Anaahat

"It is beyond those two hills - the boundary," the Tree told Ms Elephant and Mr Dog. Stars lit up the dark sky and showed them the way. They were runaways. And had walked away from what they knew as homes. Where they had grown up, where they had had many falls and where they had learned to stand. They left it all behind: the people, the lovely zoo-keeper, the cages, the sniggering of the observers, and the pokes of inquisitive children who treated them as specimens. For the quest for a world with dignity and respect - across the boundary. They were not always unhappy at the zoo. There were lovely days in the beginning: jumping with Ms Monkey, laughing with Mr Squirrel and eating with Ms Bear. Their world fell apart the day Mr Moose came to the Zoo. Mr Moose would cry every day, and rattle the cages for hours together. And for those hours, the ground of the Zoo would shake. It was he who brought passion for Freedom into the Zoo. After a fe...

Every voice magnified around Manoj. The giggling of teenage girls. That loud laughter of that burly, hairy man. Horns from impatient cars. And Manoj was developing a headache. Yet, he kept on walking, focusing only on the path in front of him. Life’s a bitch he thought. Or perhaps a bastard, as Ragini would say. His mind was wandering on the politics at work. Those bitchy females talking with eachothe, their wavering glances, that soft whispering, and typing vehemently on miniscule chat windows. Those plotting seniors, throwing shrewd looks at him, finding faults in everything. Like some jealous mother-in-law, or a bad step-mother. Kaikai! His heart sank. Deeper than the earth’s core. His feet became heavy all of a sudden, the leather of his shoes turned into rocks. He started sweating profusely. His heartbeat accelerated. His arms turned to thick tree trunks. His eye-lids gained weight and wouldn’t lift up. Then, ten minutes after the trucks swooshed by, the giggling teenage girls r...

Maushi's husband passed away. So, I went to visit her. Her small room was 8ftx8ft. A kholi as they call in Mumbai. A small kholi in the middle of one of Mumbai's slum. A kholi I reached after tracing a narrow path running parallel to a small gutter. A maze of small such rooms made of tin and cardboard sheets stood supporting each other in this huge throbbing city. I entered the kholi and saw her sitting on the only bed. Maushi is tiny, perhaps 4 feet tall. And says she is 69-years-old. She looked shattered. She hadn’t eaten for days. Her son looked heartbroken to see his mother broken. Seeing them struggling with pain brought tears to my eyes too. The pain of death that each one of us know and suffer at some point in our lives. I sat with her for a few minutes as other mourners vied for her attention. Before leaving, I hugged her. She held me tight as if she wanted to breathe no more. I stroked her hair that day and wished her pain would wash over her soon. While leaving I tr...