The Gift of Life

                                 

       Darkness enveloped me. Darkness was inside me. I sat alone in the living room with the lights off. The darkness made no difference at all. All of my life was dark. I stared at the dim light emanating from the idol of Lord Ganesha. It was a gift from one of my close friends. Thinking of gifts, it suddenly dawned on me that I would be 24 in about half an hour. As if that would change anything in my life! The radium clock showed that it was 11.30 pm. In a different life, I would have been tossing in bed till the clock struck 12 and would be busy on phone till the wee hours. I had nocturnal friends and then there was him..
      Thinking of him was too painful. I contemplated drowning myself in the liquor bottle that was lying in the cupboard. There must be some relief in that intoxicating little bottle that made failures less stabbing. It was too much of an effort to even get up from the couch and I gave up on that idea. After all, what good was half an hour of numbness anyway. It would all end in some time. I was, after all, going to end my life.

     Getting over the temporary discomfort, I actually made myself a drink. The first sip was horrible. I had been a teetotaler all these years but what was the harm in trying it just before death. Who would judge me anyway? Even if they did, they had much to question than just this drink. Like how he left me despite my futile attempts to keep the relation working. I trained my mind to stop going further in that track.

    11.45, I felt the drink get to me. This was what it was all about. A head reeling with myriad images, a plethora of emotions that found no logic, a chest that warmed for battle.. This was what I needed.

    I heard the knock on the door. I peeped through the door to see Mrs Gomes. I opened the door. She stared at me in shock or disgust, I couldn't know. I hadn't changed my pyjamas since morning, I hadn't brushed my hair that was tied in a shabby knot, I had two dark pits for eyes and my cheeks had disappeared. She swallowed her initial reaction and smiled.
      "Dear, this came for you in morning. I forgot to give you" she said, handing me the parcel.
      I thanked her and shut the door.
      I had thought several times about my death but I did not think I would give Mrs Gomes the horror of seeing me last. Maybe the parcel came when I was staring listlessly out of the window and decided against jumping from it. I switched on the light of the room. I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it.

     It did not have any other address. Who was this? None of my friends had ever sent me a parcel and none of them could actually plant it here. Who was I kidding, no one had talked to me in months. They have all conveniently moved on and forgotten me. Yes, the same person who they called and asked for every little thing, from last minute notes to what to wear on their dates! Could it be him? My heart skipped a beat. You fool he never did anything romantic while he was with you, what makes you think he will give you a surprise parcel? The inner voice mocked me. Yes, what did I expect? Him sending me a gift after our break up? He had left me a few months before we had planned to get married. He was probably married by now.

    I slowly opened the parcel. It had a letter inside the box. Fancy sending a box with a letter in it!
  "  I know you will end your life tonight. Just meet me once. Tomorrow sharp at 7 am.. National Park."
   
    Who was this person who knew what I would do? Why should I even listen to anyone. It is my life and I will decide the course of action. I did not come out of my own wish but I can go as I will! Why should I even wait to meet this person.
    What had this life given me anyway? Rejection, failure and hatred.

     7 am, is this person insane? Why national park? The decided time had already passed. It was 00:10 hr and I was already into my 24th birthday.

     That night, as I pulled the sheets over me, I wondered what I should wear to go to national park.

     I did not dare to check my mobile phone. I did not know what it would be. What if no one remembered to wish me? More than that I did not want family to wish me and make me weak. I was doing it as much for their sake as for mine.

     I dressed in a light blue jeans and black T-shirt, combed my thin hair and dabbed a little talcum. It looked human, the figure that stared back from the mirror. I did not know if I should wish myself Happy Birthday or cry over my misery.

     I paid the auto fare and walked to the main gate. It was still dark, winter nights were unusually darker this year. The guards looked at me uninterested. I took the entry ticket and strolled inside. I did not know what I expected but what I saw was unexpected.

    An elderly man with snowy white beard approached me. This hair was as white as his beard. He had soft eyes, the same colour as mine. His features were noble and there was an aura of peace around him. Dressed in a black suit, with two cups of warm coffee he smiled at me. He handed me a cup and gestured me to sit beside him on the bench.

    "You sent me the letter?" I asked, astounded.
    " You guessed it right." He sipped his coffee.
    I cupped mine and let the warmth comfort my frozen fingers. The first gulp of coffee made my insides feel better.
    " I gave you that." He remarked.
    "I know" I said awkwardly. Was I supposed to pay for it? I wondered to myself.
    "Not the coffee. That feeling."
    "You see that flower there?" He asked me pointing at the red rose that was swaying in the wind. The park was meticulously maintained and the gardener had begun to clean the wastes.
    "Yes.. It is beautiful."
    "What would happen if it just decided to fall?"
    "Umm... wouldn't matter much."
   "What if it was the only flower in the entire park?"
   " The park would be less beautiful."
   "But the rose decides anyway that it wants to fall. What would the gardener feel?"
   "Sad. He tended to that flower..It was unique" I stop mid way. Thinking of Mom.
 
    He stood up and walked. I followed him, even though he didn't ask me to.
    We reached the entrance of the bird park.
    "Stretch your hands on your sides and breathe" He said, doing the same.
    I stretched my hands and exhaled. The cold wind embraced me.
    "I gave you that."
    "See the birds flying above? I gave them wings. I gave you no wings but still you can fly."
    " Huh" I said, dumbfounded.
    " I gave you a mind that can soar higher than these birds."
 
    
   " I m a failure. I did nothing. No one wants me. He left me."
   He did not answer me. He walked away. I followed.

    He kept walking till the end of the road where the boating point was. He entered the boat and waited. I stepped in.
   The green water was still. The fish came in groups and fed on the plants. I was engrossed in their act.

    

  " Wouldn't it be ridiculous if they all tried to study your books and cry that they failed?"
  "They can't study!" I say, laughing at the comparison.
  " Because I didn't make them to study. Just like I didn't make you to study the subject you tried and failed."
  "Then why didn't you stop me?"
  "Do you see me stopping these fish?"
 " You could have sent me a signal. They say destiny takes you where you are meant to."
  "Did you listen to the signals I sent. The universe sent you messages but alas you were too busy with what others had to say. Do you remember the gut feel you had while choosing your subjects? Do you remember the times your love messages wouldn't get delivered to him and yet you tried so diligently?
"You should not have sent him in my life! After you did, you should have made him stay."
He laughed.
"You are such a kid. My wayward kid. You do as you please and then want me to set everything right."

"What is the point of living anyway. I m to die someday. Let me die now when I m tired of it." I m convinced that no one can help me.
I felt my body drifting off from the boat and I m atop the mountain. The caves surround me in all directions. My pulse is quickening and my ears are buzzing.
"You feel this pulse? You live to feel it."
I felt getting pushed and frantically try to find a support to prevent the fall. He held me right when I was on the verge of falling.
"You see the fight? You live to keep that fight alive."
I was faint from this activity. I leaned on the rocks.
"Feel the muscles ache? That's life within you.  Millions of cells and each cell having life within you."
I was panting.
" I gave you the warmth that surrounds you on cold nights
 I gave you the cold respites after sweltering summer
 I gave you the the spirit to fly and joy to swim
 I gave you the courage to fight and strength to last
 I gave you the butterflies of first love
 I gave you the long comforts of friendship
 I gave you the wisdom of books
 I gave you the company of noble family
 I gave you the legs that take you on long walks
 I gave you the heart that pumps relentlessly
 I gave you the eyes that see my beautiful world
 I gave lesser to many but I gave you all
so that you might live, my fallen angel.
 I gave you the gift of life."

          

I had tears in my eyes. It was not like I loved myself. I could just see myself through his eyes. Through my mother's eyes. Through my father's eyes. Death was not the choice..

"Who are you?" I asked him, knowing within the answer.
" I m the gardener that tended a rose that wanted to kill itself yesterday. I m life that you wanted to end yesterday. I m you that was to be finished yesterday. I m the force that didn't want to die."

I found myself walking towards home, happier and lighter. The woman selling flowers on the sidewalks was shouting out the price. I bought a bunch of roses. My first gift to myself. She smiled as I gave her the change.
"The roses look so alive again." She said. I heard the message this time. She had the same soft eyes.

My parents had returned back from a wedding they had gone to. I was happy to see them back.
"Did you get the parcel?" Mom asked.
"What parcel?"
"The one we sent yesterday. We didn't want to miss your birthday but weren't sure of the tickets so we sent you a gift." Dad explained.
I saw the opened gift box. I had taken out the letter last night. Did it have something else too?
A small silver idol of Lord Ganesha. It was too big to miss yesterday!!

I adored it. So this was whom I met. There was no hint of the letter.
"You look better now. The anti depressants are working." My mother lovingly brushed her hand on my head.
I noticed my parents had the same kind of eyes.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

 

This time your entry must contain, ‘I was surprised to see a parcel with my name on it.’

      

The Gift

                                     

            Adesh was sipping his third tea since the day started. He had found it difficult to sleep through the night and had headed to the study at the crack of dawn. Perhaps it had been a bad decision. He should have tried to catch more sleep before he headed to London. His flight was in a few hours and he did not want to land in a fatigued state. Thinking of London brought a smile on his face.

              He closed the door of the study and slid the drawer open. There it lay! The CD that he had picked up at the airport store in London. He opened his laptop. Inserting the CD, he rested his head back on the chair. He tapped his feet gently to the tune. Right, left and turn, he mentally pictured the dance. Pulling her a little closer, her swiftly moving out of his arm and his tugging at her and coiling back into him.They moved like two bodies fused into one. He couldn't wait to play the CD and dance with her. He had practiced it in his thoughts for months!

              He had met Lysa at the university. She was born and brought up in a British household and he was from a Gujarati merchant family. They were poles apart in temperament and yet he had instantly warmed up to her. She had been friendly to him, as she was to all. Adesh soon developed a soft spot for her and he couldn't believe his luck when she responded to him. He had asked to keep their affair a secret. Deep within, he knew she was far out of his league. The beautiful, graceful dancer that she was and clumsy, two left footed man he was! Her fair skin against his dark, her light eyes against his dark, her easy way and his uptight nature. He felt blessed each day that he was with her.
              Lysa had insisted he learn ball dance. She had taught him the basics and soon he felt confident to ask her for dance when they went out. It had become fun to dance with her and slowly Adesh developed interest in the form. This time he would gift her the CD and surprise her with the moves..
                                                 

             He was immersed in his thoughts when the commotion started. He shut his laptop close and looked down the balcony of the study.
            A skinny, four year old boy was arguing with two older boys.
           " I m not out!! He came in the way and I had to see that he doesn't get hurt." He shouted at the boys pointing at a man.
            They did not seem to agree with him.
            The young boy snatched the bat from the older and went back to bat.
          He has so much of me in him. Adesh smiled, adoring his four year old son.

           "Now don't come in between like an idiot. I don't want to get out." His 4 year old son, Viraj, told the man who was waiting by his side with a glass of milk. Gopi.
       
           Gopi had been in the house ever since Adesh could remember. He was their gardener's son. Gopi had been living in the house even after his father died. He did odd jobs. He was an idiot. Adesh had ridiculed him so much in his childhood! Gopi was too much of a simpleton. Anyone could fool him. Making a fool of him had been the favorite time pass of Adesh and his cousins. Adesh did not notice Gopi much during his growing up years. Gopi was always present to do the running around for every little thing that  no one noticed him actually. Somethings never change!
         
           " Is this the way to talk to elders?" Adesh's wife, Neelam, reprimanded Viraj.
           "Neelam, let him play. Come upstairs." Adesh shouted out to his wife.

           Neelam covered her head with her sari as she entered the left tower of the large house. Her husband's family owned the large palatial house. It was a joint family and they all worked together in the large business. The house was divided into three towers. Only the central and left tower were in use now. The right tower had been vacant for long and now was used for guests and also had a servant quarter. Neelam had been over whelmed when she had come to the house as a bride. She came from a family of lawyers but  she had just completed her graduation with difficulty. She wasn't very bright at studies and had been married off at 20 to Adesh. Adesh's family was rich but they were very old fashioned. They sent their sons to foreign universities but married them to simple and traditional girls. The women were expected to always cover their head and follow all customs. The men were always busy with trade.

       "Neelam, I m leaving for London in the evening." Adesh told without looking up from his papers.
       "Do you want me to pack anything?" She asked.
       "No. I have packed everything. I have kept some money in the locker for your use." He replied.

       Neelam saw the CD on his table and wondered what it was. She had never seen her husband listen to songs. He was always working. Neelam had learnt it the hard way to not ask him questions. It infuriated him if she invaded his privacy.
       She was full of dreams when she had married Adesh. He had been 21 and booming with enthusiasm. They would steal chances to meet each other in the house. They would spend time on the terrace, gazing at the stars and dreaming of the future. They would talk for hours and then resign to their rooms. Their customs prohibited consummation of the marriage till the 15th day. On the 7th day, Adesh's visa had arrived and on the 9th day he had packed his bag and she had bid him good bye with a heavy heart.

                         

          For some months the letters came regularly and then it started dropping. After a year, a letter was a rarity. 2 years after their marriage, Adesh came back from London a changed man. Gone was the carefree talks and the simple thoughts. He had been polished and civilised the London way. He kept quiet and pondered a lot.
          He was no longer the man she had waited for.  He smelt of expensive perfume even when he was home. He read books that she could not comprehend. He talked about things that made no sense to her.
        Their intimacies were forced. Clumsy and uncomfortable he would seem with her. He moved about knowingly, she a novice. He rolled off her when he was done, she lay thinking of what she did wrong. She was pushed further away from his life. Nothing made a difference to him.

        Gopi stood by the suitcase at the door. Adesh went to say good bye to his parents and hugged Viraj. Neelam came to the door and saw him getting into the car. Another month of business.

        She tiptoed to the right tower, with a torch in her hand at night. She gently knocked the door. It was dark inside. She sat on the bedding rolled on the floor. He stared into her eyes.
        It was in his eyes. His bright, large luminous eyes. His child like eyes with large lashes. The unquestioning way in which he looked. The unassuming way in which he took in everything. His gentle smile that lit up in his eyes. His eyes that haunted her. His eyes that she felt on her. His eyes that she saw when she closed hers. Gopi talked to her with just his eyes, silently and lovingly..
        She hugged him close. He held her gently. He smelt of soil. He smelt of sweat. He smelt of innocence. She breathed easy in his embrace than in the suffocating smell of rich perfume. She did not have to think what CD he had, his life was an open book in front of her. She did not feel inferior with him. This idiot knew more of love than polished arrogance.
        Her eyes watered. He wiped it, knowingly.
        " I m so sorry. Viraj is just so rude." She told him.
        "He is just a child."
        "He should know to speak better to his father."

         He smiled. A smile that touched her heart. She knew she had made him unconditionally happy by speaking out what they always knew... He had given her  the gift that her husband was unable to..
                                   
                                       

     

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

           

This time your entry must contain the three words idiot, perfume and CD.

         

Raising the bar

             
                                                 

               Sumona barged into the hall with a reddened face. Her clothes stuck to her skin, giving out all the bulges of her overweight body.
             "Now don't dump yourself in front of the laptop. Get a shower and go to the supermarket. We need some grocery." Her mother shouted from the kitchen.
             "I just came back. Let me at least breath!" Sumona shouted at her mother.

            "Oh! How many days are you going to continue this morning walk?" Her younger brother pulled her leg.
           "Just shut up and go to school."
           "What is this Sumona? Why are you always snapping around?" Her father reprimanded her. She stomached the acid that was rising in her mouth. No matter what she wanted to shout, she was scared of raising her voice in front of  her father. She sulked in silence.

            "Here, take this wrist band. I bought for  you." Her brother told sheepishly.
            She loved her brother to bits and felt guilty of always taking out her frustration on him. She hated herself more.

             She stood under the shower and thought about her plan to get slim. She was fed up of all the fads that she had followed. She could never stick to anything. Her brother was right, she wouldn't continue anything for long. At the end of the day, she always weighed the same!
                               

             "Sumona, we have to go to a function today evening." Her mother told her when she stepped out of the bathroom.
             "Where?" She asked, as if it mattered.
             " My colleague's daughter is getting engaged. Wear that blue salwaar kameez."
             "No, I don't want to come. I have college work."

             This had become her standard excuse. She had stopped going to social functions. It always came to some random stranger giving her weight loss tips. She found it difficult to mix in the crowd. She eyed every girl in the function and mentally figured herself in the picture. One day, she wanted to be that size. She felt as if people would watch how much she ate and only picked at her food.

            Her mother did not argue with her. She left for work after reminding Sumona again to go to the supermarket.

            She went to the supermarket with the list that her mother had given her the previous day. She was standing in the queue at the counter when she saw him. He was shopping in the electronics section. She left the queue and approached him.

           "Nirav, I have been trying your number since morning. You didn't tell me you are at home today."
           He did not expect to see her there.
           " I was busy yesterday."
           "You switched off the phone yesterday."
           "Because you did not understand that I was busy. I can't talk to you as you wish!" He told her.
           "Nirav, I m your girlfriend. I deserve at least that much. Do I ask you for anything else? Can't you talk lovingly for a few minutes?"
           "Don't start this here. I have other things on my mind. I can't always whisper nothings to you!"
           "Always? When do you ever do that? Tell me do you even love me?"
           "Would you leave if I said no?" He asked her.
           She did not answer him.
           "Had I been thin, you would have loved me right?" She asked.
            He did not answer her and simply walked away.

           Back home, she dumped the bags on the kitchen counter and dashed to her bed. She sobbed her heart out.
           Deep inside, the hurt was spreading. Her chest was heavy with the overwhelming feeling that she felt. She called Nirav repeatedly, only to get "Switched off" message. She hit her hand against the wall several time, until it became swollen and red. The pain did little to subside the inner turmoil.

           She had done everything, only to fail miserably. She had even tried throwing up the food by thrusting her hand down her throat. The act was so disgusting to follow everyday that she had given up.

          She stopped posing in pictures with her friends. It terrified her that those pictures would get uploaded on social forums. She avoided meeting new people and always kept wondering what they thought of her. It was important for her to keep Nirav in her life. It was more for her own self importance than for love. She hated her relatives who taunted her for her weight and smiled sadly at the jokes of some of her classmates. She had to keep a straight face and not cry. Every day was a struggle that she fought without swords.
       
          Every morning she woke up feeling hopeless. Every time the mirror laughed at her. Every time she felt the attendants at malls giggle when she couldn't fit the size.

          Every taunt, every neglect, every ridicule was making deep holes in the thin layer of self confidence that she now had.
          She pulled her hair sometimes in anger. The swollen hand usually helped to lessen the pain that circulated in her heart. This time the pain was much deeper. Not only had Nirav ignored her but also shut her off from his life. How much longer could she keep him forcefully after all. He deserved a better girl. A girl less fat and miserable than her.

         This time the emotional hurt was too much to keep away by her swollen hand. This time she raised the bar. 
                                             

           Blood gushed from the cuts she made on her leg. The pulsating pain made her forget Nirav and her weight issues for a while. It numbed her brain and she surprisingly found relief in the red liquid that oozed from the cuts. 

          This time ,she raised the bar of pain. She raised the bar of self hatred... 

                                           If only she had been told once

                         

 P.S: 

Self harm is a way of coping with emotional pain for some people. It might provide a temporary release but the act in itself goes deeper than it seems. 

Signs of someone doing self harm can be:

• Increased isolation
• Increased anger
• Unexplained wounds

Read more about SELF INJURY here.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

This time your entry must contain, ‘This time, she raised the bar…’

           

The Stranger

                                                    


               It was still dark outside when he creaked the door open. Quickly slipping out of the front gate, he slid into the driver's seat of his jeep. The jeep roared to a start which made Mahesh curse and hope that no one noticed his departure. His joints ached in the chill of the early hours and the wool that he wore gave him little comfort. Inconvenient as it was, he was determined to rest his curiosity before the day ended.

   ********************************************************************************************************************************************
               Retired cop Mahesh Acharya, was used to the disciplined life that he had lived while in active service and went about his retired days the same way, sticking to a schedule. He did not like the interruption that the untimely rain had brought into his morning jogging. Reclined on the sofa of their large living room, he was sipping his morning black tea. His wife followed only one ritual that even the rains could not hamper. She was ready to leave for the temple to offer her prayers to Lord Shiva, when the stranger had come. Gentle and superstitious by nature, she took it as some divine signal. The stranger was a young girl, no more than 10. Drenched to the core and shivering, she had begged for some food. Mahesh did not pay any attention to the girl. It was common for beggars to ask for help and the temple being a stone's throw from their house, beggars were there in plenty. The regular ones knew his temper and stayed away while the naive ones dared and got a taste of his fury.

              Nandini was unreasonably adamant to keep the girl with them. She had argued that the girl was well behaved and willing to odd jobs at their home. Mahesh saw no reason to take the girl in when they already had Rukmabai as a maid but Nandini seldom insisted on anything and when she did, it was only fair that Mahesh obliged. Grudgingly, Mahesh had agreed to see the girl and interrogate her. Nandini had stayed by her side and answered for her. It was a second nature to Mahesh, doubting and cross questioning people was what he had done for 40 years. The girl knew nothing of her background except for her name. Pratiksha. After the death of her mother, her maternal uncle had brought her to the city and left her alone at the railway station. She did not know even the name of her village. Mahesh had asked Nandini to keep an eye on the girl and not trust her blindly even though he had nothing to doubt her.

           Within days, Pratiksha had grown close to Nandini. Mahesh had to agree, the girl was indeed well behaved and did her job to the T. She never gave any reason to complain. Nandini took her more as a daughter than a maid. With arrival of Pratiksha, a void had filled in Nandini's life. She found an outlet to talk to. Mahesh loved his wife but he was not a man to make small talks or chatter without need. Their only son, Pruthvi, had stayed in hostel to not get affected by Mahesh's transfer and later gone abroad. Nandini had to fill her days with just the TV and her daily chores. Pratiksha listened to Nandini's talks and accompanied her to the markets and temple. She was like a daughter that Nandini never had.

         Pruthvi had announced that he would spend his summer vacations with them and Nandini was overjoyed. She set about making preparations to welcome him. Just two days before Pruthvi was to land, Rukmabai fell off the stairs and had to go on a holiday. Pratiksha took up her share of the work. Mahesh had to admit that it had indeed been wise to let her stay.

        She had been scrubbing the floor. Mahesh was engrossed in the newspaper. She was bent over the side table, setting the magazines in order. Mahesh had looked up from his paper and saw the tattoo to the left of her chest. He had seen that tattoo before! If only he could remember where. He had stared a bit too long. Pratiksha saw him and rushed out of the room. He went back to his paper, embarrassed.

       He did not sleep easy that night. The tattoo haunted him. The crescent moon and strange script on her chest did have some significance. He racked his brains too hard. He turned and twisted in bed. Finally when sleep came over him, a disturbing image jolted him out of it.

       How could he forget that tattoo!

        30 years ago, he had been deployed in a small village of West Bengal. The transfer was courtesy the foolish bravery of his senior which had invited a politician's wrath and the entire team was transferred to places that were never heard of. The village was predominantly a population of poor farmers and a few rich, forgotten landlords. The landlords continued to live in a sphere of illusion and the farmers were too ignorant to know that landlords had no control over them now. Broken into sects not only by caste but also by class, the village painted a sad picture of inequality. 

        Most of the time, Mahesh never went to duty. He would be busy stringing any contact that could get him out of the god-forgotten place. One afternoon, as he was solving the crossword puzzle after lunch, a man named Gyanlal came to the police station. 
    "Saheb, the son of Thakur has hurt Munni." 
    "Hurt? What happened?" He had asked. 
    "Saheb, I was tending to my field when I heard her muffled crying. When I went, Thakur's son Vijay was making his way and Munni was lying in blood." 
    "Where is she?" Mahesh was alarmed. 
    " I called the villagers and they all took her to hospital." 

       Mahesh had taken immediate action and arrested Vijay. He was about to file an FIR when the landline which had gathered dust, began to ring. It was the local leader first and then the higher ups. The pressure to set Vijay free was mounting. Mahesh knew it was a serious offence. Munni was just 6 years old and on the verge of death due to the blow on her head. He gave in to the demands in return for his transfer to a more civilized place. 
      What he didn't see coming was the ire of villagers. They were out to set the police station on fire. His immediate senior was in another district. He suggested Mahesh to arrest Gyanlal. That was the only logical option. Only Gyanlal had seen Vijay after all! 

      In the middle of the night, he had gone with a small team to arrest Gyanlal. His wife and his daughter had fallen on his feet and pleaded him to let go of Gyanlal. His wife was frail and fainted. His daughter had tugged at his pants and cried,
     "Leave my baba" she said in local dialect. A girl of only 5 she had been, wearing only a thread bare frock that hung over her thin, malnourished frame baring the green ink on her chest. The crescent moon with the script..

      He had not stayed long enough after that night. He had been transferred to Pune. He had only heard that Gyanlal's wife was called a witch in the village and Gyanlal was framed for killing Munni for a child sacrifice. 
They didn't know that Munni was raped. The medical reports were tampered as well. The guilt had been huge but Mahesh could do nothing about it. He was too selfish to let go of his comfort. 

    It puzzled Mahesh. How could Pratiksha have the same tattoo? Was it possible that Pratiksha was an offspring of Gyanlal's daughter? Did she know about it or was it pure coincidence?

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          He caught the morning flight to reach there. The village had changed over the years and boasted of a mall in the present day. Mahesh could not remember the lanes or the place. By the time he made to the police station, it was almost noon. The police station was well populated, a far cry from their handful numbers the last time he had been there.
          He met the current officer there and sought the information. The officer was confused but did not question why such a senior retired cop would want such details. He fetched the file. It was in a bad condition. The papers were brown and thin and bitten on ends by rodents. Mahesh read the file. Gyanlal had been shot while escaping. Probably an old style encounter.

         Mahesh asked in the old settlements about Gyanlal but no one knew. From an old woman, Mahesh came to know that Gyanlal's wife was ousted from the village along with her daughter. They probably went to live in the neighboring village where Gyanlal's brother-in-law lived.

        It was evening when Mahesh reached the dusty village of Midpur. He did not know why he bothered so much but he wanted to get to the depth of the situation. Somewhere deep, the guilt was making him do it. The brother-in-law was long dead and those who remained in the area were scared to talk to a stranger. After much efforts, Mahesh came to know that Gyanlal's wife had died a few months after him. His daughter had been a witch. This shocked Mahesh. It was his wife they had called a witch and then his daughter!
       "She had potions. She never grew old" an old man confided, his eyes wide with the secret.
       "Never grew old?" Mahesh raised a brow.
       "She was ten and then she never grew.. She never flowered. She never developed. She remained ten.."


       Mahesh kept running. He was panting by the time he reached the nearest police station. His mobile gave no signal since he reached Midpur. It was ten in the night. He asked to use the landline. The landline was dead. Damn! He asked for a vehicle to leave him to the airport. The officers exchanged looks and informed him that a landslide had blocked the road out of the village and would take minimum 2 days to open. Mahesh was petrified. Why did he walk to this dead end? Leaving Nandini alone with a witch!

        He reasoned that Pratiksha couldn't be a witch. She had done no harm in the eight months she had been with them. The thought that she was 35 and not 10 made Mahesh weak with fear. All these months he had seen nothing!! He kept thinking about ways to go  out of this village but nothing worked without crossing the road that was blocked. Did witches have such power?

       At the break of daylight, Mahesh was on the road with a hired car and a driver. The landslide wasn't much. Maybe 20 people could work for 3-4 hours to clear it but those 20 people were elusive. It was too lazy a village to find people to do that job. It wasn't before 10 am that he could gather 5 people with a bribe to get started.

      It was late evening by the time Mahesh could get past the road. The signal was still too low and the village had no electricity the whole day, added with the dead telephone lines! What a wretched place!!

     It dawned on him that Pruthvi was to come home. For a moment he relaxed. Nandini wasn't alone after all! He cursed his stupidity for not informing them that he was going out. They would be worried to bits. He wished he could tell them how much they meant to him. The thought of losing Nandini was too wounding. He longed to see Pruthvi. How much he wanted to be with them!

       They were a few hours away from the airport when the mobile caught signal and began buzzing. Mahesh held the phone to his ears, hoping to hear Nandini. The voice on the other end sent fresh waves of fear in his spine.

      "Saheb, the son of Thakur had hurt Munni." The child like voice said.
      Mahesh trembled.
      "Pratiksha.. I.. Let us talk when I come okay. I can explain." He fumbled for words.
      "I have waited enough. Now you will know the pain of losing a family. For no fault of theirs!"
      "Pratiksha.. No.. don't harm them.. I m telling you I can explain."
      "Sorry Saheb. They are dead. They struggled pitifully. Poor souls. Died the death of rats."
      "What? Oh God !! No.. No.. You are lying!" He cried out.
      "It is your habit to lie and make people suffer for it. You killed my baba. You killed my Ma. You made me a witch."
      "I did not do it! You witch!!! You killed my family." The driver was distracted and crashed into a tree, dying on the spot.
      Mahesh was numb and didn't feel the blood gushing out of his body.

      "I m no witch. An educated man like you should know better. The trauma and malnutrition did that to my body. It was divine blessing. I know you saw the tattoo. The tattoo of our divine goddess. The ancient spirit of my ancestors. Today they gave me justice. I hunted you for so many years. You shall not die. You shall repent each day for rest of your life and grieve for your family."

      The line was cut and Mahesh lay limp on the dashboard.

      ****************************************************************************************************************************************

     They put him in the special ward. He stared into space. Not responding to words or stimuli even though everything in his body functioned perfectly normal. He had become a case study. Only word he responded to was

        Tattoo
                       
                           

This time your entry must contain, ‘He/She had seen that tattoo before! If only he/she could remember where.’

       This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.