The Rainbow Of Promise~

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 40; the fortieth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "MAKE A WISH"

Abidah, moved into a new village along with her ailing husband and settled in a house built with clay and straw. It shared a courtyard at the back with several other huts. Every night after dinner, Abidah, would take a lamp up to her window, and watch the ghostly shadows of palms swaying in the dark. Everything seemed so enchanting…

Seeing a new face, people looked at her in the bazaar as she walked by, but she never seemed to notice anyone or anything. Her face was always stern and unmoving. One day, a group of men and women gathered at her gate. She came to the vantage point of her veranda, waved her arms, instructing people to be silent…

‘Yes, is it something important?,’ she asked rather shrilly. Her eyes touched everyone they lit upon.

People took  few steps backwards. ‘No’, they murmured, ‘we just want to know about you, you're our new neighbor. Are you married?’

Abidah grinned. ’I have six children…but, I live here with my husband; he is quite sick… ‘, she picked up a palm-leaf and waved it around, causing a cloud of flies rise from the pile of blood-soaked cotton and float upwards.

A tall lean man with gaunt cheekbones stood up and said,' Every night, people see you sitting by the windowsill... men stop, their wives end in angry outbursts....'

'That is enough,' she said, 'bas karo' leaning forward digging her fingers into the pillar of the hut. 

In a quiet little voice, she said’ You know, every night, I try to listen to the voices--people who have receded to a distant world come back to me, to get connected to this world… I have learnt to harness energy from sounds of earth, despite the tumultuous environment… all kinds of spirits rain on my soul...it's enriching.’ 

She attempted to retreat, but paused.

‘I’m not going to harm anyone of you here, friends.  We are simply bound as neighbors, as friends… as you all know!!  I can connect to your ancestors, and to the restless spirits of this village too –the grain of human souls never die…Common on, clear the house, leave it restful, silent for the spirits to connect …. But, before leaving, one of you can 'make a wish today.’ Mind you, this is the first and the last offer.

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Being the month of monsoon, the rains were expected to start. Last two year's insufficient monsoon resulted in severe drought in the village.  Reservoirs were at alarmingly low levels, with water being restricted to drinking use only and irrigation use was forbidden. The rivers and canals had almost dried up. 

The superstitious villagers believed that a murdered woman’s disembodied spirit was going round the village seeking attention and justice. Few people reported that they heard screams at the dead of night- tearing from one end to another end.

So, they were convinced now, that Abidah could solve the curse with the help of exorcism.

The Pradhan came closer with a wide smile, raised his hands, and screamed,’ Hail, Woman of God! We must celebrate; God has sent someone to this village at last….Give us rainbows across the horizon, my lady. It is a beautiful sign! God hangs one in the sky when we need assurance or help. It is like, Him resting his colorful bow in the heavens*… It's surely going to bring in peace, tranquility and happiness to all the villagers. We shall be safe.’

There were shouts of joy on the streets, and the fog of anxiety dissipated temporarily for Abidah.

The villagers left. She reached for a stole…and stepped out. The spot she chose was a little away from the dried canals. She sat down kissing the tips of her fingers and lightly touched them to her eyes. She felt a stir within her, and gave a long sigh, rolling her eyes heavenwards.

The whole scene had a sepulchral silence. As if there were wayward souls spinning around her, though all preferred to remain detached to her...

A lap wind started up in the fields. Some nervous, agitated birds flapped their wings, only to squawk and dip, making the space ring with cries.

 This disturbed Abidah’s concentration, so she started walking deep into the fields, relishing the sensation of being alone again. But, all of a sudden, there was a movement- a figure, shapeless, muffled passed. She shivered.

‘My’, she breathed, pop-eyed!

She raised her hands to her cheeks, they were warm. A light breeze came wandering on the flushed ground- the sky abruptly was full of colorful rays. Abidah looked up, bent her head in reverence. For her, never before had God fulfilled her with such a splendor –the promise of rainbows.

The wind whined, and threatened to throw her onto her knees. She held onto a tree, hungering for company, for connection; she spread out her arms and rose on her toes….A promise of rainbow, was still inside her chest, tight as a stone.

The light was getting hazy, powdery; the golden sky was melting into soft blues, violets, and grey in the distance. Her ear-drums were thrumming with roars of thunder and wind. It broke her trance. She stood as still as a twig. 

Looking at the surreptitious sky; some inspiration gleamed in her eyes. To her north, clouds upon clouds in gold, blue, violet, pink and red were suddenly gushing towards her.

Soon, dark grey clouds cut her off from everything.

It was at this moment she realized there was never really anything….It was all in her mind. Imagination conjured up strange images in the brain. She was getting haunted by her own feelings of guilt, fear, or, maybe lack of confidence.

She trudged the path back home. Due to lightning, the power had gone off. Little lanterns were glowing in the small huts.

Monsoon arrived like an orchestra, evoking thunder and falling rains. The village along with Abidah’s heart was reborn-within minutes of the cloud-burst; small puddles were formed around the huts in which kids were sailing paper boats. Everything looked beautiful and colorful.

Villagers thought Abidah brought down a ‘gift from heaven’....

Suddenly the lights came on again. Abidah gave a loud, contented laugh. She trumpeted: ‘See the rainbow of promise- an everlasting pledge of God's love for us.’

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PS-- *I went to a school where we had "moral science" classes... in hindsight; I don't think I learned anything of any real practical use from those lessons... just a set of rules that were well-intentioned. Reference to ‘ God’s hanging bow on the horizon’ came from one of those lessons. We are as much as we see. Faith is sight and knowledge.

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When The Time Is deep, dark and lonely~

This story bagged a Silver Baton....

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 37; the thirty-seventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "and then there were none"

The first time I woke after several hours in the hospital bed, I knew something was seriously wrong. There was severe pain, as if, a series of operations were carried out on my body. Groggy after coming out of a deep sleep, a sense of catastrophe gripped me as I groped my way to awareness.

The room was over-heated, and I was sweating under the blanket. Fluorescent lights humming against the ceiling, seemed perfectly tuned to the hollow and labored groans of the ward. The air was thick with cleaning liquids, phenyls, scents of medicines and Savlon; soft whispers of the doctors and nurses, and the beeping of life support systems made everything eerie…my eyes drifted towards the right bed. A tea-tray, neatly decked with white porcelain tea-pot, a plate of biscuits and the sliced lemon was formally waiting. The young patient looked terribly pale and fragile; however, seemed peaceful with those IV tubes attached to her wrist. A soft thumbnail crested on her fingertip looked ridiculous. My eyes, fierce in concentration continued searching …

Two nurses were making an empty bed at a distance; a man wearing an orange plaid jacket and rubber gloves broke the path, swinging a bucket in his hands. As he brushed past the curtain… a yellow brittle light billowed dust. Looking at the light, I had an urge to get up and walk to the window... I tried to raise myself, but, my exhausted body refused to move. The oft-repeated trials gave me a wringing pain around the shoulders; I turned around, and froze….both my arm were gone: all that remained were a pair of stumps, heavily swathed in thick bandages. It was incredibly difficult to think of myself as disabled or handicapped....

My two year old daughter’s face floated in front of my eyes; afraid of uncertainties I wanted to scream but I lacked the strength. Perhaps, the strong tranquilizers were taming my nerves, arteries and mind. I kept breathing; heartbeat after heartbeat was the only measure of time… 

At an age of thirty six, the car-crash had me completely destroyed physically. Children often exhibit a fearful response at the sight of a crippled or deformed person. I started thinking about my little baby... wondered, how she'd react looking at my deformity... I feared, it would scare her little heart. Now I had both, the suffering as well as the guilt.

I looked towards the transparent glass-door; my husband was talking to a bunch of people, mostly office people I thought… My eyes were searching for my little girl…strayed; she was nowhere in the vicinity.

I was wide awake now, though head was still full of confusion. Suddenly a figure moved closer at the foot of my bed, lumbered forward and pressed my shoulder tenderly. He ran a cold hand over my forehead. It was Dilip, my husband. I couldn't talk, my tongue just shriveled at the back of my mouth.... it was dry, leathery and hard. He smiled pulling the blanket over me. This was his way of murmuring consolations. There were dark shadows under his eyes; I realized, reality can never match up to the pictures we tend to display.Looking at his disheveled look, I felt very sorry for him. 

But, now I was all ready to find out more about me …about my recovery…and the reality! He recognized the anxiety and broke his stony silence this time. 

He said,’ Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You'll live for hundred years---and without any body's help!! All will be well. In another, two-three months, the specialists are going to fit a prosthetic (artificial) device, and then start with the rehabilitation process….’, he said looking into my eyes. His voice was shaky, quivering a bit....but I believed in what he said. He was one, I knew, who'd been scrupulously honest. So, his words gave me the strength. However,...I was deeply anxious about my two year old! 

‘Oh Dilip,’ I moaned weakly…'but, who is going to look after me in the hospital for all these months? And most importantly, who will look after our baby…?? Your boss won't consider giving you long leave at this point of time!'

He saw the anguish in my eyes; his face flushed, but, not in anger or pain.I saw a strange relief on his face, he looked alive and more or less normal.

‘Honey, don’t worry, I am here… The company has handed pink slips to many senior executives--- I am one of them…but, darling, whatever happens…happens for good. I am here to help you…we’ll fight it out together and see the light one day; hence, smile, feel special ....never give up!’ 

I was listening. There was a heaving inside me....our breaths somehow mingled, as though we were one body. I stared at my savior's face... so earnest, he was....

There was a quiet moment, I mumbled nervously:’ And, what about Mini…her future, her dreams, Dilip?’

‘I have some more wonderful news. We have our parents willing to back us at last....They have forgiven us. Apparently, they have realized that it is possible to pair off two people from different castes, backgrounds and they make marriages successful. 

They’re already in the house, taking care of your home, your child, your husband and helping us in this time of struggle. I've got a job already. The new job has offered me a good hike…we can now look for a four bed-roomed, company-owned apartment in plush Worli sea-face. In any case, I'd been toying with the idea of selling the present small flat and taking a bigger one, as you know.

I heard Dilip...he came like a woodpecker, pecking at my heart. Colors tumbled within me as inside a kaleidoscope. Truth is stranger than fiction.

I murmured a quote: “I long to believe in immortality. . . . If I am destined to be happy with you here--how short is the longest life. I wish to believe in immortality--I wish to live with you forever."

I asked: ‘Who said that, Dilip?’

‘Keats to his beloved Fanny Browne in a letter’.

I marveled at Keat's words…surely his thoughts were sincerely unique.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 09 

The Priceless Gift

THIS STORY WON THE "GOLD" BLOG-A-TONIC BATOM on 13/11/2012 !!!

This story was also featured in 'What I've been reading this week#16!! Am truly honored and thrilled to be featured, Roshni...!! Thanks a lot!!...

Check the following link for a few more interesting links.... http://momofbigalittlea.blogspot.in/2012/11/what-ive-been-reading-this-week-16.html

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 33; the thirty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'Celebrations'

My retired headmaster, Father Roderick used to live in the Garo Hills of Shillong. The simplicity that he preached, appealed to one and all. He was a man of integrity, of principle who carried other’s woes throughout his life but, destiny had something else in store for him. It had been a religious calling he had believed in, but after the death of his only son, everything changed. He quickly pulled himself away from his friends, his associates, and church and  settled down in a remote place with his wife. He hated the care of others; so no one dared to invade his realm except for his beloved wife; whatever else came or happened, it was intrusion.

He displayed enormous reluctance in accepting me also, although I’d been his student in the past....But,  time rearranged itself according to wants, and corrected our relationship. A sense of gratitude pulled me over  to his place every month.  As an orphan, I was very fortunate to get Father Roderick in my life. He placed his hands on my shoulders at the right time and kept them hovering above me, till I was big enough to face the world. He was a good provider for many like me. So, to me, his home was the home of God….here I saw the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance and tenacity in its truest form.

One day, he sent a telegram informing me of his wife's death.The gravity of the situation pulled me to his door once  again. Sun had descended down the hills, Nathan's lantern was visible in the darkness. A pale yellow glow was shining from behind the red and yellow curtains. Nathan was sitting on the steps smoking a beedi. He leapt up when he saw me.

‘So late? Father has been waiting for you for a long time. He was expecting you in the afternoon…Come with me,’ Nathan said, taking my hand.

Nathan flung open the door, the curtains billowed a little; the night breeze was cold. The cottage smelled faintly of many things: flowers, phenyle, room freshener, mosquito coil…the smells tussled for a while, but, the pine- breeze from the hills submerged everything in seconds. The table lamp was on, but the pool of light  wasn't enough to illuminate his face fully. His eyes were closed…

‘You’re here… I was waiting for you, Ralph.’ Father uttered, withdrawing his hand from under the shawl and he raised the wick of the table lamp. I moved closer… 

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Father.I understand what a departure of a loved one brings on…’

'I am glad you came!' he said, nervously, but then he swiftly turned to practical matters.

 Nathan came out of the kitchen with two glasses of masala tea. Father held the glass carefully, tried to sip but put his glass down.

‘Would you like me to cool the tea for you, Saar?’ Nathan asked.

‘Oh, I’ll wait for it to cool’, he said.  I realized, he still didn't like any kind of intrusion. I kept stirring my spoon in circles around the base of the tea-cup…

Father rose, and said,’  We need to talk, Ralph. Let me fetch a pen and a paper.’ He left the room tucking the shawl around him.

I was too tired, there was a sense of grief everywhere in that dark, dingy room… soon he was back.

'Perhaps,' said Father, ruminating, ' it was all my fault. I didn't give her enough time.', he patted the arm of his chair in frustration.

'Do you know, she was a nurse once upon a time… Wonder, why she didn't tell me that she was suffering so much with that tumor in her stomach— it was as big as a cricket ball. But, while she lived, not a murmur passed her lips. On the contrary, she would give me courage when I lost my heart. …", he accused, gathering himself together with a labored effort.

I had never seen him talking so much. So, I kept looking at him until his opaque eyes shifted a bit.  He finished giving me all the details in a single breath...But, suddenly he flinched…. his voice became low, tears trickled down his cheeks....

He stopped only for a moment: sweat glistened on his chin even in that altitude, he continued....

"Last night, we retired early. Around midnight, my eyes opened…her bed was empty. I thought she was in the wash room, so I drifted off. When my eyes opened again, her bed was still empty. I looked around, she was nowhere in the house, the front gate was open. I stepped out.....it was pitch dark. My feet stopped all of a sudden.. If I had got there five minutes later, perhaps I would have wandered like a mad man all night.....she was sitting at the edge of the cliff with her feet dangling down. I touched her shoulder, turned her around and drew her towards me....and asked her, ' what are you doing....???"

"Unperturbed, she pulled me down to sit beside her and asked  a very poignant question for the first time in life"

:' Do you want my happiness?', her voice reverberated through the crisp air. She continued,  'If you love me, give me a push, just a gentle push...' 

I was shocked! I realized, she had shielded me from her pain until this day, and was begging me for deliverance from it...I dragged her home, and put her in bed, but she kept staring at me without saying a word. I don't know what were in those eyes...they were pleading...justifying..appealing...alleging...I realized, she surely deserved a ‘dignified death’. 

'Both me and Maria sat in silence, watching the raging amber fire in the fire-place for a long time. The shades of the long flames were dancing all around us...the wind had risen outside; its ghostly whistle reverberated in the chimney. I was sweating....'

 Much of the night had passed. Maria was still wreathing in pain. My presence seemed less than necessary, sleep was elusive....I felt like a parasite---a selfish man who was only thinking about his own life, his duties, his loneliness. I went to bed and drew a blanket over myself---waiting to sleep. 

Maria was moaning, her eyes were bulging out of her sockets, her hands were flailing as she was fighting for life. With great difficulty, she called me and said, ' Roderick, life has nothing to do with living or dying---it dangles on a thread of love. Pull at the thread, and a wave of pain rises. If you love me....leave the thread, and let me go'. 

I realized, that her faith was not in God, but in me---I couldn't tolerate her suffering anymore. I gave her an overdose of morphine and put her to sleep....

Dr Sharma came in the morning in his usual visit. The room was shining in the sun, the windows had caught a beautiful dawn...it was a clear morning, so peaceful outside that there was hardly a thud of any fear in my heart. Dr Sharma wrote the death certificate without probing further....

'Ralph, now my world is strewn with pale, shriveled leaves. All so peaceful, yet so turbulent. I can't live like a survivor now. Please take me to the Police Station. I want to surrender....

There was a strange peace in his face after sharing the secret to which everyone was privy except me. I didn't know what to say....
Father Rodrick smiled and.handed over his diary to me. I read the following quote...

"Don't cry

because it's over.
Smile because it happened."
-Dr. Seuss

A funeral is saying goodbye, but remembering who the person was and the difference he/she had made in others' lives give joy and incredible peace to his/her family. So, celebrating life even after it has sunk should be the most important ritual....

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: 06

This story has been featured in 'What I've been reading this week#16 also!! Am truly honored and thrilled to be featured, Roshni...!! Thanks a lot!!...
Check the following link for a few more interesting links.... http://momofbigalittlea.blogspot.in/2012/11/what-ive-been-reading-this-week-16.html