The soul takes leave of the body,
half-mangled by life.
Sorrow sweeps over in waves,
rising to a crescendo,
Today we spoke
of parallel universes.
She said she could step into it
with a turn of a door knob
and disappear for hours.
I could see her room
to the last detail,
the window letting in
the fading light of the evening sun,
her paintings glistening on the walls,
even the shape of
the magnets on her fridge.
"I have my bag ready,"
she said excitedly
"even in my sleep."
I could sense the taste of sweet revenge.
I don’t find it strange,
that a person
can be completely
happy
in another
world
which revolves
to one’s wishes;
where every brush stroke
could paint the skies to your hues
(flashing green, neon yellow, aquamarine blue)
and every breath see life renew.
It took me to our own
where life was as calm as the sea…
Conversations, roaring laughter,
music, books, ideas, clashing perspectives
swayed to the tunes of
sea breeze and rain.
I still remember
the day
it all came crashing down
as if in a landslide
leaving us broken and apart
into two hemispheres of a
divided world.
There are times when I pack my bags too.
Little
Alice had embarrassed herself once again! She had slipped on the soap water, which she prepared to make bubbles, exactly as her mother had warned. Rachel’s laughter
was reverberating in the background. Alice clenched her teeth from the pain in
her left elbow. She wished that she had the power to turn invisible rather than live through this pain of embarrassment. She hated the “I told you so” look on Amma’s face and
the mocking expression on Rachel’s. Although Alice tried to be brave and shut her
eyes tight so that the tears would not escape, it started to roll down
uncontrollably.
Alice’s mom
ran to her and hugged her. She tried to soothe her saying “it’s ok,” but also
added, “this is the very reason why I told you not to play with the soapy
water. Now calm down.,” patting her. Rachel stood opposite to her and mimicked the whole
scene of her fall including the way she was crying. Seeing this, Alice who had
almost stopped crying, started once again. Realizing that Rachel was the cause
of this outburst Amma said aloud in anger,
“Rachel…
why are you making fun of her? It was because you were not willing to share the
book that she had been asking you that this whole catastrophe happened. Now
give the book to her.”
“This is
not fair… why should I get the blame for every little thing 'she' does? Besides
it was just a minor… naa… a tiny accident not a “catastrophe.” Besides, maa I
will not give her the book. Appa bought it for me after such a long time… it is a very expensive book and Alice has a bad history when it comes to taking care of 'books'!”
retorted Rachel exasperated.
Hearing the
sob of Alice escalating from an alto to a soprano, mother said, in a more calm yet formal tone,
“Fine
Rachel! If you are not going to share the book with her, forget about your
sleepover at Michelle’s to watch the lunar eclipse.”
“But Maa…” cried Rachel, but did not say aloud what she had in her mind. She knew that her mother was serious and that anything she uttered would work against her own plans. Fuming with anger she turned to Alice who was now giggling and called her “pest.”
The book
under question was one on astronomy. Its glazing pages revealed the mysteries
of outer space with every flip. Rachel had been holding on to it, as if it’s
made of gold, from the very moment Appa had brought it home. She didn’t allow
Alice to go anywhere near it, lest she tear even a tiniest corner of it or give
expression to her artistic side on the margins of its glossy pages, which has been the case
before.
The arrival
of the lunar eclipse had made this book even more special. Rachel had learned
the pages on the topic thoroughly, so that she can observe the sky without missing
a detail, on the day of the eclipse. She wanted to watch the phenomenon with Michelle her friend, who had a huge telescope. Surprisingly,
Mother had agreed that this time she could go alone without Alice, which was a
rare treat for Rachel, who otherwise would have to tag Alice along wherever she
went.
With a deep
reluctance Rachel gave the book to Alice. “Treat this with respect. One tear or
one mark… and you will not be alive on the face of this earth,” warned Rachel
in a serious mafia tone pointing her finger at her.
Alice
smirked and then hungrily turned the pages specifically to the one on lunar
eclipse, because Rachel has been making a huge hue and cry about it for weeks
now. It was falling on the 28th of October, that is, on that very
night. After reading about how it is caused by earth’s shadow falling on the
moon, even she could feel a tingle of excitement arising from the pits of her
stomach. But what made her even happier, was the information that this eclipse could be observed with
the naked eye, not necessarily with a telescope. Finally she can be at peace.
She had thought that she would never be able to see it in her life without a
telescope. “Rachel… gotcha…” she said to herself with a sense of satisfaction.
Alice then
marched to the kitchen informing her mother her plans about staying awake that
night to watch the eclipse. As Rachel left for Michelle’s home on her bicycle, she waved her
goodbye eagerly. This startled her sister, as she was expecting Alice
to be in tears throwing another tantrum.
From the moment Rachel left, Alice paced up and down the hall keeping watch of the time. “It is at 11.30 and I’m gonna watch it!” she told herself, determined. Hours trickled by slowly 6.30, 7.30, 8.30. As it was getting closer to the destined hour, the needles of the hour seemed to be moving even slower. At 9.30 while having dinner with her parents, she announced
“Two more hours to go. You may sleep if you don’t wish to see the eclipse but I surely am going to see it.”
They smiled at each other amused by the seriousness on her face.
“I will do one thing” she added, “I will set the alarm… just in case…I’m sure I will be awake… but still.”
Her parents
tried to muffle their laughter by covering their mouth.
At 10 Alice rolled up her mat and blanket and
marched to the open terrace. She held her little alarm clock tight in her right
hand. The sky was clear and moon was shining brightly. She felt happy
instantly. She rolled out her mat and
lay down. The stars, she noticed, were even brighter that night. After a while
she even saw a shooting star and was extremely happy. "This is going to be the best night ever," she thought and smiled.
She imagined herself landing on the moon in the humongous astronaut suit just like the man Neil Armstrong, whom she had seen in the book. She walked across buoyantly on the surface of the moon with the flag of her country hoisted in her hand. She felt proud and she smiled.
The next moment
what she saw, however, was Rachel’s face staring at her from up above blocking the view of the moon. She had
been preparing for this moment for so long and there comes Rachel to spoil it
she thought. “What are you doing here?” she asked irritated and angry. “Can’t you see I’m watching
the Lunar eclipse?”
“Lunar eclipse does ‘not’ happen in the
morning but at night, you idiot!” said Rachel roaring with laughter. “Get up its
9 in the morning!” said she. Little Alice sat up with a jerk unable to comprehend what Rachel was saying. She checked her clock. The alarm was set for 11.15 am not pm. Alice looked up to the heavens and ardently wished that an asteroid would come in their direction, hitting this earth --- blowing it to smithereens.
It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon
when I preached to
a host of young future priests
about outer space
and inner regimes,
an apocalypse of withered spirits
which reading alone can save.
A few winced, others sat rigid,
some slept with open eyes,
while one took down every word
diligently in his notebook.
After awhile they led me up
a flight of stairs
to cut the ribbon
of a library, with creaking shelves,
updated with old books.
It smelt of ancient history, poetry,
psychology, theology...
crumbling leaves
whispering knowledge
in Latin, English and
mother tongue.
As I walked back home
with the after taste
of the spot of tea and biscuits
the rector respectfully offered,
I mused on the ways
we all try to save the world.
As I was
inspecting
the timeworn
stone slab,
he appeared
before me asking
if I
wanted to know more.
Surprised,
I nodded,
to this energetic
antique man
who
seemed older than
the
ancient prayer house.
Every tooth
lost
except
two,
and a mole
on the side
of his
right brow -
a bulging
third eye,
he took
me around,
the
guardian of the building,
in his
navy blue Nike beret cap.
“Take a
pic of the inscriptions,” he directed
“That way
you can study it later.”
Amused by
his insistence,
I took
one.
“It was
built by the Thachans…” he continued,
in a
friendly yet knowledgeable tone
half
muffled by his dialect and
his vacant
mouth,
then explained
how the dimensions
of the
wooden square pillars
resembled
those
in a
temple
echoing
a time of
harmony
with the
Zamorins.
He told
me about
three foot
tall arches,
now
plastered and sealed
where
once,
visitors sat,
reading the
holy book,
praying
hands sliding
over
blessed beads.
“This
mosque was built 700 years ago,”
he said,
“by the Yemeni trader,
on the
land granted by the Zamorin.”
Those
were times when the drum here,
announced
the beginning of the feast
and the
news reverberated
to the
ends of the earth,
word of
mouth,
one
traveller to the next.
“Do take
a wide angle pic,” he instructed,
“and make
sure that you have captured the roof clearly.”
Glancing at
my phone
he approved
and
I chuckled.
Pointing
to the square pond
with dark
green water
and a few
white ducks,
across the road,
he explained
how the earth
from the
locale strengthened
the swamp
ground,
where the
prayer house exists.
Then
spoke of the special doors
ensuring
entry or exit
that
didn’t erase the prayers,
and the
wood and tile roof,
which was
once five tiered.
Made of
palm fronds,
in the
beginning;
it flew
off in a storm,
long long
ago,
and was
rebuilt.
Later it even
survived the fire
set by
the Portuguese
whom
the
Hindus and Muslims
fought in
union.
He urged
me to clear my doubts,
if I had
any,
and I
asked
if I
could see the interior.
To which
he shook his head
side to
side
and said,
“sorry madam,
women are
not allowed inside.
But, you
can definitely
have a peek
by standing
on the
third step!”
“And don’t
forget to take a pic of yours with the building
in the
background!” he added,
flashing
his indelible Kodak smile.
* Koya – a guide at Kuttichira Mishkal Mosque
“Why do we always
insist on ‘truth’?”
