All posts filed under: Short Stories

Travelling through Rural West Bengal in Blazing Indian Monsoons- I

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Monsoons are going on, Or are they going? They say that this year it’ll not only rain but the skies are going to weep. Clouds arrived four weeks early. And they have mostly stayed. Even the universe knows, that the monsoon times most children are angry or show their displeasure. They are told to not go out as it will rain, yet many go and whirl even at the expense of catching cold. Because only they know that cold does not exist, what does breathe in them is the joy of dancing with nature’s music. Few years ago, I travelled through Rural Bengal during the majestic Indian Monsoons. Being there it felt like my soul grew while only seeing the earth showing her abundance, her happiness. So many emotions churned within me then that I had to write a letter to a friend who sat far. Not to tell her as such, but to learn myself what was actually happening, to me. Many years later as I read this letter, I am taken back again to …

One Bengali Monsoon Wedding and a Rare Feast –III

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After I experienced the most dramatic Orchestra by the Frogs and Company, drunk Kaushik later that night told me to rethink leaving for home instead consider this as a mystical invitation for a tribal wedding that he will be attending later that week. I was already on an extended journey here in Bengal, but incessant downpour set me up for long at Kaushik’s home in Jhargram. During one of those rainy nights Kaushik received a phone call, where his friend invited him a day prior to his sister’s wedding . I got excited and we decided to leave, with a condition. His friend asked us to reach by the daylight. We started from his home on time, but rain and bad roads took whole day to reach that place from where we had to take the last jeep for the wedding home to his friend’s village. It was a strange place. There were many people but I felt there was no one talking. Like at any crossroad in the world, people were walking, buying things, …

One Day Under the Dark Monsoon Clouds Of West Bengal- II

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Once a football field where i had played on the first day of my arrival five days ago had nature-d, transformed into a full filled country pond. It was unrecognisable. Dark was taking over the orange and the blues. But down here in front of me something seemed awry. Something revealing in the way the frogs were gathering. They were so many, so many in front of me that i could have kept.

One Scary Night at the India Pakistan Border – Visiting Tanot Mata Temple Longewala

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Amongst the six major wars since Independence in 1947, India fought its deadliest battle with East Pakistan which resulted in the Birth of a country called ‘Bangladesh”, in 1971. But, even though, the Indian Army was confronting the rogue Pakistani soldiers in erstwhile East Pakistan, Pakistan decided to engage Indian Army and opened the western front in the Thar Desert of Rajasthan where only 120 Indian soldiers were manning their territory against 2000-3000 Pak soldiers with 40 Tanks. It was a night attack in a vulnerable open desert landscape which back fired for Pakistani Army six hours later but by then they had bombed most installations with heavy causalities. It is known that amongst all of this the only structure that was left as it was, was a mother Temple called Tanot Mata Temple, with 120 men winning an unusually long fight. My work was done by the noontime. After a whole morning of chasing a Manganiyar tribe, I finished my interview with the old tribal singer and requested Veeru’s great grandfather to sit under …

Will of The God-The Greatest Indian Short Story Ever

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It was the year end night. Some friends had come over to celebrate. I had also called my brother-in-law who is an Investigating officer and an entertaining storyteller but seemed not quite himself that night. He stood alone, in dark, looking down dreamily with a tilted glass, now empty. I walked over and asked playfully if he was regretting over missing a shot at a culprit. Thankfully, he had his wit intact. He beckoned me to come out of the room. “What’s the matter Rana? I asked.” We walked towards the balcony. Bhaiya, in the noontime today, a doctor came over to the office and he narrated a story, and ever since I have heard his tale, I do not know what to make of it. Really? What is it? What happened. Rana spoke with passion as he does and just like the doctor he spoke in first person; I started my first job at a hospital in Alibaug. Each case provided me with new knowledge more than my books. Every patient even now teaches …

Man’s Search for Meaning

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When I returned to Ishbar that night, Shiban seemed speechless. But Dr Kaul looked at him with satisfaction giving an expression like “then he has seen.” And soon the moment came to explain to him what he had seen. We sat around fire, while waiting for the food to arrive. Open your ears, said Dr Kaul and he began speaking like reciting an over practised hymn. “The men in the east, he said, are trees; those in the south are flocks of animals; those in the west are wild plants. Last, those in the north like ourselves, who cried out while they ate other men, were the waters. When the collective sound of chewing filled the air, he started explaining about eating. The act of eating is a violence that causes what is living, in its many forms, to disappear. Whether grass, plants, trees, animals, or human beings, the process is the same. There is always a fire that devours and a substance that is devoured. This violence, bringing misery and torment, will one day …

The Great Indian HitchHike to Remember

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I could well be passing my worst night. I had missed my fastest express to home, and was barely left with enough money to buy tickets again. Evening was around, I decided to reach the highway and do what i had never done. I started asking passing by truck drivers for a lift. As time passed and no one stopped, uneasiness was creeping in. I hadn’t done anything like it before. But I kept telling myself that if nobody stops I will rest at a temple or the next dhaba i may find. After a considerable time suddenly a big truck passed and seemingly started slowing down. It must have stopped 100 meters ahead. I ran. It looked strange at first sight for such a big thing stopping, for me!! It was a sixteen-wheeler trolley. Empty. I got in. There was only one small, frail person, the driver sitting. He was lanky, and looked too young to be driving anything like this. Also he looked grim, bit sad and may be in shock. Apart from …

Mangla and her magical milk

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Mangla’s milk has been the best thing to happen in this sea ashram. But today even before I could taste it, Logar brought Papaya for the first time and we prepared shake for every one. I closed the dhuni myself today when Maharaj ji retired after keeping the planets outside out of rat fear. He seemed tired. We called different goddesses around sunset and went outside the premises along the foothills to buy rabbits for Gayatri. Later when we came back, Manavendra was sitting on his horse called gambler over the Thorn hill. For the night we were invited to a home where several varieties of food was being prepared. When we reached, a woman whose face I forgot as soon I met her as i kept looking only at her nose pin. She told me my caste, and while drinking the papaya shake left from the morning, asked me to slow down. Me? When i woke up in the night even though i didn’t have to, a man was seen going away from me …

In the land of Snakes

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Twenty six days ago and three hundred fifty kilometers north I Moon I reached Aldona late in the night. It was Purnima, the full moon of Holi. Vishwan was away, gone to a border village, tsar. A place somewhere in the middle of the jungle at the border of Goa and Maharashtra. But I had no idea of that then, I was waiting. I sat downstairs at the bar. Grandmother was pouring feny to a local. She told me about Vishwan smoking too much. The room was lit with two cyan bulbs. He arrived. We kept my backpack at his place. He lit his cigarette. We sat. His hair had grown and white; beard thickened and black. Soon, we were off, feeling the dense wind of the leaving winter, scooting through the western ghats in the night going towards the moon. We entered the fair. Vishwan parked the vehicle somewhere outside and we started walking away from the lights towards the jungle. It was late. But it wasn’t dark. The night seemed to have dissolved with …

A Cactus in the Desert

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  Photograph of a lost memory in flaring heat of Jaisalmer –  It is hot in Barmer. It is so hot that my lower portion feels different and apart from my head. My right cheek has swelled. Ulcers recognized heat. I am staying with amma here, a Bhopa. Last night we decided to attend Pabu ki phad. Happens rarely now. A local god. Reincarnation of Laksman. Bhopas sing and dance for Pabu. For two nights Bhopas from all across the region have come to sing and dance reciting Pabu’s story. Anada Ram was the most prolific Ravanhatta musician, who died 33 years ago. His wife, Amma vowed to never sing after that day. I am here to document her son. He never learnt Ravanhatta. He wanted to be a dancer. I have known him for eight months now. There were many other dancers from the community who had come yesterday. Veer was going to show me one of his acts dancing on the mirror glass with fire in his mouth. He does not dance in …