On Daily Soaps and Enlightenment

These days I am on a research mission, picking up subjects that were earlier left unattended by me. I have picked up a new pair of lenses as well and I can now look at things from a different perspective. Recently, I decided to indulge in some of the daily soaps on our national television and see if my perspective on them could change. I was amazed to find out that these soaps were not at all what I had heard or thought about them. I always detested them and I must admit I am guilty to bits to have neglected these wonderful ladies on screen. 2 days.... just 2 days and I am enlightened. In fact, this morning R accepted that he had finally seen the Halo over my head. In tears I ran towards the mirror, my right leg first and then the left and I talked to myself. If you think I had done this before, then you are wrong. I have learnt it from these soaps. I feel so elated. Not only this, these soaps have also taught me some of the most important lessons of life. I am amazed at how fast and how far our society has grown. I shall not keep these gems with me alone. Hence you are welcome to be enlightened as well.

Five Valuable Lessons for Women:

If you are not married at least 4 times,you are not married at all: Five years of my marriage and I am still with just one husband. Darn! I felt like a failure after I saw that this leading lady was preparing for her 4th wedding with her second husband. Success, really means that you have to be married at least 4 times in one lifetime. Each marriage has to be celebrated with pomp and joy. After all, marriage is just for fun and frolic, is it not? And it is mandatory to hate all four respective husbands because in all probability they will either be your business rivals or they could be friends with your enemies. Also, you have to ensure that all your husbands are happy after the wedding and you have to mandatorily fast for them on Karvachauth. Most of them will love aaloo ka paratha too. I was almost in tears when I saw this. See, this is exactly why men across the globe want Indian women. Because, irrespective of everything, she will still fast for him. Our society has become so advanced yet Indian values are so intact. I am sobbing, already!

You cannot marry the man you love: What needs to be noted is that you will never ever end up marrying the one you love. The logic is simple. There are 100%  chances that however young he is, he will certainly have a past. A past where a woman he loved wore green mascaras, thick black kajal, maroon lipstick, vermilion that started from the Nalasopara of her head and ran through Marine lines on her forehead. She broke his heart and ran away or perhaps died in a car accident. Do not feel relieved that she is dead unless her face is shown when her dead body arrives. Because the dead almost always come back. If the first wife doesn’t resurrect and arrive then chances are quite high that your best friend will suddenly become devilish and marry the man you love. So watch out for your best friends. To tell you, I have two best friends... R is in extreme DANGER!

Talk to yourself so loud that everyone can hear it but you: We have all read that one must sit and spend some time with oneself. This leads to self realization. Based on this concept the women in these soaps talk to themselves. Usually about a plan they plot or about how they feel about their 4 husbands. The key here is that you must compliment your inner words with your expressions. Say, you are planning to save your 4th husband from the clutches of his third wife who is a witch. So you must furrow your eyebrows, shrink your eyes, blink them frequently and gently shake your head first to the left and then to the right. Then lift your head a little up and then a little down. You may also try shedding a few tears but ensure that the kajal remains intact. It isn’t easy at first but then practice makes a man perfect....Oops, sorry a woman too!

The attire and make up matter the most: See it’s very easy. We all believe we are "good women". Hence do not wear heavy make up and heavy jewellery. As far as possible wear cotton suits and sarees. If you are a little modern yet the sati savitri of the house then you can at the most wear a polyester suit with light makeup. Your mascara should be negligible, thin line of kajal, long hair, small vermilion, light pink lipstick. And the most important thing your mangalsutra should be long enough to touch your belly button at least. You may try for one which reaches till your knees as well. But if you are the wicked kind, do not worry. Wear the most expensive jewelery and the most gorgeous make up with snake bindi’s on your forehead. Drape yourself in the most beautiful chiffon sarees with backless blouse. Ensure that your kajal is very thick so that when you talk to yourself like in Point No. 3, your eyes should be able to express every word well. If you belong to the group which is the meanest of all then you can wear tight jeans, short tops and enjoy sips of wine. After all it’s only the mean and wicked women who wear makeups and relish drinks. Other’s just wear a mask and drink “adrak wali chai” which they make for the entire junta in the house!

Babies are made only on rainy days in an isolated place: Just like animals have a mating season, these soaps have taught me that humans too have a mating season. Irrespective of your status with your current husband, Ding Dong (Read my post on aging ovaries to know in detail about the DING DONG Funda) can only happen on a rainy day when you will certainly be caught in an isolated place outside with him. Such isolated places usually have a place to stay warm, have a comfortable bed and even a kitchen to make coffee. The hormones level will be so high that the next day you will feel morning sickness and you will test positive for pregnancy. The challenge however lies in finding such a place. You may want to try the outskirts of the city or visit a village for some adventure. And do not worry about your future husbands. They are generous enough to accept you with your previous husbands children. Believe me, the kids will love him too. I did not know life was so simply profound. I am touched.

I am thrilled to have spent so much time on these generous and informative soaps. I know what you are thinking - 2 days and just 5 lessons? However the good news is that I plan to invest and indulge a little more till I am completely submerged from head to toe in these valuable lessons of life.

Till then, I will order my knee length Mangalsutra and Google about this isolated place where babies are made.... Don’t you know it rains often in Bangalore?

Love,
Khushi

The Curious Case of “Aging Ovaries” and other adventures!

Before you assume anything about this particular blog post, let me warn you that this is going to be a completely non informative and a annoyingly ludicrous post. In case you still wish to proceed, then, “Management will not be held responsible for your lost belongings”, which in this case will be a part of your brain. The decision is entirely, YOURS!

So, The Curious Case of “Aging Ovaries” began long long ago, right from the time mankind existed and evolved on Earth. As this species called "man" evolved from Stone Age to Homo Habilis to Homo Erectus and finally to Homo Sapiens; similarly, the ovaries also evolved and passed through various stages of evolution. We can even name it as "Homo Ovariens" to make it sound a little ancient and biological. Sounds nice, no?

If you think that this curious case is an easy one to solve, huh, let me tell you, you are mistaken. This case is distinct for each woman and is resolved (or at times remains unresolved) by certain long distant relatives, mostly aunties in their early fifties and sixties. But at times, research has also shown that relatively younger aunties have also shown interest in resolving this for women younger to them.

Do you still not get it? No worries. Help is at hand.

If you are a woman and have been married for some time, then I am certain that you at some point in time must have encountered women from various groups asking you about your future plans. And if you were like me and thought that they were genuinely interested in your career plans, or plans about your health or education then I am sure you must have fallen flat on your face, just like I did.

It began six months after my wedding when I was celebrating my 25th birthday. Along with warm wishes and blessings, I was also bestowed with age old, tried and tested tips on how pregnancy and having babies can bring joy to my life. Since it was coming from my loved ones I could easily brush it aside saying that I wasn’t prepared, yet. Then almost 6 months later, as I was celebrating my first wedding anniversary, it started all over again. I was flooded with tips on conceiving and pregnancy from distant relatives who hadn’t even seen me for ages. Usually this information reached me through the most “easy to convince” medium, my mother. I would laugh at it and this would put my mother in trouble. She couldn’t understand if I was NORMAL. Well, she is still confused.

Since then the intensity of tips and suggestions and free advices have been increasingly going up on the graph. Some of the examples are listed below:

1. The Pro-creation Test: What is wrong with you? You are turning 26 and you have not pro-created even once? Sheesh!

Me in my head: Though I was doing well with my work, my relationship with my husband was amazing, I had still failed the Pro-creation Test!

Sob!Sob!

2. Go see a Doc: What are you doing? 27 is the right age to have a baby. See, don’t hide from me. If you are having any problems, go see a doc. Some doctors do magic and within 3 months you will be “TOING”! Then this person pointed towards my tummy and pinched me mischievously and winked.

Me in my head: No wonder the ad, Ye to baba TOING hai became so notoriously famous! Sigh!

3. Ding Dong, anyone?: Hey are you not planning a baby yet? Been married for 3 years, no? Are you not getting time to do “DING DONG”? Winking!

Me in my head: DING DONG? Really? People do ding dong to have babies? That means the famous dance number by Madhuri Dixit was actually a song promoting Pro-creation? Darn! I am enlightened!

4. Count the "THAT" : Hey, see if everything is alright with you then you must get your husbands THAT counted. You know what I am saying na? If you are hesitant, then I can ask my husband to talk to him. A very serious and intense look!

Me in my head: Yeah! Your husband seems to be an expert at counting, THAT!

5. Ripe Mangoes? Err Ripe Ovaries: See, at this age our ovaries are very ripe. One shot and we will be pregnant. You must plan your first baby now.

Me in my head: Wondering which shot is she talking about? Are babies planted through a shot? EEESH!

6. Marriage on Rocks?: Babes, any problem in your marriage? See love marriages don’t last long. But I suggest you must see a marriage counsellor. Once you are sorted, go ahead and have a baby soon. After that you will not even need your husband.

Me in my head: Really? then where do these husbands go? Mystery still unsolved.

7. An annoying tag: Don’t you love children? They are so adorable and cute. Darn! How can you guys (R & I) not like children? tears welling up in her eyes!

Me in my head: Annoyed and throwing imaginary things at this person. I even threw a rotten tomato and stale egg...Grrrr!

And the most scandalous.....

8. The Aging Ovaries: See just like we age, our body ages too and our reproductory system along with us. So before your ovaries are over aged, you must and should plan a baby.

Me in my head: Aunty, do not worry. My ovaries are subjected to intense yoga everyday and they are rocking as Madonna, inside me.

The list is endless and with creativity pouring out of people’s ears, I suspect the list will continue to increase. Do not get me wrong. I have immense respect for women who take this major decision of having babies. It is indeed a daunting task. Carrying a child inside you for 9 long months, then enduring extreme levels of pain and delivering the child, going through physical, emotional, and hormonal changes, attending to every little need of the child, laughing with it and crying with it... and so on and so forth. No wonder they say, “There is no parallel for your mother elsewhere in the world”.

Some of my best friends have recently delivered babies and they are lovely. I adore these little darlings. But then, as I said earlier, having a child should be a woman’s decision. Moreover, the couple in question should be prepared financially, emotionally, and with every aspect to bring up a child well. It isn’t a cake walk. I believe, it’s about time our society breaks this bubble and moves out of the “first marriage-then procreation model.” Sigh! It will take quite a long time for this transformation though.

We all know people who genuinely care for us will never push us in to anything we are not prepared for. And in case it does come from our loved ones then we all know it’s the peer pressure that they are dealing with. Most of the times it's the societal pressure that our loved ones succumb to.

Nonetheless, till this bubble exists, there will be women like me who will laugh at it, try and make their way out of it, and one day perhaps, will announce the birth of a little bundle of joy. As they say, “Never say Never!”

Love, 

Khushi!

P.S.: The curious case of aging ovaries is still unresolved! Wink! Wink!

On being a Bookworm and living in a parallel world!

“So you read?” Asked the interviewer.
“Yes, I do.” I replied proudly.
And then the discussion moved on from the job details to the recent books I have read and how I felt about them. Yes I made the job.

“Now, go sit and read this and tell me what you read.... Get that K?” Mom handed over a thin book called "The funny tales of Tenali Raman" to me when I was 8. I could hardly read then. Forget reading, I couldn’t even pronounce the words well. I was always confused between D and B and often wrote “DEBROOM” instead of “BEDROOM”. It was later corrected by a whack on my - you know what...! Anyways, she ( my mother ) wanted her hyper active, super naughty, and over talkative daughter to be calm for some time while she could finish her chores. Soon this practice became a habit and a habit became an integral part of my character.

As a child I loved stories. Lots of them. Every night my mother would read stories to me and my siblings. I grew fond of them. The kings and queens, the fairies, the warriors, the heroes, and all those characters which existed in these tales. Yeah, we didn’t have Harry Potter back then but we had Panchtantra, Jataka tales, Tales of Tenali Raman, Tales of demons who were defeated by brave warriors, etc. And each one was real in my world.

So, with this book gifted by my mother I was introduced to the wonderful world of books and reading. Sensing my love for stories and reading, my parents started gifting me books. This made me happy and somewhere brought some peace in their lives which was turned topsy - turvy with my unimaginable pranks. And since then there has been no looking back. I have read almost everything I could lay my hands on.

Later, as I was growing up, a parallel world was growing up with me. In this world existed Akbar and Birbal, then Hardy Boys walked in, then sci-fi story characters came alive, and so on and so forth. My school also played a very important role in motivating me to read and read more. In almost every competition at my school, the award was a certificate along with a book. So, if you win, you get a BOOK! Just imagine...! So be it Elocution, Essay Writing, Debates, Story Narration, or anything else, I participated in everything possible. When I was announced the winner I would be thrilled at the thought of a new book coming my way. When I lost, I grieved over the loss of the book. I laugh over those silly things now. But all said and done, books have been faithfully walking with me.

I am since then living in a parallel world. I have laughed with the characters, cried with them, mulled over the words of certain characters, and often curiously bitten my nails when I was almost at the end of the book. This parallel world worked on no rationale, there were no rules, no guidelines, but they existed, Really! In this world, animals spoke like humans, humans were turned in to frogs, there was a girl who was the size of a thumb, there was a boy who had a long nose, there was a king who could never solve his own problems and employed a really witty man to help him and many more things. This world had people walking on water, a witch who only lived in a jungle and trapped little children, step mothers who were mean, siblings who loved sugar etc.

Then I grew up and fell in love with new characters who were more real, who were like me. Initially my reading was limited to Indian authors, then the international ones walked in with their words. I relished them, revelled in their pleasure, travelled across the globe with them, fell in love with them, envied them, understood tangled relationships, empathized with them and what not. My books taught me more than anything or anyone could ever teach. They have been my anecdotes during trying times, my companions when I felt lonely, my family when I was away, my refuge when I wanted to shut myself away from this real world, and most importantly, my shield from the pessimisms of life. The best part about a book is that, irrespective of its genre or it’s ending.... a part of your soul feels rekindled, uplifted and spirited.

Photo Credit: lefunny.net

“Books have magical powers”, said my English teacher once. And with each book I read, I find her words resonating in my ears. She was right. Yes, they have unbelievable magical powers. Apart from imparting knowledge, books have further enhanced my creativity and imagination.

The part of  my brain which enhances imagination is so fueled right now that if you tell me you have an ass for a boss, I will immediately imagine it. You don’t believe me? then try it. :)

If you are a Bookworm like me, I would want to congratulate you. May our tribe increase.

If you don’t, I suggest you to try it once. I promise, you will not be disappointed.

And if you find them interesting, then spread the word. Let the world read...!

Photo Credit: themetapicture.com

Kifo Nzuri

Malhar Krishnan  Sharda Iyer,

4th January 2014.
 

I signed at the bottom of the page and closed the book. The tedious process of signing the books was finally done. The muscles of my back were tauting, my knuckles had developed a severe phobia of pens and markers and my eyes were as tired as hell. I was sick of signing these books, travelling between geographies and time zones, delivering motivational speeches to people who waited in long queues to hear me talk about me. They believed I was living a perfect life. However the truth was buried.

The truth was that I was leading the most loveless life. I was hollow from the inside of me. For ages I hadn’t felt my heart beat, I had been unable to see beauty in anything that the world considered beautiful. For more than a decade I had only written books and stories and walked across the globe for inaugurations faking smiles.

My bags were packed and ready. I had to leave for Jakarta in about 20 minutes time. I was eagerly waiting for the cab to arrive to pick me and drop me to the airport.

Just then my show organizer called and informed me that the flight to Jakarta had been delayed by 6 hours due to a sudden storm that was fast approaching Cape Town.

Darn, I banged my fist on the wall. I was annoyed at this sudden delay. I opened the curtains and looked outside the window. It was raining heavily, dark clouds had covered the otherwise clear blue sky, there were occasional moments of lightening accompanied by loud sound of thunder. I saw weaker trees getting uprooted, stronger ones holding the ground beneath them strongly . The storm had really decided to claim the evening.

I reclined on my chair anticipating some sleep. Well, good thing about delays are that you get some unanticipated time to mull over your fears.

“May I come in Sir?” I heard a knock at my door.

“Is it room service? I don’t need anything. I will check out in about 6 hours. My flight is delayed.” I confirmed without moving an inch from my chair.

“Sir, its the cab driver”, I heard from the other side of the door.

My flight to Jakarta was delayed. Why has the cabbie come so soon? Darn! I was annoyed at this uninvited guest.

I opened the door and found her standing at the door, drenched completely from head to toe. She was tall and huge, had curly locks, a very dusky complexion that shone with all its might, eyes that were so deep that for a moment I felt I had seen the world in it.

“Sir, it’s raining outside and driving back home will be difficult so I thought I will come to see you a little early.” She explained peacefully.

“Little Early?” I looked at my wrist watch and exclaimed.

“Sir, I have read your books and admire them. So I thought this will also give me an opportunity to spend some time with you. So...” she tried getting my acceptance over her unwelcome presence.

I realized I was being impolite to a woman. I gestured her to come inside. She slowly walked inside. I noticed she was wearing a uniform. Fiery red shirt, spotless white jacket. She held a small book in her hands. Your Karma, it read.

Strange, I thought to myself.

“Would you want a cup of coffee?” I asked trying to camouflage my annoyance over her uninvited visit.

“Certainly Sir. She made herself comfortable near the heater.”

“How did the Hotel authorities let you in? Isn’t this a five star hotel?” Sarcasm was my middle name.

“Well, I sneaked in Sir. Most of the times people don’t notice me coming. Only the ones who have a clear heart and virtuous life can see me coming.” She smiled.

“So you mean, no one ever notices you? because a clear heart is an impossibility in today’s world.” I smirked.

“Exactly Sir”, she replied holding the coffee mug closer to her lips.

“How can someone not notice a huge woman like her?” I thought to myself. Well, this is Africa, anything can happen, I consoled my self.

“Sir, do you really like writing?” She broke the awkward silence that was slowing enveloping the room.

“Well, yes I do. I always wanted to write. Hence...” I detested this question more than anything.

“But Sir, why do you always write tragic endings?” She interrogated

“Errr! I don’t know. May be because... I..”

“Do you feel sad from within?”She was making me uncomfortable.

“I have some unclosed business, some unheard voices, some unexplained feelings, trapped within me.” I tried brushing the topic aside.

“Then why don’t you seek a closure, Sir?” She stared straight into my eyes and I felt lost for few moments again.

“Sir, we African’s believe that one must seek closure before it’s too late. You never know when will the soul separate from its mortal body. No one knows when will Kifo arrive? She sounded like a monk.

“What is Kifo?” I asked annoyed over her Swahili accent.

“Sir, Kifo in Swahili means death.” She answered.

“See, it’s my personal life and I don’t want to discuss this with a cabbie I have never met before.” I was curt this time.

“Do you still long for Niharika? Do you still hold a grudge against her?” She asked sipping her coffee.

I was stunned. For a decade I had been escaping from this name. Ruuning from continents to continents to forget this name.

“How the hell do you know about Niharika?” I was intimidated by this woman’s knowledge about me.

“It is written Sir.” She explained sensing panic in my voice.

Really? Mr. Murthy, my manager must have let the cat out. I felt anger soaring like an avalanche inside me. How could he give out my personal details like this?

“Sir, you must let her go. She has walked ahead and it’s time, you do too. Sir, forgive yourself and forgive others. Open up your heart to your Amma and Appa. Let love flow in to your life again. Mend your relations with them. They long to see their son. Close your unfinished business. Heal yourself. Let guilt move out. Let compassion fill your life.”

She blurted in her Swahili accent like an agony aunt.

“How the hell on earth do you know all this?” I bellowed at her.

“Listen Miss, don’t try to get close to me. Leave and wait at the hotel lobby. I will see you in 6 hours. Now leave.” I angrily opened the door.

“It is written Sir. I just want you to liberate yourself and love your life. It’s precious.” She said as she stood and looked at her book as if trying to read something.

You have a gentle heart. She read from her book again.

I turned to her and gave her an angry stare.

“What do you want for God’s sake?” I screamed louder than the sound of lightning that struck miles above the place I stood.

She wore her jacket and left without responding.

I reclined back in to my chair wondering over the moments that I had spent with this African woman I had never seen in my entire life. She had opened my wounds to the world. I felt vulnerable and gullible.

Resentment - Forgiveness

Malhar, may I? I heard a familiar voice at the door.

Who the hell is it? I barked like an angry dog waiting to pounce.

Niharika? came a prompt reply.

Was I listening things? Niharika in Cape Town? I pinched myself and it hurt. I was awake, I wasn’t dreaming.

I jumped from my chair and opened the door. There she stood in a simple blue and red salwaar kameez, her long hair tied in a pony tail, her long ear rings hanging from her ears, her pink lipstick making her lips look fuller, kajal neatly lining up her black eyes. She was just as I had seen her 10 years ago when she abruptly left me. There was no reason given, no arguments shared, no explanation sought for, nothing at all. Only a hug and a whisper, “Move on Malhar, I will always love you.”

Nihar...I ..I mean Niharika, you in Cape? I was mumbling.

“I never left Malhar. You never let me out of your heart. But I am trapped now. Let me go. I had to leave you because I loved my family more than you. They were against us and I had to oblige. Please forgive me and let me go. Let go of the resentment you have for me." Niharika pleaded.

But?? I felt short of words. I had never got a closure to our relationship. I was scarred. And now when she was around and I was getting what I longed for, I couldn’t speak a word.

“Let go. The resentment that you are holding in your heart is ruining your life. Amma and Appa are waiting to see you. They want you to be happy, again. Your resentment towards me has made you a different man.” Niharika was as vulnerable as I was.

“You met Amma and Appa?” Sweat beads formed on my forehead. I held the handle of the door tightly.

“Yes, they are here. But they can only come when I go.” She informed me as I cried my heart out. I hadn’t cried for ages.

I looked at her, held her hands and whispered, “Go Nihar, I set you free. Go, be a doting daughter. I forgive you”, and I gently left her hand. She slowly walked away.

After a few steps I lost her sight. I felt a heavy load off my chest. I could breath easily.

Guilt - Acceptance

A few moments later I saw Amma and Appa walking towards me. I had not anticipated them, here. I ran towards Amma like a lonely child and hugged her like I often did as a kid. I slipped in to my childhood where hugging Amma was as easy as breathing. They walked inside the room with me. Appa carefully closed the door.

I cried like a child. “Amma please forgive me for being an unreasonable son. I know I have ignored you and Appa. I never fulfilled my responsibility. I have hurt you both. I was selfish." I felt the sword of guilt hovering over me cutting through my flesh and bones.

Appa lovingly stroked my hair. “Kanna, we know everything. We knew you were heartbroken. We knew you were battling a bigger battle within yourself. We were never angry with you. We wanted to help you. Let the guilt out. We love you.”

Appa’s words soothed my soul. These tiny drops of love fell on my ever thirsty heart. I felt lighter, happier and a sense of relief that I hadn’t felt for long.

“I will be a dutiful son, Appa. I won’t hurt you both anymore.” I promised them.

Amma sang the lullaby I loved and I felt my eyelids drooping. I was asleep in no time.

Love - Expression

Sir, are you ready? I heard a loud knock at my door and woke up with a start.

1:00 am, I looked at the wall clock.

Sir, are you alright? I heard the knock again.

I rushed towards the door and there she stood. The same peaceful look, bright eyes, strange uniform and her little book.

“Thank you cabbie," I was on my knees.

“Sir?” she was perplexed.

“Thank you. Had it not been for you I wouldn’t have realized that I had been wasting my precious life over things that are of no value.

“Sir, you look younger and happier.” She giggled.

“Well, may be because I have shed all the anger, guilt and resentment. May be now you see the real me.” I laughed through my tears.

“Great then. Let us have another cup of coffee to celebrate this moment. After that I have to drop you on time. The storm has also subsided. I have other pick up’s lined up as well.” She said and entered the room.

“Come and meet my parents”, I urged.

“Well, they left Sir. Thus I am here to accompany you. They had to catch an early morning flight.” She informed.

“What? Amma and Appa left? But why?” I couldn’t understand a word.

“Sir, it is your journey and not theirs hence they couldn’t join you.” She explained.

“So Sir, you feel better now?” She asked trying to divert my attention.

“Yes I do, cabbie.” I am sorted from within. I smiled.

But she still had some questions on her face. She opened her book and read. “But you still have an unfinished business. You have left someone waiting for you.” She exclaimed.

Waiting? I thought to myself.

Oh! Yes, Swara. The woman who has loved me from the time she understood what love feels like. Amidst all this mess, I left her lingering on a thin line of hope that someday I will marry her.” But how the hell do you know this? I felt fear for a moment.

“It’s written Sir.” She answered again.

Written? Well, Mr.Murthy will have it from me, I whispered.

Sir, may be you should call up Swara and get this unfinished business a closure.

I suddenly felt a sense of urgency within myself. I immediately picked up the phone and called Swara.

Drrn Drrn... the ring went for long before a sweet voice answered.

“Swara, is that you?” I asked with my heart pounding.

“Malhar? what happened?” A question for a question.

“I love you Swara, will you marry me?” I proposed.

There was a pause for 20 seconds and I heard a feeble “Yes” accompanied by silent sound of tears amalgamated with a beautiful smile.

“Swara, I am so happy. As soon as I reach Chennai we will meet up and we will.... we will marry Swara.” I replied before she kissed the phone and hung up.

“Cabbie, you are a genius. I love you.”  I had never hugged a huge woman but I hugged this amazing woman who I met just a few hours ago.

“Well Sir, people usually hate me and are wary of me.” She giggled again.

Hate you? Why? You are so wonderful and pretty. I complimented this wonderful woman.

“Nzuri, is it?” She jokingly asked.

“Nzuri?” I asked back pondering over this word

“Nzuri in Swahili means good....beautiful.” She translated.

“Ah! Yes yes, Nzuri.” I laughed again.

We shared another cup of hot coffee. This time a serene silence filled the room. Soon the storm subsided and the weather became clear. I started packing my stuff as my cabbie scribbled something on her book.

Gratitude - Prayer

“Cabbie, the night after the storm shall always remain in my memory. Usually storms bring destruction, but for me this storm has uprooted my false beliefs and what has remained grounded inside me is the person who loves life. I shall fondly remember this night and you, till eternity. I told her.

“Sir, in my company, people usually see their entire lives flashing in front of their eyes.” She mysteriously answered.

“Ah! Then you must be a monk.” I nudged her jokingly.

“Sir, do you really love your life now?” She curiously asked.

“More than anything, cabbie. I am keen on going back to my loved ones.” I told her excitedly.

“Well, Sir in that case I can’t take you to your destination”, she answered and started leaving.

“What? but why?” I was stunned at her words.

“Sir, I suggest you must cancel your flight to Jakarta and leave for India today.” She ordered as if calculating something.

“Cabbie, what are you saying?” I worriedly asked her. For once her eyes looked shallow.

"Sir, life does give a second chance to people who love it, who realize their mistakes. You have got a second chance. I shall pray to God for you. A strangely beautiful expression covered her face.

“Sir, you have to promise me that you will not write tragic endings anymore and that you will believe in the goodness of life.” She requested.

“I promise, cabbie.” I held her huge palm gently.

“And the next book that you write you must thank me for giving you this chance to write again.” She spoke as if she were doing a favour to me.

“But how do I thank you? I don’t even know your name.” I explained my helplessness.

She mysteriously smiled and opened my palm. Then she placed her little book in there. This book shall guide you. I need to go, now. There are other pick ups for the flight to Jakarta. She informed me and left in a hurry.

I still don't know why I felt compelled to obey her. Obliging her words, I called up the show organizers and cancelled my trip to Jakarta. They hesitated but eventually agreed. I immediately booked an evening flight to India and extended my stay in the hotel for few hours, more. I couldn’t contain my joy. I was excited about surprising Amma and Appa. The thought of meeting Swara made me beam.

I prayed like I never prayed before. I thanked God for sending the cabbie to me. I thanked him for the last night. I thanked him for the storm. Had it not been for the storm, cabbie wouldn't have spent so much time with me.

Realization -A second chance

Just then my phone rang. The name, Yousuf flashed on my screen. Yousuf was the event manager from Jakarta.

“Sir, are you alright?” he enquired as soon as I answered my phone.

“Yes, I am fine, Yousuf. What happened?”

“Malhar Sir, did you not take the flight to Jakarta?” he curiously asked again.

“No, Yousuf. Haven’t the organizers informed you? I cancelled my trip to Jakarta.” I informed him.

“Thank God Sir, because the flight to Jakarta has crashed and there are no survivors.” He informed me with sadness rolling over his tongue.

I couldn’t believe my ears. I immediately hung up and rushed towards my luggage. I anxiously pulled out the little book that cabbie had given me.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. I slowly opened the little book and it read....

Malhar Krishnan  Sharda Iyer

9 July 1980 - 4 January 2014 - 4 January 2054

 Kifo Nzuri - Angel of Death.