brooding over chai

I woke up in dismay. My nightwear was soggy. The bed sheet was soaked red. I made it to the washroom hastily to clean up. My sleep was disturbed. The mood was spoilt. Irritated, I prepared tea and started my day early. Ma had woken up by then. Outside the sky had darkened. The soft cumulus clouds had changed color. They had thickened and had grown darker. Soon, the thunder roared and rain lashed down. My mother ran out from her bedroom exclaiming, “Borsha eshey geche, borsha eshey geche.” (Monsoon has arrived).   She stood outside, stretching her hands out. Her face was dotted with the drops…her damp sari clung to her frail body but the happiness on her face was unmatched. I sat holding my cup guiltily wondering why couldn’t I rejoice!  Ma shouted out to me. The lightning crackled. “Come here…get wet. The first of the showers is the best…best for your body. Come and get wet. Don’t think twice. ”  “But Ma. I am down. My periods have started.”   “So ...

Alo sat deep in thought. Would it be red and green or yellow and blue? Which colours would go well with the theme? It was a tough choice for her. Off late, she hasn’t been able to give a shape to her thoughts. The colours have been failing her. Her indecisiveness and her inability to paint has plunged her into depression. Maybe a walk outdoors would do her good. But the chilly drizzle since the last few days has made it difficult for her to venture out. The mud and the slime made the path slippery and risky. A wrong step and it might send her tumbling down the slopes. ~~~~ Alo’s mother found her fast asleep beside the window. On her face was a myriad colours. Tiny yellow circles highlighted her cheeks and her nose, red patches on her forehead, streaks of green on her chin and variants of blue on her rosy cheeks. She was a colourful sight. Her mother parted her hair with great tenderness. She did not want to wake her up. The night before, had been a troubled one. The little gi...

Priya was very late. She had missed the last train and was hurrying home. She took a note of the deserted roads. No rickshaws in the stand, which meant she had to walk home. Thinking of her ailing mother, she took the short cut. That's when she heard the footsteps. The men! They were drawing closer. The temple was her last refuge. Falling at the feet of the Goddess she prayed for mercy.The men had, by then, surrounded her. Suddenly,the lights went off. As the lightning struck, the men saw a form taking shape. It was the very woman, roaring like a lioness and in her hand gleamed the Sword of Devi Maa.

The tantrik sat in front of the fire,churning a big bowl of blood and horse piss, occasionally mixing what looked like strands of hair. She turned around and extended her hands to Reema. Her bloodshot eyes, the red tilak on her forehead and the red attire stunned the latter. In her hands was a small packet. 'Go and put this under your husband's pillow, the problem will be solved,' is what she instructed her. Trembling, she took it and did exactly as told. A day later, Reema's husband came home, frightened and exhausted. 'Mysterious death of woman flung out from moving car. Driver survives miraculously', read the headlines next morning.

Anil sat on the speeding local train and looked out, thinking of all that he had left behind. He came from the family of honey collectors.They have been known to ignore the dangers and risks in a jungle and gather honey.By the grace of the BonBibi(forest goddess),they had never known poverty. But the Goddess failed to protect them one night. His father was untraceable.The search party found the half-eaten body next morning.Anil's mother joined the long list of 'tigerwidows'. The teenager grew up overnight.From a honey gatherer he became a daily wage earner. Fate had dealt him a cruel blow.