An English Assignment with N :)

Last week, N came home with a bored look, “I have an English poem recitation…AGAIN! Why do they do this! It’s so meaningless. I hate memorizing lines.” And then the torture started.

Too short

Too long

Too complicated

What does it even mean, Amma!

How boring, blah.

You call this a poem!

This is sad!

I don’t even understand it!

I was at my wit’s end after a long search through William Wordsworth, William Blake, Shel Silverstein and the likes. Finally, N looked into my eyes and said, “You are a writer, right? So you might as well write a poem for me!” My eyes grew wide and I exclaimed, “Yes, that is what we will do.”

N went running and brought a pen and a paper. “I have a few lines in my mind. Can we plzzzz use it?”

Neki aur poochh poochh? “Why not?” I smiled.

Soon the poem was ready.

On D-day, she came back from school and said, “Amma, my poem was the only one which was self composed. Every one took it from the internet! Poems are fun. I wish we get them more!”

Glad… “I am glad”, I muttered happily.

Take a peek 🙂

A DAY AT THE BEACH!

On a Sunday noon I went to the beach,
I saw the vast sea out of reach.
Up in the sky so blue and white,
I smiled when I saw a wonderful sight.
Fluffy and soft, like cotton they lay,
Rushing and pushing, they flew far away.
I told the waves, “Catch me if you can.”
Wiped my sweat, “Phew! I need a fan.”
I wore my hat and sat in a chair,
The wind blew my hat and my hair.
I giggled as the sand tickled my toe,
I had a lot of fun and wished for more.

 

 

Karma Calling

She was running to save her life. She was gasping for air and felt a tug at her chest. She could not run any further, and finally took a few seconds to gather her wasted breath. She was about to hold her stomach to stop that cramp from engulfing her completely, but her hand got pulled. ‘Run! We have to run if we want to live. We cannot stop. The beast is closer than you think.’ The voice beckoned. ‘I can’t,’ she replied. Everything went blank.

At this point, Veena got up trying to control her muffled scream. The dream…this dream had been coming since she was seventeen. Initially the dreams came infrequently, but after her marriage to Prakash, it had increased multi-folds. And every single time, the dream stopped at this point. She could not see who the person was. But the voice… it never left her mind.

She suddenly felt hot and thirsty. She watched the man lying next to her. The man everyone called her husband. Husband. She gave a wry laugh. She stood up and felt an uncomfortable twinge between her legs. It made her fall back into the bed. Veena wondered when her body would get used to this. After all she was married for eight years and every time it was the same. It is not rape when the man who has tied a thin gold chain around your neck, makes you lie, bend, twist and turn to his whims. It does not matter that all you want to do is lose consciousness because of the pain or the stench of body odour and cheap liquor or sometimes both.

The morning after was usual. The reminiscence of the dream and discomfort between her legs seemed a distant memory. She walked up to the adjacent room and saw her seven year old snoring peacefully. The faint sound coming from his nose calmed her every time the demons came fighting with her. Arun was the thin ray of sunlight trying to illuminate her soul between the dark clouds that this sham called marriage was. She slowly touched his cheeks and stroked his head. Her son opened his eyes slowly and sat up. He hugged her neck tightly. Arun’s hands always made her secure. It gave an inexplicable sense of well being which Veena felt nowhere else.

Veena’s job was something the Gods had bestowed upon her a year back. Her neighbour, Mrs. Gupta had quietly walked up to her house and told her about the vacancy of a secretary to the principal of the convent school nearby. “Some people haunt us. We have to be strong enough to free ourselves.” Mrs. Gupta’s voice had been warm and eyes moist. Had she seen the black eye three days back? Or had she heard the scream that had come out unexpectedly when Prakash had precariously held the burning cigarette butt towards her face after a bad day at work.

Veena waited for Monday mornings. The week would begin and with that five days of work and school. It was a getaway. “Come, let’s get ready for school.” Veena said twirling her son around. The little boy giggled and tried to catch his breath.

“WHAT DOES A MAN HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME PEACE OF MIND IN THIS DAMN HOUSE!” The sound made Veena and Arun stop abruptly. She put her son down immediately and pointed towards the bathroom. It was a cue for Arun to enter the toilet and let his mother ‘handle it’.

Arun loved to see his mother smile. It brightened up his day. His mother, his beautiful mother. He had caught her crying silently many a times, when she thought no one saw her. He knew how Veena trembled lightly when his father entered the house. She would give Arun a quick glance, it was a moment when he was no more a seven year old. At that moment, he wanted to just hold her and tell her that he would be the one who will protect her and take her far, very far from terror. 

But night came and with that came terror. Some nights he would not be drunk. But she never left herself unwary. She would be very conscious during each moment of his presence in the house. She would not over-boil the tea or under-cook the tomatoes. She would ensure that all windows were closed when Prakash was at home. He disliked any kind of openness within the house. There were times when she would smugly walk towards a window, open it slightly just to let a little breeze come in. She would then close her eyes and inhale the freshness as much as she could before closing it.

She was sitting nearby a sprawling green paddy field. She looked beautiful. Long hair, fair skinned. A few gold bangles adorned her hands. And she was laughing. A man was talking to her. The man made her happy, very happy. She could feel that he was young. They both were young. Then suddenly, she fell quiet. Her chest tensed up and she could feel fear brewing up inside her. ‘Run! The beast will kill us.’ Veena started running. This time she was in front and the young man behind her. Her legs seemed weak and tiredness seemed to engulf her. ‘Don’t stop! Keep running!!’ Another voice came screaming through, which made her feel breathless. “I WILL KILL YOU BOTH!” Right in front of her stood a man with a black turban. His face was unclear.

Blankness….

A breezy Wednesday evening. Veena walked back home from work, Arun in tow. They sang a new song today. She turned the key to open the door. It was latched from inside. Her heart sank and every inch of her body froze. Prakash lay sprawled on the sofa, drunk.

“Did you break the fixed deposit? The one which we had started three years back?” He asked coldly. His voice was so calm that Veena could feel the storm arriving. It would hit her badly today. She knew it.

The fixed deposit was never started by ‘we’. The money had been gifted by her mother on Arun’s first birthday. She died a week later in her sleep. Her father had died when she was twenty. She felt cheated by destiny. Having to deal with what life had thrown at her all by herself was something she abhorred at times. Prakash’s parents were what she called ‘the living dead’. They had given up on their son. They knew how Veena was treated, but for them there was no problem because they never acknowledged it.

“Yes, some for Arun’s school fees and some for the payment of the gold loan. We had discussed about it, Prakash.” Veena spoke, trying to find her voice.

“Bitch! Liar!”

He removed his belt and hit her, and then finally the last resort. He forced himself on her. Hitting gave her physical pain, while the rape took her soul away. She felt vacant from within, when the ordeal was over.

Veena came out of the room and saw Arun crouched in a corner. His pants were wet and he was trembling with fear. She silently fed him and laid down next to him on his bed.

‘If you want to live, you have to run! Run from the beast. He will kill both of us.’ A voice said to her. They were in hiding. It was dark and the smell of stale air was nauseous. ‘I want some fresh air. I can’t breathe.’ She said. ‘Not now. He is there. Shhhh.’

Blank.

She looked back and saw him lying there. He was pleading for life. The black turbaned man had evilness written all over them. The knife, screams and shrieks. Red all over…. flowing redness.

She could not breathe anymore. She was gasping for air. A pair of hands were on her neck. She could taste bile. She wanted to cough but was unable to. Tears fell effortlessly, and she could taste blood now.

Over. It’s over.

Veena woke up startled, drenched in sweat. Arun’s puny hands were around his stuff toy. But his eyes were open.

“Didn’t you sleep, Arun?” Veena asked him.

Suddenly Arun sat up straight and looked into Veena’s eyes.

“Mamma, If you want to live, you have to run! Run from the beast. He will kill both of us.”

“What….what did you say?”

“The beast, Mamma, he will kill us both! We must run as far as we can.”

Flash.

The young man. Veena. The black turban. The evil eyes. The young man’s love. The beast’s hands. Red.

Another Flash.

Arun. She. Prakash’s hands. Breathlessness. Arun’s tiny hands around her. Prakash pulling her away.

Veena gasped for air. She freed herself from Arun’s hug and ran to the balcony. She gulped as much air as she could. Tears flowed incessantly.

Was Arun….?

Was Prakash….?

Some people haunt us. We have to be strong and free ourselves…

Questions haunted Veena. There was no time for answers.

The next morning Prakash left earlier than usual. Veena made a few phone calls. She didn’t pack much. She held on to Arun’s hands as they bought two tickets at the railway station. The train moved slowly at first and then with a rhythm.

“Where are we going Mamma?”

“Arun, a place where we can breathe and laugh.”

The beast will not be near us anymore. I am making us free.