A cup of tea

What a day it was... A day spent with a cup of tea and an armchair. I leaned behind as far as I could go and sighed lightly. I was impressed by the tea, so rejuvenating, so calming... The touch of the liquid on my tongue triggered the sensation of utmost bliss to ripple through my body. I thanked God for making tea-leaves and, after an afterthought; I added a thanks for making those people who make such tea out of those tea leaves. Even the floral designs on the saucer caught my attention and I was amused. I was amused by the twisting stem of the flower on the saucer. I brought my eyes down to the level of the saucer and looked at it sideways. The pattern couldn’t be more unblemished. I could just imagine the designer inserting his last touches to the beautiful pattern. Now that I gave a thought to it, it was perfect, wholesome. There was nothing astray about the whole thing. The artwork was brilliant and the result was outstanding. I was seeing through one eye now. On the edges of my view, I saw my father entering.
I looked over the saucer with the beautiful floral designs and saw him, tall, with little hair and with his usual stern look. “What’ve you been up to?” That is his usual question. I anticipated it coming even before half of him had entered my office and I answered back loudly, “I have been going over the numbers since morning! I can’t bear them anymore. I beg you; dismiss one of us from here! We don’t make a good pair.” I began complaining. Though I didn’t even half-mean my words I knew that they would produce the desired effect and my father would leave me at peace, sadly under the misconception that I was unwillingly doing numbers!
“Enough with those numbers! Come with me to my office, someone is here to see you!” my father instructed me. “No numbers?” I asked, deflated. “No.” He gave me a wide grin. I was fuming inside and he was grinning at me. It was the first time in my life that I wanted to lead a solitary life with my friends- numbers and here I was being deprived of this singular opportunity. I mean, how many youngsters of sixteen in this country of billions would be willing to sit with numbers under a fan in a smouldering afternoon? It is a pathetic fact that there is no room for daring people in this country.
Suddenly, my curiosity overcame my grief and I desperately wanted to know who had come to meet me. I took longer strides than my father and reached his office well twenty-nine steps ahead of him. I gazed through the looking glass. At first I could not recognize the face of the person, though he looked familiar. While I dived into the archives of my mind, I unconsciously stepped in and the person noticed me. What helped me find him in the archives was his reaction on seeing me. My search results were shocking indeed. What added to my shock was that I was standing in front of the person. While I inwardly cursed my subconscious muscular movements, I tried to consciously sneak out of the room.
Ill-fate was too hard on me that day, I think, for as soon as I started stepping out of the room, my father completed his extra twenty-nine steps and bid me go back inside and greet the person.
He was my ex-girl friend’s father. A big mistake, I tell you, a humongous one, mammoth, I must say, but a mistake in good earnest. Yes, I admit proposing to that girl was a big mistake. Though had you asked me regarding it while I was still with her, I would have said that that was the best thing I ever did. But, you know, perspectives change with time and here I was looking at the whole matter through an entirely new window.
Speaking about windows, I had a sudden and urgent urge to get some fresh air. The stench in that small cell was getting on my nerves. I must admit I deliberately took as much time as I could muster in my small sojourn to open the window.
Sooner than I had anticipated, the three of us were sitting at my father’s desk and waiting for each other to begin. Coincidentally, all the three of us began together, apologized together and ultimately ended up waiting for each other to begin again.
“Your son is after my daughter,” began the gentleman. And here it begins all over again, I thought. I settled myself comfortably for it was going to be a long discussion about the moral principles to be bound upon me hence and I was not ready- on account of my clear conscience- to give up my freedoms and erstwhile principles so easily. My father turned to me, a quizzical expression on his face. The least I could do was to answer him similarly. I returned a quizzical expression to my father. We both gave a quizzical expression to the gentleman. The gentleman faltered at this, but explained further, “I have unquestionable evidence that, in spite of repeated warnings, your son is still trying to contact my daughter.”
A lie. Full, blatant and shameless. Spoken as if without a care, just blurted into the air, not worrying about the consequences of such grave implications. Here we are to talk about ethics, and my opposition begins with an unethical lie, I mused. Why in the world would I want to speak to my ex girl friend? She was somebody I was dying to forget about and here this gentleman came barging in claiming I was doing the right opposite of it. The mid portion of my little finger of my right hand was fidgeting as if it wanted to wrap itself around the gentleman’s throat.
“Who are you? Who is your daughter? My son has nothing to do with her!” My father, usually a very calm person I must assert, would not tolerate any kind of silly joke. “Don’t fool yourself! Your son is misbehaving under your nose and you know nothing about it!” the gentleman seemed to be deadly against me. He was a man in his forties, and I was in my teens. He had a slight beard, and I was plain cheek. He was wearing a buttoned shirt and I was in my favourite t-shirt. He was slightly bald and I had a full set of hair. This was unfair competition. They say the older you are, the more experience you have. They are right. I say the younger you are, the more tactful you are. I was about to prove myself right.
“Or is he hiding something from me?” My father turned to me and raised an eyebrow. Did I just say my father was a calm person? I gave the most innocent look I could summon and shook my head violently. “What girl are you talking about, gentleman?” I asked the person. I had over-stressed on ‘gentleman’ and the gentleman replied, overstressing on ‘child’, “You know very well who I am talking about, child!”
“Do I?” I asked myself and sat back, acting as if I was in a super exhausting task of trying to locate what, where and how this girl has played any role in my life. “What was her name again?” I asked, interrupting myself in my mission. “I didn’t mention her name,” the gentleman said gently. I sat back again, returning to the haunted mansions in my mind. My father sat watching the both of us trying to ascertain what was actually happening. I had started liking this new game.
Tea was brought in. They brought my old cup and saucer for me. The gentleman refused the tea politely. “Ah!” I exclaimed, clicking my fingers. Both my father and the gentleman turned to look at me. Frightened, I quickly nodded my head and murmured, “No, no.” “Your son seems to have trouble remembering my daughter,” the gentleman said to my father sardonically. “So it seems,” answered my father plainly.
In the inner portions of my mind, I was secretly cursing the hot tea, cursing the floral designs that seemed so irrelevant to the situation. Why did God have to make tea-leaves? I started abhorring the liquid which lay so calmly in front of me. I didn’t drink it any more.
“Are you talking about the girl who had been after me for the last fourteen months or so?” I asked. Now it was the turn for the gentleman to ponder. He dropped his head on his chest and began thinking hard. My father was silently drinking his tea. I surreptitiously asked him who the hell this gentleman was. My father shook his head unknowingly. I nodded understandingly. The gentleman turned his head wondrously. “No,” he answered finally. “Uh, wait,” he cut himself short. There was an odd silence after that. I deliberately yawned thrice, looked at my watch twice and ruffled my hairs quadruple times during that interval. “Yes, I think she is the one,” the man declared finally.
“Then I am afraid your daughter has been misbehaving under your nose and you are doing nothing about it,” I said quickly. “No, wait. She is the one you are talking about but you are the one who is after her, she isn’t after you.” The gentleman declared solemnly, as if he was announcing the final decision on the case of my life. “Who told you that?” I question sharply, piercing the man’s confidence and ease with the glare in my eyes. The man, for once, removed eye contact from me and turned to my father, apparently taken aback. “Nobody” the man mouthed. “Hah!” I exclaimed, as if the case was closed.
The truth is that nobody was after nobody. We were just into each other, my girl friend and me. Then, suddenly, one day she gave me the break. The surface reason was that I was affecting her science studies and the deeper reason was that she had found a new boy friend.
However, such things are not to be articulated aloud. “You don’t know the truth behind it all, man. Your daughter has been after me for so long. At first, we were good friends. Suddenly one day, she went all lovey-dovey and I was influenced at first but being well brought up, later I stopped talking to her.” I glanced sideways at my father trying to gorge his reaction. Till now, he was on my side. I actually didn’t know where I was headed. “She didn’t give up on me. We continued as friends but she would bring up the topic of love intermittently and I refused her each time. She would keep on persuading me, trying to procure a yes out of me.”
“But I have seen you with her! I even warned you not to talk to her anymore,” the gentleman said.
This was true. One fine evening, when everything was fine between me and her, this Mr. Gentleman had intruded in our privacy. I was afraid of him, as every noble boy friend should be afraid of his girl friend’s father. That’s why I blurted out all my addresses honestly when he asked for them. So here he was, sitting right opposite me in my father’s office, on a chair owned by my father, and refusing the tea owned by my father.           
“That day she called me up! She was all teary on the phone, begging me to meet her! I don’t know what problem she had, she wouldn’t tell me. Being a good friend, I decided I should go and meet. Then you showed up from nowhere and began demanding details. I was surprised and afraid at the same time, so I gave you my father’s office address.” I was literally shouting now. My father eyed me angrily and indicated I should soften.
“Then one day, she left me alone. She had found someone else, I believe. I didn’t talk to her after that.” I finished. The gentleman didn’t seem to believe his ears. I wondered what was going on in my father’s mind.
“If she had left you alone, why did you call her yesterday?” the gentleman asked maliciously, as if playing his last cards. I owned the ace in this hand. Truthfully, and removing all doubt, I could swear on each and every person on the earth that I hadn’t called her the previous day. Unethical, unethical, unethical, my brain was creating a ruckus. Liar, unethical, atrocious, demeaning, everything but a gentleman! My little finger was twitching again and-
Then it dawned on me. It lifted me from the chaos, the cacophony of confusion and bewilderment and placed me somewhere higher, away from the utter ignorance, neglect and dismay into a world where there was only victory, joy and utter bliss. The sweet bliss of revenge.
 For those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, it was her new boy friend who had been talking to her the previous day and this unearthly gentleman here had mistaken her new boy friend for me.
I relaxed; all limbs loose and easy. “The tea is so good!” I exclaimed to my father. My father frowned. I sipped once again and slipped deeper in my seat. My ease unnerved the gentleman.
At last, I played my ace, and victory was mine.
“Don’t tell it to mom. She might not like it and might spread the news. Then this gentleman’s reputation will be at stake.” I said to my father after the gentleman was gone, livid with his daughter’s ill-manners.       

    
     

           

Tomboy and Jerrygirl- The Second

Tomboy and Jerrygirl

                            The second!

 "Typical Merryland again!” sneered Mortaz. He was a man who liked to keep himself clean. He paid attention to every nook and corner of his appearance and strove to keep smudges out of his way and- especially in the midst of battle- this was a disadvantage. He kept his hair pulled back and wavy on the end. His eyes sparkled and gleamed with false glory and he wore a perfume that had the sweetest essence and was discernible. His flamboyant gait spoke of pretended fame and his strident voice emanated the message of a wishful outlook. 

Mortaz was the descendant of a clan which was long recorded in history for its unwavering allegiance to the Brothers. It had helped to plan and execute the infamous conquest of Merryland by the Brothers, twenty-three years ago. In those days, this clan was headed by Kojkus, Mortaz’s father. After Merryland's invasion, Kojkus was designated the second-in-line to the throne of Merryland, after Benzor, the head of the Brothers. Benzor had held a trial between Tomboy and Jerrygirl against Godcent Trolley and Senorita. In this trial, Godcent Trolley and Senorita had emerged winners, not by any real fight, but by the loyalty and devotion that inundated the duo’s hearts. As promised, the king and queen were set free. This was the biggest mistake Benzor committed, and it was the sole reason for his downfall a year later. Godcent and Senorita, most miraculously and with a force of just a few hundred men, overthrew Benzor and drove away the Brothers from Merryland, the Land of the Smiling Faces.     

Mortaz double-checked the maps of Merryland. Then he clapped his hands and asked for the subordinate officer to be brought to him. 

“Yes, your highness?” asked Officer Frault.
“Frault, these maps tell me that Merryland still has unguarded walls, which I am ill-disposed to believe,” said Mortaz. There was a pause.
“Sir the maps are-”
“According to me, our spies have brought the wrong information. They have not looked well enough. The people of Merryland are not fools, even if they are thick-headed,” Mortaz said, cutting in Frault’s speech.
“The maps can be relie-”
“After the war twenty years ago, the people of Merryland realized what real cunning means. I tell you this, because I know how cunning Benzor was. I was a part of his plan. No soul in Merryland would be ready to leave his house unguarded after the brutal manner in which Benzor overran their country. I want these facts revised!”
Frault opened his lips to speak, but Mortaz interrupted again-
“And this time, send in reliable men. After my father’s death, many have turned against me. They bow in front of me but would be utterly pleased to have me removed from my throne. Their scorn shows on their faces.”
Frault did not speak this time. After a long pause, he said, “May I answer, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
“Sir, I will send my best men once again, though I do not hope we will come across any new findings,” Frault said.
Mortaz thought for some time. “Yes, that will do, you may go.”
Frault nodded and began upon his way.
“There is one more thing, Frault.”
Frault halted and turned. “Yes, sir?”
“You remember the battle between Godcent and Senorita’s men against Benzor and Kojkus’? With a handful of men, they defeated a large army of the most experienced warriors. Benzor and Kojkus were killed in that battle. That is how I came to command both the clans now. I suspect there was some supernatural force assisting them. It is not an ordinary thing for just a few of men to defeat such a large force. What I fear is that the myths are true. I know that there exist various theories and explanations to that unnatural historical event, but it may be, there is the slightest chance, that what I fear the most is true.” Morzat said, letting the last word slip and hang in the air. He signaled Frault to come closer as if afraid somebody else might hear what he was about to say. When Frault was sufficiently close, Morzat whispered- “The spirits of Tomboy and Jerrygirl are accompanying Merryland’s soldiers. I have heard they spread panic in the enemy’s camps at night. I have heard about strange disappearances in the battlefield, unexplained killings and corpses unaccounted for. I have heard that they overhear the opposition plans and whisper it to their comrades when they sleep at night.”
“Sir,” said Frault, straightening up, “I think we should not pay heed to such beliefs. I personally believe it was the skill and experience of Godcent and Senorita that helped those few people to overcome your father’s forces. The rest is all myth, created to unhinge determined aggressors who might challenge Merryland in the future, like us. I am giving the orders to get the men ready, sir.”
“Yes, do so.”
Frault left the camp. Morzat turned his attention back to his attire, but the misshapen figures of Tomboy and Jerrygirl still loitered in the mazes of his mind. 

"Upholding popular belief, Merryland has a circular boundary. The king's palace is in the shape of a semi-circle about the middle of the country. Our target remains the palace," Morzat dictated to the three commanders under him, including Frault. Morzat had taken sufficient time out of his schedule for arranging this meeting to discuss the assault. Though they were as far from Merryland as they could possibly be, but, as Morzat put it, the spies were 'spirits', and Morzat was more than ready to take as many precautions as was possible. He had told no living soul about the meeting; had changed the location twice and had ultimately chosen as isolated a place as he could think of- his personal bedroom. He had stationed his personal guards at the ends of the corridor that led to his bedroom and given them strict orders not to let a soul, living or dead, to sneak past them. Lastly, he had heavily curtained the windows and door to muffle the sounds- so much for not allowing a pair of spirits to overhear his plan!
“Divide the army into four equal troops. Early at dawn, I will lead the first one and attack from the southern end. Frault will attack an hour later from the eastern end, and you two will follow after an interval of an hour each and attack from the other two ends. This will not allow our hidden enemies to have any advantage over us. I don’t know what they are expecting, but I am sure they are not assuming a battle on all the four fronts,” Morzat whispered with a watchful eye.
“Remember, our target is the palace, exclusively. I don’t care what sort of creatures will try to stop you from getting there, but I want all four of us present there when I behead Godcent Trolley. Tell your men; tell them, that victory lies in the palace, not in the city and its people. Once we get hold of the palace, the people will panic. When the people start panicking, we must understand that it is the signal for us to start pillaging. If all goes well, the foolish people of Merryland will be tricked once again. They are proud of their righteousness, and they do not realize that it boomerangs and hits their shins, crippling them. Their pride is our ride, gentlemen!”   
“And what of Tomboy and Jerrygirl? Our men are so terrorized that they will fly out of their skins at the slightest sign of demon work!” said one of the officials.
“Now let us not talk ghosts and demons. I will rather have them in our jokes when we bask leisurely under the shade of Godcent’s prized palace.”

Two of Morzat’s soldiers were having a hushed talk under the moon at night. The army was yet to be divided into four parts and the battle was to begin three days later. Everybody was getting more apprehensive as they neared the Land of the Smiling Faces. All of them knew facing Godcent Trolley and Senorita in a war was a feat few would dare to undertake. If anything lifted their spirits, it was that they had a huge army, and that they were being led by Morzat, who was a cherished warrior.  
“Aren’t you afraid, brother?” asked one of the warriors who had a bushy beard that ran up his cheeks and mingled with his hair.
“Afraid? The whole army is frightened. Yet Morzat intends to carry on with his plan. I do not think he realizes the implications of this war,” said his comrade.
“Yes, he is being reckless. Who are we that we might stop the war? War is something between the elite, either they gain or they lose. We are common soldiers, we have nothing to gain and yet we put all at stake,” he said.
There was a common silence after this. Both the soldiers pondering for a while how devastating this foolishness could be.
“By the way, do you believe in the story of Tomboy and Jerrygirl?” asked the soldier with the thick beard.
“Oh, yes,” said the other, flinching at the question, “they were the greatest warriors ever, and the best of friends who ever lived on earth. They are the gem of Merryland. Their story is tragic, truly, one to be remembered forever.”
“I meant to ask whether you believe that the ghosts of Tom and Jerry are alive?” the other stated again.
This time, the other warrior looked around quickly. He dropped his voice and said “Of course, who doesn’t? That is why most of the army was reluctant to join this war. But you have seen how dogged Morzat is; I do not think he lets any of these lies impede him. Though I would much prefer this story to be a lie, yet the facts bear the story out. Believe it or not, I am not going to continue with this madness if the spirits turn up.”
“Nor will I care to go on after that. It is suicide. Yet I don’t think we will be troubled by them as long as we don’t engage in war. We are very heavily guarded on all sides of our camp. Not a speck of dust can come in unnoticed. It seems Morzat is as terrorized as we are.” the warrior said.
“Spirits are much less than specks of dust, brother.” 

Frault was unable to sleep that night. It was too hot and humid. As he rolled on his bed trying to get some sleep, he thought over and over how Morzat was going to trick Merryland, and not just Merryland, Morzat was going to trick his own officers. To say once again, Morzat was more than ready to take as many precautions as was possible. Right after the plan was decided upon; the officers had taken their leave. As Frault was heading for his tent, he was surprised to see one of the king’s guards hailing him. “Sir, King Morzat wants to see you immediately!” “But I have just been to see him,” Frault replied, bewildered. “I know that, yet he wants to see you again!”
“Frault, my trusted officer! Come here and have a seat,” exclaimed Morzat as Frault re-entered the chamber he had just come from. Morzat noticed a shadow flit across Frault’s face. He was looking unusually confused, as if this unexpected call had left him completely dismantled. “Are you okay?” asked Morzat as they took their seats. “Yes,” Frault said, quickly regaining his confidence. “I was just not expecting this,” he said. “It is okay,” Morzat replied. “Now, Frault, you probably know how important it is for me to win this war.” Frault nodded.
“Revenge has to be taken, no matter how. Merryland’s king killed my father. It is time I undo what has been wrongly done. That is why I have made all these plans. This war is my honor, my glory. In this war lies my future. In fact, the future of our clan rests on this war. Do you realize that?”
“Yes, sir, absolutely.” Frault said, unsure where Morzat was heading to.
“Good. Now you must listen closely. Understand this, that I cannot trust all my officers. They have not been long with me, and their loyalties may be divided or very weak. I am afraid they will forsake me.”
“No, sir. That-”
“Listen, I know my officers very well. If my plan doesn’t work, they are going to leave me in the middle of the battle,” Morzat was speaking assertively. Frault sat back and heard him out in silence-
“I am not going to let this war run on the whims and fancies of my subordinates and I am certainly not going to lose it just because of a pair of invisible beasts throng my army’s minds. That is why I have made another plan. Let this plan be known to you, me and a few others I have chosen. I and my five most trusted and experienced men will enter Merryland the day before the battle begins. We will be dressed as tradesmen. We will spend the night at any hotel or lodge, meaning to start early the next morning. Now, as we will start on our journey back from Merryland, we will pretend as if we have seen an army advancing. At once, we will turn back and rush towards the palace intending to warn the king of the coming danger. I have a man placed at the gates of the palace who is on our side. He will let us inside. Once we are within, we will secure the gates of the palace. A small but handy group of warriors will be waiting outside incognito. With their help, I am sure I will be able to overcome Godcent and his guards. So, the palace will be mine. Now here is your part in the plan- as soon as you enter Merryland, take a large part of your army and head straight towards the palace. You are my failure dealing mechanism. In case I should fail or get caught, you must directly launch an attack no matter what the circumstances. The other officers will not notice anything going astray until they reach the palace. After that I can decide at will who is on my side and who isn’t.”
Frault was awed. It was a great plan. Of course there were many areas that required a more detailed approach, but if the plan worked successfully, it would mean Merryland’s defeat.
Frault’s train of thought was disturbed by voices outside his tent. After some time, they died down. Frault went back to thinking over the plan. He just hoped all would go well. He knew how important this war was for Morzat.
Suddenly, when Frault was pondering how they had planned to evade the guards at the gates of the palace, a huge roar rang out. Frault hastily scrambled into his trousers and went outside to check things out. There was chaos everywhere.

 “What is that noise I hear?” asked the bearded soldier, springing up suddenly. A chaotic noise was rising from the far side of the camp and travelling to them. The other soldier listened too. “It sounds trouble, come, let us go and check things out!” said the other soldier.
Both the warriors sprinted towards the noise. At first, they could not make anything of the cacophony. Slowly, as they neared the commotion, they saw the smoke billowing out above their heads. “That is a whole lot of trouble!” the bearded soldier exclaimed when he saw the red flames rapidly engulfing the tents. Soldiers were running helter-skelter. A few of them were trying to fight the fire. The bearded soldier ran into a guard. “What is happening?” he demanded as he caught hold of the falling person. “They are here! Like we feared, this is a warning! Clear out before it is too late!” The soldier let the man go. The fires were now rising, swallowing more and more tents. People were running out to see what the disarray was about. “The fire is spreading! We need to escape!” cried the bearded soldier. “No! We can control it!”said his companion, looking to go and help the others fight the flames. “Look, brother. I saw the guard’s eyes. I have seen the truth in them. Fire or not, we are going to die anyway. It is foolish to continue. Take my word, and flee. We are not destined to die at the hands of the dead! Come with me away from this imprudence,” the hairy warrior explained to his companion. His companion nodded, and they made their way back to their tents to collect their belongings. 

 

Morzat didn’t want to look good that day. Standing in front of his mirror, he could see only the marks of age showing prominently on his face. His forehead had deep black creases, and his eyes looked badly worn out. He tried to force a smile, but that spoiled his image further. Sighing, he turned away from the mirror. Half my army has run away. He thought. Nobody entered the camp at night. Then who caused the fire? The worst has happened. They are here, the mythical spirits. Here to snatch me my destiny, here to take away my revenge. But this is for my father. I cannot give up. Why, they will call me a fool, to have come this far and then to have turned away because of some mischievous activity. I will continue, and so will the rest of my army. Frault will explain it to them, I know he will.    
Thus making up his mind, he sent his guard after Frault. 

Frault had succeeded in moving his comrades to war. The army had grudgingly admitted that they still outnumbered Merryland’s soldiers ten to one. Frault ordered them to be reasonable, and not to believe in “things-that-might-just-not-be-what-they-seem-to-be.”
The day of the battle finally arrived. Tensed warriors geared up for a heated day. The tension was running very high, particularly because of the mysterious death of the best general in the army just the night ago. The news of the death was suppressed, but it leaked out anyway. There were many stories floating around- “The general was so possessed by the devils, that he choked himself to death!”Or “His guards heard a scream. When they ran in, they found him suspended in the air, hanging in an invisible noose.” Some attributed his death to the fact that he had spoken ill of the spirits when he was drunk. “He was under the influence of spirits and he spoke against them. The spirits just took revenge,” had become a very common joke. Frault had dismissed all the myths. In his speech just before the battle, he said “His death was an unfortunate event.” The other three troops knew nothing about this mysterious death. But it wouldn’t remain a mystery for long.

 The sun had just broken in the east. “A hundred feet!” shouted the warrior at the head. The clash was about to take place. Only, there was no opposing army, just a wall a hundred feet high waiting to be scaled. Slowly and gradually, the warriors climbed the wall, and jumped to the other side. The outskirts of the country were unnaturally vacant. That didn’t stop Frault’s men from running headlong into the buildings. It began raining boiling oil and bloody knives.  

 “To the palace!” commanded the tradesman who was leading the pack. Everyone spurred their horses towards the palace.
Dawn had just set in. The streets were empty and the riders were headed straight to the center. The riders were oblivious to the occasional eyes peeking at them through the windows of the houses. “Halt! Who goes there?” waved the soldier at the gates of the palace. “We are tradesmen. We have important news for the king!” shouted Morzat, signaling with his hand. The soldier nodded, and opened the gates. Morzat and his men rushed inside into complete darkness.

    

They know. A dread spread through Frault as he realized the mistake they had just made. It was too late now. His men were already getting boiled under the impact of the steaming water. Many had become victims of the raining knives. The others were either running for their dear lives, or diving into whatever little shelters they could find. The problem was that their enemy was well concealed. “Hide!” he shouted over the din, as he himself ducked behind a barrel.
Although he had given orders, his army was in total disarray. They had expected a head-to-head combat, not something of a hide-and-seek fight. Another fact that deflated their confidence was that Merryland knew this was forthcoming. How they came to be informed about the battle was a mystery, and mysteries were unwelcomed, for they boded ill, they boded of ghosts, and nobody wanted to fight ghosts.  

Morzat halted. Something was amiss. They weren’t supposed to be in a dark chamber. They were supposed to be in an alley that would lead them to the main gates of the palace. Had he got something wrong? “Where are we?” he whispered to the man on his right. “I don’t have the slightest clue. Should we continue forward?” the man replied.
“I am afraid you won’t find anything of use here. However, welcome to Merryland!” emanated a voice from the dark.
After that the torches were lighted, and Morzat could see the smiling face of the person he hated most, Godcent Trolley. 

After two hours of Frault’s attack, the last troop entered Merryland. But the people there were no less prepared than the people everywhere else. The soldiers were greeted with boulders here. This was the most uninviting welcoming that the Land of the Smiling Faces had ever given their guests.

Godcent Trolley was smiling, and Morzat was burning. This is the person who killed my father. He thought. Morzat was bewildered at first, but his anger against Godcent overpowered his senses. “You have made a mistake, Morzat, by underestimating us. You should listen properly to what people around you speak.” Godcent said.
“I know they are lies, Godcent, you cannot fool me.” Morzat said, all the time looking for a way to escape. But there was none. They were completely trapped in that chamber. His words had no effect on the king whatsoever. He kept smiling in his offhanded way and said- “You have seen the truth with your eyes. They come in my dreams, they do. Tomboy and Jerrygirl are not myths, the earlier you understand this, the better for you.” Morzat could not reply. No matter how much he wanted, he could not ignore the fact that unexplained things had occurred. His only hope now was Frault. All he had to do was buy some time.
“Godcent let us face the facts. You killed my father. I deserve to get a chance of direct combat with you. I have come this far, and I will not go back without my revenge!” saying this, Morzat sprung at Godcent with his sword. Godcent was expecting it, for he swiftly drew his own sword and engaged Morzat in combat. The warriors who had been guarding Godcent drew their own swords and attacked the remaining of Morzat’s men. The chamber reverberated with the sound of the clanking of metal. Godcent was proficient at his swordsmanship but so was Morzat. They parried each others’ blows easily but none could inflict any serious injury on the other.
Though Morzat was deeply possessed with his vengeance, he knew that he could not hold out much longer. Frault should have been here by now. I have to find some way to stay alive.
Then he spotted it. As he was ducking a blow from the hilt of Godcent’s sword, he saw a passage on the other end of the chamber where it was dark. He smacked Godcent on his knee with his sword, making him to bend over. Quickly stepping aside, and making a somersault on the ground, Morzat headed straight towards the passage. Godcent had barely the time to turn around when he saw Morzat’s white cape vanish into the darkness.
He hastily surveyed the chamber and found that his men had floundered Morzat’s. 

Morzat ran on into the darkness, unsure whether he was heading towards some safe haven. He was just hoping that the way would lead him outside the palace and then he could go and join his forces. All his precautions had failed. However, he did not have time to think over that for the time-being. He was concentrated on finding a way out. He passed a patch of sunlit ground, and then into blackness again. Frault, come to my rescue! He yearned. Just then, a thought struck him.

Godcent followed the sound of Morzat’s footsteps, though he still couldn’t see him. Then, all of a sudden, the footsteps died down. He stopped and listened hard, but he could hear nothing. He continued on for some time but realized he had come too far. Morzat couldn’t have come this far. As he returned, the whereabouts of Morzat dawned on him.

Morzat held on for dear life. The patch of sunlight that he had passed was coming from an open balcony. Now he was hanging down from the ledge of the balcony, waiting for his pursuers to be deceived. It was very difficult clinging on like that. If he slipped, he would break a few bones and maybe smash his skull. He dismissed the thought of it. He begged for Frault to come. But his failure dealing mechanism had failed him. Instead of Frault, it was Godcent who showed up over the edge of the balcony.
“Having a good time, are we?” he waved, smiling.
Morzat gulped and his hands slipped.

Three days later, Godcent and Senorita were having tea with a visitor.
“Do you like this country, Officer?” Godcent asked the visitor.
“Yes, save for that it could have been a bit more hospitable,” replied Frault with a grin on his face.
All of them had a good laugh over it.

So, the spirits had nothing to do with the battle. Frault had appointed two of his own men to light the fire. He had poisoned his own general’s food. He had communicated Morzat’s plans to Godcent so he could be ready.
There was one thing in which Frault had no role to play. He did not tell Godcent that Morzat was hanging down from the balcony. He didn’t know about it. It was Morzat’s perfume which betrayed him. Unfortunately, it had a discernible smell to it.
  

    

 

Education - *no comments*

In this rat race of marks and admission what stays behind is your talents, your creativity and your own life. In order to get marks you spend the most important part of life locked in room with the heaviest of books and sit under them the whole night just trying to read what some other person has pinned you with. You are asked the most idiotic questions possible and what comes later is a piece of paper with some numbers scribbled on it called as “decider of future – the results”. Every year lakhs of students pass the board exams and go on to colleges and then to earn money but why does it happen that only the illiterates are running the country? If the education system really has something endowed within it then why can’t it produce another ambani or tata ? Why do all of India’s top mba’s and ca’s are under them? Our education system has two options – the first one is to join a private company and the second one to join your fathers business . The top mba’s every year get placement in the best of companies and earn a good livelihood for their life. Do you agree??? Obviously yes! Now re read the sentence again! The top of mba’s work in the best companies and earn a livelihood. Its just a mere salary he gets from the ocean of money that company earns . The one who took a step ahead in life is now ruling the one who always stayed back to get those rank. A rank in that mere sheet, a rank to show to the top colleges and a rank to make him work as a labour in another company. A question to Mr. Kapil Sibal (Education Minister Of India) – Do you think India is progressing? Do you think that launching an Aakash Tablet which has the worst of touch possible help India to grow? Do you think getting technological whithout much resources will empower India? I am sorry but I don’t think its time to take out a device which will not only waste time of students but also irritate them. Its actually time to change the system! Its time for a new era to begin ! Education system has to change and also the mind of students. There should be some more applications of studies and some more oppurtunities. Sachin Tendulkar, Steve Jobs, Walt Disney, Bill Gates. Virat Kohli Who are they and who were they? Think about it, Google it . . . And there maybe a change in your life too . Be unique..Be special And What truly will matter is Be Yourself ! And quoting Robert frost “I shall be telling this with a sigh, Somewhere ages and ages hence Two roads diverged in a wood and I- Took the less travelled by And that has made all the difference “

The awakening- Saurav

THE AWAKENING
To papa, for teaching me the way of life.
To mum, for leading me on.


In the village of Panahera, it was only Gordon who owned a telephone- though it wasn’t functional. It was only Gordon who owned a car that used to run on fuel, or so he claimed. It was only Gordon who knew how to read and write as well. Only he owned a bungalow in the whole village.
It was only Gordon who regarded the idea of maintaining his house so cumbersome that a small boy did all the housework for him.

The small boy’s name was Hirish. The timid villagers- as in all other villages of Rajasthan- kept aloof of strangers. Though Gordon had been living in the village for quite a number of years and he couldn’t precisely be called an alien, yet the villagers dared not interact with him. Some villagers attributed their attitude to the fact that Gordon was not born in the village. Others just avoided his company because everyone did. Anyway, Gordon was alone in the village. 

It was Hirish through whom the villagers used to gain knowledge about Gordon and his peculiar habits. ‘Hirish said’ was a very common dialogue in the village- especially among the women- as in, “Hirish said he drinks water not from a tumbler but uses some kind of cylindrical blue plastic vessel instead,” or “Hirish said he uses some kind of rectangular machine which emits a bright light for mysterious purposes,” or “Hirish said- when I met him in the marketplace- that he saw Gordon lying in some hollow in his bathroom which I recall he called a ‘tub’. What kind of a person uses a ‘tub’ for bathing? What kind of thing is a tub?” or “Hirish said he has some magical instrument in his room which emits enchanting sounds whenever someone touches it. Hirish thinks that he means to entrance those about him with that weapon of his.”  

That was why Hirish, only thirteen, was a reputed boy of the village, that is, if ‘reputed’ can be used for a person who is well-known among five hundred or so of his people, counting some thirty members of his own family. Every time Hirish would go to the market to fetch grain or goods, he would be followed by an ever present crowd intently listening to what he had to say. Hirish, too, would delightedly push back his hair and speak in a loud voice about all the odd things he observed at the odd place while the women of the village would stare at him, awed. 

But Gordon wasn’t a star among everyone, least with the village headman, Ganga. Ganga used to despise his presence, and had more than often, warned the villagers of the dangers of having someone like him in the village. “He doesn’t yield anything to us. He gives our village a bad name. He spoils the affability and creates dissensions among our people.”
The villagers had great respect for Ganga, and Ganga did not have any respect for Gordon, and Gordon did not have any respect for, well, everyone. While having a foreigner in the village amused and thrilled others, Ganga and a few other men derided it. 

However, Ganga was a true leader. He seemed to always know when the villagers needed inspiration, and when they could manage on their own; when they needed to be corrected and when punished; when they needed to change, and when they should stand sturdy. Essentially, the neighboring villages of Kanwas and Sangod envied Panahera for their leader.
Ganga was a far-sighted person. He had changed the ways of the people. He incessantly elicited the necessity of keeping the Kali Sindh River clean. He had taught the people to utilize the resources judiciously and to save as much grain as possible. He stressed the need to grow back the trees that were cut for firewood or other purposes. He also emphasized on the need to conserve rainwater on an individual basis. Being in the desert region of Rajasthan, the village was constantly under the threat of droughts and famines.
Under the guidance of Ganga, Panahera was the village most equipped for resisting drought and famine in the whole of Sangod tehsil.  

All the prominent villagers of Panahera had gathered together in the small shack that was used as head office to discuss the arrangements to be made for their annual harvesting festival. Upaj, the name of the festival, was marked by a fair lasting three to four days during which people from the neighboring villages would come to participate. The village playground, like each year, would be the hub.
Upaj, meaning produce, was the name given by Ganga to the festival of the harvesting of grain. The men would gather near the Kali Sindh River on the morning of the first day of this festival. From there, they would proceed together to the fields to gather their produce. In the evenings, the entire village would get involved in arranging the fair at the playground. The women would set up their stalls selling saris, dhotis, and other articles of embroidery. Others would make jaggery, tea and various indigenous food items. The men would primarily help in the transport of carts and cattle carrying the extra grain to the storehouses. The elder villagers would supervise the work. 

“This time let us have a bigger bonfire and arrange for some entertainment. Pramod is good with his flute-playing and the children of the village can stage a dance,” said one of the villagers. “That is a good idea. Why not put up a play this year?” said another. Ganga spoke at length, “Yes, it would be good for the adults of the village to take part in an act. It will be both entertaining and educational.”
“We will ask Bhagat to write the script for us. I am sure he will help us,” said one.
“Yes, we will make this the best Upaj festival that ever took place in Panahera.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. Then someone brought the topic up, and the effervescent faces suddenly lost their glow.
“It is an insult,” Ganga repeated. “He has refuted our invitation every year. He doesn’t care about his own village. The only connection between us and him is the grain, which he buys from us through Hirish. He insults the grain by not joining the Upaj festival. He is a smear in the beautiful painting that is Panahera.”
Gordon’s absence in all the annual festivals had created a bad name for him among the elite few of Panahera. A few of the villagers present were of the opinion of Ganga, but a majority disagreed with him. “Gordon has never been invited properly,” said one.
“He has never been invited at all,” retorted another.
“Yes, we have always only sent word through Hirish that he too should be present for the occasion,” said a third one.
The first villager suggested, “We should go to his house ourselves and have a talk with him, involve him in the preparations. So he will not feel left out.”
“He feels left out for choice!” Ganga said stridently. “Why do you think he remains inside all day? It is not because we don’t go and beseech him to come out and join us. It is because he considers himself superior to us. He spites us and our ways.”
In spite of trying very hard with both speech and instance, Ganga couldn’t bring the villagers round to his argument. At last, he gave up hope. “Do what you want to. I am not with you.”

Despite what they had said at the office, the few villagers who marched to Gordon’s mansion couldn’t muster the courage to go inside. After a long period of dallying outside the house, one of them- named Hiralal- decided it was an impossible task. “This is insane,” he said, “Let us go home.”
Presently, the group threaded away and only a group of three staunch faces were left facing the sprawling house. 

Eventually, the news spread out that the three brothers who had gathered the courage to enter Gordon’s house had come back running. One of them claimed to have heard those enchanting sounds which “gripped his mind and controlled his thoughts.” Ganga, a practical man, dismissed the rumors and said it was nothing but a musical instrument called a piano. The second person claimed that he got so immovable due to his nervousness when he saw Gordon that Gordon mistook him to be sick. The third person was no better. He had, it seemed, managed to blurt his invitation out, but it was so much a jumble of words, that Gordon couldn’t understand him. Not being able to speak out again, the third person returned too.

Finally, the annual Hirish-invitation was sent and the annual Gordon-refutation returned.

The Upaj festival came and went. It was a grand success. The adults of the village put up such a great play that the villagers of Sangod and Kanwas couldn’t help but whistle and cheer. The play depicted the contrasting ways of people in the country and those in the cities. Some of the more fanatical villagers kept their silence and acted as if they hadn’t seen anything spectacular.
The festival was both an achievement in terms of reputation and economy. A huge crowd bustled in the playground from morning till night consecutively for the three days. Almost all the people had benefitted from it. Ganga was immensely pleased. This indeed had been the best Upaj ever.
“People of Panahera, I am pleased to inform you that this was the most successful Upaj ever. The village headmen of Kanwas and Sangod have commended us on our hard work. We have earned a good name in the whole of Rajasthan. The time is not so far when Panahera will be a model village for the rest of Rajasthan. Not only is Panahera is benefitting from our labor, but it is the whole of Rajasthan, the whole of India.
“And the credit goes to you, to each one of you. I cannot take away what is yours; I do not have the right. So I must say that you all have made a dream come true. No, it is not the dream that I saw, but the dream that has been seen and is being seen by every village of the country, continent and world.”
The short speech ended with three cheers for Ganga, followed by another three for the God. 

But it seems God was not as pleased as Ganga was, for soon after the end of Upaj, a horrible drought broke out through the whole of Rajasthan. The Kali Sindh River was the last to run dry. Famine, too, gripped the whole of the desert land. It became difficult for the people to procure a meal a day, and slowly the numbers of starvation deaths began to rise. The heat only intensified and the clear skies became clearer. Even the specks of white clouds seemed to be on vacation.
Panahera, too, was struggling. The stores of grain were enough to sustain the villagers through the drought, and they had enough stored water too.
The problem, though, wasn’t the unavailability of food grain.
The might of Panahera was challenged once again as hundreds of villagers immigrated into Panahera from all over the Churu district. 

Ganga was undeterred. “They are our brothers. They live in the same land as ours and they are faced with the same hardships as we are. Isn’t it our duty to serve those in need? Or have you forgotten our prime duty?” he debated.
“All that is all right, but we cannot let our people starve because of them. They have no right to take what belongs to us. I won’t let these people snatch the grain from my daughters’ hands!” Another cried out in consternation.
“I promise you, brother, your daughters won’t go unattended. I will not let any person of Panahera to starve; I will rather go without food myself. These people have come to ask help of us, I cannot turn my back to them.”
“No… No.”
“Moreover, I have asked for help from the government. Fresh supplies may be coming at any moment. If we cannot guarantee these people food, let us guarantee them shelter and water.”
The elite few of Panahera agreed with Ganga totally. They set up temporary huts in order to give shelter to the refugees. Everyone was being given the requisite amount of water and a little food. The young men of all the villages helped the elders and the women in every way possible. Ganga himself was involved in arranging the supplies. Life crawled on as everybody awaited the coming of the relief agencies. 

Then disaster struck.
When Ganga opened the doors of the storehouse next morning, a slight gasp escaped him. All the grain in the storehouse had been attacked by a swarm of locusts. There was nothing left. Nothing at all.
Ganga staggered back his way and immediately summoned a congregation of all the village headmen.
“Brothers, it is not easy to inform you that our stocks of food have been devoured by a swarm of locusts. No food is left and the government relief is yet to arrive. I admit I made a mistake by not taking the precautions I should have,” he confessed.
The village headmen had not much to grumble about. Ganga’s selfless attitude had paved him a way to their hearts. Instead, they lifted Ganga’s morale.
“Brother, we do not blame you.  It is not despair we need to seek. These are tough times, and believe me, despair is a greater beast than hunger, and it will nibble all of us away. We need to warn the villagers of what is forthcoming,” said the head of Sangod village.
“The messenger will not have delivered the message yet. We need to hold out for at least ten days before the relief arrives,” Ganga said.
A grim silence prevailed after this statement. Everybody realized that what lay before them was certain death. 

All these days, Hirish had managed to collect food for himself and for Gordon. He had informed Gordon of the drought. Gordon had decided it to be time to leave the village. The problem was that he didn’t have fuel. His car would not carry him right out of the desert and- if even if it did- he couldn’t imagine how he could get the needed food supplies for the journey. Finally, he had put aside the idea of leaving the village. 

Ganga immediately employed some people to check if any of the food was unharmed. Then, he addressed all the villagers- “Villagers of Panahera, Sangod, Kanwas and those from other places, it seems the Gods are getting severer at us. Disaster has struck. Our stores of grain have all been attacked by a swarm of locusts and noth-” Loud groans and protests emanated from the crowd. “I repeat nothing is left. It is no time to despair, no time to grumble, no time to die, but it is time to believe. I urge you, countrymen, believe that you will live this through and you will. Seek despair and we shall have to burn your corpses. I promise you, believe in me, believe in life, and I will take you through these hardships.”

Yet it was not so much Ganga’s fiery speeches as it was the water being provided intermittently that kept the people alive.
Three days passed, the fire was now flickering weakly. Ganga’s motivation was ebbing fast. Many of the people couldn’t even walk around. Some were unable to stand up on their feet.

“Villagers, our message will be delivered by the day after tomorrow. Help will reach us soon. Hold on but a little longer. The Gods will look kindly on us, if we look boldly ahead,” Ganga announced on the morning of the fourth day.
“As we await our fortunes, let us all derive inspiration from our loved ones, let us get stronger and stronger by the day, and let us teach all those who watch us how sturdy we can be.”
Thus it was when Ganga was fuelling the fire and the hot slap of fate was repeatedly testing the hearts of the weak; when some people had given up hope of life, and some still held the thread to climb back the summit; when the villagers were praying, yearning, begging and all at once; that a loud swishing noise pierced the silence that had crept insidiously after Ganga’s speech.
A helicopter was descending. Everyone looked up together. Help had arrived.  

As the people milled around the helicopter, helping others and themselves, Ganga noticed him. Moving slowly, weak and emaciated, misery all over his face. Gordon had finally come out of his house. All the people of Panahera who saw him coming were transfixed. They whispered to each other as if afraid to speak loudly. Gordon came up to Ganga, then staggered and fell, unconscious. Ganga, too, was stunned.

Hirish, who had come out after Gordon, cried as he ran, “Master e-mailed for help! Panahera is saved! All of us will live!” 

Regaining his senses, Ganga rushed to help Gordon. He cried, “Fetch me a glass of water!”
Ganga sprinkled the water on Gordon’s face and put the glass to his mouth. Gordon sat up after a while. The miserable face of Gordon struck Ganga at his heart. At once, all his feelings and thoughts drained away. Whatever wrong he had spoken about Gordon stung him. Gordon, after all, was a human being too. In spite of all he had spoken against Gordon, Ganga realized if it had not been for Gordon, all of them would have certainly perished. His heart immediately vacated a space for Gordon’s image to fill in. His own words reverberated in his mind-
“They are our brothers. They live in the same land as ours and they are faced with the same hardships as we are. Isn’t it our duty to serve those in need? Or have you forgotten our prime duty?”
Audible gasps were uttered from the onlookers when they realized that Ganga was crying.