This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 9; the ninth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
“Look what I have found in his drawer while cleaning his desk today” whispered Sudha nervously handing over the piece of folded paper to Vimal.
“What is it?” replied Vimal, irritated.
“Sssh… Just read it and don’t shout he’s in the other room.” said Sudha in low voice indicating Vimal to lower his voice too.
Vimal opened the paper and read it, frowned and looked at it again. He seemed to be worried too, looked at Sudha and blurted “Are..”
Sudha put her hand on his mouth and whispered “What are you doing slowly”.
Vimal lowered his voice and asked in questioning tone “Are you sure he wrote this one?”.
Sudha irked and retorted “I told you I found it in his drawer moreover don’t you recognize his handwriting?”
“Yes but why would he write such a thing.” replied Vimal and thought something.
“Had I known it then why would I ask you. Shall we talk to a pychiatrist. We need to do something before its too late. Thank God I found this one otherwise…Oh my God I can’t take it anymore…. Please do something..” Vimal hushes Sudha and looks at the paper once again.
“No! No pychiatrist. Right now we have to be very careful on this one. You know how today’s kids are we have to be very careful. I think you need to keep a close eye on him.” Added Vimal unmindfully “Another thing he should not suspect that we have discovered this note and behave normal with him. We have to be very careful. Meanwhile let me do some enquiries and see how to handle this one..”
“Good Lord never can understand what goes on in the boy’s mind” said Vimal to himself seemingly disturbed.
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Vimal switched on the light on the table in his study. The study was a small cosy room with a large window in the left and couch underneath it, there was a table beside it with a huge shelf stuffed with books, adjoining it was another shelf with all kinds of CDs/DVDs. The table had a computer and the usual stuff. Vimal pulled the chair and sat on it. This was his place of recluse and generally was ‘out of bounds’ from the rest of the world.
He pulled the bottom most drawer and found the cigarette pack and the lighter, he looked into the packet and found there were 6 sticks in it still. He pulled out one and went to the couch and looked out of the window. The dark night sky had turned reddish and there were no signs of the stars or the moon. The winds were really strong and the wind chimes were making a strange music. “It must have rained somewhere” thought Vimal aloud. He liked the smell of the first rain and he always liked this climate specially after such super hot days but today he was not really interested in the weather outside.
Vimal looked at the chair and let out a cloud of smoke. He thought I have solved so many complex issues sitting there. That was his ‘idea’ chair. But all those ‘problems’ were solved by his mind but today he’s faced with something that involved his heart too. He took out the note Sudha had given from his kurta’s pocket and looked at it once again.
It said “I AM USELESS I AM A WASTE PLEASE KILL ME” all in capital letters as if the writer of the note was screaming. “Really Brave” he thought about his wife Sudha who didn’t panic on seeing such a note in their only son’s table but actually came to him, like she always did during tough time. So he should not panick but think! Think of a way out of this. His analytical mind started to look for answers to ‘Why?’, ‘What on earth could have gone wrong?’.
Vimal started to think about his son Vishal. Who was an intelligent, enthusiastic, energetic young boy in short a ‘super cool’ dude the ‘Bindaas banda’. Yes that’s what everybody said about their Vishy(that’s what Sudha had called her baby when she first held him in her hands and later Vishy became Vishal for offical documents but remained Vishy to all his loved ones.) He and Sudha had brought up their son very grounded so naturally Vishy was a very level-headed child Vimal thought.Then what had gone wrong suddenly? No there can’t be any generation gap here as he had always treated his son with the respect and care a young adult deserves the moment he steps into his teens. Vimal had learnt this skill from his own father with whom he never had any generation issues. “So Mr. Vimal where is the gap?” he questioned himself.
Vimal’s thoughts kept going in circles and ending up in the same place irrespective of the fact that le he started to think from a very different angle. What happened to his ‘out-of-box’ thinking abilities he wondered. But he would not give up so easily so he started from the beginning and concluded that only way to get to the bottom of this was to get inside Vishy’s mind but How he thought. Just then a face flashed in his mind. It was the ever smiling face of Tinni. Tonima was Vimal’s sister’s daughter. They lived in same lane and Tinni was a year older to Vishy. They had grown up together and were very close. They were the bestest friends and not just cousins. Vimal felt a little relieved at the silver lining that Tinni seemed to be at that point. Vimal looked at the clock it showed 2.30AM. “Time to go to bed” told Vimal to himself.
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“Impossible! Mamu. It can’t be bhai…” exclaimed Tinni jumping up from chair after reading the note.
“I know I know beta this doesn’t make any sense but you know your brother’s handwriting right”.
Tinni didn’t say anything just shook her head in despair as if trying put the peices of puzzle together.
“Ok Tinni beta could it be he was seeing somebody and something happened there. I mean…”
“Oh mamu you know bhai, girls are the last thing he will be serious about.” Tinni a little irritated by the whole thing.
“Whatever it is, you have to help. See you are closest to him so you should try to talk to him and get to the base of all this.” uttered Vimal and looked at Tinni with hope as if she was his saviour.
“Hmm…’ replied Tinni absent-mindedly.
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“Bapi where is ma?” blurted out Vishy looking very anxious.
“She’s gone to the Kalibari today is Saturday remember. What is it can I be useful?” said Vimal lovingly. He thought this could the opportunity to talk to Vishy directly as Tinni had failed to extract any information.
“No Nothing…” replied Vishy and turned to rush back to his room.
“Tell me what is it maybe I can solve it for you.”
“Well then actually I have to complete an entry for a young writer’s challenge.”
“Oh great what’s the challenge about let me see if I can contribute.”
“No Bapi that’s not the problem. They had given a line on which I have to write a funny story and I had written the line on a piece of paper and I am not finding the paper now. “
“Oh how big was the line don’t you remember them.” Vimal seemed to relax.
“I wan’t the exact words you see its important. It was something like ‘I am waste I am useless Kill me’ or something.”
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PS: This is a work of fiction. I sincerely wish that every father whose child gets suicidal becomes a ‘Fool’ like Vimal and this story doesn’t
remain a fiction.
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Independence
August 16, 2010
dmanji Social Commentary Fiction, Independance, N-Zine 11 Comments
The boy was staring at the bakery with hunger in his eyes. He had a little, half-naked girl on his shoulder and another little boy was holding his hand. All three turned around and looked at people in the bus stand expectantly. The trio approached a man with a cigarette on his lips in white spotless shirt and light grey trousers and a laptop bag on shoulder leaning on his motorcycle parked beside.
The boy hesitated and then with pleading eyes said “Bhaiyya, Char rupay denge to badi meherbani hogi, sirf ek biscuit packet bhaiyya, hum log subah se kuch nahi khaye” (Brother if u give four rupees it will be very kind of you, just one biscuit packet, we haven’t eaten anything from morning).
The man looked other way and pretended he was not listening.
The children looked up with sinking hopes and boy pleaded “Bhaiyya sirf ek biscuit packet”. (Brother one biscuit packet only).
The man got little uncomfortable, he expressed his displeasure and threw his unfinished cigarette on ground and doused it with his leg and mounted the motorcycle in order to start it.
The boy fearing more insults did not prod the man further and turned away with the other children in tow and crossed the street. The trio was loitering around the shops in the adjoining market but didn’t approach anyone else. After some time there was a little bit of hustle at the bus stand as a bus approached and waiting passengers boarded it in a hurry in order to grab the best seats. It was off peak hour so only a handful of seat got occupied. It was also the terminal stop for that bus so it was to wait there for a while before leaving.
The trio appeared from somewhere and boarded the bus the older boy made baby girl sit in the last seat and started playing with her. The other boy too joined and instantly the bus was filled with shouts and giggles of the children then the older boy started running around the bus and hiding behind the seats.
The younger boy cried out “Gopi Bhaiyya khidar ho tum! Jaldi idhar aao! “(Brother Gopi where are you, come here soon) and tears filled up in his eyes.
Gopi rushed to him and both burst out laughing.
Their little game of hide and seek continued for a while till the conductor boarded the bus. Gopi picked his little sister and got down from the bus and made her sit on the bench at the bus stand and asked his little brother to guard her.
He then boarded the bus again stood at the steps. The bus started moving ahead slowly. The younger brother started waving goodbye. Then the bus started picking a little speed. The children got scared and started crying “Gopi Bhaiyya, wapas aao”. (Brother Gopi come back)
Gopi jumped from the bus and ran towards his siblings. The little ones started smiling and felt secure again.
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As another Independence Day is almost here and we celebrate our freedom, independence with ethnic days, pot luck lunches and singing patriotic songs at our places of residence or work. Let us not forget numerous Gopis who have to “independently “fend for themselves and their dependents at a tender age when they themselves need a secure and safe childhood.
This leads me to a question what does being “independent” actually mean? Please let me know your ideas about it.
This post was first published @ N-zine.