Stranger Ways eBook

7/30/2019 Stranger Ways eBook

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This little book,

and the humble effort behind it,

is dedicated to many kind people;

but most deeply of all to one soul,

whose unwavering faith in me broke open

the toughest doors and brought me back to

life


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IntroductionThis isnt a story. This is an invitation to observe.

And to wonder beyond reasoning.

To read an unknown face you might never see again.

To hear an unfamiliar voice, and decipher the emotion

beneath it.

To spot strange little nuances about people, little things

that nobody else may ever notice.

To imagine what their life story must be, and what page,

what line they might be living at the moment. And what

the next line in their story could be.

This is an invitation to let the dullest of moments, the

oddest of situations and the most ordinary of people you

brush across every day, to fascinate you. And if possible,

to touch their lives, even if for a moment. Through a

gesture, a word, or even an unanticipated smile.

I hope that, as you read through, you enjoy meeting the

strangers I came across on a recent short journey through

three cities, and the simple episodes through which I


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envisioned them to connect, for a just moment of their

lives eachBut more than that, I hope life fascinates you more

hereafter, in the places it leads you to and people it

connects you to, every single day

Best,

Preeti Pillai


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EpisodesPage

1. The Cabbie.....1

2. Moving On.3

3. The Wretched Woman....5

4. Shantiamma....7

5. The Little Mermaid.......8

6. Encrypted Trouble.10

7. The Bitter Womans Sweet..128. Mysurpa..........................14

9. Liberty & Collision....16

10. Opportunity in Despise....18

11. Timelessness ......22

12. The Smoke & the Saint..25

13. Daughters...29

14. Jaggijis Photography ....32

15. The Sunday Treat.....35

16. Lost..38

17. The Winning Night...41


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18. Days of Freedom....43

19. Beautiful.....4620. Absconding Breeze49

21. The First Sign.51

22. The Spirit & the Pen....53

23. Night Duty..56

24. Profit & Loss....58

25. Ways Forward..61


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One:The Cabbie

It was happening again.

His head was dwindling, and through the rain-blotted

wind-shield, the sight of the folk-flocked Doraisami

Subway started to look like a smudged wet photograph.

Shit. The nausea is resurfacing.

He fished into his shirt pocket, hoping to feel the

sharp edge of his last tablet strip.

No?

See? I knew it. I asked her not to change the shirt. Now

how the hell am I going to drive all the way to the Airport


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with this throbbing head of mine? I can't even afford to

stop anywhere. I'm already late for the drop.

I wonder what's been taking Shailaja so long to prepare

tiffin these days...tastes the same to me...

The phone that hid behind the little Lord Ganesha

idol on the dashboard buzzed. It was the lady who hadbeen waiting to be dropped to the airport since the past

20 minutes.

---


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Two:Moving On

She pounced into the car, and the least she could do

to indicate her fury was to slam the door hard. I hope that

gave him a headache!she mumbled.

Finally, I'm on my way. Maybe not for the best, but I

have to move on.

What's this driver honking away for?

Through the little that fit her view from behind the

baldie's head, she could make out that a wretched-

looking woman had carelessly walked herself right acrossthe speeding car.

She had seen that wretched-looking woman before.

Right there. Selling cheap picture books before the

multiplex.


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But she didn't have books in her hands this time.

Instead she had a baby in one and an empty disfiguredplate in another. And by the time Karthika pulled out

some change from her wallet, the driver had driven past

her.

"Forget about it, madam! Who cares? We all have to

move on..."

---


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Three:The WretchedWoman

It had been days since she and her baby lost all hope

and shelter.

No more books to sell, no job she could take with the

deteriorating physique of hers. She collected alms from

dawn to dusk, and fed the baby with whatever little they

bought.

Today, she tried a new street. The sidewalk was

overcrowded, and as she scraped past the iron gates of a

huge cloth store, she saw a row of rag picker women

sweeping the sidewalk on the other side of the busy

street.


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Four:Shantiamma

Even at 70 years of age, Shantiamma worked as hard

as she did 40 years ago. Weekdays were spent cleaning

the washrooms and mopping the floors at the domestic

terminal of the Chennai Airport, a job shed been

performing since she was 23; and at weekends, she

managed to find odd jobs like sweeping the front yard of

the Consulate, or the subway sidewalks.

Today, she stopped mopping, when she saw the little

kid dancing around in her squeaky shoes on the

bathroom floor. The toddler reminded her of her little

Mutthu. And so deep was she in her own reel of

memories that she didnt realise when the little toddler

got frightened by her continuous stare, and rushed

outside the washroom, calling after her mother.

---


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Five:The Little Mermaid

Which story shall we read, dear? Or would you rather

sleep now? Fedora asked, as she twisted the A/C knob to

reduce the chill.

Nooo. You read me something. Without looking into

the book.

Fedora smiled. How can I read you something

without looking into the book? You mean, I should

narrate you astory.

Yeah. Narrate.

Alright, dear. Shall I tell you the story about the littlemermaid who-

Why are these people howling at each other?

Why are these people fighting, Ma?


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Nothing, dear. There seems to be a problem with the

plane were on, andtheyre fighting over it. Never mind-

Whats the problem with the plane, Ma?

I dont know either, dear!

Well, then, why arent you fighting?

Because she said, throwing a cursing look at the

howling men, and speaking loud enough to be audible to

them, fighting is an act left for evil people. People who

are selfish and inconsiderate and dont care about the

people around them

Silence. The howlers were staring at her, sure, but at

least they werent howling anymore. And just a few rows

away, the air hostess chuckled, amused.

And besides.. Fedora continued, smilingly turning

towards her little girl, fighting isnt fun at all. But you

know whats fun? Building castles under water, just like

the little mermaid did

---


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Six:Encrypted Trouble

What are they even saying?

I feel like a fool in here between these weirdoes. I wish I

could justslip out of this horrid day!

This was surely one of Juhis first worst flights in her 6-

month-long career as an air stewardess. A pack of

passengers fuming over the long flight delay due to some

technical fault, then a tongue-lashing from her senior

steward, and now, when everything else is right, this one

furious passenger brooding and pouting over a woman

having snatched his seat, and yapping away in a

language Juhi didnt get at all.

Thankfully, the complaining man eventually threw in

some English words like seat, disgusting and horrible


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flight experience whilst complaining, so Juhi could at

least nod a couple of times in half-empathy. Butcontrolling the mans fury and influencing the womans

stubbornness was way out of her capacity.

Alright. The lady gave in after the long, loud battle.

You dont have to yell. Ill move back. Finally, Juhi

sighed, faked a smile into the air, and walked swiftly into

her haven.

The chirpy lady, who realized that her plan of

spending the two and a half hour flight chatting up with

her best friend was clearly not going to materialize, got

up, andwalked back to her seat with artificial grace.

---


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Seven:The BitterWomans Sweet

What an attitude, no?

People can be so non-cooperative! Men, I tell you Leela

grumbled to her co-passenger, who was a total stranger,

and hence didnt react to the grumbling.

Leela plugged her earphones in and played a random

song on her iPod. She decided she was hungry, so she

pulled out the box of Mysurpa she bought from the Shri

Krishna Sweets counter, unsealed it, and bit into a piece

of the golden-coloured delicacy. Mmm.


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But too expensive.Outside, this same box wouldve

cost just half the price. One of her friends even worked atone of the outlets. Swati. Poor thing.

Herhusband makes life hell for her. Good, Im not

married anymore.

She took a bigger bite. This time, it tasted twice as

sweet, and the random song playing on her iPod

suddenly seemed delightful.

---


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Eight:Mysurpa

Today, Im going to talk some sense into him.

Hed been coming home late since the past 2 weeks,

and shed had enough. She wanted to believe that he

loved her, and so he wouldnt shrug her words off. So,

putting Rukku to sleep, she sat up, and waited. Hours

into the night.

Rajan had been the perfect husband, except for the

fact that he wasted a lot of time and hard-earned money

on pampering his local political position. And lately,

since he had quit his job at the factory to indulge in

politics full-time, Swati had to struggle harder than ever

to make ends meet. And Rajan wasnt all that perfect a

husband anymore.

There was a knock on the door. It wasnt Rajan. It was

the young lad Hari from the neighbourhood.


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He had come home a couple of times for a meal or to

help Rajan with his work. Treated no less lovingly thanas a son by him, but never warmly received by Swati.

Today, he seemed particularly hesitant to come in,

and couldnt look Swati in the eye.

Rajanmama has gone for some political conference to

Salem. He wont come back until several weeks.

She sensed the imposed lies and the sorrow in Haris

tone. Rajan doesnt want this simple life anymore. The

mountain she tried to hold together was beginning to

crumble.

Hari.you had dinner? she asked the young lad for

the very first time, running her fingers affectionately

through his hair.

He nodded hesitantly in negation. You must be

hungry. Come, son, leave your bags inside. Theres still

somepongalleft.and I hope you likeMysurpa

---


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Nine:Liberty & Collision

Few weeks later, Hari left the chaotic city and its

listlessness behind, and moved into a new territory and

phase of life, for good. Here, he wasnt answerable to

anyone. He didnt have to live under anyones

obligations. He didnt have to be somebodys underdog;

and he now had every opportunity to live life on his own

terms.

He looked around in the room. A squeaky bed, a small

wooden table with its chipped off edges. An overused

pair of diner chairs and frumpy curtains opening to the

wall-facing window. In the cheap, crammed up room that

his boss, the hotel-owner, had arranged for him, he felt

liberated.

The cellphone buzzed. Time to get to work.

As he sped down the stairs to the restaurant, he bumped


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into someone, and though neither of them fell,

something did fall. And whatever did, smashed intoscattered chunks of wood.

He looked up to a familiar face, of a skinny fellow

clinging on to the guitar case in his one hand, and

pointing hysterically at the ruins of his guitar with the

other.

---


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Ten:Opportunity inDespise

It was your fathers dream to see you as an IAS officer

Manu, you have already wasted 2 years loitering around

looking for your big break in music

What is your contribution towards this house? Has it

never bothered you?

Over the years, Manoj had grown used to hearing

words that would have been unfathomable to the heart of

any other aspiring musician with limited means. Limited

means. Money. The be all and end all, the measuring

slash bashing rod, apparently for everyone in his world,

except for him.


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Excuse me? a voice called out from outside the tea

stall. Where isSahityam School of Arts?

Manoj broke the routine pretence of reading the

newspaper and raised his head. He did a quick scan of the

intruder, and something about him annoyed Manoj

almost instantaneously. Probably, it was the Royal

Enfield he was sitting on. But more probably, the guitar

that he noticed around his shoulder. Since some idiot

had broken Manojs guitar, he hated the sight of anyone

possessing one.

Sahityam School of ArtsI havent heard that name

around here before. Are you sure its in this area?

If this area is Thirumala, then yes.

This is Thirumala,but Im afraid there hasnt be-

Are you looking for Ravi Menon Saar? someone

squeaked from inside the tea stall. It was the stall owner.

Yes! You know where his academy is?

Asking for his institute by its name will not get you

anywhere, boy. Everybody knows that place as Ravi


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Menon Saars place. Let me direct you the owner

squeaked again, as he wiped his wet hands on his munduand marched with all his excitement towards the

newcomer. Soon, the skinny old tea owner was leaning

against the Royal Enfield, having an amusing chat with

the lost newcomer.

Oh, so he has the time to indulge in gossip with some

stranger, while Im still waiting here for the tea I ordered 15

minutes ago!

Loser, that bike fellow! Looks more like a bragger than a

guitarist to me!

Finally, when all the small talk was over, the fellow

swung onto his bike and sped away with the loud,

signature rumble. And the kiosk owner squeaked for one

last time as he waved out to him, Good luck, boy!

Good luck? Manoj returned to his newspaper and

tried not to sound interested. What the hell for?

Ravi Saaris hiring musicians for his new academy.

The lad, Sibil, is headed for an interviewThe kind of

opportunities youngsters get these days! Working with


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the legends like Ravi Saar! he sighed. Makes me wish I

were a musician

Wait. What was that?

Opportunity, Manu. Get up and move it.

Move it now.

So Manoj rose from the bench with his enthusiasm

carefully concealed, .where is thisacademy, you said?

---


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Eleven:Timelessness

Time. That was what he didnt have.

Everything else he could wish for, he had. A beautiful,

old house, hundreds of trophies and mementos bestowed

upon him for his works of art, including the honour of

the Padma Bhushan he received two years ago. A

wonderful wife, who had eloped with him when he was a

nobody, and had kept her caring love aflame even in the

darkest days of fame and depression.No children. Except,

hundreds of children who loved and revered him like afather.

Dont lose all hope, Mr. Menon. There have been

miracles.


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Miracles. Even if there were, why would God choose me?

Would you, God?

Come on his wife held him by his left arm, helping

him get up from the chair, then thanked and blessed the

doctor, and carefully walked her ailing husband towards

the lift just outside the clinic.

She called for the lift, and stood beside him, waiting.

Look at her. How weak shes grown, yet how strong she

is when it comes to me! Look at the way she carries herself:

with such firmness and self-respect! And her beautiful grey

hair only add to her fair beauty. Shes been thereall thiswhile. And soon, I, her partner, the one shes devoted her

lifetime to, will be gone. Knowing all of that, look at her

still finding the courage to smile at me-

Come, Ravietta she held him firmly yet tenderly

once again, this time to help him walk into the lift. But

the lift doors opened with an outward gush of strong

cigarette smoke. A group of punks were already in the

lift, and they had filled it with the stench and haze of the

smoke coming out of their lit cigarettes. None of the


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three unabashed youths moved even one bit to make way

for the old couple to get in.

Ravi felt the grip on his arm tighten, as he saw his wife

stare acerbically at the nonchalant young boys, one of

them even grinning at her, and she whispered curtly,

Never mind. Were still strong enough to take the

stairs

---


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Twelve:The Smoke & the

Saint

39Kumar Aravindan Nair

38Sridevi Aravindan Nair

37Haridas..

Where is my darn name?

He ran his finger hastily through the passenger list put

up next to the door of the trains S4 compartment. The

train had, by then, given its last long siren, and had

begun to move.

35Kavya C

34Stef..

33Kashif F Sayyad. There it is! S4. Seat number 32.


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Moments after he had foolhardily leapt into the

moving train, and finally found his seat afterinconveniencing half a dozen passengers, he was back to

his normal trippy, laid-back self.

Until he caught a glimpse of her.

She looked like a tall, white sculpture in a flowing dull

robe, drifting forward in his direction in beautiful,

pensive gloom. She was a vague misfit in the entire scene

around her; too silent amidst all the human and engine

noise, too radiant against the dinginess and

pandemonium of the 2-tier A/C compartment.

The complexion of her hands and face, as well as the

design of her tender features, revealed that she was a

foreigner. Kashif, the admirer, had been staring at her

through puffs of smoke he blew into the humid air, and

as she walked further and further towards him, she

brought with her a strangely soothing fragrance

She caught him staring. Even before she had settled

herself on her seat opposite his.


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The stare was awkwardly modified into a smile, only

to be reciprocated graciously by the charismatic woman.She smiled back! Well, Mr. Kashif, looks like she didnt

mind all the staring! This could be your day, dude! Go on,

now, strike a conversation!

Hi, Im Kashif he said, braving out his hand

towards the mystery woman.

Om Shanti! she said in an anglicised accent, my

name is Meera.

What?!

He noticed the rosaries on her wrists. On her ankles!

The little book on her lap. The big Om sign printed on

it. And a stealthy look at her neckline also revealed a fat

bunch ofrudraksha-beaded chains tucked beneath her

flowing robe.And she isnt even wearing slippers! What

kind of a crazy woman is she? A foreign saint? And why is

she still smiling at me?

About an hour later, when the seemingly pretty

woman who turned out to be a freaking saintwas

squatting over her seat and counting the beads on the


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crystal chain with closed eyes and quivering lips, Kashif

studied her again. This time, with ridicule.

What can you call such people, except he began

muttering in the local language to the man next to him.

Before he could even complete his sentence, almost

mystically, she opened her eyes again, and gave him that

gracious smile.

This time, it looked more like an all-knowing grin.

He quickly diverted his focus to fishing randomly for

his pack of cigarettes. I could really use a smoke right

now!he thought. The strangely soothing fragrance of ash-smear was beginning to give him a headache!

---


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Thirteen:Daughters

Sag, was knnte morgen wohl geschehen?

Was bliebe alles noch zu berstehen?

Gbe es nur noch Kampf und Blut,

Noch Trauer, noch Armut,

Ach! Gbs im menschlichen Herzen,

ein kleines bisschen Liebe mehr!

(Tell me, what could happen tomorrow?

what more would remain that must be undergone?

Would there be just more struggle and blood,

more sorrow, more poverty,

Oh! If only there were in the human heart

a tiny little bit more of love!)

She stopped to count the number of tear blots on the

page on which shed been writing.


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Her heart bled in memory of her Indian father, and

how she lost him to the cold-blooded riots years ago. Herface bore the same unfathomable sorrow that her young

mother underwent until her last breath. Thinking of her

journey from then to now, it seemed almost incredible.

The life shed given up, the dreams shed buried forever,

the turmoil she withstood, and the peace she found here,

in the homeland of her father, where she was born, and

where she felt closest to him and her own true self.

And on days like these when the memory wouldnt

want to leave, shed take a train with it to Trivandrum,

and spend a few hours with it on the grass-laden NapierMuseum Park, right where she had many fond memories

of taking long evening walks with her father.

Soon, the skies were exceptionally clear and sunny,

and a look around from where she sat filled her with

inexplicable joy. She sat up straight and closed her eyes

in meditation.

Hours later, when she opened her doe-eyes, she found

before them a little girl bending over to have a closer look


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at her with her mouth wide open, perhaps in awe of how

and why a lady was sleeping sitting upright.

As the little chubby girl turned away to run, Meera

asked, Where are you going, dear?

The girl, pink with shyness, only pointed out to a far

corner of the park, to a woman standing at the ticket

counter.

May I walk with you? Meera bent over to look into

the little ones eyes and ask.

She smiled from ear to ear, nodded a yes, stretched

out her hand to Meera, and clasped her little finger.

Not very far behind them, this beautiful moment of

the intertwining of two slender fingers was captured in

the click of a digital camera.

---


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Fourteen:JaggijisPhotography

Hello, Jaggi here!Oh, helloof course, I will be there

tomorrow at 9 a.m. Yes, yes, my driver knows the

wedding hall address. The mahurat is at 10 a.m., right?

Ok ji, ok! See you thereThank you.

He slid the phone back into his pocket, and searched

through his camera lens for another beautiful capture.

The driver waiting outside the park was going to

charge him a bomb on waiting charges, given that Jaggi

had made him wait at 6 different tourist places for more

than an hour each that day, and here, in the Napier

Museum surrounding, everything made a fascinating

picture; the old-style museum architecture, the texture of

the walls, the types of flowers that grew in the garden

space, the shades of the sunset sky; even the old worn-


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out, non-functional fountain that stood unnoticed in the

centre was an utter beauty in his eyes. And of course, thepeople.

Hed fallen for them. In merely 2 days of his stay in

Kerala, hed captured hundreds of people, their

expressions, features, moustaches, smilesEverything!

After all, this trip was a dream come true, and he wanted

to take home the most number of memories he could.

Wow! Look at this beautiful sculpture on the museum

door-

Excuse me!

Someone with a croaky voice poked him on his

shoulder.

You are not supposed to clickphotographs here.

Cant you readthe board here, mister?

There was indeed a board, written in the local

language, and its English translation written below it like

fine-print.


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Sorry, Madam he said, as he moved backwards,

embarrassed.

Now, if the woman didnt have the croaky voice,

nobody wouldve noticed. But unfortunately, she not only

had a croaky voice, but a mocking tone, too, which

brought all the surrounding eyes on him, his turban and

his camera.

He stepped away from the crowd around him, slid out

the phone from his pocket, and snapped into it, Driver,

where have you been? Ive been trying to call youcome

to the gate, please

---


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Fifteen:The Sunday Treat

I hate Sundays!she thought, as she put her empty

lunchbox back in, and gulped a big mouthful of water.

Everyday, Mrs. Preetha Nair, 42, overdressed, over-

made-up, and quick-tempered, went to the Napier

Museum to manage the place. Her job consisted of two

main tasks: Telling, and yelling. Telling people to walk in

a line, to show her their ticket, to not touch the exhibits,

to not take photographs; and yelling at those who didnt

listen to her telling.

Most of her handful of colleagues despised her, while

all of them wondered if she had a good side at all. And

shed kept people wondering since 18 years of her service.

Today was no different. At least not seemingly.


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Irresponsible people! Cant they just read the boards

and follow the rules? What does it matter to them,anyway?

They just drool around blindly like ghosts. Thats all. 10

minutes inside this precious museum, and hours together

loitering around in the museum park. There- another

couple strutting around outside the linethe mans even

wearing a camera around his neck

Excuse Me!! she poked the man on the back of his

shoulder. It scared the hell out of the poor skinny thing!

Didnt you read the notice board before entering thehall? Youre not supposed to carry a

No, Maam, the woman interrupted, Were actually

here to meet someoneMrs. Preetha Naircan you help

us find her?

Im Mrs Nair. Why did you want to see me? she

asked suspiciously.

Oh, hello, Mrs Nair! Were from DD Malayalam. Im

reporter Shirley George and this is my cameraman


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Dhanush. We wanted to air a special feature on the

Napier Museum on our next Sunday morning show, andsince we were told that you would be the most

knowledgeable member here who can tell us about the

exhibits and their history

At first, butterflies in the stomach.

Then a broad smile, beaming with pride.

After a long, long time, it was finally going to be her

day again.

---


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Sixteen:Lost

Dead.

Just when she was talking to her mom after three days

straight, her phone went dead.

Where the hell is Dhanush?

She had been standing in the scorching sun like a total

fool, looking for the skinny man with his camera for the

past 20 mins.

But what was really on her mind, was a growingsuspicion that she was being stared at by the dark, eerie-

looking pipe-hawker sitting against the phone booth on

the sidewalk behind her.


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This time, there was no sign of the man. She

manoeuvred her eyes thoroughly around her to spot hercameraman somewhere amidst the heterogeneous

crowds outside; then picked up her bags, and starting

walking briskly towards the museum gate.

Moments later, the pipe-hawker rose to his feet,

peeked through the glass wall into the phone booth, and

he found what looked like a red coloured wallet and a slip

of white paper. Shirley wouldve recognized it as her

printed air ticket.

---


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Seventeen:The Winning Night

How much is in there?

The woman whispered timidly from under the rug.

7240 Rupees. he whispered back, with eyes pressed

tightly close and without turning behind to look at her.

That much money? What do we do with it? the

woman popped her head out of the rug in anxiety.

He didnt reply.

She dragged herself a bit forward; just enough to be

able to tap her fingertip on his back and wake him.

A little more forward. Just a bi-


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The sudden rumble of a passing rickshaw halting on

the road shook her. By the time some old plump ladywith a lot of baggage got in and the rickshaw finally left,

half the people sleeping around Jaya on the pavement

were awake. The old mad woman lying asleep behind her

gave out a wide stretch, a louder groan in Gods name,

and tugged on to Jaya before snoring again.

A few moments after all the snorings of the night were

restored, Baalan felt another cold poke on his back.

What is it, Jaya? Just go off to sleep! Well think of

something tomorrow! he said, irked.

Why does he have to yell? And at me!Jaya thought

frowningly, as she pulled back her hands and clasped

them together under her head, and looked meaninglessly

at the back of her Baalans tattered vest, as if to count the

holes in it with her eyes, until she fell asleep.

---


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Eighteen:Days of Freedom

Two fair, plump and happy old women, draped in

beautiful plain Kanjivaram sarees, wearing small garlands

of flowers around their tied-up bonnets, and both

holding a small purse each, of identical design, were

walking hand-in-hand, taking very small, cautious and

synchronized steps. The airport floor was, clearly, too

slippery for them.

There it is, see? Security Check! Come Shanmugi!

one of them said, and they quickened their pace a little in

excitement, and waited in the line.

Next! A ladyfrom behind the curtains at the Securitycheck counter called out.

In all innocence and delight, both Shanmugi and

Vijayalakshmi went hand-in-hand to the security

counter.


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One at a time! the security check officer snapped

harshly.

Taken aback, Vijayalakshmi mumbled, Its okay,

Shanmugi. You go first, I will wait.

After both of them cleared the check, they gossiped,

How mean that woman was! How harshlyshe spoke!

You want something to eat? Vijaya asked, as they

stopped by a snack counter.

Aiyyo, no! My daughter told me that things inside the

airport are very costly

Its okay, Shanmugi! Were on our own herewho is

going to know what were doing and what were not? And

you never knowthis trip that were on could be a once

in a lifetime experience

True. Both Vijaya and I have waited for an opportunity

to feel free and on our own, without the restrictions of the

world and even of our own children! Isnt today that day?

Then why be nervous and hesitant at all


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I think, Shanmugi said, looking thoughtfully through

the glass at the spread displayed at the counter, andpointing out Ill have this pineapple pastry, andto

drink

---


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Nineteen:Beautiful

Next!

Harbinder called out, and waited for someone to walk

in.

Nobody. Phew.

After having stood for almost 5 hours straight, she had

finally found time to sit, and maybe after a few minutes,

freshen up a bit.

The splash of cold water against her face felt

rejuvenating. But to her, she looked as dull as always. A

darkened complexion, scars on the cheeks from achickenpox shed endured during her childhood, a big

conspicuous mole under her nose, and a small, faded line

of stitches along her hairline. Ugly.


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She couldve had lunch now, but she wasnt really

hungry. She just stood leaning against the wall facing themirror, and pretended to be occupied on her cellphone.

Baby, NO! Give the bottle! Give it to me, Sanju! a

stout woman rushed tick-tockingly into the washroom,

chasing her toddler.

See! If you dont give Mama the bottle, this police

aunty will beat you!

It is now that the little one took notice of Harbinder,

as he looked up to more than twice his height to study

her expressionless face. His grip on the bottle loosened,and the next moment, his light eyes were brimming with

tears. See? Police Aunty is angry! She has a stick also in

her pocket.give me the bottle, Sanju the mother

cooed.

Why? Why should I be the scary woman? Why should

kids get frightened of me? Why should anybody get

frightened of me for no reason? Why should I have to be so

grim-faced? I can smileI can be loveable


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She stooped down to the little one, gave her heartiest

smile, picked up the fallen bottle and offered it to him.And what she got in return was a perplexed, then shy,

then overjoyed expression on that beautiful face.

Beautiful.

---


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Twenty:Absconding Breeze

There was a time when she used to be a regular at the

gym, spending two hours every evening sweating it out in

the same aerobics room that she was going to enter

today. But that, like many other things, was before she

got married to Vinod.

Now, she had been married for 5 years, had her little

boy Sanju and was as unhappy with herself as she

couldve possibly been. Probably, and hopefully, she

thought, as she took the lift to the gym, more unhappy

than Vinod is with me.

The lift stopped. And the person who walked in, felt

like yesterday.

Chandni used to be pretty much the same as the

beautiful stranger who just walked in; long, flowing hair,

a tall, slender figure envied by even her closest of friends,


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the smartest of outfitsexcept, she figured, this woman is

missing somethingsomething Chandni herself used tohave when she was younger. Something beyond

appearance.

Confidence.

It was something that reflected in the way she talked,

the way she dressed, lived; something that accompanied

her like breeze wherever she went. That made her

invincible. That set her apart.

The woman who looked like yesterday smiled

courteously at Chandni. And, as she smiled back, for thefirst time in years, the breeze that had been absconding,

gave a subtle whiff as a sign of its existence.

---


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Twenty One:The First Sign

It was 4.30 a.m, and Nandita Ramaswamy was back to

her own place on this planet.

Many would term her return as her failure, and its

ugly consequences were yet to surface, but it was better

to face and be done with them than to have stayed back

in the city that had broken her.

The city that had shown her many dreams, only to

have crushed them before her very eyes.

She stopped in the middle of the empty road, lost. She

wondered whether, after all these years of living in

Mumbai as a struggling actress, her people would accept

her return with grace, and whether this bright, sunny

place would ever feel like home again

Akka! a young man in his twenties called out to her,

holding up a crate of coffee glasses from outside the only


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small tea stall thatwas open at that hour of dawn. Youd

like to have some coffee?

Filter Coffee. Im home.

---


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Twenty Two:The Spirit &

the Pen

Velumurugan didnt know many things about his

fathers job, until the day when he died, and Velu took his

fathers place at the Sangeetha tea stall. And now, 4

months later, Velu was the youngest cook and the

smartest waiter they had.

My father wouldnt have been extremely proud, but he

wouldve loved me for my spirit.

He walked briskly, humming his latest favourite song,

with the crate of steaming hot coffee cups in his left

hand, and tea cups in his right. The watchman of the

Commerce Plaza was sleeping gloriously that morning.

Good, I wont need to write my name in his book.


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Saved of the embarrassment of his illiteracy, he

sneaked into the complex carefully not to the wake theold guy, and at the same time, not to break the glasses.

Hed done this a couple of times. Im a pro at it now-

Stop right there! a voice blurted out from behind

him. Come back here and make an entry in the register!

What had woken him up? Shit.

Embarrassment again.

Velu tried to scribble out something onto the register

page. But the watchman was watching him too closely

Havent learnt to write your name yet? he asked,

mockingly.

No, sir. I w-

Alright. Ill write it for you.

Meanwhile, let me taste your coffee this morning

saying this, the watchman did as always: picked out a cup

of piping hot coffee, and with great pride and an

expression that Velu hated to see, took his first sip into it.

Mmm.


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Man! I have to learn how to write my name!Velu

thought, as he walked irritated past the man whodtraded him a bizarrely scribbled name for a hot cup of

coffee, for the third time in a month.

---


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Twenty Three:Night Duty

He hated the night duty, mainly because he missed

dining at home with his family, and listening to the news

before going to sleep. And oh, how he missed the sleep!

Usually, he sat on his wobbly chair outside the gate,

and couldnt wait for the shops and the people on the

street to retire for the day, after which he could catch

some uncomfortable sleep. But tonight, long after the

neighbourhood was asleep, Janardanan was still sitting

up wide awake on his chair.

He had nothing to even keep himself busy thinking

about. He got up and started walking aimlessly towardsthe empty street.

This is going to be a long night.


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A few minutes away, he could slightly hear some

music playing. He walked towards it; it turned out to be ashop; a drug store that was still open.

This shopkeeper fellow doesnt look all that friendly

Janardanan thought, as he walked into the shop, but

again, the man atleast has a transistor

---


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Twenty Four:Profit & Loss

Opening a drug store on West Mambalam Street was

one of the smartest decisions Ganesan had ever taken.

After all the windfalls and pitfalls of the MLM businesses

he ventured into, this stable-income business was a relief.

All he needed to do was decrypt the doctors handwriting

to figure out the medicine names, know the racks and

drawers in and out, and keep a regular record of the

medicines going out and the ones that need to come in.

Well, he didnt really have to look into the record part;

hed hired someone smarter than him to handle the

complicated stuff.

And this monsoon brought in the busiest and the

most profitable days for his 2-year old business.

Looks like I can manage to buy that bike this month

Excuse me! Excuse me, please!


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I need to get this medicine urgentlyPlease, excuse

me a man pushed recklessly through the small clusterof customers waiting patiently for their respective turns.

Aargh! Its that annoying cab driver again!

Hello, mister! Please wait for your turn! There are

people who-

Please! I have a trip to make to the airportand Im

already late

But Ganesanwasnt listening to him anymore. And the

small crowd of customers managed to squeeze him out of

their cluster.

Shit. My head is throbbing again. And if I get late this

time-

Meanwhile, inside the cabbies car, behind the Lord

Ganesha idol on the dashboard, the cellphone buzzed. It


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was the young lady who was waiting to be dropped at the

airport since the past 20 minutes.

---


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Twenty Five:Ways Forward

When she came to Chennai this time, Karthika came

across another wretched-looking woman at the

Doraisami Subway, to whom she donated a lot of her old

clothes winter was around the corner, after all

The wretched-looking woman we know now works at

the Domestic Terminal of the Chennai Airport. Her kid is

looked after by Shantiamma, who named her Muthu.

Fedora is the same sweet old mother, and her kid now

knows a lot of mermaid stories.

Juhi is doing great at her job since the day she started

working on her Tamil. She also has a few Tamil songs on

her iPod.

Leela is dating again, and she visits Swati more often;

for reasons other than buying Mysurpa.


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Swati is now Senior Store Manager at one of the

biggest outlets of Shri Krishna Sweets. Rajan never cameback, and Swati never accepted a single penny Rajan sent

in their daughter Rukkus name.

Hari now works as a manager at the hotel he was

appointed to. He plans to shift to a better hostel room

after his next promotion. He also has plans to visit Swati

and Rukku for Dussehra this year.

Manoj is the lead guitarist in a newly formed rock

band. He also teaches at the Sahityam Academy of Arts

on weekends.

Ravi Saarstill pens upto 4 songs a day, and will be

directing his last play soon. After which he plans to write

only for his beloved wife.

Kashif left his post-graduation midway and moved to

Dubai, where he now works at his uncles construction

company. He plans to abscond soon.

Meera now works with an NGO in Kerala. She plans to

make a visit to Leipzig this December, and spend this

Christmas with her mothers sisters there.


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Jaggi visited many other places across Kerala.

Hes booked a boathouse vacation at Munnar for January,with his wife and soon-to-be-wed daughter.

Mrs. Preetha Nair was thrilled to be on television.

They aired the show twice that month. She now loves

coming to work on Sundays.

Shirley continues to be a good journalist, but on one

of her recent trips, she lost her wallet again.

Baalan doesnt sell pipes anymore. Hes found a

day job at a car garage. With the money he found in

Shirleys wallet, he bought himself a bicycle and a shirt,and for Jaya, her first ever silk saree. Hes saving the rest

of the money he found, and also most of his wages, for

their secret wedding next month.

As of now, only the old mad woman knows about their

plan.

Shanmugam and Vijayalakshmi will be travelling

together again in December; this time, to play at the

Chembai Music Festival in Kerala.


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Harbinder continues to work as airport security staff,

but her rekindled passion for 2 things keeps hermotivated: the passion for cooking and for herself.

Chandni hasnt pulled down much, but she quit being

a fulltime housewife. She and Vinod have started a small

restaurant business of their own.

Nandita loves being back in Chennai, and works for a

leading music channel. If things go well, shell be hosting

a show starting in January.

Velu still works at Sangeetha Tea Stall. And hes quite

sure his father wouldve been proud of him, because hecan now write more than just his name in Tamil.

The chemist was too dull a company for Janardanan.

So he bought a transistor for himself. He now catches all

the news, but still misses being with his wife and

daughter for dinner.

Ganesan bought that bike he wanted to buy; but later

that month, the smarter guy hed hired fled with over Rs.

15,000 from the store.


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And the cabbie still needs his pills; but he is now more

often on time than not, and lately, his wife Shailajas tiffintastes better than ever.

------


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