God bless Murphy!

Something was making me uneasy. What was it? A dream? A nightmare? No. It was a sound. You know those tones that penetrate through your ear canal to reach your tympanic membrane and you end up thinking, "Oh crap! I am late."?

As soon as the dopey and drowsy me got up to dismiss the alarm I realised that it was not my thingamabob that was slugging my eardrums with the vocal pellets. I still had a sixtieth of the hour for few z's.

The hunt for the source of the nonharmonious sounds was on. I had to, at any cost, find the pitiless and destroy it. Just then the door buzzer rang. I got up to check. I found the newspaper lying on the door mat. Nobody in our house read these newspaper. These were instead used for cleaning when Lina , Mom's mouser, pooped all over the place.

I dropped the gazzette on the table amd went into the kitchen to look for something to eat. I realised that the day, with Mom out of the station, was going to be tough.

"Yuvi, be responsible. Lock the door. Take good care of your brother. Don't leave him alone. Don't fight with him.", Mom had listed many such things-to-do on a paper and left it by the fridge. "I never do, Mom. That boy seldom talks.", I protested.

The problem with my brother, Jai, was that he didn't talk at all.  Technically, I was to spend the day with my brother but Practically and substantially I was alone. It was like being alone in a room with five walls- One of which moved, ate things, played games, read books.

"Jai, Back from school?" "Hmmm."

"Jai, is Mom home?" "Hmmm."

"Jai, Are you even listening?" "Hmmm."

I had to wake that brat up and prepare breakfast for him.

"Jai. Dude. Wake up.", I tried to pull him out of his drowsiness. I knew this was going to be tough. "Hmmm", he replied. Tougher. "Jai. Wake up, man.", I tried again. He didn't even humm this time. That boy never took me seriously.

"Jai. Get up in half an hour or no meal for you.", I meant it by all my heart. I hated cooking. There is nothing to like but to hate is the dirty apron, the smell coming from all over your body. You smell like you have just been pressure cooked in ginger-garlic water. It was decided. I was going to spend all my savings and order food from the cheapest restaurant in town.

Thanks to the short lived beguin I developed for our first maid when I was 11, I knew how to fry eggs. I would notice her all day amd follow her everywhere.

Breakfast : check.
Lunch : What to do?

Thing was that I wish I did but I never saved any money. Circumstances were pushing me into the tarn of garlic. I had to cook something. I got into the kitchen and opened the drawer. Tater was staring at me with its multiple eyes. Oh I hate you, murphy. Shall I make tossed salad? Or chips? Or...  Umm.. argggghh I was hating my life right now. So, at last, Waldorf salad I made which nobody ate. Because potatoes were uncooked. But I tried.

I was pretty much sure that Jai won't let me cook anything now. I could do without dinner and so could he, at least after having the salad I made.

As soon as the it was the time for din-din, Jai took out the phone book, looked for some number and dialed. The shrimp ordered a pizza on phone. Who did he think would pay for it? His brother? Not at all.

I sat on the sofa and looked at him from behind the newspaper so that he doesn't notice. He ended the call and moved to his attire, took out his treasure chest which I always believed to be full of disfigured dolls, dismantled superheroes and trinkets. He took out a case and took out something- RICHES. This midget saved money!

Pizza came, he paid, we ate. He was sent to a very good school in town. They taught him good things like sharing food and toys. I never went to one of those school. I feel bad for him. Time to hit the sack. But before that I need to note down some importany things on my diary.

1. Stalking , people in general and housemaids in particular, is good.
2. Save money.
3. Cook potatoes well.
4. Newspapers are useful, after all.
5. There is a lot of treasure in Jai's almirah.
6. When needful, try calling Jai. He talks on phone.

I was so proud of myself. I felt like President of America. I pulled up the quilt. Two more days before mom comes back. I knew we would survive. Jai had enough money to afford six more meals. I patted myself on head and ZzzZzzZ..

He was gazing at the rain drops falling against the window pane. At the desk, right in front of him, was a blank piece of paper, wrinkled. Sunk in his thoughts, he sat there in the davenport with furrowed brows as if being displeased over his failure to recollect some memories. He uncreased the paper and sighed.

He wanted to write something. He had a pen right there on the desk. What was stopping him then? He was restless. He straightened his back and started tapping his foot. He, then, rested his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands. Foot-tapping continued. He was very restless. He got up to gander out of the window. The rain was making no sound. The silence of the room was killing him. He took out his tux from the almirah, wore it and left the room.

"Hey, John. Up already? Breakfast?', the landlady was setting the table downstairs. "Good morning, Mrs. Gilbert. I think I will skip the breakfast. Going out to get some air.", he answered. "Ok. Your wish. So, written anything new? Or writing anything? You should let us read.", she said. "Ummm. Nothing. No writing. I will. Leaving now.", he uttered and left the house.

"Who was it?", Mr. Gilbert joined his wife for the breakfast. "John went out for a walk. Poor boy. That man knew how to play with words and please people. But now, not only does he not write anything but also refrains from speaking.", she sighed.

John was an unpublished writer. He used to say that he would be world famous the day he gets published and he had been working on it. All would know him and recognize his writing. "Mrs. Gilbert, you should know that yours truly won't be living with you for long now. Once I get published I will be famous and rich. I will have my own big house with no landlady eager to ball me up all the time.", he would laugh and tell Mrs. Gilbert.

John ran to the other side of the road and started walking down the path. He just kept walking without paying any attention to people or things happening around him. Hands in the pocket and head down. He was looking at the patterns made by the raindrops on the dry ground. By the time he reached the cafe, it had stopped raining. He went inside, took off his coat and hung it by the chair. "Hey John. How have you been man? Long time, no see.", the shop owner greeted him with a broad smile.

"Hello. Just been busy.", John replied briefly, "I will have a coffee." "Yes Boss. One coffee coming your way.", owner replied. John had known the owner, Dave, for five years. He used to come to this shop often. He would sit on the same table every time and scribble on paper napkin.

John looked all over the table and then sat quiet. He looked out the window. He watched people walk by, smile, greet each other. "Looking for something, John? A pen and a paper maybe?", Dave took out a pen and napkin from his drawer and presented it to John. John sat quiet with shady smile on his face. Dave left the pen and paper on his table.

After finishing his coffee, he took up the pen. He scribbled something and left. The paper was lying there on the table with something written on it. Written on it was:

"That Flame Gutted my Fame, It will never be same, ever again. Never again."

Absolution

"Next", shouted the man in a black coat. The place was so crowded. They were pulling a man out of the room like a donkey. He didn't look up even once. The man with a stick would hit him again and again.

"Move. Move fast. Where do you think you are? At some recreational park?", he said.

"Look boy", said the Hawaldar standing next to me, "This is what they do to people like you. You will learn a lesson soon. Do you see that man? Handcuffed? He killed a Seth for money."

That man's eyes were so full of guilt. He was ashamed. He didn't look up even once. The policeman would hit him but he didn't utter a word.

"When I leave that room I would not be ashamed. What for? I didn't do any wrong.", I thought to myself.

"Your turn, kid. Get up. We have to go in now.", the Hawaldar said and pulled my collar. As we entered the room, everyone looked at me as if in astonishment. "He is the culprit? He seems young. What would be his age? 14? Or 15? Not any more, I bet. God show him the right path", said a lady sitting in the corner. Soon silence invaded the room. Bade sahib was sitting there, checking the papers related to my case. I was told that he would decide my fate today.

"He seems nice. He won't punish me.", I was telling myself. Bade sahib looked at me over his glasses and then took them off. "So boy, these papers say that you killed someone. Do you have to say anything about it?"

I was 14 then. Lived in a small hut with my Maa and Baba. My Baba was a policeman. Maa used to take care of the house, fields, farms and everything. She also worked in other houses for money. She would finish her work at home early and leave. Then she would get back right before the sunset.

"Your Baba will be coming anytime. Go study. You know that he doesn't like your playing around all the time", she would say. "Ammi, Baba won't notice. And he is angry all the time.", I  joked.

Ammi and Baba had been married for 25 years. Ammi was just 16 when she married Abbu.

"Your Nana Abbu wanted to find a handsome and well paid groom for me. I would find you a prince and you will rule he used to say. But he didn't live that long.", she said.

Ammi used to tell me stories from her childhood. That Nana Abbu took care of her. That he fulfilled all her wishes.  "Your Nani Ammi died when I was 4. Your Nana Abbu brought me up after that. He never married again because he feared that the second mother won't love me.", she told me, "I was the most lucky kid. But after your Nana Abbu died everything changed. I married your Baba and everything changed." She heaved a sigh. She was not happy with my Baba.

"Boy, do you have anything to say about this? Did you kill anyone?", Bade Sahib shouted.

"My Baba. That someone I killed was my Baba. I killed my Baba.", I replied.

Baba used to be out  all day and come home drunk. She beated Ammi, cursed her, abused her. But she never let him touch me. "Go to your room Asif. Don't you see your Baba is angry. Go to your room and lock it from inside.", she said. I would run to my room and hide there. I could easily hear Ammi crying and Abbu abusing and beating her. I cried. I always wanted to help Ammi but was too scared to come out.

She never wanted me to be a part of all this.

"Asif jaan, you should study hard and be a big man. You will have money, good clothes, big house, your own cars and many servants. Your wife will not have to work at all.", she used to say.

"Why did you kill your father?", Bade sahib asked. "I didn't kill my Baba. He was not my Baba. He was some beast. He was an animal."

That night I was doing my homework in the porch. It was dark already and the Ammi had not returned yet. I thought I should go out and look for her but she had asked me not to leave the house in the dark. She must be working too hard. That is why she comes home late. I thought.

Baba came home and Ammi had not returned yet. "Where is your Ammi?", he asked. "She is not back yet.", I replied. "Not back yet? What is she doing these days? Where does she go in the dark? Who does she meet?", he held my collar and said, "Tell me. She tells you everything. Is she seeing someone? Who is she with?". "I don't know. I am worried myself.", I replied. "You liar. You think you can fool a policeman? I will set you and your Ammi right.", he slapped me.

My friends used to say that everybody thought very low of my father. They thought that he was a very cruel and wicked person. I argued with them always and told them that my Baba was a good policeman. But reality was not hidden.

"Leave him. What are you doing?. Neither I nor Abbu noticed Ammi entering the house. "Asif, go to your room now.", she said to me. I didn't move. Baba started beating Ammi"Where were you? Who were you with? Witch.", he started abusing her.

Ammi was used to this beating now. She never said anything in response because she knew that Baba won't listen. But I could not just sit and be an audience to all this. I gathered courage and said,"Leave my Ammi. She didn't do anything." "Your Ammi is innocent? And what am I? Animal?" he asked. "Yes, you are an animal.", I replied. "So, you think I am an animal? Let me show you what an animal does.", he got furious. He went to the kitchen and brought a knife. "He will kill you' Asif. Go away please." Ammi could not stand up well due to the beating.

I don't remember what happened after that. All I remember was that I stood there with the knife in my hand. Baba was lying on the ground, all his clothes covered with blood.

"Don't be silent boy. Say something. Why did you kill your Baba? What did he do to you?", Bade Sahib asked again.

"Punish me", I said, "and set me free". For all I knew whatever be the decision I won't be ashamed of what I did. 

"Second place"

"What do you want?" asked Ammi, in a harsh tone, "Don't you have any work to do?"

I stood there quiet. "Go get milk for your brother. He must be hungry", she said.

I went to the kitchen. I poured milk into a steel bowl and put it on the stove. We cooked food on a kerosene stove. There was a fireplace in the kitchen. The fire would burn whole day in winters. It was a cold day. I went to the fireplace to warm my hands.

As I looked at the flames, I thought about the wood- How it begins its life as a small tree planted in soil, grows big, then someday some woodcutter cuts it down and we burn it to ashes. Selfish, is it?

Our teacher used to say that plants have life too. They breathe and feel like us humans. He would take the whole class out on fridays and show us different trees and plants. He made us plant few trees too.

I had completely forgotten about the milk on stove. I was so lost in the flames that I could hardly hear the milk come to boil until I heard Ammi calling out my name. "Asma! Asma! What happened to the milk? Why don't you reply? Are you dead or what? Your brother is hungry", she kept shouting in anger and disgust. I ran to the stove quickly and got hold of the utensil with bare hands and put it down. I gave myself a slap for not being careful. Ammi was angry and she had not stopped shouting yet. But after a point, I stopped paying an ear to her. I poured the milk into a glass and ran to the room. As I entered the room, Ammi didn't look at me at all but continued with the scolding. "One job you can't do well. Such lazy and careless person you are. I still curse the time you came into our life." She took the glass from my hands. "Ah! This is so hot", she said and put it on the floor. "Do you want to kill your brother? This milk is burning. Let your Abbu come. I will talk to him. We will send you back."

I was 3 months old when my Amma died. I don't even know how she looked. I was left in an orphanage by an acquaintance. Badi Aapa look after everyone in the orphanage. She told me that no one knew about my father. He had left my mother and went abroad. He never came back.

Abbu and Ammi brought me home when I was 5 years old.

"Badi Aapa wants to see you in her office", Kaka came to call me when I was sitting in my room drawing a tree on a piece of paper. I went to Badi Aapa's office.

"Here she comes. Come in darling. Say Salaam to these nice people", she pointed towards the man and the lady. They turned and smiled. "Salam-u-alaikum", I said. "Walaikum salam", they said. The lady got up and came to me, held my hands and kissed them. "So lovely. You have such soft hands. What is your name, beta?", she asked.

I didn't reply. Badi Aapa could see that I was scared. She had known me for years. I was not very good at meeting new people and I was too young to realise what was going on.

"Asma.", Badi Aapa said and turned towards me. "Asma Jaan, these people want to take you home with them. They will buy you new clothes, books and send you to school too. They are your Ammi and Abbu".

I looked down. I didn't know what to say. Why does Badi Aapa want to send me away? What did I do? Did I break any rule? Did I not be nice to everyone? I couldn't think of any good reason to send me away.

Another moment, my bags were packed and I had to leave. My eyes were full of water. I talked to none, sat in the car and left.

Abbu and Ammi bought me new clothes, chocolates and got me admitted to a school. Abbu would take me to the school and pick me up in the evening. Every morning Ammi would pack my tiffin and wave me off for school. She would always cook my favorite dishes.

I had a family now. I was the most loved kid. I was not an orphan anymore.

Ammi was still furious, more at the fact that I was not paying attention and was busy in my own thoughts. She put the brother down and got up, "I will never ask you to do any work now. You can't even help your Ammi. What are you here for, then? You are nothing but a disappointment", she said and went to the kitchen.

My brother was 4 years old. He called me Aapa. He was born a year after I came to this house. Abbu was so happy that he distributed sweets in the whole neighborhood. " This is my first child. My son.", he would say. "Asma, did you see your brother?", he said to me. Then he took out a 50 rupees note and said, "Take this. Go buy some sweets and distribute among your friends in school. Tell them you have a brother now."

"They won't love you the way they did. They will love him more", my friends said. I never believed them. I loved my bhaiya. We played together all the time. We played hide and seek. I would tell him fairy tales and he believed each one of them.

"I want to meet the fairy too", he would say.

But things changed. It was not same again. Never.

Abbu came back in the evening. He greeted everyone. Ammi was still upset. She had not talked to me since morning. Abbu tried to talk to her but she got up and went to the adjacent room. Abbu followed her.

Why was Ammi so upset? Because I couldn't warm the milk well? Was it just that or something else was pestering her. I wondered.

Not even a minute had passed, Ammi started shouting at Abbu. She was crying. Abbu tried to calm her down but she wouldn't listen.

"I don't want that orphan in my house. I don't want Azam jaan to live with her. Do you even know what neighbours say? Bibi Shazia told me things I couldn't believe. I don't want that to happen to us. Ask her to leave or I will leave with my son," she shouted.

Bibi Shazia was a neighbour and Ammi's good friend. She came to visit Ammi often and Ammi went to her place too. Neighbours had been telling Ammi stories. I, myself, heard Bibi Shazia telling her about a family like ours where the adopted kid killed their baby because he feared that he won't be loved. But I never thought Ammi would believe them. She knew I loved Azam.

Abbu came out and closed the door behind him. "What happened, Abbu? Why is Ammi so angry?", Azam asked.
"Nothing kid. Ammi is upset. She will be fine", he said and smiled at me.

Abbu would have never asked me to leave. He had promised Badi Aapa that he would always love me as his own daughter.

But how could I stay? How could I live at a place where I was being seen as a threat? I couldn't be a cause of fear for Ammi.

So I left when it got dark. And I left to never return.

Time flies....

... He walked down the lane hastily. Approached the impasse, stopped and looked at the sky; disappointed. Then he looked at his watch and heaved a sigh.

It was 4 in the morning. Thee sun was not out yet. It was still dark. He rested his arm on a stone protruding out of the wall. He jingled the coins in his pocket with other hand.

He remembered his 2 days old daughter. He remembered how she was crying and the neighbour lady had said, " She must be hungry."

Two days ago, he was blessed with a daughter. Everybody told him that she was beautiful just like her mother. He was too scared to take her into his arms for the first time. He was afraid that he might hurt the feeble.

He was very angry with his wife. "Why did she have to leave? Why couldn't she live more and help him bring up their daughter? What would he do now? How will he manage?".

The sun was out. People were out. World was back to life again. He looked at the shop. It was closed. He took out the coins and started counting, tossing from one hand to other. He stared at the coins and clenched his fist tight enough to get good hold of coins. He stood there drenched in thoughts.

The clatter of the shutters dragged him out of his thoughts. He ran towards the shop, gesturing the cars to stop and let him go. He stepped into the shop and looked around. There were sweets, cookies, bread.

The shopkeeper smiled and asked, "Good morning, Sir. What do you want?". He looked at the shopkeeper and turned back to see if there was anybody behind him.

"Me?", he asked, "I want food for my daughter."

"Oh, for the daughter. Take some jalebis. Girls like jalebis.", said the shopkeeper.

"No. No, not jalebis. Something healthy and clean". He looked around again. Lost for a while, checked every counter well and then asked, "How much for a single piece of bread?", pointing towards the bread.

Shopkeeper asked, "Single piece?".

"Yes. A single piece.", he replied.

The shopkeeper gave him a stern look. He went to the store room, brought two loaved of bread and handed over to him. "Take this and go away".

"I have these eight 1 rupee coins", he started counting the coins again.

"No. No. You don't need to pay for this. Just go away and let me work.", said the shopkeeper shoving him away.
He thanked the shopkeeper and left.

He walked back to the house. The baby was lying there, still crying. He went to her and whispered, "Abbu got food. Don't cry." He took the bread out of his pocket and looked. He didn't know what to do with this bread. He was clueless.

He had always wanted a daughter but his wife wanted their first child to be a son. They would fight over ig and then leave all upto fate.

"Could she have survived if it was a boy? Did she leave because we fought? Did she leave because her wish was not fulfilled.", he thought.

How could he think so?, he slammed himself. He was lucky to have a beautiful daughter, beautiful and tender like a rose. She was his only family now.

He went to the kitchen, took a bowl, put some water in it and soaked the bread. The bread was soft now. He mashed it well and tried to feed the baby. It didn't work. "What? You don't want bread? What do you want then?"

----------x----------x----------x----------

"Abbu, your tea." said the girl in a very soft and sweet voice.

"Hmmm", he woke up from his trail of thoughts, "keep it there."

He was sitting there in his chair, gray and wrinkled. He was old now. He looked at his daughter. She had grown up into a beautiful young girl. Her eyes were most pretty. She was very caring and her Abbu's favorite.

"I am leaving for the college. Your breakfast is ready and set on the table. Have it on time.", she said and disappeared from his sight.

He sat there thinking to himself- How Time flies!