want to see Madhu. I have a present for her,” he said. Michael had decided that he would in any case give her the ring as a keepsake… it was only for her, for his lover of Vanda…

“Oh! I see,” said the little boy. “You want to meet Madhu and she is not at home. But don’t feel sad for that. She has just gone to the Rose Garden with the man with huge moustaches. She is my cousin. And that was my mother! You can go there in your car.”

Michael thanked the little boy and asked his driver if he knew the way to the Rose Garden. The driver said, “It is very close.” And took him there.

Michael saw a huge garden full of roses and bordered by tall, slender Eucayptus trees. It crowded with people. He got off… how would he find Madhu? There were so many people. Groups of picknickers and then, there was an avenue going into a wooded area. What if she had gone off to the wooded area? What if he missed her? Suddenly, at a distance, he saw a scarf. The scarf was white and spread in a triangle on the woman’s back. It had the orchid Vanda painted on it… Madhu’s scarf! He had found her…She was sitting on a bench with her back to Michael with a muscular owner of fine moustaches… Her voice floated to him, “….my favourite orchid…Ms Vanda, is resilient and a hybrid… it is very unique because…” Her companion seemed a little restive and tried to put his arms around her shoulder and sidled closer on the bench. Madhu moved away. “I love orchids and my work.”

Moustaches and Muscles said, “You can have a garden to grow your flowers in our new home.”

“But I want to be back in Singapore… I can’t marry you,” said Madhu.

“Your parents said you could. Girls are shy, they say and always run away initially. So, I understand,” said her companion and sidled closer. Madhu jumped off the bench.

“Don’t you understand? I don’t want to marry,” said Madhu in a loud voice.

Michael felt it was time to announce his presence. He cleared his throat and put his hand on Madhu’s shoulder. She jumped up with a scream. Muscles and moustaches also jumped up and said, “Hey Mister! What do you think you are doing? That is my fiancee!”

Michael said, “Sounded more like she does not want you…”

Madhu turned towards Michael and hugged him, “Oh! I am so glad to see you!”

Michael held her to his bosom and said, “I will never let you go, Ms Vanda.”

He kissed her on her face, on her lips. He poured all his love into that hug and Madhu clung to him.

Moustaches and Muscles was angry, “You shameless girl, I will never marry you. Fancy, having a boy friend! Shame on you!” And he went off…

But never was a shamed woman happier than Madhu!

The owner of the Vanda Ms Joaquim scarf had accepted the exquisite orchid ring of pink and purple gold.

 

 

 

 

 

The Storm

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A shooting star zipped across the sky, studded with pinpricks of lights that twinkled against the blackness of the velvety night, a night that throbbed with music on the lawns of the exclusive club where Dolon and Suresh were celebrating their silver wedding anniversary. The star went unnoticed by all except a figure that sat at a distance wrapped in what seemed an extension of the night sky, a sinuous black sari speckled with tiny silver spangles. The figure smiled with happy thoughts and perhaps made a wish as the shooting star disappeared into oblivion.

The sumptuous party with turbaned waiters and long white tables swung in it’s own beat. Guests draped in expensive saris, suits, jewelry and perfume expressed their satisfaction with the opulence of the affair. Besides Dolon and Suresh, stood their daughter, Brishti, and son, Sreshth. Brishti’s fiance, Arjun, came and whispered in her ears. Brishti gave a shy smile and looked at her parents. Dolon smiled and the young couple took off towards the dance floor, a little raised stage in the middle of the lawn where the younger moved to music.

“ I think all the guests are here except for Subir da. He is late as usual,” said Suresh.

“ Then let us go and mingle,” said Dolon.

“I am off to my gang then,” said Sresht and went off to a gaggle of young men talking and laughing.

Dolon and Suresh went first to the woman in black, the star gazer who occupied a chair near the entrance of the party. She had a face similar to that of Dolon but looked a little older.

Didi, I am so glad you could come all the way,” said Dolon to her elder sister, Damayanti.

“And how would I not? On such an important occassion…” said Damayanti with a smile. Suresh came and touched her feet. She blessed the couple from the bottom of her heart.

“Go and mingle with the others. I will sit here and wait for Subir. He is late as usual,” said Damayanti with an indulgent smile. Subir was her husband. She was five years older to Dolon and her only daughter, Sreya, was married and living in South Africa.

Damayanti sighed and gazed at the figures of her sister and brother-in-law moving among the guests. How happy they looked together, happier than her and Subir, whose inability to be in time distressed her! And yet, she could not help but recall that night almost fifteen years ago, a day after her sister’s wedding anniversary celebration, when she got that horrifying call that Dolon had slashed her wrist and was hospitalized…

She would never forget the nightmare. Subir and she had driven recklessly from their home to the nursing home. It was surreal for her. Her lively younger sister Dolon… the one who always smiled, was always so sure of herself, always got her way, was so strong to oppose wrongs to women, to children , to anyone, was so loyal in love… why would such a positive and strong person try to commit suicide?

At the nursing home, their father, Harihar, was pacing up and down. The young children were clinging to Seema, their grandmother. But, where was Suresh and why had all this happened?

After a few hours, Dolon regained consciousness. The family were allowed in one by one and asked to be quiet. The children went in with their grandmother. Then the rest followed slowly. The doctors asked them not to talk to her or agitate her in any way.

What had happened? That was the question on everyone’s mind but no one dared ask. And why was Suresh not there?

Harihar had received a call from the housekeeper that her madam was lying in a pool of blood and the children were crying with fear… Harihar instantly called a private ambulance and rushed her to the nearest nursing home. He was also not clear what had happened… and why they couldnot find Suresh anywhere.

No one wanted to question Dolon much…

Brishti and Shresht went to their grandparent’s home from the nursing home. Brishti said Dolon had asked them to go to their room when Suresh mentioned he wanted to talk to her alone. Then they spoke and their voices became loud and incoherent. The door banged shut. The children could hear Dolon crying as if her heart would rend. Slowly, the weeping seemed to stop. And then they heard a scream from the housekeeper. They came running out of their room to find their mother with her wrist cut. The housekeeper called up Suresh immediately. Suresh’s phone was switched off. So, she called Harihar. The arguement had happened while she was in the market. When she returned, Dolon had been weeping in her room and Suresh was missing and the kids were in their room. She only came into the room when the weeping almost ceased thinking Dolon had calmed down. Instead, she found her lying in a pool of blood.

From the nursing home, Dolon also came to her parental home. She was very depressed and quiet. The doctors had prescribed anti-depressants. No one dared question Dolon. Harihar continued to call Suresh but his phone was still switched off!

Damayanti, Subir and Sreya temporarily moved into Harihar’s home to try and ease the situation. Also Dolon was closest to her sister. Everyone was hoping she would tell her what had happened.

After two days, Harihar had a call from Suresh. Suresh had returned home after two days, unkempt, unshaven and heard the story of Dolon’s wrist slashing from the housekeeper. He wanted to talk to Dolon. Harihar asked him to come over and explain what had happened. Suresh came, looking unkempt, anxious and abashed. He first wanted to talk to Dolon. But Dolon didnot want to talk to him or see him.

“What is the matter? Will one of you tell me what has happened? Why Dolon had to resort to such extreme measures?”said Harihar with impatience.

Suresh found it difficult to say anything. He just left.

The evening of the day Suresh visited them, Dolon opened up to Damayanti, “He wanted to leave me and go with his secretary… It seems she has been in love with him from the first day she saw him… whereas he thinks I have no time for him… I love him so much. Life has no meaning without him. I married him to spend the rest of my life with him…where did I go wrong Didi? …It really hurts…I was only looking after the kids and home. I have always been there for him… He is the one who is always busy. He has no time for the kids or me… He doesnot know the kids’ teachers or friends. He sees us only on weekends practically. He is always taking clients out for dinner and getting home near midnight… he is the one who spends more time with his secretary and work than with any of us…yet, we have never complained…”

Damayanti was furious, “Divorce him! Divorce him this instance… we told you not to marry the orphan…but you still did. And now…” Suresh was an orphan. He was brought up by his aunt, who died before Dolon met him. She knew him for twelve years before she slashed her wrists.

“My life is over,”said Dolon. “Why did you save me?”

“What about the kids?” Said Damayanti. “If you and Suresh think only of yourselves, what of the kids?”

Harihar was furious too, “He is banned from coming here! Dolon will divorce him”

But when the kids left for school the next day, the bell did ring. And there was Suresh.

“Get out!”said Harihar.

Suresh forced his way in despite that.

“Please let me see Dolon once,” he begged. “I will go away forever if she wants after that. Please let me apologize. I was wrong. I do love her.”

Dolon came in.

Everyone was silent.

“Do you really?” asked Dolon. “Then why did you say all those things and disappear not letting me have my say…”

“I was confused…I cannot live without you…Please give me another chance. I will be a good father and husband. I will change my ways. Please, please Dolon I beg you.”He knelt. He bowed his head and pleaded.

Dolon said, “Okay. One more chance is all I will give and then if it happens again, I will leave, not die, with the kids.”

“No Dolon. Do not believe him,”said Damayanti.

“He will hurt you again,”said her Seema.

“He is not worthy of you,”said Harihar.

Subir, who had just returned after dropping the children to school, collared Suresh, “If you come near us again, I will hand you to the police.”

“Stop.”shouted Dolon. “For my sake stop.”

Subir let Suresh go.

Dolon deliberately walked over to her husband. She held his hand and said, “Let’s go.”

Brishti and Shresht returned home that weekend. And Subir and Damayanti returned home with Sreya. Dolon’s family kept urging her to divorce Suresh. But, Dolon ignored them and their rebuke. Damayanti didnot know what Dolon did, but it had all worked out. Dolon had been very strong through it all, siding with her husband, supporting him with love and trust.

Once when Damayanti questioned her on why she forgave him so easily, Dolon said, “Our children need us both.”

Her children never knew exactly what happened but they were attached to both their parents. Initially, the family ignored Suresh. Then, seeing how good he was being to Dolon, they started relenting. Suresh tried to win back the family too as he had none of his own.

Infact when Harihar developed cancer, Suresh was the one who paid for most of the chemotherapy, his argument being that he had no one else except this family to care for whereas Subir had his parents too. Suresh stood by like a rock for his mother-in-law when her husband passed away and he was by her when she died two years later.

One day when the two sisters were having tea, Dolon had confided in Damayanti, “The past that threatened to tear us apart has drawn Suresh closer to my heart. He has softened. He seems kinder…to understand me better …perhaps because he started giving us more time… life is good now.” That was about a year after their mother died.

Strange how people were…

That the lively Dolon could be so strong and take a positive step towards rebuilding her life despite the family suggesting otherwise was amazing! That she had succeeded was fantastic! That she found it in her heart to forgive her erring husband was so kind and loving, and so unlike the reaction people would have expected from the fiery Dolon… A waiter with a tray of drinks stood before her, “Would madam like something?”

She jerked back to reality…

The moon had risen higher and the waiter waited with his tray. “No, thank you,”said Damayanti.

Where was Subir?

Someone tugged at Damayanti’s saree. Damayanti turned around and looked. It was Subir. He whispered in her ears, “What were you thinking? You looked lost and lovely…”

There was tinge of sadness, concern and accusation in Damayanti’s glance as she looked deep into Subir’s eyes and wondered why he was always late. Why could he not ever  be in time…Could it be another…?

She wiped the disturbing thought. And smiled back with a sense of regret.

The party continued to swing.

On Nearing Fifty…

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I have started pondering over my life as I head for the completion of half-a-century of my earthly existence. Do I reminiscence … look back in time?

I do miss my childhood a little bit…. But, at some point, I got stuck on the age of sixteen. My eleven-and-a-half-year-old son told me I was more like an eleven-year-old. My irritated neighbour in China once told me I behaved like a twelve-year-old. I myself prefer sixteen as the sweetest of all ages because that is when between the threshold of childhood and adulthood, life holds out maximum possibilities. One has not pinned down on what exactly one wants to do in life but one is getting there. One looks and feels energetic and beautiful. One feels like an empress who can conquer the whole world. There is nothing to lose by expressing oneself as one is. At the threshold of fifty, I feel pretty much the same.

Life with it’s endless possibilities is starting out for me again. My children are growing up into independent young men. I look forward to their future and revel in it. My eighteen-year-old is now like a friend. I can talk politics, literature, history, discovery and exploration with him. My husband started out as a good friend and continues through life as my closest one. I am like an empress in a household of geeky men who cannot manage without me. I pretty much feel as I did at sixteen, tyrannical and beautiful…give or take forty odd kilos of weight added on to me through my years of wisdom and truth.

The whole world is open to me. I can go where I please once my younger son is a little older. Right now, I travel vicariously with Marco Polo and with Captain Nemo. I read and dream without having the necessity to worry about my future. The three men in my life worry about theirs and mine too ! So, I live in the moment and carpe diem.

I am not in fact sure if I do want to travel physically to all the most scenic spots in the world as the plumbing and the hotels may not meet up to my stringent standards. For instance, Easter Island looks most inviting with it’s bare elemental beauty and the fantastic rock formations, yet the hotels seem more like seaside resorts by the beach. I know some do not have air conditioning. While some travellers wrote that they found a volcanic rock jutting out in the middle of their room exciting, I prefer to relish such things outdoor. I have dust allergy, need clean air and air-conditioning to be comfortable every night. So, such an excursion may not be my cup of tea.

I would love to go to the Antarctica base and shake the staid penguins’ hands/ wings. However, I would not want face the bone-chilling cold. I would love to travel in space but I do not want to travel for more than a few hours. So, travelling vicariously does very well for me.

I have developed a bad left knee that would not be an asset if I wanted to go to Machu Picchu or travel on camel back across the Egyptian sands to visit Tutankhamen’s fabulous tomb. There are so many places I would love to visit and see. I wish teleporting like in Star Trek were a reality. Then, I could visit all the fabulous places of the world from the comfort of my home.

I can eat what I like… Of course doctors tell you otherwise, but the ultimate choice is mine. When I was a child, my mother used to force me to down an egg, toast, fruits and milk at the start of each sunshiny school day. Now, I am free to eat what I like…black coffee at breakfast each day…and a sweet biscuit or a chocolate with it. I can try different kinds of cheeses on my toast and eat no fruit and eggs at breakfast!

Doctors would call me obese but I would call myself mature and plump. My doctor told me I had misused my knee…it is getting better with a herbal supplement that my elder son picked up at the supermarket, Shallaki or Boswellia. Maybe, I will do the steep ascent of Machu Picchu after all… Of course a good hotel near at hand is a must.

My threesome are very keen to visit and spend a few days in the Kruger National Park in South Africa. I am not. Some of our friends went there and hobnobbed with monkeys and foxes and whatnots at breakfast, lunch and dinner. My brother-in-law who lives nearby in Johannesburg found a lion lounging in a bathroom in Kruger Park. As animals are not my favorite creatures and I do not fancy dancing with elephants, I would prefer not to live inside the park…

The best part of closing in on fifty will be that I will get closer to sixty than I have ever been. I really want to hit sixty because a fortune teller in China told me I will be very happy and attain great things in the sixtieth year of my existence. Could it be success as an author or grandchildren or would I be thrilled to turn a silver blonde and leave my hair undyed? Which would it be? After all, hairdressers are the only people who ask me if I am thirty something! I can never explain to them I am sixteen at heart and forty-nine in real years…

I am sure an elephant in Kruger National Park would understand!