Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-15 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

The Silver Lining.

The night had started putting off its lamps of stars, one by one. The moon had lost much of its lustre. The dark veil of the night was being withdrawn gradually. The night like a bird was flying away. Bye! The canvas of the sky was slowly being painted crimson. The young red sun was smiling in the east. A new morning was dawning on the earth.      

The chirping of the birds on the branches of the trees was sending its call, ‘O the children of Adam, it’s time to wake up!’

As was his habit, Narayanan was already awake. He started doing his daily chores but only mechanically. His mind, hovering somewhere else, was not in his deeds. He didn’t feel any urgency. Too much of time was there in his hands. But it saddened him.

He washed and changed. Then he picked up a copper pot from the prayer room, filled it with sacred water of Pampa and came out in the courtyard to worship the sun. With folded hands, looking at the sun, he whispered the Sanskrit shlokas from Sam Veda –

O sun, the eternal light, the power!

You are red like a hibiscus flower!

Please wipe off our sins, I bow and pray,

From my mind keep all the darkness away.

The words were spoken mechanically, lifelessly. Like a child, away from his mother, he was doing everything with a heavy heart.

Suddenly two little arms gathered round his neck from behind and he was startled. Someone leaned over him and whispered in his ear, ‘Please, appupan, I’m sorry. Are you angry with me? Won’t we go to Alappuzha today?’

Like our wicket keeper Dhoni, diving for a catch, with the speed of an arrow shot from a bow, Narayanan turned around and his face was brightened up. The old appupan gathered up his kuchumol in his arms, ‘I’m sorry too, my darling. I shouldn’t have done it. Well, quick, quick. Now get ready and let’s fly away.’

And really the two flew away from their home within no time. Exactly like what happens in the movies. As if the two were two friends meeting after a long time.

No one for sure could say that Kumaran was an exponent of Kathakali, but the moment he saw them he bowed and touched his forehead with both of his hands like Hanuman, the monkey god of Ramayana, and said, ‘Oh Shri Padmanabhaswamy, please have mercy on us! Only you can save our boat from sinking!’ He was all smiles from ear to ear. Or, should we express in a different way – his smile spread from Gujrat to Guwahati of his face.

The grandfather and the granddaughter duo was amused too.

‘Oh, we can’t waste a second.’ Kumaran got into his track suit, ‘Let’s start. One, two and three…..’

The training was begun again.

As the story of Mahabharata says about guru Dronacharya, the trainer and his disciple Arjun, the archer, Gayatri was labouring hard under the eyes of Kumaran. And her appupan was the driving force behind her. As the wind fills the sail and the boat goes sailing, he would always say to her, ‘Gayatri, yes you can do it.’

Every morning he would give her coffee with lots of milk. Next he would carry her on his cycle to the ferry point. Again on cycle to the stadium of Alappuzha. On their return he would massage her legs with warm coconut oil and all that. Like an affectionate mother he would keep a watchful eye upon her. Even at this age he was always full of energy.

If some day Gayatri would refuse to drink whole of the coffee, ‘Oh appupan, it’s simply milk. I can’t drink it.’, he would protest.

‘What do you say? It’s hundred percent coffee only.’ Narayanan would try to convince her.

She would laugh whole heartedly, ‘Appupan, you’ve been a math teacher. How can you say, this is hundred percent?’

Some day he would buy cashew, raisins, some other dry fruits and all for her.

One day even Mani, her father, complained jokingly to his mother, Lalitha, ‘I too was my father’s only son. But just tell me amme, how many times did achchan bring all these things for me or my sahodhari (sister), his only daughter? Ha, ha!’

Ananthi too complained with a cluck, ‘O god! You being her father, how could you be so jealous when she gets the gifts from her appupan?’

And that day Gayatri herself presented those dry fruits to his father with a smile, ‘Oh, here they are. Take these from me, achcha.’       

Kumaran reminded them every other day, ‘The Thiruvananthapuram inter college competition date has been announced. Day and night we must think of this only. Mental preparation is as much necessary as the physical fitness.’

Naturally Narayanan’s mind was always occupied with this. One night, in his sleep, he started dreaming. Probably due to his day long anxiety he saw in his dreams that Gayatri was drowning. He shouted in alarm, ‘Mani, Kumaran, where are you? Get hold of her. Oh she is drowning…. Save her.’

Gayatri was sleeping in her grandfather’s room, on another cot. She woke up with a start, ‘What happened, appupan? Why are you shouting?’

‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just go to sleep.’ Narayanan felt embarrassed. Such an awkward situation it was.

But how could Gayatri go on sleeping there? She was a bit scared. Silently she sneaked from the room and crept beside her acha amma in her bed.

‘What happened my queen? How do you come to me at this hour of night?’ she took her in her arms, ‘Could not sleep or what?’

‘Oh, don’t ask you. Suddenly appupan started shouting in his sleep. I was terrified. God only knows what his dream was and who was drowning!’

The old lady guffawed noisily in her bed and said, ‘Oh, was it? This is his old habit. Now let me tell you what happened when for the first time I came to their house as a new bride. One night while we all were fast asleep, he started shouting in his dream, ‘Thief, thief. There he goes. Catch the burglar. Don’t let him escape. Oh!’ Naturally I was very much terrified, you see. Just a few days back I was married and as usual I had lots of gold jewelleries on me. I woke up and started crying, ‘O, Krishna! Where is that thief?’ And just see the fun. Your appupan then says to me, ‘Oh, there’s nothing to worry. Why don’t you lie on the bed and try to sleep?’             

‘But I charged him, ‘Why don’t you go and see where the thief has vanished?’ He simply smiled and said, ‘Don’t be crazy, it’s nothing. There is no thief at all.’ He ducked his head under the sheet and started snoring as was his wont. But how could I sleep? I was just a young girl then, just a few years older than your age. I was so scared that I came out from the room but standing in the middle of the house I was at a loss. Where could I go? The house was full of all the relatives and I hardly knew anybody. Ultimately, I crept inside to sleep beside your appupan’s mother. Next day when everybody came to know of this they burst out into shrieks of laughter. The neighbourhood women started making fool of me. They said, ‘Hey new bride, was there a thief last night in your room? Of all things what did he take away?’ And they jeered at your appupan, ‘Narayanan, be careful in future. Someday the thief may steal your bride and fly. Better never close your eyes at all, throughout the night.’

Gayatri put her arm around her grandma snuggled her head onto her bosom and slept.

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-14 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

And, Why Does A Lamp Flicker?

The moment Lalithambika saw her kuchumol, forgetting her aching knees, she literally ran and rushed to Gayatri with stretched arms, ‘Where did you go, my queen? Didn’t even think of this old acha amma?’ She gathered her in her bosom.

Ananthi too came running and just tweaked her cheeks affectionately. She realized everything, but alas she was not in a position to take any decision. A burden of sheer helplessness welled up within her.

Her father, Mani, was out too, searching her in the village. Going to a few houses and enquiring from her friends. When he returned home and heard everything, he started grumbling, ‘From the very beginning I’ve been saying it was beyond her capacity. How long could she carry the burden? Naturally one day she had to give up. But achcha was not going to listen. Oh!’

‘Okay, okay, today onwards no more swimming and all that. Now stop complaining for heaven’s sake. Do as you please. It’s none of my affair.’ outraged, Narayanan entered the prayer room stamping his feet all along.

Next, as the day went slowly by, everyone was engaged in his or her routine. The time, as a bird, was flying away. Gayatri became ready for her school. She didn’t feel like eating anything that morning but just to avoid pestering by her mother and discontent of others in the family she ate silently whatever was served to her. Quietly she picked up her bag and went away to school.                       

During the interval her bosom friend Meenakshi tried to get into a conversation, ‘You know Gayatri? My chey-chi’s wedding has been fixed.’

Gayatri didn’t respond. Neither did she look at her. She was lost in her own thoughts.

‘The priest, Mr. Namboodripad, visited our house this morning. He said the marriage can be solemnized on twenty first, next month. Certainly you’ll be very much here in Haripadam at that time, I hope.’ Meenakshi was bubbling over with excitement and she wanted to tell everything to her friend as soon as possible.

‘I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here only.’ Gayatri said with a long face.

‘What does that mean? The Thiruvananthapuram inter-college swimming competition is due next month, isn’t it? Are you not going to participate?’

‘No, I’m not. I – I’m not fit for swimming.’ somehow Gayatri spoke in a low mumble, as if to herself.

‘Why, Gayatri? What happened?’ The news was a real jolt for Meenakshi. But as Gayatri maintained a total silence she continued singlehandedly, ‘You know, my would-be brother- in-law is a doctor at Kozhikode. There are so many tiles factory there. They say it’s in Calicut or Kozhikode where Vasco de Gama had first anchored his ship and landed.’   

One was talking nonstop while the other kept a mum throughout.

When Gayatri returned from school no one said anything to her regarding her practice etc. There was a post storm calm prevailing in the house. Narayanan had practically locked himself in his room. But as the evening approached there was a surprise in store for them.

When darkness fell their gate was opened with clank. Narayanan ignored it. He was in no mood to see who it was. It was Ananthi who went to see the guest, ‘Yes sir, what I can do for you?’

‘Kindly tell our sir, Mr. Naryanan, that it’s Kumaran who wants to see him.’

Ananthi was familiar with his name. She informed her father-in-law and took the guest to him.

‘What happened, sir? Gayatri had never been absent from her training schedule. Is she alright? Why she didn’t reach the stadium, today? This is the crucial time for us. We can’t afford to miss a single training schedule.’ Kumaran enquired eagerly without stopping.

Disgusted, Narayanan was sitting there in the room alone. He just couldn’t hide his outrage. He answered bitterly, ‘Don’t ask me, Kumaran. Physically everybody is alright but not mentally.’

‘Please sir, what does that mean?’ Kumaran was at a loss. Naturally he was anxious to know the reason.

‘Just ask them, the people around here. Gayatri’s daddy was saying that all these efforts of ours are useless. Even if she succeeds, what prospect is there in swimming? And your disciple stands with her achcha. She says, she is not at all capable of continuing further.’

With her eyes on the floor Gayatri was standing nearby, just outside the room. Accepting all the blames put upon her, silently. Ananthi entered into the room, put a cup of coffee on the table and left.

Kumaran just looked at the wisps emanating from the cup. Then he got up, came near Gayatri and said, ‘I’m also born and brought up in this remote village. When I first saw you, I just can’t express the tide of the feelings that surged within me. I expected a lot from you, Gayatri. Of course, it’s only you who has to put a rigorous labour, who has to suffer. We can only explain to you. We can’t lessen a bit of your sufferings. Of course, we can certainly help. Well, it’s you only who has to decide. I just foolishly dreamt of giving the best swimmer of India from Haripadam, but….’

After a brief silence he turned to Narayanan, ‘Sir, permit me to leave today. But just a word sir, if the pearls would be left within the oysters how the world could know how precious it is? People value it when they see it. That’s what I was trying to do.’

He stopped. Narayanan didn’t utter a single word anymore. Gayatri stood in mute silence buried under all the blames. Kumaran said to her again with a pinch of sadness, ‘Kenya is such a tiny country. Most of the population there don’t even get a square meal a day. Still just one boy among them, the athlete William Kiptarus Tanui, won the gold for his country in eight hundred metres in Barcelona Summer Olympic. What to talk of their performance in the world of cricket! They’ve crossed several milestones.’

He sighed and faced Narayanan again, ‘One more thing sir. No doubt Gayatri is Mani’s daughter, but all the same she is your blood too. You’re that banyan tree, of which Mani is but a branch and Gayatri, a twig. Certainly you too have some right over her.’

A heavy silence prevailed in the room. He was about to go out, but stopped and said, ‘Please excuse my outbursts, sir. Probably because of my overwhelming emotions I couldn’t restrain myself. Actually I started weaving so many dreams around Gayatri. Sorry sir. Permit me please.’

He touched his guru’s feet and left the room without even looking at the coffee on the table.

And Gayatri? What happened to her? She ran inside just like a frightened rabbit. Was she not happy? After all she was spared from the daily ordeal. But why did she press her lower lip with her teeth? Oh, was it not bruised? Didn’t she feel the pain? Had she lost this basic sensory feeling?

And there, her appupan was seated in his chair just like an idol carved out of stone.

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-13 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

The Story of an Escape.

The canopy of the dark night was dotted with stars. In the temple of Haripadam the priest had performed the rituals before laying the bed for the god. The Muslims started assembling near their mosque. They were getting ready for Esha, the last namaz of the day.

After just two or three days it would be a night with full moon. So the sky was showered with a soft moonlight. From the toddy tree tops the cheeping of some chicks could be heard occasionally. In the silence of the night the fluttering of the wings of the mother birds was heard distinctly from the village homes. An earthly smell was wafting all along from the village ponds. Fanned by a free-flowing wind form the Arabian Sea the blades of the leaves were swaying on the trees.

At Gayatri’s home, everybody had done with the dinner. Ananthi sighed wearily and went to her bed. But Gayatri, though thoroughly worn out, was not able to close her eyes. She had made up her mind not to go for the training in the morning, ‘Enough is enough. I can’t go any further.’

After the dinner Narayanan wanted to enjoy a sound sleep. He would wake up before anybody in the house and then he would start his daily schedule. But his full nosed snore, blowing like a trumpet, was enough to keep everyone else awake the whole night. Anyway, when he and the rest of them were fast asleep, Gayatri crept out of her bed and sneaked downstairs from the house. Her face was totally covered under a sheet of cloth.

Standing in the courtyard she looked for once all around. Rajan was with her mother. Just beside the kitchen it was her grandma’s room. One by one she looked at the closed door of each room. She sighed when she looked at her appupan’s room. Next she climbed up on the boundary wall and jumped on the other side, on the open road. In the moonlight she didn’t find any difficulty in pursuing her adventure.

It was past midnight and she was walking down the village road all alone. She herself didn’t know which way she was heading. A dog barked from behind a house. For a moment she was shaken. A few metres away was the banana garden of Kannampilly. She couldn’t dare to go any further. She entered the garden and slept under a tree for the night.

The music of the dead of night continued. Fireflies were dancing on the bushes. The chirrups of the crickets were heard off and on. Suddenly from a nearby neighbourhood a group of dogs started their chorus. The weary night, after finishing its duty, was bidding a goodbye to the world. The chariot of the morning sun had already started from the eastern horizon. But Gayatri was still asleep.

As the dawn was standing on the doorsteps of Haripadam, the bells of the temple started ringing. The morning call for the namaz of Fazar was heard from the mosque. The chirping of the birds on the branches of the trees, the ringing of the bells around the necks of the cows heading towards their grazing as the cowherds were tweaking their tails – all these filled the morning air. These were the wakeup calls for the world. 

With the roosters’ cock-a-doodle-doo Narayanan’s voice, full of anxiety, was heard not only in the house but all over the neighbourhood, ‘Hey, Ananthi, does anybody know where the girl has gone? Oh my god! She has vanished from her own house and nobody cares! Mani, how can you go on sleeping, my son? Won’t you get up and make a search for her?’

Lalithambika was rubbing her knees before leaving the bed. The moment she realized the reason of her husband’s yelling she touched her forehead with folded hands, ‘O deva! O Krishna! Don’t get us in any trouble! Please save the girl.’ She started calling Ananthi from her room itself and then appeared on the corridor, ‘Ananthi -!’

Ananthi was already woken by all these. Getting worried she tried to wake Mani, ‘Get up, please. Probably Gayatri is missing from the house.’

‘What!’ immediately Mani sat on the bed with quite a start. He rubbed his eyes, yawned and repeated his question. 

‘Our daughter is not home. Gayatri is missing.’

‘What are you talking about, Ananthi?’ Mani pulled his own hairs, as if by this manoeuvre he would become more alert, ‘Go and see in achcha’s room.’ His throat was quite dry.

‘Achcha himself is asking you to find her out.’ Ananthi couldn’t continue with her pestering. She remembered that their daughter had returned home weeping the day before. Her throat was choked with tears. A mother’s heart always weeps for her child.

Manishankaran came out of their room. He had already presumed that this incident had something to do with that swimming business. He went straight way to his father, ‘Achcha, how can such a child cope with the burden of all these training sessions and the labour? How much is she able to do? Daily from Haripadam to Alappuzha. Then there, she must undergo this strenuous training for one to one and half hours. Is it a matter of joke? Even quite a many boys will give up. Then her school again. Oh!’   

Narayanan stood there frozen. How could he deny the charges? In his heart of hearts, he was well aware of the truth.

In the meanwhile Rajan woke up and came to Ananthi, ‘Where is chey-chi, amma?’

Lalitha called out her grandson, ‘Come here and sit beside me. They are going to find your chey-chi soon.’

Suddenly Narayanan burst out, ‘What’s the matter? What’s the use of lecturing me without trying to grasp at straws? Yes, I know pretty well that all this is my doing. Naturally only I’m to be blamed.’

Mani too was irritated, ‘Oh, today I’ve to go to the office a bit earlier and now just see, I’ve to first sort out all this unnecessary problem.’

Narayanan was stunned for a while. But his patience finally gave out. Buried under his anxiety he put the chador on his shoulder and rushed from the house.

There were a handful of people on the road going to different destinations. Some to the rubber plantations, others to the ferry point, a few daily wage labourers and some local fishermen folks with their nets. As it was dawning two or three local coffee shops were already open. Narayanan could identify one of the persons, sitting on the bench, sipping his coffee, ‘Hey Nilampedu, have you seen Gayatri, my kuchumol, this morning?’         

He shook his head and then asked, ‘But what’s the matter, sir?’

‘Oh, what to say? She is not to be found in the house since this morning.’ He walked away.

But who could give him the information regarding her whereabouts? In the morning every bird was busy fending its own nest. While he was running from this to that place, suddenly he saw the gardener of the Kannampilly running towards him, ‘Sir, sir, just wait.’ He was a bit breathless.

‘What gives?’ Narayanan was in no mood to be all ears to listen to him.

‘Are you searching for your granddaughter?’  

‘Yes, I’m. Any news?’ Narayanan was anxious.

‘Oh, sir, she is there in our garden.’ the gardener said with a nervous giggle.

‘In our Kannampilly’s garden? Heaven help us! What’s she doing there?’ Narayanan was a bit perplexed and not amused at all.

‘She is sleeping under a tree. At first I couldn’t recognize her. Thought what it was? Under the cover of a bed sheet? Then I saw her face. Ha, ha!’    

And his laughter added fuel to the fire burning in Narayanan’s head. Without a word he started running and headed to the garden. He opened the gate with a clang and entered like a fire ball into the garden. The moment that bed sheet was visible he rushed like a runner arriving at the end point of the race and snatched it from the girl sleeping like a log. Immediately the bomb blasted out, ‘We are looking for you in the whole world and you’re sleeping here without caring a damn about us?’       

Startled Gayatri got up. She stared at him, frozen with fear. But sometime even a stone weeps. The poor girl just burst into tears, ‘I can’t do it anymore, appupan. I’m not capable. I can’t continue my swimming.’

‘If you can’t who is going to put a blame on you, compel you? Just give it up.’ But as a tiny spark can kindle a fire, he too could no more control his anger. Out of hopelessness he slapped across her face and said, ‘But only for this reason would you run away from home? And didn’t I had to put so much of efforts for this? Didn’t I undertake so much of pain? If because of our granddaughter the fame of Haripadam spreads all over Kearala, who will be the happier person than me?’

Not a drop of tear rolled down her cheek now. Gayatri was stunned. As if the whole earth cracked under her feet. In her little bosom the only question was echoing, ‘Oh, at last it was my appupan who slapped me! My appupan -?’

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-12 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

He Who Never Fell Can Never Ride.

Our Vedas and Upanishads are not only the great books of wisdom, but they contain many a nice story. Sometime they are value-based or moral, but nevertheless they are always thoroughly enjoyable.

Those days Gayatri’s life too matched to a great extent to one of the stories of Upanishad.

Once the life, the mind, the speech, the eyes and the ears of man started quarrelling among themselves. The point of their argument was who was the most important than the rest of them? The eyes said, ‘We two are here in the body, therefore the man can see the world. If we would leave him, he wouldn’t be able to see anything.’

The ears protested, ‘If we take a leave, he won’t be able to hear anything. He’ll become stone deaf.’

Soon a noisy and excited commotion ensued. No one was ready to accept that the others were more important than him. Ultimately, they decided to approach Lord Brahma, the creator of the world. They said to Brahma, ‘O God supreme, please judge our virtues and say who is the most superior among us.’

The situation became quite critical for Brahma. He is the creator of everything, the living and nonliving. How could he favour anybody in particular? Immediately an idea clicked in his mind and cleverly he said, ‘Well my beloved ones, it’s quite an easy problem to solve. One by one, each of you just leave the body and see for yourself, without whom it cannot sustain for a moment.’

So this was decided that they would abandon the body one by one. First it was the turn of the speech. He said, ‘Well, I’m taking leave for one year and let me see how the body enjoys the life of a dumb.’ He left angrily. But without speech there was no problem. The other functions of the body went on as usual. Normally and peacefully. Without words there could not be a quarrel or an argument. So the man lived happily in peace, without any disturbance, for one whole year.

When the speech returned, he found everything as usual. Next was the eyes’ turn. They said, ‘Now taste the life without any light.’ and left. But when they came back after a year, the rest of the senses said, ‘Brothers, vision is the root cause of all the vacillations. When we were not able to see anything, we meditated single mindedly.’

Eyes were embarrassed. They covered themselves with the eye lids and joined the duty.

Next were the ears. But their absence didn’t make a difference either. The body didn’t have to listen to all good for nothing talks and the slanders etc. Both of them were humbled when they returned.

And then went the mind of the body. Gone with him were all the worries of life. When he returned after one year, he found everything surviving in a blissful peace. Practically no one was worried because of his absence.

His friends said, ‘The mind is the root cause of all the flickerings of our emotions. Till you were not here we were whole heartedly devoted to the thought of god.’

The mind couldn’t find a word to protest. He simply kept silence.

The life was the last to take leave off the body. But when he was about to depart there was a chaos all over the body. Everybody yelled in a chorus, ‘O my god, where are you going? You certainly can’t leave us. The moment you’ll leave and set off all our existence will be doomed. You’re our hero and without you, we’re but zero!’

In the same way Gayatri was living a lifeless life those days. Every morning, four days a week, at the crack of dawn, she would get up. Next to Alappuzha with her appupan she would rush. First on the cycle and then in the ferry, every stipulated day. Then she would come back home and get ready for the school. And there again the class, the homework, the taunts and sniggers of Malli and Co. in the interval and all the burdens of a student life. Ultimately when she returned home in the afternoon, she was totally exhausted. Physically and mentally both. A dull lethargy would spread all over her body and mind. It was a daily routine of hard labour. In the later days she could no more enjoy her training schedule. Rather she developed a feeling of repulsion to the same. If the lamp of the mind is turned off how can the body carry on?

All the while she was full of a peculiar irritation. Consequently she became perhaps a little insolent as well.

One day, a kite, hovering over the sky, fell in their courtyard. Gayatri ran and picked it up. Immediately Rajan came running, ‘Chey-chi, give this to me, please.’

‘Why should I? Have you caught it?’ Gayatri said angrily. But nobody expected this reaction from her. She always loved and cared her younger brother. But of late, her total attitude was changed.

Rajan started moaning and complaining, ‘Chey-chi, please. Why don’t you give it to me? I’ll try my hand at flying it.’

Gayatri didn’t utter a word.

Ananthi tried to pacify her, ‘Gayatri, you’re his elder sister. You should make at least a little sacrifice for him.’

‘But why amma? Why do you always take his side?’ Gayatri said angrily.

‘What are you saying? I never do that. Who has sown the seeds of this wild oats in your mind?’ She looked at her aghast.

‘Nobody has. Well, to hell with the root cause of all this disputes.’ she yelled and tore the kite into pieces.

Rajan started weeping.

Ananthi stood thunder struck. In her mind, she thought, ‘Is it just a foretaste of what is yet to come?’

If some day she said to her, ‘Gayatri, please come and wash these cups and dishes. I’m busy with cooking.’

She, engaged in her studies, answered with a pinch of irritation in her voice, ‘Oh, it’s only I who has to do all these stuffs.’

Sometime after the dusk, Lalithambika would read from Ramayana. That day she just forgot where she had left it the day before. So the old lady called out, ‘Gayatri, would you please find out the Ramayana for me. Oh, this old age and its forgetfulness! Everything just slips from my mind, my darling.’

Probably she had left it ducked under her pillow or she had kept it in the prayer room and forgot. Gayatri, feeling weary after her daily routine, would reply in irritation, ‘Oh, why do you keep on forgetting, achchamma? Now I’ll have to search it in every place.’

‘My sweet girl you are. Just tell me, if not you, who else is going to do all these for this old fool?’ Lalita would smile and say.

Manishankaran, too, didn’t fail to notice the change in his daughter’s behaviour. One day he complained to his father, ‘Achcha, what’s this? Day by day she is growing insolent.’

‘Oh, she is not that type, my son. Just don’t worry. We’ve put too much of load on her little shoulders. Everything will be alright.’ Narayanan would smile and say to his son. However he grew a bit uneasy in his mind. He thought, ‘Didn’t I put all the weight of my expectations on her? Daily since daybreak she has to put her shoulder to the wheel. Moreover it’s not at all necessary that everybody should do everything in the world. Only a fool will complain to a coconut that it is not as sweet as mango. Then why to hope that she must entertain herself the wish to become a sports woman?’

A potter makes potteries and different toys with clay on routine basis from the blocks of die but when an artisan makes the earthen idols of Durga, Saraswati etc. or other statues with clay, he feels a superb joy of creativity. An artist’s ego is satisfied. He becomes the creator. Similarly Narayanan probably had prepared himself mentally for a test. For him the mute question was whether he could make Gayatri a swimmer of repute. He would discuss with Kumaran and come to know about different state level or intercollege swimming competitions. He would dream that someday his kuchumol would certainly participate in those competitions. And hopefully her name must find a place in the medal tally.

That morning Kumaran was teaching her how to make a perfect dive from the diving board. At one leg of the swimming pool there was a tall platform with stairs. It had different floors to dive from different heights. For the beginners or the kids, the first platform was just a few feet above the pool surface and for the expert swimmers or divers it was at the top.

That day a special coach was invited to guide her. Gayatri was standing on the steps of the staircase to reach the top platform. Kumaran was shouting from below, standing on the edge of the swimming pool, ‘Gayatri, go up. Don’t look around. Just concentrate on your diving.’

The special coach said in a full-throated voice, ‘Don’t get scared. You can do it. Now jump. I say jump.’

But Gayatri was quite nervous. She could probably hear her own heart throbs. As she reached on the top she could see up to the horizon all around. On her right there stood a long queue of tall toddy and coconut trees. A serpentine road of Alappuzha passed just beside them. Oh, the running cars and the buses seemed so small! As if they were the children’s toys! And on the left what was that sickle shaped thing glittering like silver in the morning light? Oh, it was the river Pampa! The fan shaped leaves of the toddy trees were swaying in the breeze. So many birds were gliding high overhead.

‘I cannot, sir!’ she yelled and started alighting down the stairs.

‘Stop. I say you stand, where you are. What happened to you? Don’t move.’ Kumaran was mad at her. He thought, ‘Oh, what that girl is doing!’ Months and years of his labour were going to be doomed if Gayatri would be scared to dive.

‘Sir, I can’t. I’m scared. It’s impossible for me.’ Gayatri’s voice was chocked.

There was clanging sound heard on the metallic steps of the staircase. Kumaran and the special coach, both of them had come upstairs. Neither they waited nor did they ask anything. They held Gayatri from two sides and gave a push.

For a moment Gayatri’s full-throated cry was heard, ‘Leave me alone. I can’t. Oh, appupan, where are you?’ She was crying bitterly.

But by that fraction of a minute, she came down straight and was dropped into the water. A thud and she was going down into the blue green water of the swimming pool.

The water splashed all around her. An eagle, hovering under the canopy of blue sky, shrieked. As if it was asking, ‘What happened? Huh?’ And it flew off, wings flapping.

She was slightly hurt on the temple and a little water went into her nostrils. Otherwise nothing serious happened to her. The ghost of fear sitting in her little bosom was defeated at last.

Kumaran and the coach patted her on the head, ‘Good. Very good. In your first attempt you’ve done it nicely. We’re really pleased with you?’

The coach said admiringly, ‘See, you too can do it. Then why were you so scared? Well, it happens with everybody. Never think of this.’

When Gayatri came out of that small iron gate, she was literally weeping.

Narayanan rushed to her, worried, ‘What has happened? Got hurt?’

But Gayatri didn’t answer. Instead, she continued with her sobbing.

By the time they reached home both of her eyes became crimson.

It was Manishankaran who first noticed the change in her, but he didn’t ask anything. He simply looked at his father. The headmaster shrugged and said nothing.

Rajan came running to her, ‘Chey-chi, why are you crying? What happened to you?’

When he didn’t get an answer he ran into the kitchen shouting, ‘Amma! See, chey-chi is crying.’

Ananthi came out wiping her hands with the corner of her saree, ‘Where is Gayatri?’

Gayatri didn’t speak a word. She ran into the room and buried her face in the pillow. She was sobbing.

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-11 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

National Swimmer Tea Stall.

‘Oh!’ Ananthi just could no more tolerate everything silently. She peeped into the room again and yelled at Gayatri, ‘Still sleeping? After all what do you want? What will you do in the exam?’

‘What happened? Why are you cross with her?’ Narayanan looked inside from the door. 

‘She has to complete her project work for half yearly exam, yet she has been sleeping since afternoon, unmindful of her school homework. What to say about Science, even in English and Malayalam they’ve to ready these. And just look at her. Still sleeping. As if she is the grandma of Kumbhakaran.’

Kumbhakaran was the brother of the king of Lanka, Ravana, who would sleep for six months at a stretch.

‘Must be tired. So much labour she has to do these days. Swimming in the morning and then her school.’

‘Achcha, it’s you who say like that and always favour her. But by this she would become much more adamant. She won’t listen to us. How on earth will we be able to control her?’

Now Narayanan, the retired headmaster, smiled innocently, ‘What to say? The education of today is nothing but a load of everything. The over loaded school bag, the load of project work, what not and what not. My goodness! It’s not studying but it’s wrestling nowadays with books and all that!’

But Ananthi couldn’t keep her patience anymore. She rushed to Gayatri, lying fast asleep, and gave her a pinch on the arm to wake her up. Still when she didn’t, she pulled her by her hairs, ‘Get up, I say.’

‘Oh, Ananthi, what are you doing? Leave her alone.’

Now Gayatri sat up on the bed, looked at her mother for a second and again spread herself out all over the bed. The poor girl just failed to realize what was expected of her.

Her granny, Lalithambika, kept grumbling, ‘Everybody is pressing her continuously. My poor little birdie! She must take a full rest at least.’

‘Did you see that, achchan? Oh, what an insolent child! How will I manage her? Day before yesterday she was punished in her class because she didn’t complete her homework.’

‘Oh, just spare her tonight. Bring her books and the notebooks to me. Let me complete her project.’ said Narayanan.

Next, he sat at his table and started writing on Gayatri’s notebook. After so many years since his childhood days, that night, Narayanan was again writing on the paper like a child. Big letters and all that. As the popular idiom says – ‘burning the midnight oil’.

Next morning, Gayatri was quite afraid to go to school. But her mother smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry you naughty girl, your appupan has completed both of your project works. He was all awake whole night.’

‘Is it, amma?’ Just like a butterfly, spreading her both arms, she rushed to Narayanan and embraced her from behind, ‘Oh appupan, you’re so nice!’

‘You selfish lady! Because I did it for you, so I’m a nice person now, is it so?’ Naryanan smiled.

But ultimately how could the life move ahead in this fashion? Gayatri felt exhausted all the time. It was not her fault after all. After the early morning practice she would return home and get ready for her school. But in the class it became quite difficult for her to stay attentive. Many a time she was found dozing in the class. A few of the girls sniggered at her, ‘She is the only example of her kind. She is going to become a great swimmer one day, you know?’

‘Or the Miss Sleeping Universe?’ Malli, one among them, taunted with a titter.

And one day in the English class the inevitable did happen. That day the English ma’am was teaching from the poem ‘The Swing’ by Robert Louis Stevenson. After she had finished with its explanation she looked at her and asked, ‘Yes, you Gayatri, can you tell me what does the poet want to mean in these two lines, ‘How do you like to go up in a swing / Up in the air so blue?’ Why did he use the words ‘so blue’?’

Gayatri woke up with a start. She was completely confused. Somehow she managed to stutter an answer, ‘It’s b – blue b – because the water is blue all around while we s – swim!’

Whole of the class chortled with delight.

The teacher leaned upon her and pulled her head by her braid. She erupted like a volcano. ‘What’s the matter, you shameless girl? It’s your class or bedroom?’

There were other girls always waiting to score brownie points. Malli, sitting on the next bench stood up to give her firsthand report, ‘Ma’am, every day she goes to the stadium in Alappuzha for training and practice. She hopes to take part in Olympic swimming someday.’

‘Shut up!’ And the teacher hit on Gayatri’s head with the spine of the book and threatened her, ‘Remember if this happens again in future, I’ll expel you from the class.’

Throughout this episode Gayatri stood with her head down. Tears welled up in her eyes.

‘Now you can take your seat. But remember what I’ve said. I won’t tolerate any indiscipline in my class.’ This was the finishing line by the teacher.

Malli had covered her face with an open book in front. But, instead of following the lines, she was actually giggling. Gayatri noticed everything. She was enraged. OK, just wait and see what’s there in store for you. I’ll see you. Rest of the girls were hopefully waiting for a women’s WWF between the two during the interval. They said among themselves, ‘Oh, this Malli is very jealous indeed.’                 

Gayatri’s heart was filled up with a sense of bitterness. She thought, ‘Really, what’s the use of all this swimming? How far can I go in this field? May be, I’ll be getting a prize or two in some competitions. And then what? How many Indians have achieved anything in this sport? Even in our national game hockey, we are nowhere in the world of sports. In Sahara Cup match even the ‘C’ team of a foreign country defeated us. How many of the spectators were there in the Ernakulum stadium that day? Once Kumaran sir told me, ‘Even Milkha Singh had refused to accept the Arjuna award.’ Why? Because he was disgusted with the state of our sports.’

Probably the little girl was not exactly thinking all these. But somehow her thoughts were streaming through this line. When the mist covers everything, the distant mountains, the trees, the cottages, the cityscape or the landscape – all the pictures up to the horizon become quite hazy. Her mind too was covered with a mist. So her thoughts were not that clear at all.

Anyway, a duel couldn’t be avoided in the recess after the class. Malli and Gayatri both were using their tongues as their swords.

‘Hey, sleeping beauty! Did you expect some prince to come and wake you up, huh?’ was the first line of attack from Malli’s side.

‘And don’t you ever sleep in the class? Oh, here comes the Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge! The great book worm. The most studious girl of our class!’

‘And what do you think of yourself? The champion swimmer of India? And what will happen even if you become a champion of Haripadam? A big good for nothing!’

‘So what? Don’t ever poke your long nose in my affairs. You are simply an envious girl.’

Malli turned to the girls, standing all around the ‘arena’, ‘Does anybody know that a national swimming champion runs a tea stall in Patna? He is Gopal Prasad Yadav. He was three time national champion. He didn’t get a job. Out of frustration he started this business and named it the National Swimmer’s Tea Stall.’

Although Malli was hardly interested in sports but because of T.V. and newspapers most of the public were aware of all these. But was it easy for Gayatri to tolerate this humiliation? She started pulling a face at Malli and started shouting, ‘Malli is a weeping girl, she always complains.

She must be the mother of a hundred chickens.’   

And why would Malli sit simply on the fence, doing nothing? She shot an arrow with her tongue, ‘Girls, welcome to Gayatri Tea Stall!’

Fortunately the school bell rang and the interval ended. A real-life ding-dong was stopped as the bell tolled. Still, as the war between Hindustan and Pakistan never ends, before leaving for the class both the wrestlers filled up their mouths with the water from their bottles and set off the water missiles from their mouths across the L.O.C. to the opponent.

‘This to the complaining Queen!’

‘And this for Her Highness, the owner of the Tea Stall!’

The girls went to their class one by one. The battle of hurly-burly was neither lost nor won!

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part- 10 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

The Lost and Found.

‘Yes, how is he now? Don’t worry, I’m coming soon. Yes, yes, I’ve stopped all my training schedule.’ Kumaran was anxiously answering on his mobile. He then said to Gayatri, ‘Look, I must reach home as soon as possible. My achchan is not keeping well. Lately he had some heart problem. And this morning he is having some trouble. We must see the doctor immediately. So I’m leaving just now. You too can go home.’ Hurriedly he went out.

More or less Gayatri’s swimming etc. was over, so she didn’t wait any further. Coming out through that iron gate she was a bit surprised. Narayanan was nowhere to be found. Gayatri was a bit puzzled. ‘Where my appupan might have gone?’ she thought. Actually while they were coming to the stadium this morning Narayanan met a petty accident on the road.

Riding their cycle as the two sailed through the road of Alleppey suddenly a speeding motor bike, coming from behind, passed them blaring its horn. Three youngsters were riding the motor bike. They were driving in such a fashion as if they were some heroes on the screen.

Narayanan was literally startled. With the handle of the speeding bike his dhoti was entangled and he couldn’t control the cycle and lost his balance. Staggering for a few feet on the road ultimately he fell. His dhoti was torn. He exclaimed in disgust, ‘Oh, the young men of these days! How do they move on the road?’

Though a minor accident it was, he had stumbled and sprained his ankle. Tottering he stood up and said to Gayatri, ‘Now we’ve to walk this little distance, you see.’

‘Badly hurt? Are you appupan?’ Gayatri was very much disturbed and worried.

‘Nothing to worry. Come on, let’s move.’

And then Gayatri was walking holding the handle of the cycle in her hand and her appupan following her.

When they arrived at that small gate of the stadium Narayanan said to her, ‘Now you just go in and I’ll be waiting outside. Well, I’ll be waiting over there on the bench of the coffee kiosk.’

And now once her practice was over when she came out, her appupan was simply melted in to the thin air. ‘Where he might have gone?’ she thought and went to ask the coffee seller.

‘Well a few minutes ago he was here on that bench. And where is his cycle?’

Actually what happened that day was simply a miscalculation of timing. Narayanan was very much there sitting on the bench, but as his ankle was paining, he thought of going to get some medicine, ‘Gayatri is yet to come out. I can buy some pain killer tablet if any medical shop is open now. By the time she comes out I’ll be back.’ So he left the spot on his cycle.    

By a mere coincidence that day Gayatri came out earlier than other days. For a while she stood there totally confused, ‘Now? What should I do? Shall I wait here or it’s better to go to the ferry station and ask someone over there? After all appupan too would have to reach there.’

But just walking on the road sometime becomes a tedious job. From the side lane when she reached the foot path of the main road, she was altogether startled, ‘Oh, Padmanabhaswami! What’s the matter? Why so much of crowd and police on the road? See, the police have blocked all the traffic movement.’

A constable, strolling at the T junction, from right to left, saw her and asked, ‘Hello, you must not cross the road now. Just stay where you are.’

Totally puzzled, she stood there. Looking left and right. So much crowd was there on both the sides of the road! But everybody was stranded. Probably a minister or some big guy was coming to visit the temple or attend some meeting. After a while, hooting their siren, a cavalcade of the police vehicles passed on the road. As the last one of them disappeared people started pouring from foot path to the main street. Everyone was in a hurry. Pushing and shoving his way and criss-crossing the road.

Just like a leaf in the flood water she was practically carried away by the crowd to an unknown locality, ‘Oh, where I’ve come? Which place it is? Where should I go? Shall I ask that man in blue T-shirt? Oh no, quite often amma had been saying, ‘Never talk to a stranger! You must always stay with your appupan. But now? Where has he gone? Oh, Padmanabhaswami!’

She was on the verge of tears. Wiping her eyes she walked to the open hand cart of a green coconut seller, ‘Tell me please, which way to the ferry dock?’

‘Go straight, baby.’ The coconut seller showed her the way. But before he could complete his instructions she started running in that direction. The man shouted from behind, ‘Must take a right turn at the crossing.’

Again she had to stop. The neighbourhood all around was totally unfamiliar to her. Oh! Without realizing that tears were welling up in her eyes she wiped them with the back of her hand. ‘Oh, amma, I’m lost!’

Worried and exhausted she sat on a stone lying on the road, her chin down on her knees. Suddenly someone touched her shoulder, ‘What happened? Not familiar with this locality? Are you lost?’

‘No, no, I’m not lost. I come to Alappuzha every day. I just want to go to Haripadam. My appupan ….’ she couldn’t complete her sentence. Her throat got choked.

‘Where is your appupan?’ asked the man with a badminton in his hand.

‘He is missing.’ said Gayatri sobbing. She could no longer check herself.

‘You’re missing him or he’s missing you?’ The man laughed merrily.

‘Is it my fault? Just tell me. When I came out from the swimming pool, he was not there waiting for me.’

‘O, I see. You come here daily for swimming?’

‘That I know sir, how to swim. My appupan had already taught me that. I come here for training,’ she said confidently. Probably her ego was hurt.

The man clapped his hands, ‘Is it? Very nice! Look, I’m also a badminton player,’ he waved his racket in the air. ‘And you know, I am also from Haripadam. I’m Arthur. By the way, who is your appupan?’

‘Mr. Sasidharan Naryanan.’

‘O Jesus! Are you the kuchumol of our head sir? Well, then it’s my duty to take you to the launch station. Come on, let’s go.’

Gayatri was really at a loss. What should she do? Should she go with this unknown person? Amma had forbidden her ever to do so. But the man signalled her to follow him.

In the meantime another scene of the drama was being enacted there near the swimming pool gate. Narayanan had already returned and he sat there waiting for Gayatri. When the coffee seller saw him he was alarmed, ‘Sir, where have you been? Your kuchumol came out half an hour ago. She was enquiring about you.’       

‘O my goodness!’ It was a bolt from the blue for Narayanan, ‘Didn’t you ask her to wait for me?’

‘Sir, I was busy with my customers. What could I do, you say? How could I keep an eye on her all this time?’ The man shook his head.   

Narayanan limped painfully to his cycle and went to the guard of the stadium. When asked about Gayatri, the man said, ‘Sir, pretty long ago she has left.’

‘And Mr. Kumaran?’

‘He too has gone, sir. No one is here now.’

‘Please just check whether there is still any child in.’ Narayanan requested him.

The guard went inside and came out after a few minutes, ‘No one is here, sir. You better look for other places before it’s too late.’

Ignoring his paining ankle Narayanan was riding his cycle as fast as he could. Just incidentally it came to his mind to check the ferry point first. Different thoughts of apprehension clouded his mind throughout the journey. And oh, there was Gayatri standing there with someone.

Seeing him Gayatri ran towards him and snuggled her head close to her grandfather, ‘Where were you, appupan? I was so afraid.’

‘And why did you leave the stadium gate at all? I just went to buy medicine for me. I myself was much afraid too.’ Narayanan wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, ‘and how did you reach this place? All alone by yourself?’

Gayatri smiled and pointed to the man, ‘It was he who helped me.’

‘My goodness! Arthur, you? What are you doing here?’ Narayanan was really surprised.

‘Now I’m staying in Alappuzha. How are you, sir?’

‘I’m hundred percent, ha, ha! Yes, that day I met Chiruta at the Haripadam jetty. She told me about you. So my boy, you better tell me how is your life? What are you doing right now? And what about this badminton business?’           

Arthur bowed his head a little and smiled, ‘Don’t worry sir. Again I’ve started my routine practice. Regularly.’

Yes, ‘sincerely’ and ‘regularly’ were the two words with which once the Head Master of the school had promised to give new rackets to those two budding badminton players.

‘Can you imagine if any untoward would have happened then what would have been my position? How could I face Mani and Ananthi? What answers could I have for them?’ The old man became a little breathless.

Gayatri was feeling sorry for her appupan. She came closer and hugged him without saying a word.

Narayanan patted the back of Arthur, ‘My boy, we have lots of expectations from you. Be brave and never get cowed down by the adversities of this world. The people of Haripadam take a great pride in you. Now try to be the pride of India.’

Arthur touched his teacher’s feet and said, ‘Sir, it was you who, first in my life, gave me a racket. We were simply playing with a marigold flower that day. Sir, please bless me so that I can stand the test and prove myself to be worthy of your affection.’

Narayanan, in his enthusiasm, embraced his old student. His eyes were moistened.

Next, the grandfather and his granddaughter went inside the waiting ferry.

Arthur stood there looking at them. He said to himself, ‘My hats off to your energy and enthusiasm sir. Even at this age you’re working so hard for your granddaughter. So that her life should be a little different than other girls of this country. I assure you, I’ll try to keep the reputation of Haripadam.’

Just like the church bell tolls, a few lines of the Psalm, a book of the Holy Bible, were ringing in his ears, ‘O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed……/ Look upon my affliction and my pain; and forgive all my sins.’

Today, Gayatri could ultimately find her appupan and Arthur could find the real road to life!

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-9 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

A Bicycle Thief

Generally in the morning the small iron gate of the university stadium remained open for the public. Only one at a time could go inside or come out through it.      

That day after the free style front crawl, that is swimming while lying flat with front portion of the body downwards touching the water, Kumaran asked Gayatri to practice kicks. Sometimes he would tie a rope around her legs and ask her to flap her feet like a fish. Again someday she would lie on the ground, with hands raised over shoulders and keeping her legs straight, she would continuously move her feet from ankle joint. All these to learn the art of using the feet like a propeller.

Once her work out and all that was over Gayatri was hurrying to reach the gate. The moment she went out she saw it and she shrieked in alarm, ‘Look out there, he is stealing my appupan’s bike!’             

Narayanan had left his cycle locked just outside the stadium boundary wall. A man with a dirty shirt on was trying to break his bicycle lock. The moment Gayatri yelled at him he jumped like a startled rabbit and yanked the lock open. Within no time he rode the cycle and darted away like a gust of wind.

‘There, there, a thief! Stealing away our cycle. Help. Somebody help!’ Gayatri was shouting herself hoarse.

By then Narayanan too came out through that small iron gate. The moment he realized what had happened he looked back and cried out, ‘Kumaran, quick. A thief has disappeared with my cycle.’

After completing his training schedule Kumaran too was coming just behind them. He rushed to the spot, ‘What happened, sir?’

Narayanan was perplexed and disturbed both. He shouted, ‘My cycle is gone! Look there, that man is on my cycle.’ His immediate thought was, ‘What’ll happen tomorrow? How can I bring Gayatri here for her training?’

‘Sir, just don’t worry. I’m going after the man.’ Kumaran kick started his scooter and ran after that man.

Gayatri was running in the same direction, ‘There he goes. Oh, catch him.’

Narayanan, exhausted and breathless, was running too along the road.

And the people on both sides of the road were happy to find themselves witnessing this free for all circus. Their attitude was, ‘Let the old man’s cycle be gone. Who cares? Oh, here we can see a drama free of cost.’

A few started taking the video of the incident instead of giving a helping hand, as is the culture these days.

Screech …… Kumaran’s scooter came to a halt covering that man trying to fly away with the cycle. But that man couldn’t immediately stop the cycle and he fell on the Kumaran’s scooter. Kumaran got down from the scooter and pulling the collar of his shirt whacked the man hard, ‘You thief, how dare you?’

Now the man was trying to fly the spot somehow. Probably it was in his mind that it was better to leave the cycle behind and run away as fast as he could.

But the public, who were the mute spectators till then, wouldn’t let it happen. They came running and surrounded the unfortunate man. A few of the men working in the stadium arrived at the spot too. And above all, from nowhere a policeman appeared with a baton in his hand. He was riding a cycle too. But he didn’t bother himself to do anything. They were showering blows mercilessly on the helpless victim. Practically speaking it was a totally one sided fisti-cuffs.

‘Leave him alone. What the hell you people are doing?’ Within no time Narayanan had reached the place and he shouted hoarsely at them, ‘Stop, stop all this.’

The general tendency of the people under such circumstances is that they want to get a massage of their hands without spending a single paisa for that. And so they were a bit heart broken when Narayanan declared, ‘It’s my cycle. I’m the owner of it. Why are you people beating the hapless fellow?’

The police man was puffing a cigarette. He didn’t say a word. He was making a mental calculation how to milk the situation.

Gayatri became mad at the man. She thought, ‘Just see the fun. If he would’ve taken the cycle then how appupan could bring me here for the practice?’

And Narayanan tried to put a full stop to this ugly show, ‘I say stop. Enough is enough. This fellow will die if you continue to beat him like this.’

A gentle man made an uncalled-for comment, ‘All petty thieves. They all do this to buy drugs, you know?’

‘Now we must hand over him to the police.’ Kumaran too was anxious to end all this.

‘No Kumaran, I want no more complications, please.’ Narayan tried to shove off the idea by the movement of his hand, ‘He already have had enough of punishment.’

Hearing this the man jumped and prostrated himself dramatically on Narayanan’s feet, ‘Let me go, achchan. I’ve three kids at home. And my wife and my old mother. They all depend upon me only. Please, for god’s sake.’                      

Gayatri stood there with a heavy heart. As far as she was concerned, she too didn’t want to pursue the matter further.

The crowd thinned out. Only a few were left at a distance. Kumaran picked up the cycle and handed it to Narayanan, ‘Oh sir, what an unnecessary complication! Who could expect such a thing?’

As Gayatri was going to ride the crossbar of the cycle she saw the police man, standing until now on the opposite side of the road, came quickly over the place. He caught the thief by his hand, ‘Where can you go, man? Didn’t you remember about your old mother and the kids when you did this mischief? Well, come with me to the local police station.’

Gayatri’s eyes were moistened, ‘See appupan, he will beat him again. Oh, spare him please.’

Kumaran was much more practical in these worldly affairs. He whispered to Narayanan, ‘What else to expect? He can’t miss the chance to milk the situation. He will threaten and extract some money from the poor fellow and only then he’ll let him go. No doubt, that man is in the soup today.’

‘But it’s totally uncalled for. A thorough and thorough injustice.’ Narayanan turned to the police and requested him, ‘Brother, please let the matter end here. I have no complaint against him. Because of his poverty only he did this. Kindly let him go, please.’

Kumaran got alarmed. He came quickly to his teacher, ‘Sir, please don’t get involved in this. Now we must go home. And now it’s in his domain. He can do whatever he likes.’

But the police man didn’t quite welcome this gentleman’s attitude. He frowned and his brows were raised in disgust, ‘And sir, may I ask you, why you didn’t report this to us? After all our country has some law-and-order mechanism. Want to ignore that altogether?’

Now it was the turn of Kumaran. Angrily he faced the cop, ‘Excuse me, do you know with whom you are talking? He is the former headmaster of Haripadam High School. Everybody respects him. Is it the way to talk with such a respected person?’

‘I’ve seen enough of them. If I take him too to the police station, then only he will realize what’s what.’ The way he was speaking it was very difficult to say whether the man in the uniform was talking or his uniform was doing it.

Again a movie show. And again the public assembled. A snigger hovering on their lips.

Gayatri was mad with rage. A tear rolled down her face. She wiped it. ‘Oh, how does he dare to insult my appupan?’

But Kumaran was clever enough to take the advantage of the situation. He looked around and shouted at full pitch of his voice, ‘Till now this policeman was just eyeing everything. As if a circus show was running. Neither did a thing. Many a times they cannot catch even a petty thief. But now he’s showing us the power of his post.’ He pointed to Narayanan and said to the people around him, ‘This gentleman is probably elder than his father even, but see, how he is talking to him.’

Again someone from the onlookers made a comment, ‘The saviour is the hunter!’

‘God only knows what will become of this country!’

‘Shut up you all.’ The policeman yelled at them. He found himself in an awkward situation. It was as clear as day light to him that he could no more reap a harvest from this barren field. Out of frustration and disgust he slapped across the face of the thief and shouted hoarsely. ‘You thief, what are you doing here now? Just run away immediately otherwise you won’t be fit enough to reach your home.’

After all this, is it necessary to write in detail what followed that morning? Mr. Thief probably had grown wings on his legs. So he made a bolt for his home. Leaving no trace of him behind.

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-8 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

Can a Shuttle Cock Fly from The Venice of the East?

After a day or two Gayatri recovered and started her training again.

That day Kumaran had some urgent work, so he let her go earlier. They had time in hand, so Narayanan took her to the coffee shop near the stadium. There, sitting on the bench in front of the kiosk, he was telling her the story of the city of Alleppey, ‘You know, the other name of the city is Alappuzha. ‘Ala’ means a canal and ‘ppuzha’ is the river. The city is situated sandwiched between the river Pampa on one side and the grid of the canals from the river on the other side. Sometimes people call it the Venice of the East. Venice is the most beautiful city of Italy. The blue water of the Mediterranean Sea flows into the canal there in between the picturesque buildings on both the sides. In the year 1762, the dewan of Travancore created this vast network of canals here, from Arabian Sea for irrigation. And this back water is the connecting link between the sea and the different lakes of Kerala. The largest lake of Kerala, Vembanad, is situated just near it. Oh, we’re getting late.’ Looking at his wristwatch he got up quickly.

When the launch boat arrived at the jetty of Haripadam, it was tied with ropes and connected to the shore with the help of a long wooden plank. People started getting off the launch. Narayanan was getting down holding his cycle with both of his hands. Gayatri was following her appupan. The inclined plank was quite strong but as the men and women were pushing their way down on its slope and the children running along, it was moving up and down like a springboard.  Suddenly Narayanan lost his balance and he was about to fall while getting off the plank on the ground. A lady, coming just behind them, ran forward to help him. She took hold of his cycle and shrieked, ‘Oh sir, no.’

As she looked at his face she was a bit taken a back, ‘Oh, it’s you, sir? Namaskar!’

‘Oh Chiruta, it’s you! Well, how is life?’ They stood under the shadow of a tamarind tree. The tree had spattered the ground underneath with dried fruits and the leaves. Narayanan said pointing at them, ‘Oh, my mother would make such a sweet-sour chutney with them! Even at this age I don’t forget. Now tell me how is Arthur? Where is he now? Lately I heard that he was not keeping well. What’s the matter?’

A shadow of gloom descended on Chiruta’s face, ‘Sir, it was you who first handed him a badminton racket to play. It became be all and end all for his life. But Jesus knows what happened there in Thiruvananthapuram match, he became quite sick after that. I’ve heard he was taking some medicines and some injections, but nothing helped.’

‘So where is he now?’

‘I went to meet him yesterday. He is in Alleppey nowadays.’

‘So a mother returns after seeing her son. See, it’s a great blessing for him. God willing he will be alright, don’t worry. Well, don’t forget to ask him to meet me someday. And tell him that I put a high hope upon him. I expect a lot from him. He must raise the name of Haripadam in the field of shuttle. Well, did he visit you last Christmas?’

Chirutha just shook her head sadly and said, ‘Lately he was not able to sleep properly in the night. It gives me the shivers to think what will happen.’

Then pointing towards Gayatri Narayanan said, ‘O.K, we must depart now. Otherwise she’ll be late for her school. Come sometime to my place. We can talk over a cup of coffee. Don’t be so sad. See, when a man suffers, he needs a shoulder at least to cry on.’

The Christian community of Kerala has a peculiar tradition of names. The names like Samuel from Bible becomes Shamvel there and Joseph is called Oucep! Many of their children go to Arab countries to earn. So mostly the older people are all alone in their homes to fend for themselves. The poorer ones work in the agricultural fields or in the rubber plantations.

On their way home Gayatri asked, ‘Who is Arthur, appupan? Your student?’

‘Yes, a nice boy he was. One day after the school was done, I was just wandering in the field before going home. There I saw two boys playing with a marigold flower instead of a shuttle cock. No badminton racket. They had only pieces of hard boards as their bats in their hands. I was really saddened. I made up my mind to help them as far as I could. Very next day I asked our sports teacher to get badminton racquets for them.’

When Gayatri went out for her school Narayanan was in his room standing before the bookshelf. Mentally he was restless. What exactly had happened to Arthur, the would-be badminton star of Kerala? Was he taking some drugs? Who could say? Absentmindedly he took out a book from the shelf. It was his favourite author Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai’s Chemmeen (Prawn). Lovingly people called him simply Thakazhi after the name of the place of his birth. As Narayanan’s name in his school certificate starts with Haripadam. The writer had received Sahitya Akademi award for this book. He was the second prestigious Jnanpith Award winner of Malayalam literature.

Although he was turning the pages, he was not actually reading it. He was simply reminiscing about those good old days. That day while strolling in the school field he suddenly heard a student calling out to his friend, ‘Arthur, you serve from that side. I’m here.’

What was the name of the other boy? Pillayee? How could he be sure after so many years had passed? They held the hard board of the school file in their hands and they were hitting a marigold flower in place of a shuttle cock.

‘Come on, hit it hard.’ One challenged the other.

After a few good hits the poor flower would lose all its delicate petals.

That day too Narayanan was overwhelmed with his sentiments. ‘Can’t the future players of our country afford a simple racket even?’

The boy turned his face with quite a start when he put his hand on his shoulder and said, ‘If you want to play badminton, play it properly.’

Quietly both the boys were standing there. None said anything.

‘If I arrange rackets for you, would you practise sincerely? Regularly?’

He had seen something sparkling in those two pairs of expectant eyes. Next day he had asked the games teacher Mr. Padmanavam to arrange for the rackets, net and shuttle cocks.

Arthur had progressed steadily. Till he passed out he played for the school team. Everybody had put a high hope on him. Mr. Padmanabham had informed him that Arthur was selected for the Raja Ravi Verma Academy of Sports in Thiruvananthapuram. The institution was named after the great painter of Kerala, Ravi Verma. Even today, printouts of his paintings such as, Shakuntala, Abduction of Sita and Nal Damayanti etc. adore the walls of many Indian houses. But some sort of an accident happened to him in a match over there. As Mr. Padmanabham had said he had slipped on the badminton court and his knee was injured. He got some treatment and then after a few months he was so depressed that he left playing badminton altogether.

All this was due to misuse of some drugs by the treating doctor. Suddenly a shiver ran down Narayanan’s spine. He started talking to himself, ‘Oh what am I doing? Which way am I going? Am I pushing my kuchumol to some unseen and dangerous future? Who can say? If just to pursue her career in this field she starts taking the drugs, then? What happened to Ben Johnson of Canada? After receiving the Olympic gold medal in athletics, he was tested positive and he had to return the medal. Many a sports persons of our country were humiliated because they failed the dope test. Oh!’

Once Mr. Padmanabham had told him, ‘Sir, in the cities, lots of young men and women go to the gym. The gym culture is a blooming business in metros. But, what to say, there the instructors themselves sometime sell the anabolic steroids to the innocent trainees.’

Oh! Narayanan could no more think. He pressed his temples with his thumb. He couldn’t properly eat his lunch that afternoon.

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-7 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

Across The Seven Seas.           

Now Gayatri too, was dreaming. The dream of becoming an accomplished swimmer. Probably her dream didn’t end there. Couldn’t she become the best? Couldn’t she win the gold in competitions?

An idea, a little wish, like a seed, was sown, just casually, in her mind by her grandfather. And now the seed had grown into a big banyan tree, spreading its branches all around and sending its roots to the earth underneath.

But wish and will are two different things altogether. One can wish to become an athlete, but he or she must have the will power to achieve the goal. Only after lots of sweating your dreams come true.

That day since, every night, Narayanan set the alarm for four in the morning. He would get up timely and then call Gayatri to wake up, ‘Let’s get started.’ After sipping the morning coffee they readied themselves. They had to catch the four fifty ferry to reach Alleppey. With Gayatri sitting on the crossbar of the bicycle, Narayanan cycled up to the ferry station on the bank of Pampa. They rode the steamer and crossed the river. There again she would ride on her appupan’s cycle and reach the stadium at last.

The very next morning Gayatri woke up with a start, ‘What’s this? From where this sound is coming? This ringing of bells?’

Every day usually the dawn started with the chirping of birds. She just couldn’t ascertain what it was.

And just then Narayanan entered the room, ‘Oh, why are you sitting like that? Let’s get started. Can’t you listen to the call of the wind chimes? And my dear, didn’t you ever think of opening the box? Not even interested in seeing what you got in prize? Why?’

When they arrived at the stadium Kumaran was anxiously waiting for them. In the days to come he would always say, ‘Sir, you’ve brought me a piece of iron. Now it’s my duty to make steel out of it. Believe me sir, all your efforts won’t be a futile exercise.’

And then, just like every other day, a rigorous training of one to one and half hour followed. To begin with she started free hand exercise. Next, skipping. Then running along the track of the stadium meant for the runners. Soon all her muscles would become quite spring like. Always waiting for a command. The swimming was the last thing to do. Some day she would run again just to increase her stamina. It was a favourite dialogue of Kumaran, ‘Look Gayatri, training and practice, both words consist of eight letters. That means you’ve to practise as much as I would instruct you to do. O my god, there are eight letters again in ‘instruct’! Ha, ha!’

It’s easier to write than to do these practically. By the time her daily training ended Gayatri, a girl of ten or so, would become quite exhausted.

That day, it was already past seven thirty in the morning. She was quite breathless and sat on the field to take a little rest. Kumaran came near her, patted on her head and said, ‘Tired out, are you? Have you ever heard the name of Milkha Singh, The Flying Sikh? Let me tell you his story. He stood fourth in the 400 metres track and field athletics. This happened in the 1960 Summer Olympics in Rome. For two and half years he used to run for five hours daily. Once he had even vomited blood. It was his friends who took him to the military hospital. What a miserable childhood he had! During partition riots both his parents and other members of the family were killed. And he witnessed all these. He was simply an orphan when he came to this unfamiliar land.’

Gayatri cherished listening to these true stories of the sportspersons. Another day Kumaran told her again about Milkha Singh. He said, ‘Can you imagine, in spite of being ahead of everybody till two fifty metres, he failed to get a medal. People say that he probably thought he was running a bit too quickly. So he slowed down for few seconds. By the time he was just looking at others, Otis Davis of America, Carl Kaufmann of Germany and Malcolm Spence of South Africa overtook him. They took away the gold, silver and the bronze. Milkha returned empty handed.

‘And do you know who bestowed upon him the title of The Flying Sikh? It happened in Pakistan where he beat Abdul Khalid of that country. Then the president of Pakistan Ayub Khan called him The Flying Sikh.’

After all these work outs every day when she came out from the stadium, all her energy would be gone. Someday, sitting on the crossbar of the bike, she would just doze off. What else she could do? After so much of exercise and training she had to attend her school. Someday she would really feel sorry for herself.

And this happened one day. When, after crossing the river in the steamer, they were returning home, she started snoozing lightly. And within no time she just slipped from the crossbar.

‘Gayatri, what happened?’ Startled, Narayanan put on the brakes and stopped the cycle immediately, ‘Oh my goodness, did you doze off? Must be careful in future my baby.’ Narayanan was worried. Luckily they could avoid an accident that day.

Back home, everybody became alarmed when they came to know about this.

Manishankaran was really worried. He told his father, ‘Appa, what’s this? What’s the use of being so adamant? Can’t all this be stopped?’

‘My son, to get back the kingdom of heaven for the gods even Lord Vishnu had to disguise himself as a dwarf. And can’t we raise ourselves a bit higher so that we can face all this without any complaint?’

And in the afternoon when she returned from her school she was sneezing and coughing.

‘What happened?’ Ananthi brought her a dosa on a plate and touched her forehead, ‘Oh see, you’re running a temperature. How can you go to Alappuzha tomorrow? And then to school?’ Alappuzha is the Malayalam version of Alleppey. Similarly many a cities in Kerala have two names. The capital of the state Trivandrum is now Thiruvananthapuram, Cochin is named Kochi and Ernakulum. Likewise Calicut has become Kozhikode.

‘I’ll, amma. Don’t worry.’ Gayatri was pretty confident.

But she could not. Narayanan was worried and he called Kumaran on his cell phone, ‘No, no, don’t worry. She’ll go for her training once she is alright in two or three days. She will.’

That night while she was sleeping in her bed, her brother Rajan came up with a toy car in his hand. He got up on the bed and crawled to her, ‘Chey-chi (sister), are you ill?’

With efforts Gayatri opened her eyes. She had a little headache.

Rajan whispered to his sister, ‘Want to play with it? Sorry, that day I didn’t give it to you.’

Gayatri smiled. Few days back when their father had bought it for Rajan he would not let anybody touch it, ‘Oh, be away. Leave my thing alone. It’s mine. Achcha has brought it for me.’ But now he was so compassionate.

Gayatri touched his cheeks and said, ‘Not today. Tomorrow we’ll.’

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020

Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

Brief Introduction

• Birth – January 18, 1955
• Education – MBBS (IMS/BHU)
• Publications – 4 books (2 in Hindi, 1 each in English and Bengali) and two are yet to come.
• Translations – Books and articles are translated in English, Odiya, Marathi and Gujarati.
• Awards – CBT awarded stories and novel, “Kamaleshwar Smriti Katha Award (2013, 2017 and 2019)” by Kathabimb.
• Honour – “Hindi Sevi Samman” by Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwa Vidyalaya, Wardha (December 2016). 

☆ Juvenile Fiction ☆ The Tide of will – Part-6 ☆ Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury ☆

The Wind Chimes Ring.

Quite confused, the retired headmaster Sasidharan Narayanan looked at his old student, Kumaran’s face. At last he could just say, ‘What do you mean? Want my granddaughter? What for?’

‘Yes sir, please send her to me. She is an uncut diamond, I can see that. She will definitely marvel if I can polish her properly. I can’t say whether you’ve heard of Ian Thorpe or not. He was the most successful swimmer from Australia. Won three golds in the competition held in Japan. Can you imagine how could they achieve these astonishing feats? They have brilliant coaches to guide them. They take regular training under their eyes. Except the American swimmer Tim Shaw no one could achieve this. In 1975, he too, had won three gold medals.’

‘Well, well, run a bit slow my dear boy. Do you want to teach me the whole history of swimming? Ha, ha!’ laughed Narayanan.

Kumaran too smiled and said, ‘Sir, swimming is not only my profession but it’s in my dreams as well. By swimming I earn my rice and idli. But the letters S, W, I and M are always swimming in my blood. It’s be all and end all of my existence. It’ll be a matter of great pleasure for me if only I can train a single boy or girl of Haripadam in this sport. And if Gayatri can achieve some milestones of success in this field it’ll be a matter of great joy for me.’

‘And what about her studies?’

‘The least I can assure you sir, her studies won’t be disturbed at all.’

Neither of the two spoke a single word for some time. Then Kumaran, lost in his thoughts, said again, ‘And excuse my saying sir. No one asks whether pundit Bhimsen Joshi, the stalwart of Indian classical music, had crossed the class tenth barrier or not. No one can dare to ask what degree he had. His story is an ideal one. He fought against his poverty relentlessly. He flew his home. Sir, what is the real identity of a man? Is it not his deeds? And in Mahabharat what Karna had said? A man should be known by his deeds only and not by his birth.’

Gayatri was getting very much bored. ‘What the hell he is talking about? Oh, appupan, let’s go home.’

Narayanan was on the horns of a dilemma. In real life, it’s not easy to decide everything immediately. How could he answer Kumaran without hurting his sentiments? Ultimately he said, ‘Well, I must ask his father as well.’

‘That you’ve to, sir. But Mani is, after all, your own son.’

The duo returned home. Throughout the way Gayatri was quite restless, ‘Oh, when would we go to see those fireworks?’ Back home she didn’t open to see what prize she had got. She had altogether forgotten it.      

It was already dusk. They took their evening coffee and went out. Little Rajan would walk a bit and then start wailing, ‘Appu, in your lap, lap!’

Gayatri was walking with her appupan. Her pigtails dancing on her shoulders as she was jumping on the road. Amma, Ammuma and Gayatri – all wore white jasmine flowers in their hairs.

Gayatri was all smiles as she was reminiscing what happened last year in summer vacation when they all went to witness the ‘Vipulpuram’ festival of Vadakkunathan temple of Shiva at city of Thrissur. Whole of the temple premises were decorated with flowers. Great artists of Kerala would play there with five instruments. And there was a procession of elegantly caparisoned elephants. The drum players were walking with them, playing the chenda, a traditional percussion instrument. The face, the trunk and the sides of the elephants were covered with golden laced chadors. The skin of the pachyderms was full of colourful floral designs. Most famous among them was the elephant Parmeshwaram. Mani once told her, ‘They have shown the story of our Parmeshwaram in National Geography.’

Then the fireworks show continued till night. Every year on 8^th of May it’s celebrated at Thrissur. The architectural design of the temple of Vadakkunathan is somewhat like that of a pagoda. The stories of the epic Mahabharata are depicted on the inner walls of the temple. Peoples come from far and near to see these.

Crowds of people poured into the field around the temple to see the fireworks. In the evening one after another firecrackers were let off. They exploded and a rainbow of bright coloured lights was visible in the sky, against the backdrop of the starlit night. With each loud noise of the firework the crowd burst into a roar of laughter. The light and sound! And the colours! Gayatri was practically hypnotized. She didn’t feel like going back home.

But her brother Rajan was already asleep on his father’s shoulder.  Mani grew restless, ‘Oh, it’s quite a night. We’re already late. Let’s go home. Tomorrow I’ve to attend my office as well.’

So they returned. And Gayatri too.

Before they had their dinner that night Narayanan repeated the proposal of Kumaran to them.

But Manishankaran couldn’t accept it so easily, ‘What you’re saying, achcha? What will happen to her studies? And doesn’t she need to learn the cooking and other domestic works? What will she do in her future?’

Next it was the turn of Lalithambika, the achchamma of Gayatri, to handle the argument, ‘And what’s your plan? Don’t you want to give her in wedding? My god, at her age I was -’

‘Oh Mani’s mamma, everywhere in life you cannot always expect to get ‘two twos are four’. The former math teacher continued, ‘One should dream of five. And if he gets just a three, he must not be demoralised. To dream of five is the essence of life. On the contrary, not to lose hope when one gets the three is the nectar of life! To be very frank, I’ve already decided. When we’ve got a chance we must send her for a training in swimming.’

Achaamma too was not ready to give in so easily, ‘Well, tell me now, how every morning she will go to Alleppey?’

‘It’s thrice in a week and it’s I who’ll take her to Alleppey.’

‘You? Have you ever seen yourself in the mirror? Not a single wisp of hair is black anymore. And you’ll take our kuchumol to Alleppey?’ Lalithambika covered her mouth and giggled.

‘What do you mean – I’m an Oldman?’ full of energy Narayanan was about to beat his chest, ‘And have you heard of Meenakshi Gurrukkal? The leading exponent of Kearalian martial art Kalarippayattu. Even at the age of seventy-four she wouldn’t stop, so?’   

Mani tried to play tactfully, ‘Achcha, what’s the use of this swimming for her?’

‘Use? You mean profit?’ Narayanan took his glasses in hand and wiped them, ‘Our life is not a business. A game of profit making. P.T.Usha was born in Kuttali of Calicut. She was brought up in Payoli. And now the people know the name of Meladi because of her only.’

‘After all you can’t compare Gayatri with her.’

In the meantime, Ananthi had served the day’s special dinner for everybody on banana leaves. Appupan was really fond of all these traditional preparations. They were sitting on the floor. Narayanan picked up the broken thread of conversation, ‘When Lord Ramachandra was making a bridge to cross the sea to reach the kingdom of Lanka, even the little squirrels were of great assistance to him. They would bring the stone chips and twigs to fill up the gaps between the stones of the bridge under construction. Similarly, an unknown washerwoman from Panakurti village of Andhra had decided that she would not succumb to the pressure tactics of the landlord of the village. She refused to part with her small piece of land. She revolted and the fire of her spirit spread all over Telangana. Next the peasants of Telangana rose altogether. So who can say who’s important and who’s insignificant?’

‘Achcha, your arguments are inspiring, no doubt, but are they practical? Gayatri is the girl of our family. Won’t she learn how to run a household?’

‘One must have the courage to touch the sky. One must try to fly if he has a dream. Why to have poverty even in your dreams?’     

When the grownups of a family discuss something about a child they never bother about his or her feelings. While the father and son were engrossed in their discussions, they didn’t even notice that Gayatri had left her seat and be took herself to her bed. Silently. She was dog tired and her eyes could hardly afford to remain open. Within no time she was sound asleep.

Ananthi, Gayatri’s mother, was a bit sad. She murmured to herself, ‘Oh, your war of words! No one even bothered to congratulate my daughter for her achievement.’

But her grandfather didn’t forget it. Suddenly he asked, ‘Hey Ananthi, what was her prize?’

‘Don’t know, achcha.’

‘Didn’t see? Oh, bring that box. It’s over there on my table.’

Quickly he opened the box. Oh my god, there was a piece of wind chimes in it! Narayanan picked it up and hung it from his hand. It started chiming. The metallic tune drifted all over the house.

Narayanan, full of pride and joy, went near Gayatri’s bed and hung it near her head. Lovingly, his eyes were fixed at his kuchumol’s face.

Coming through the open window, rays of moon light fell upon the bed. Her face was illuminated. Was she dreaming? The wind chimes were ringing.

As if a melody wafted across the room,

‘Dream and dare to touch the blue sky

You too have wings, why don’t you fly?’

Contd…      

© Dr. Amitabh Shanker Roy Choudhury

C0ntact: Care Dr. Alok Kumar Mukherjee, 104/93, Vijay Path, Mansarovar, Jaipur, Rajasthan 302020