[Short Story] Shadows of Innocence

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Asha skipped in through the gates after getting down from the school bus, her satchel rattling behind her, her lunch bag waving wildly. She smiled as Chander the watchman gave her a mock salute. 

 

‘What is in that lunch box?’ he asked. ‘Chapati as usual…’ she replied without turning, her disappointment evident in her voice. She spotted Neeru, her best friend. The two sprinted towards the classroom eager to outdo the other.

A surprise awaited Asha in the classroom. She was to play the lead in the class play Red Riding Hood.

                      

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After a hectic morning, I sat down thankfully at my desk for a much-needed break. I stared at Asha’s photograph on my desk. Dressed in a bright red T Shirt and a denim skirt, she had given her best smile. She was my three-foot, four inch angel, my world. I sighed, thinking about the argument we had that morning. Kritya wandered in with a mug of coffee, ‘Hey! Have you sent out the reports we prepared…’she stopped mid sentence. 

 

‘Daughter trouble?’ she asked.

 

‘How did you know?’ I asked with a weak smile.

 

‘ I am a mind reader …I can read almost every look that crosses that pretty face!’ she laughed.

 

‘So, what is the trouble this time with the little one?’

‘Kritya, these days, it is mostly about food… I am trying to teach her to eat healthy … but she resists so much! She threw quite a tantrum this morning all because I packed chapathi sabzi again… I am worried about her weight gain .’ Kritya shook her head and patted my hand. 

The telephone rang, signaling the end of my break and my rant I plunged back into work with a deep sigh.

It was 7:00 in the evening when I returned home. Shanti, the domestic help, bolted for the door after mumbling something about dinner – I smiled after her- she had her own set of troubles with a difficult marriage and two young children to look after. In the evening Asha was her normal endearing self again. After dinner, I put her to bed.

‘How was school today? What did you do?’

  Asha began talking excitedly non-stop. I smiled. Then she said with a pout. “Neeru’s papa came to pick her up today!’

She turned to me and asked, ‘Why is Papa always away?’ When is he coming next?”

 ‘Papa is really busy honey … what did he tell you on the phone yesterday? Did he not say that he would come in two weeks? With…’ I paused on purpose with my eyes dilated and my hands outstretched.

 I waited for her to say ‘with lots of gifts for me!’

But she turned over and wailed ‘I miss Papa! I want him now …’

I held her close to calm her but her tiny frame calmed the loneliness I felt inside.

She suddenly sat up and said, ‘Mamma! Mamma! Teacher said, I am going to be Red Riding Hood! Me!!! Neeru was so upset you know!’ she chuckled.

I gave her a tight hug. ‘We must buy you costumes… let’s go shopping this weekend!’ 

‘Mamma read to me!’ she commanded falling asleep midway.

 

'Where does your grandmother live, Little Red Riding Hood?

     A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; her house stands under three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below; you surely must know it,' replied Little Red Riding Hood. 

 

My mind kept repeating ‘three large oak trees, three large oak trees three large … Tamarind trees… stirring the memory of an afternoon lying under the canopy of tamarind trees … of a soiled blue dress with large flowers …

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  She watched him with a fixed stare as he entered the darkened classroom. He smiled as he signaled her to be quiet, then handed her the bar of chocolate. She took it, her hands trembling, but since she had thrown away her lunch, she gorged at it, unmindful of what was happening to her. It had become their secret routine, this entire week.. A few minutes before school ended, she would ask to visit the bathroom, get into an empty classroom where he waited with a bar of chocolate. 

Asha felt really special from all this attention. He hugged her and whispered ' You are so beautiful... You are so beautiful and smart...! ‘Oh how I wish, that uncle is my father she thought, he is so kind and wants to be with me every day …!'

When the school bell rang, he clutched her arm and said, ‘This is our secret; don’t tell anyone, not even your mother! Do you understand?’ his voice had grown bolder and sterner over the days.

She hid the half eaten bar in her skirt pocket and ran to join the school bus queue.  Asha pushed back the hair that had escaped from the tiny pigtails her mother had struggled with in the morning, impatiently. She took out the bar of chocolate and ate it frequently making sure that no one was looking – she had to finish it before she reached home or her mother would be very angry and also ask who had given it to her.

That night as I bathed her, I noticed the mysterious red marks on her body. ‘What are these marks Asha, did someone hurt you?’

Asha looked confused and turned away. I shook her and asked her again insistently. My voice taking on an urgency that surprised me.

‘It’s Vivek sir… he’s very nice … he … he …he gives me chocolates that you never give … it’s a game … It was supposed to be a secret …now I’ve told you … he will be very angry…’ She whimpered between sobs.

I froze as I heard her speak. I wanted to know more, especially how long it had been going on for. But held back seeing how distraught she was.  I calmed her down, put her to bed. My mind raced through what I must do next-  complain to the school?  Complain to the police?  Go to the press? Withdraw her from school? Move to another city? As these questions raged …  other thought emerged, thoughts that I had buried in the farthest corner of my mind ...

  ‘So he walked for a short time by the side of Little Red Riding Hood, and then he said: 'See, Little Red Riding Hood, how pretty the flowers are about here - why do you not look round? I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly the little birds are singing; you walk gravely along as if you were going to school, while everything else out here in the wood is merry.' 

Thoughts I had locked away in labyrinthine vaults...  I lay wide-awake beside Asha thinking of that Deepavali a long ago. 

 

I must have been four or five years then.  We had gone to my uncle's home in a remote village in Andhra Pradesh. It was a tiny, sleepy hamlet with just one main road that formed a part of the state highway with the village extending broadly on either side of it. My uncle was a government official of some sort - had transfers every few years. We were all very happy with these transfers as it meant visiting and exploring new places.

 

I loved visiting my uncle since I got to spend time with my only surviving grandparent, my grand mother who was very fond of me. It was a large, beautiful house with vast, open spaces. There was a swing in the garden. There were flowering bushes, coconut trees, lemon trees,  and even a small banana plantation.

And then, there was grandpa. That’s how I addressed the old man. He was a neighbour. He had a kind face, was extremely affectionate from the minute he set eyes on me.  My grand mother, a very kind heated woman had taken him under her wing ever since his wife’s death. He sat me on his lap, wound his arms around me at our very first meeting. I tried to wriggle free but he playfully tightened his grip.

The next couple of days were magical. I remember him seating me on the swing and swaying me gently. Seating me on his bicycle and taking me for spins around the house.  

 

One day, he said,  ‘Kala! There are ducks in the village pond, would you like to see them?’He had posed it more as a question to my grand ma for approval.

We set off at day break the next day, after grand ma gave him a steaming cup of coffee. I had hurriedly gulped down a glass of milk eager to be on my way. 

'Look how impatient she is!' mother  joked. I left home, holding his hand as my mother watched indulgently from the veranda.

 We exited through the banana groove and made our way through narrow embankments that skirted the fields growing paddy and corn. I stopped to gawk at the bullocks that ploughed the fields, but he dragged me to a mango orchard that lay beyond.

‘So she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers. And whenever she had picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.’

Right in the middle of the orchard was a huge pond.  There were ducks swimming in the water. With a surprising agility he jumped in, intent on startling them.  They quacked and moved away indignantly.  I waded into the water in eager pursuit of the tiny ducklings, which moved under the protective wings of their mothers. I screamed in fear as  I found my feet sinking in the soft mud and tried desperately to return to the bank. He rushed in, lifted me up and walked, holding me tightly in his arms.

‘Oh, your dress is ruined!’ he exclaimed and made an elaborate move to squeeze the water from my dress. It felt strange and uncomfortable.

 'I want to go back home!' I wailed. 

'I'll take you back, if that's what you want.' 

We began walking back.

We came upon a patch in which grew large tamarind trees.  I remember being pushed to the ground and his hands groping me urgently. I must have screamed and struggled - A few passerby came to my rescue. I am not sure if they saw anything.  ‘Grandpa’ left the scene quietly and I watched him leave through my tears.  The villagers escorted me home, but said nothing to my mother. He came warily the next day, but I kept my distance never leaving my mother’s side like the ducklings. 

 

He gave an uncomfortable laugh –‘ She didn’t like the ducks very much, she ran off with the villagers before I could stop her!’

I was confused and grew quiet over the next few days. I only told my mother that I wanted to go back home.  I didn't work up the courage to tell her what had really happened.  The horror of that fateful morning never left me, haunting me with a relentless regularity. Nightmares of lying there in the patch and looking up at the sky through the trees, shook me awake for many nights.  In my teen years I was plagued by the guilt of not exposing him.

Today, the monster was back and the victim was my daughter. 

 

As I sat there trembling, fervent singing from the neighbouring temple swathed me in a comforting embrace.

 

 

Madhumadhure madhukaiṭabhagaṃjini kaiṭabhabhaṃjini rāsarate
jaya jaya he mahiṣāsuramardini ramyakapardini śailasute 

 I joined in the song, my body pulsating with a powerful energy that engulfed and penetrated every pore of my being. The image of the Devi seated on her lioness, surrounded by her female army, giving out a blood curdling cry as she slayed the demon with her trishul sprang up in my mind. 

Suddenly all was clear. The divine mother within knew what her next steps would be.

[Short Story] The Frosted Rose

Standing in the bathroom, facing the mirror that was above the blue glass washbowl, he surveyed himself running the razor slowly over the barely visible stubble, even as he mulled over the lines. He turned his angular face side to side, unsure which side looked best while facing a camera. He patted his high cheekbones dry with a towel running his hands over his face, testing for smoothness. He stared hard at the mirror and decided that the sharp glint of his gaze was what set him apart from the rest of the players and this was the face he would show to the world. He smiled mildly as he mouthed the lines without uttering them. He turned around and surveyed his half naked, six foot, lean and supple body in the full length mirror that was fixed to the back of the bathroom door - ‘A couple of inches more in height, even a few inches more would have made all the difference!’ ruing the fact that most of the players were turning out to be taller than him. Ok, the speech! Concentrate on the speech!’

His mind said – pulling him sharply from his meanderings.

He spoke the words- ‘Yes, it was a difficult game and xxx is a great player. There were several times when the game was as much his as mine…’ He stopped, pretending to keenly hear a question that was posed to him. ‘Yes my serves were more at the Tline this time...’ then said after a pause with a half smile and a slight shake to his head ‘Yeah, the aces came at crucial times’ pause… ‘I thank this very appreciative audience, my team- my coach, my physio and my girlfriend…’

‘Vijay!’ cooed Shreya his film star girlfriend from the bedroom, ‘Come here baby, what are you doing for so long, in there?’

He returned to the bedroom a little surly from being interrupted, but was soon calmed by the sight of Shreya. She was the girl of his dreams. Tall, athletic and incredibly beautiful with a pearl white complexion that was the envy of her costars. He had been over the moon, the day he professed his love and she had said ‘yes’ as if she had been waiting for that exact moment.


Now the irresistible temptress lay there, half hidden amidst the sheets, and he stood arrested in his tracks, his eyes taking in the beauty he beheld. The blanket slipped a little as she turned to lie on her stomach and he drank in the sight of her ivory smooth skin, her long legs. He sighed in exasperation at his helplessness when his eyes rested on the magnetic curve of her hips.


‘Sweetheart!’ he protested weakly, ‘You are making my life very difficult! I need to work on my speech! Shreya gave a wicked laugh. Vijay gave a sigh and sat down and cupping her chin with both his hands and looking earnestly into her eyes, he asked ‘Sweetheart my friends say you will leave me if I don’t win this game…’ ‘Who did?’ she asked, sharply, sitting up suddenly –legs bent- looking more like a mermaid emerging from the sheets.
‘Aman and Sanjay…’ he muttered. ‘But they’re very wrong baby!’ She laughed, playfully pulling him towards her, submerging him in her warm embrace. He happily drowned in the sea of her love.

He lost track of the time. When he recovered, he found himself in the shower again, all flushed and more confident than ever.


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They were lunching at the Halcyon club after an exciting match with his friend Aman.
‘Machan this time you will surely win da!’ Aman said half in admiration or was there a tinge of jealousy in that statement thought Vijay. ‘How about your speech Vijay? Is it ready? The big day is barely four days away…’

The duo was soon surrounded by a group of raging fans who wanted Vijay’s autograph. Some wanted photographs with him too. He patiently signed his name carefully in the outstretched books. A girl pushed her way through the crowd and handing him a marker held out her cheek asking him to write on it. As he stood there debating whether to comply – Aman egged him on- ‘Draw a heart –draw a heart and then sign with in!’

Now the crowds were surging towards him uncontrollably, and he found himself drowning in a sea of human bodies – found himself borne aloft by powerful arms ‘Aman! He called frantically, ‘I am here don’t worry…’ Aman’s voice floated in, at the precipice of his consciousness.

Vijay sprang up spiritedly and moved to the court after the break. He was already beginning to taste victory after his one set lead and an early break in the second set over his opponent Prashanth. He moved frantically around the court, eager to finish the game, win the tournament and of course deliver the now well crafted speech. He heaved himself high to slam the ball in the front half of the court. Then all went blank.



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Dr.Malik walked into the extended care unit, lingering over each of the eight patients who occupied the special ward. He examined them all in turn and explained each case in detail to the young interns accompanying him.

When he reached bed no: 8, he began, ‘This is Vijayanand Murthy, age 32, … you know the famous tennis player, who had the accident in the final … had a severe concussion after the fall, hitting the back of head in the tennis court… has been in Level II coma these last seven years… his eyes open every now and then and there is the occasional convulsions in his limbs.’

He paused, then continued …

‘Often, he goes on as if he is talking but it is always inaudible and almost sounds like gibberish…’he smiled up at his rapt audience. A perky intern asked, ‘Doctor, what is the level of brain activity in such patients? Do they dream?’ Dr.Malik spoke thoughtfully, ‘Obviously there is a lot of brain activity –that would explain the convulsions and the slurred speech- but research is still on about mapping dream activity…’ he didn’t elaborate further.

On the group’s exit, the staff nurse approached the bed for a routine examination. She pulled down his lower eyelid and shone a torch in the eyes of the dark emaciated form. She called out to her assistant to fill in the details in the record sheet in a matter of fact tone–
‘Pupil constriction- Yes
Temperature –normal
Breathing regular…’
Vijayanand stared vacantly at the torch that was flashed at his face.

At exactly 4:00Pm in the afternoon, Shreya walked in as she had done over the last 7 years. She sat there holding his hand, and gently massaging his face. She combed his hair and dabbed on a bit of talcum powder on his wan face. She spent the rest of the hour talking and reading to him. She always hoped and prayed that he would recover one day, although she heard pronouncements to the contrary from the doctors and nurses who attended on him.

She sat there quite unaware that Vijay dreamed of her often. That he kissed her lips tenderly and recalled their moments in passion in his dreams. Or that he lived and relived the days and events that led up to that fateful day. She did not know that she and Aman were the only two inhabitants in his dreams. Had she known this, her tears of despair might have also been tears of joy.


The supine form in the bed shuddered and lapsed into an endless dream. Vijay looked at Aman and Shreya sitting at the table facing him. ‘Did you hear what the doctor said?’ he asked agitatedly. ‘Am I in a coma? Am I in a madhouse?’   ‘Vijay! You old delightful fool laughed Aman… You are hallucinating again!’

Aman smiled reassuringly, looking dapper, as ever in his white and white tennis gear ‘Why don’t we play a game?’ He asked picking up his raquet. ‘Shreya, why don’t you come and cheer us as always?’
Vijay slapped his shoulder and asked ‘Best of three as usual?’ Aman nodded and then asked, ‘By the way how is the speech coming along?  Shreya smiled up at him in the sunlight, ‘You know Vijay, they are planning to make a film about us – about you and me and our love! Think about it! And guess what? We are playing the lead role!’ She shrieked in delight. ‘I don’t know about you, but I have to prepare my acceptance speech if I win the best actress award…’