OrientTales

Problems Aplenty

2006-04-08T21:54:00.000-07:00

Could you speak to unknown persons?

Or, did you know the residence number of theirs?

But Mr.Natraj at the age of 50 knew it thoroughly. The number of strangers were limited. Since they were few, he could master their locations and relations between them. He was neither a postman nor a political representative of his area. Still he was thorough in the art. Yes, that was an art not known to you and me or general public. It was an art for those who did not believe in their skill. It was an art for those who trusted their futures on the strangers who were not conversant to them. The art meant for the believers of occult science and unknown beliefs based on non-scientific traditional culture. The thoughts were imbibed in their deep cleft of white matter lying within their cranial cavity of their skull.

There was not exception between men and women, learned and illiterate, old and young for relying on this art. Sometimes they were asked to visit some temples in remote areas of the state as well as neighbouring states as a solution to the problems created by themselves.

On Sundays and holidays, there would be heavy rush to meet Natraj. Envisaging the rush, he used to get himself ready, early in the morning and sit in the verandah of his house with a slanted and short stool in front and number of almanacs on his side. A writing pad stuffed with white papers and a pen would also occupy the stool ready to help him in need.

Those who practice this art were never seen wearing a shirt. They normally cover thei body with a thin and long white towel and a dhoti. But the forehead would invariably be smeared with holy ash of three parallel lines and a circular spot of safron color at the center of lowest line.

Yes. The strangers were nine planets and the art was astrology.

On a Sunday, Nataraj was ready in his usual attire, sitting on the verandah, to practice his profession. A middle aged man with his son was first client.

"Good morning and welcome," greeted Natraj.

"Good morning, Sir,"

"Please sit down," showing the mat neatly spread in front of him.

"You have brought the papers," asked Natraj.

"Yes Sir."

He took a small note book with a yellow colored corner with tamarind from a cloth bag of same color and gave it to him and sat on the mat. His son also sat down along with him.

Natraj opened the page in which the boy's horoscope was drawn. It was twelve squares cascading in a rectangle leaving a rectangular gap at the center. There were two of the sort facing each other in opposite pages.

The astrologer was busy in his calculation starting from his date of birth till date, by refering the almanac. There was absolute silence, till the calculation were over.

"Yes, tell me. What is the problem," enquired Natraj.

"Sir, this boy, my son is twenty years old."

"OK"

"He was good in his students upto VIII standard. After getting my transfer here, I admitted him in a famous school nearby, spending lot of money from my hard earned savings. But he is unable to cope up and scores very less marks. I have a plan to make him engineer."

"Engineer," Natraj laughed and said,"if everyone becomes engineer who will look after the other professions in the world."

Natraj started his analysis.

"Your son's horoscope is good. There is nothing wrong except the period of saturn which started on completion of his VIII standard. This will continue for a period of seven and a half years. Now only one year is over. The problem will persist for six and half years more. Hopwever the effect of saturn can be nullified by going to Tirunallar which is saturn's abode. If you are unable to go there, visit a nearest Shiva temple and light a lamp with gingellee oil as fuel for nine weeks on all Saturdays in front of Saturn among the nine planets."

"I can take him to Tirunallar."

"OK, then all of you in your family must go there"

"Right Sir"

"Anything else"

"This is my main problem. Nothing else"

He took a hundred rupees note and gave it to him.

"Thank you. Have coffee." He called his daughter, "Bhuvana"

His youngest daughter served the coffee and the client left with gratitude for giving a good soultion.

Bhuvana was very young and moderately beautiful. She was in half saree and a long petti coat sweeping the ground. A bright colored jacket of purple green and red petticoat was in contrast. A slim body and fair color gave her an additional attraction.

Meanwhile a middle aged woman with her young son entered as next client. The woman looked pale and thin.

"Please come. Sit down," welcomed Natraj.

Bhuvana was looking at them curiously.

"Is she your daughter?" asked the woman.

"Yes. Her mother had exposed at their younger age leaving three daughters. She is the youngest but not good at her studies. However she is very good in her household works," said the astrologer.

"What is the use of study? Nowadays everyone studies well and qualify more. See my son. He is very good in his studies, completed his post graduate with merit. He has undergone some computer courses also. His father died in a motor accident last year and received some money as insurance claim. We are also ready to pay for his job. But our bad luck do not fetch any job. I have come to see his horoscope on that matter only."

Both of them sat in front of him and she took out the horoscope from a bag and gave it to Natraj.

He started his calculations. There was pin drop silence.

"Look dad. Mala is coming," shouted Bhuvana on seeing her sister entering inside the house.

Mala was in the traditional punjabi dress, which has recently become a national dress among Indian girls. She was also good looking.

"Come dear! How was your interview?"

"It was good. I think I'll get through if I am lucky."

"OK. Go and get yourself refreshed," said Natraj.

"My second daughter."

With a formal introduction to the woman, he plunged into astrological calculations again. Both the sisters were inside their home.

There was another client at the entrance. They were three, husband and wife with their daughter.

Natraj welcomed them and asked them to sit aside on the other portion of verandah and started his prediction based on his calculations. It was mere psychological counselling mixed with names of some planets which will alter in the forthcoming movement of jupiter. Astrologers are very efficient in their oratory skill among small audience with a convincing arguements and cogent reply.

The women and her son left him after making payment of his consulting fees.

The clients in waiting were called next. All the three were seated in front of Natraj.

"She's my daughter, aged more than 27 and well qualified. She is also earning a good sum from a MNC company. For the past three years, we are looking for a suitable groom. But we are unable to find a good match. This is her horoscope," narrated the father.

"We have also visited many temples for this purpose," added the mother.

The girl was keeping mum lamenting her fate.

Natraj started his analysis. The calculations were long as the client was bit old. He was also referring to the old almanac and compared the horoscope. Then he started explaining the reasons for the delay.

"The principal effect of mars planet and its position does not favor an early marriage. However we can find a suitable match of same category. That will be done very soon before the end of next two months. You may bring such proposals to me as soon as you receive one. Nothing to worry."

"Papa, there is a call for you from my elder sister," shouted his second daughter, Mala.

The clients settle their fees due and were seen off.

Natraj was not in a hurry to attend the phone since the call was from his unmarried eldest daughter employed as Junior Telecom Officer and attending a training in Northern part of the country. She is more than 30 years old, without any planet of mars effect. The second daughter is unemployed. Third daughter is uneducated.

Still he never thought of solving their problems through astrology.

...concluded.

Vocation

2006-03-14T06:19:00.000-08:00

Rural Economy. Gross Domestic Product. Per Capita Income.

These things are meant for the economists and planners only. They have nothing to do for the rural poor and illiterate mass of India. They plan their own budget for their own family. They do barter. Some become rich. Beget more children. Work hard without even a little botheration of the so called globalisation. Their economy stood on the agri field and livestock alone.

Guru was a young boy of twelve years, born with five brothers and seven sisters. He was the last child. So he had the privilege of studying in the local school. His elder brothers and sisters had not gone to the school. Some of them were married and had children older than Guru and studied along with him.

His parents were big farmers in the village toiling in the field from morning to evening. Some elder brothers and sisters also assisted them. In addition to the large land holding, they owned large number of cattle which include cows, bulls, buffaloes, goats and sheeps. But a pair of bullocks were given special treatment and meant for pulling the cart only. A thick black belt in their neck adorned with a brass bell would give rhythmatic sound based on their speed of walk. The cart was used to transport the biological manure to the fields and carry the members of the family to the nearby town for purchase of grocery and animal feeds. The livestock also included a big population of poultry, roaming around either in pair or a hen with number of chics in while yellow color rolling like a ball missed in the badminton court. In addition to the livestock, there were three male servants to look after them. They were treated at par with the cattle as far as the work and food is concerned. Sometimes the latter were better than the former with regard to the rest and liesure.

Guru had natural liking for the servants and move closely with them and pass his time after school timings. They also like him very much as he was the youngest child of their masters.

That was a developing extension area of a big town resembling country side with few big buildings standing like palm trees in a barren land. The roads were not formed. But still we could call them road by constant use of vehicles, and cyclists. The smoke of dust follows every vehicle, taking its own time to settle in and around the locality including the houses nearby.

A name plate shining in brass letters written in bold capital as S.Gururaj, B.Sc.,B.L., Asst. Sessions Judge welcomed persons entering the palatial building in the area. A pomaranian dog in white color also welcomed with a squeak barking voice to inform the master that someone has come to see him. The dog also runs here and there inside the compound wall and sometimes whirl around faster than a top. The activities of the dog revealed that it is very kind to play with and not dangerous animal. The fur was well groomed and the haris were also clean. The abundant white creamy hair covered the face and legs. The sharp pointed face and feet were the only identification that it is a living creature.

Except the pet and its voice, none of the occupants were seen. That serene atmosphere indicated that there were no children in the home. Begetting children for a few couples was a difficult and impossible task.

An official car arrived in front of the house. A middle aged man in a safari suit came out and got inside the car. A lady came out and seen him off with a wavering hand. The dog as usual whirled around and greeted him with a barking noise. A name board in front and back of the car revealed that the occupant was a judicial officer of the local court.

The village life for Guru was not charming. Since he is the last child, he was utilised for all menial jobs such as fetching some urgent requirements from the local grocery shop. Still he gets special treatment as far as the food items are concerned. He was the only boy to get all rare eatbles, fruits and sweets which are not easily available in a village.

Harvest season would make the people of the village very busy. Even the servants in Guru's house would abscond suddenly leaving the job and cattle unattended. They have not signed any contract like the modern computer wizards. They left their job at their will, to earn some livelihood in the harvest season, to the nearby areas. That is the time for Guru, to be put up in the job of taking the cattle to the nearby grasslands for grazing. He had to discontinue his studies and take care of the cattle. The close association with the servants had also helped him to manage the cattle with ease. A lunch pack containing the remains of previous night in a brass vessel will be ready to be caried. He had to forget the fresh food served by his mother during the lunch recess of the school. He had to keep his bag containing the books and notebooks aloof in a cupboard and forget the studies till the return of servants to their job. He had to join the other boys from the poor families of the village in taking the cattle together. He had to wait in the hot sun looking after the grazing cattle and running goats in search of fresh leaves from the thorny bushes till a siren heard from the far off textile mill to tell him that the time is over to take back the cattle home. He required minimum cloth to wear unlike the neat school dress.

The life of Guru went on like this, by discontinuing his studies in every year for brief period whenever the servants abscond. He was also an obedient son for his parents to take up the job of looking after the cattle during their absence and went to school whenever they are present. With the alternate assignment of student and cattle boy, he could somehow complete his studies in the school and went to college.

The shuttle service of the official car from his house to the court and back was very regular on week days. The judge spent his time after attending the court, in writing judgements and orders. His wife used to be busy in watching many serials of single prolonged scene with family sentiments. Sometimes she felt embarrassed to see a family with many children and relatives in a TV show comparing hereself lamenting aloof, without expressing her sentiments to her husband, as a devoted wife of middle class family. The sedantary life of couple had paved tha way to inherit the favoured diseases of blood pressure and diabetes which made them to visit the doctor often. Otherwise they were confined to the house only and played with the dog.

It was a Saturday morning.

Guru's wife woke him up.

"Dear, please get up. It's already six"

Is it six. Why don't you call me early?"

"Since you slept late previous night, I didn't want to disturb you."

"But my profession never allowed me to roam around freely in daytime. The twilight is meant for the people like me, actors and politicians to move alone freely."

"I'll wake you up early tomorrow. The dog is waiting to accompany you."

"All right. The coffee is ready? I'll refresh and come soon."

He went inside the bathroom. The dog was wagging its tail waiting for his master to have a stroll with him. That creature is also bored of the confinement.

"Come let's go," saiad Guru patting the dog.

He came out, dressed in white colored T-shirt, shorts and imported shoes, with a long chain to restrict the freedom of his pet.

They both came out of their house for a morning walk.

The dog started running ahead of him pulling the chain tight under control of his master.

His thoughts flashed back. Started thinking of his younger days when he used to take many cattle to the grazing field without binding anyone even in a single rope and controlling them with a stick and high pitched sound.

Now the cattle had been replaced by the dog.

What is in a name, when the job is same.

..concluded

"

SILLY AND SENSELESS

2006-02-21T06:12:00.000-08:00

A female swan.

A small enclosure especially for animals; a dam or weir.

A large feather; a flight feather; a quill; a cuttle-bone and at last but not the least, an instrument used for writing with ink or otherwise.

Yes, I meant the PEN.

I never knew that the three letter word had so many meanings till I searched the Chambers Twentieth Century Dictionary and also I did not have the habit of solving any crossword puzzle to know all the meanings. Though I would not venture into the outside world without a pen, I saw many people virtually begging for the instrument in railway reservation counters, bank premises, post offices and government offices. Some people had chosen a casual attire of wearing T-shirt and jeans to purposely avoid carrying a pen with them as the fashion world did not permit to stitch a pocket to house the 'big' item.

In case of ladies, it would be difficult to open their hand bag and search various apartments staked inside the bag amongst the debris of hair pins, safety pins, a hankie, a pile of bit papers with a list of groceries, bills and dried flower petals since there would be only a small refill used as a pen.

I have omitted to mention the evolution of pens in modern days. The present generation had forgotten the instrument used for writing with ink. The word, writing with 'otherwise' was carefully used by the author. Faced with a great problem of disposing the used ball point pens and refills strewn all over the streets and fill the dustbins in the offices, everywhere we would find possession of dried refills refusing to do its ordained duty of writing when necessary in the schools and offices. Some of them even leave half signed names in vital documents and instruments in writing, getting emptied like monsoon prediction.

After my retirement from a government job, I was feeling bored to stay in my home alone. My wife and daughter used to leave the house early to their offices. Standing at the entrance, I watched the adjacent goverment office of civil supplies department. Illiterate poor mass from the different far flung areas of the town used to throng the office which issue ration cards or for addition and deletion of names or change of residential address who have shifted to earn their livelihood. Some neatly dressed people were also found for surrender of their cards on getting their transfer order to other places. But they were only a few, like flowers on a poorly nurtured rose plant.

An idea suddenly flashed into my mind. I thought of helping the people who are in need of writing an application for various purposes. In the evening, I went to the office after the working hours and collected the information required to be submitted in case of different categories and purpose. I spent a few sum to get the applications typed and copied in the nearby xerox center. Of course, a peon in the office was also helpful in my eandeavour for a paltry sum which may not fall into the category of bribe, rampant in all government offices. All the above job took about a week and now I was well prepared to meet the public demand from the next week and also decided to charge a reasonable cost for the forms and my work. Anything supplied free will loose its value as in the case of municipal tap water in the streets.

That was a Monday. I was ready even before my family members, for my new self employment venture. My daughter was looking at me as a stranger and asked me, "Dad, what happened to you today?"

My wife said,"Your father had become old and lost his mental balance. He is sitting idle and that is why he behaves like this."

I kept mum since I did not want to disclose my profitable venture of helping the public and also earn some money. I thought of maintaining the secret since my service will be over before they return home in the evening. A portable table and chair was also ready for my makeshift office. After my family members left, I sat on the street near my house in front of the table equipped with a writing cardboard, blank forms and ball point pens. The business picked up more than I expected and there was a rush to purchase various applications not only from the poor mass but also from the other sections of the society which constitute unemployed youths and employed servants.

To my surprise the ball point pens were not sufficient for the reason that many of the clients were coming to me without a pen. They were also forgetting to return them, especially the educated populations, since all of them were in a hurry to finish their work as soon as possible unlike the lethargic employees of the office, talking to their neighbour collegues without bothering about the irritated citizens in long que under scorching sunlight.

But that was not the case of poor mass who get my pen for signing their names only and took their own time to draw their caricature called signature learned like drawing a crow or cat in school. They obediently return the pens or keep it safe on my table even without making a little sound of placing it on the surface and depart from me with folded hands and bent body like a bow.

I had decided to procure the cheapest variety of ball pens to meet the shortage as well as increase in business. That was a small investment as like other forms and stationery. I used to get annoyed sometimes on the learned propulation who forget to return the pens borrowed to meet their urgent need. Some were wise to lend their pens retaining the top cover, giving the pen alone. What would they do if the ball pens have no cover on top?

The business went on very well, with a good earnings from my self employment, except for the small loss of pens and increasing annoyance, which is inherent quality of any old age person.

One day, I noticed that the pens purchased were all intact and few were also lying on my table. But that were not of mine and they included some costly jotter pens. None demanded a pen from me and my clients were using the pens lying on my table forgotten by some of them. Day by day the numbers of such pens increased and I had stopped purchase of pens.

Demand and supply in any business could not be predicted accurately. Same was the case of income and expenditure whether the business, small or big.

I did not get annoy afterwards.

..........concluded

2006-02-17T06:43:00.000-08:00

Blog Directory

My dear Associate

2006-02-10T05:48:00.000-08:00

Mr.Ravi, 45 has tried umpteen times to get rid of that awful association, but failed miserably. He got himself associated at his tender age, starting out as a trivial pursuit, without much thought. There was another inane reason. His voice was queer, resembling to opposite gender. By getting into this association, he thought, his voice may become masculine, by constant practice and repetition. He wanted to roar like a lion, but turned to be pussy cat. Wished to speak like a hero of the present age in celluloid screen but was like a eunuch.

His ignorance and innocence landed him closer to the association without achieving the desired result. The number of practices increased manifold and expenses as well.

Meanwhile, he was employed with good remuneration to cope up with this association. After getting married only, he could realise that the association is an arch enemy of his better half as well as to the ladies in general. In this part of the country, we found that no female member is having the habit of getting into this association even for fun.

The resolutions on new year, birthday and all important days to disassociate went in vain. The disassociation did not last longer than a day or two and again the bond got more dear and near. The pleasent association became hateful. Pass-time transformed into waste-time. Someother new habits of consumption of tea and coffee were an outgrowth of the association. Petty quarrels and intrigues persisted in family life.

He had to give a serious thought to cut off from the association. He went through various books and health journals to know more and more. Instead of showing ways to give up, they only taught him fear and agony.

At last, he resolved to take a break from the present vocation and search for a job which will make him busy and does not allow him to spare anytime. He was also searching for an office with more discipline and rigorous regulations which deprived him even an approach to the association which he wanted to give up. He had to lie and make his wife believe that he is getting a good job with better pay and perks. After convincing his wife, he resigned from the job.

He could secure a job in an educational institution through a recommendation from his politically powefull friend, who knows his plight and apathy. The institution was a renowned college known for discipline. The college was located in a sprawling 50 acres of land in a remote underdeveloped corner of the city. The approach road was narrow and the college buses only ply to transport students along with some trucks for transportation of goods. Only two small boutiques in front of the entrance was catering the needs of visitors to the college campus with tea, snacks and confectioneries.

The campus was neat and tidy. The sweepers were on the job throughout the day and even the withered leaves were not found on the avenues. Absolute silence was maintained during the working hours except the blast of siren sounded to remind the teaching hours and recess.

He was offered a job in the administrative office based on his past experience. A personal computer and an intercomn equipment occupied a portion of his table. The office was as clean as the pathways. The neighbours on both the sides were middle aged ladies manning despatch and stationery departments respectively.

"Good morning. I'm Ravi. Joining to-day"

The ladies also receiprocated in unison.

"Good morning"

"Is there anyone to supply tea", he asked.

"Yes. You will get only one at 10.30 a.m. from canteen", said the lady, "if you want one now, you can take permission from the office manager and go out"

"No. No. I will have it at 10.30"

He wanted to have a tea, but controlled himself. As explained earlier, this habit is an outgrowth of the association. To forget the feeling, he plunged into his work.

The siren blasted to remind him of the tea break at 10.30 a.m. Ravi was tense without any refreshment.

"Madam. What about tea?"

"I think", she replied," that the maid has not come to day. You can go to the canteen and have it."

"But it seems that the outside shop is nearer to the canteen"

"Of course. You can go and have it there also"

"Thanks. I am coming within the break"

He got up from the seat and reached the outside shop. There was little rush, filled with drivers, conductors and other office assistants. He ordered for a tea and after taking it, he felt very tempted to join the association. There was also a group of friends behind the shop standing in a fog of smoke. He has no other way than fulfilling the temptation. Afterwards he took a menthol based confectionery and returned to the office.

When he took his seat, the ladies were looking at him like a stranger with a smile, with an implied meaning, which he could understand. Probably, a smell emanating from him could be the reason.

The days went on. As usual, the resolution has been given a go buy. The purpose for which he got a change in his job failed. He could not leave the association. He was compelled to go often to the outside shop.

One day, the Manager called him and advised him, not to leave the seat often and go outside. He also suggested that he can have any refreshments in his seat like others in the office. Probably he is not aware of Ravi's association.

He could feel the pinch of the advice from the manager. May be due to some information he got thorough office assistants who were watching him in the shop. He felt embarassed and sat on his seat disgusted.

"What happened, Sir? Any problem" Enquired the lady.

"No nothing Madam"

"Then why are you sad?"

"Sad. Me. No. Not at all."

The lady could understand the picarious situtaion.

"You go out and refresh yourself"

Suggestion came from the other lady.

"Refreshment. Hmm. No more refreshment."

"What happened Sir. Did the manager scold you?"

"No. He didn't. He only advised me."

"Advised what?"

"Not to go out often."

"By the way, why are you going out often?"

"..........."

The lasy smirked and said, "I know."

"How do you know?" asked the other lady.

"My hubby is also like him. I tried to change him, but I couldn't."

"Please stop it madam. From this moment, I won't get up from the seat", said he.

Ravi was a bit nervous.

Immediately, the lady said, "If you do that, I will get you tea daily."

"Hema, I will also share that expense", quipped the other lady.

"O.K. Both we will supply you tea daily at our cost. Is it alright Ravi", said Hema.

"I promise. I won't do it again", said Ravi.

He was firm in his commitment.

Reast of the day, he did not move from his seat except for the lunch. But he was dull and sober. The ladies were also busy in their work.

Next day, when he was working, the siren reminded him about tea. A cup of tea arrived on his table. The maid refused to receive the money from him.

Though it was difficult, still he could manage to sit in his seat and concentrate on his work. He did not venture into the old habit of visiting the shop outside the campus. He could feel immense happiness welling up deep inside him. His prestige did not allow him to return to the old habit.

The days passed by. The tea was served as usual. He was a man of respect among the ladies. He had somehow abandoned that association. He did not know how to express his gratitude to the two ladies who encouraged and enabled him to build up his self control and infuse self confidence to disassociate from the habit.

He did not want to loose the self respect among the ladies and go back on promise made to them, than meeting any other ends.

He remembered the two ladies with reverence throughout his life for helping him to quit smoking.

Counters

2006-01-28T21:44:00.000-08:00

Fast! Faster!! Fastest!!!

2006-01-21T21:15:00.000-08:00

Chennai Central.

Busiest railway station in southern peninsula.

Corporal Ashok Ram Khullar landed in a misty morning.

That was his first journey towards south India from Agra. He was also a stranger to the local dialect and culture. His wheatish complexion and Aryan physique made him more strange in the region.

He came out of the railway station with his heavy luggage without taking any help from the local porters. Someone in the past has already warned him about the porters in the station that they demand exhorbitant charges for carrying even a small weight and load it in an autorickshaw, which has to be hired compulsorily by the passenger.

He scanned for the military truck in olive color with an Air Force logo of concentric tricolor of the national flag. He could not spot it. So he thought it wise to wait in the external verandah watching the swarming humans, moving with selfish motive.

Though Ashok was in his civil dress, his haircut and smart look revealed that he is an airman on transfer from northern India. He was also tired of two days journey in the train.

He was desperately thinking deep about his fate to reach this city for no fault of his.

Ashok was peacefully passing his days, as a technical tradesman in Air Force Station, Agra. He was posted to a bomber squadron. The aircraft in the squadron was canberra. The british kite had helped India during the second war with their arch rival and made to severe a far off region into another independant country.

He used to roam around in the tarmac dressed up in overall, waiting to receive some aircrafts returning after their routine sortie. The pilot on his return from flight, used to brief the various faults and repairs according the tradesman.

"Engine! I could hear some rattling noise on the starboard side at 40K"

"Yes Sir"

"Electrician! The panel lights went off suddenly in the front during a manoeure. Then it came up."

"OK Sir"

"Radar! Your green satin was down during the whole flight after an hour."

"Right Sir"

After the brief, the pilots used to walk briskly to the hangar, with his helmet in hand. They were never tired even after two hours of flight.

Ashok used to attend to the repair, if it relates to his trade.

In Air Force, the shift duty is a comfortable one. If anyone works in the early morning for two hours, he get a full day relief from the duty. Normal working hours is only six hours. Other times are managed by shift duty personnel with a liesurely relief and complete rest. Still the aircrafts fly through out day and night without any rest. Only human beings require rest and recuperation, not the machines if they are maintained properly.

The billet and mess were located on the other side of the runway while admin office, maintenance hangar, electronics lab and workshop were on the opposite side of his residence. He was owning a bicycle to attend to his work since the blast pens to house individual aircraft during operations were very far and cannot be covered by walk. The accommodations provided to the personnel was very old used by the former imperialist forces. The toilet is also very old. That system was a deep trench type. The type which is not known or unimaginable to the present generation and require some detailed explanation.

A 15X20 feet trench with a depth of 10 feet is dug first. Then the pit is covered by cement slab at ground level. A hole of half a feet diameter is made with two steps adjacent to it. Then the wall is built around each one with a door to make it a latrine. There used to be rows of such latrines in a independant structure and a centre passage. The water has to be carried in a bottle for use. The taps are not provided for sole purpose of avoiding the trench to be filled by more water than the night soil. The system has worked for more than thirty years and continue to meet the requirement even at present. Bath rooms with taps were in another building.

That day was a early morning flight duty for Ashok. The alarm clock helped him at awake at 4 o' clock in the morning. He washed his face and got himself dressed up in overall and canvas shoes. That is a comfortable dress than the normal khaki uniform with a belt and shoe. He was right on time to see off four or five flights and came back at 8 o' clock to his billet.

He thought of taking rest after the morning habits and breakfast. He wanted to ease himself from the bloated abdomen filled with urine and stool. He removed the overall and changed into casuals. He took a empty beer bottle and filled with water. Then he walked towards the latrine building standing away from other residential billets. Since the normal working hours have begun, there was no rush and hardly few were there using the latrine. He occupied a room and closed the door. When he was about to ease himself, the cement slab gave way and lo! he fell down inside the filthy water and slushy night soil. He was shouting for help. People using the adjacent latrines could realise the mishap. They came out and shouted.

Immediately fire tender was called for rescue. The ambulance also arrived from the station health unit. Since the pit was not deep, he was standing in the mixture of water and stool. He claimed the ladder tainted in light yellow but surrounded with a unbearable smell. He was bathed and whisked away in the ambulance.

The message of mishap spreaded like a wild fire.

When he returned from the health unit, none was ready to talk to him even. They were treating him like a pariah and he had to dine alone in the mess. All the fingers in the station pointed towards him, reminding him about the unfortunate incident. He was unable to tolerate the behaviour of his fellow airman. He was left alone in the billet, mess, tarmac. Even the routine work was not allotted to him. He had no other way except to meet the Commanding Officer and ask for a transfer to a farthest station. His request was acceded and at last got his transfer to south through a telex message from high command. He was also relieved immediately. Thus he arrived at the Central Station awaiting for his Air Force truck to take him to Air Force Station, Avadi in the outskirt of the city.

"Are you an airman?" A young man in Air Force uniform enquired.

Ashok came back from his pensive mood. "Yes", he said.

"How much time we have to search you? You could have stayed in the platform. Already half an hour is over in search of you. Are you posted to Avadi or Tambaram ?"

"To Avadi. Where is the truck?"

"Come then. The vehicle is parked on the other side. Pick up your luggage.",the driver was very quick in his speech as well as action.

Ashok followed him with his luggage and climbed inside the truck through the rear side looking like a balcony. Some people inside the truck also helped him. The truck had no seat and the personnel had to stand and travel usually.

It was a short journey and the truck entered the main gate of Air Force station, Avadi.

After a short check and entry at the gate by the Air Force Police, he was dropped near a billet.

He entered inside the billet with his luggage to occupy a vacant cot.

All the occupants were curiously watching the newcomer.

One sikh among them asked in his native dialect.

"Friend. Where are you coming from?"

"Agra."

"Are you from # Squadron?"

"Yes"

"Are you Cpl.Ashok?"

He was astonished to hear his name.

"Yes. I am"

"Oh! You are the man who fell in the deep trench latrine."

He met a thunder. He felt ashamed and sat on his cot without undressing, in a desperate mood.

Concluded.

New Moon

2005-12-28T05:56:00.000-08:00

Though the majority are black in the region, I have an inferiority complex on my color of the skin. Still I could somehow get an employment in a state owned bank with a handsome pay and quick promotion to a supervisor cadre which I never recognize. After seven years of service in the cadre, I got my transfer to a temple city in southern part of the country.

When I joined the branch of the bank as an officer, I could observe that the ratio of female to male staff members was two is to one. The counters in front of the branch for customers including the cash counter was filled with many lady staff members of wheatish brown complexion in the age group of less than naughty thirty. The smell of fragrant jasmine flower bunches in full blossom, adorned their black hair passing through their posterior neck, could attract more customers from the main road. The color of their skin was akin to the golden chains worn by them identifiable by some movements of their body by reflecting the sober light in the banking hall.

I am aware of the past history of the temple town. People from the north western region of the country migrated to this southern part during a dynastic ruler of their region, with a vocational job of weaving handloom fabrics and hence they are colorful unlike their counter part in the south. Slowly they have transformed themselves into the culture, dialect and customs of the migrated part. Still oral communication continued in their own mother tongue among themselves.

I was offerred a seat behind the counters near the rear wall, to authenticate the transactions . The smoke emanating from the incense stick inserted in the photo frames of the mythological gods was conflicting with the fragrant smell of jasmine flower from the front side.

The eyes and ears of mine were put into more attention than the nostrils and I was busy in my job to clear off the rush in the banking hall. However a chuckle disturbed me and I could observe that it was from a lady in front, murmuring to another staff and looking back at me for a moment. Though I was little annoyed, I did not show my resentment, being the first day in the branch office. The lady was also pretty good. My concentration was on my busy work though the grumbling continued till end of their job on that day.

The days transferred into months. I started getting acquainted with staff members especially with the menial cadre as they are the back bone of fast and efficient service. Someone used to jocularly say that they walk about five miles in a day inside the bank. Computer networking and the latest softwares were not introduced then. Still the grumbling continued with a bigger laugh among the pretty and her friend. I have decided to put a full stop to that since the main point of contention seems to be of my color as their sights often flashed at me before the grumble.

I called my subordinate.

"James, go and order three cups of tea"

"Three cups! For you alone Sir"

Burst of laughter in my vicinity.

"I wo'nt say now. Go and order"

A boy from the nearest tea shop arrived with three cups of tea after few minutes.

"Keep one on my table and give them two cups", I said, pointing towards those two ladies in front.

"Why suddenly? Just now I had", said the pretty.

"If it is free, I can have any number."

Her friend interfered. She was not a fair like the pretty.

"What about others, Sir?", quipped the subordinate.

"OK. Order for them also. Let it be my joining party.",I said.

"May be for to-day. But we require a bigger party", suggested the pretty.

I wanted a pause since the customers were all looking at me.

I said, "OK"

The pretty acknowledged with a smile for having accepted her suggestion. But her neighbour stared at me.

The days went on and the tea-boy started bringing three cups always whenevr one among us made an order and the payment was shared by the three in a regular turn.

The grumbles have completely stopped and frequent smiles replaced them.

My inferiority complex faded like a moon on the wane and started liking the acquaintance of ladies, that too, of a pretty good lady.

From my childhood, I used to keep away from girls thinking of my color. That only helped me to concentrate on my studies in a way and improve my knowledge though my inner instinct wanted to be friendly with girls.

As an adolescent boy, I used to suffer alone thinking of my color and inability to love any girl as some do at their young age. I used to think that they are lucky ones. When some one talk about my color and make fun of it, I get perturbed and hybernate for many days without any normal activity.

But now I am rejuvenated by the acquiantance of the pretty lady in my mid forty. I could look at her eyes deep and straight. She started getting up and come to my table for silly doubts and petty matters. The fabrics she wore, graze me sometimes when she closely stand by the side of my table. The other friend could watch the closeness of ours and started keeping aloof with a greedy outlook and grumble has switched over to the otherside girl friend. Other staff members were mute spectators witnessing the evolutionary changes in our friendship.

I started paying attention to my dress and had a close shave daily. Gentle behaviour and generous hospitality gravitated my thoughts always to her, mutually reciprocated in equal manners. Greetings and smiles amused me to greater heights with a scant disregard to my dark complexion.

That was a day of auspicious function for the ladies only. The function celebrated among higher caste Hindus, while others in lower strata were not aware of it even. The name of the function is not even known to the illiterate and rural mass.

Since I came early to the office, I was eagerly awaiting for my pretty good lady. She arrived in a beautiful attire, in golden yellow colored silk saree with a maroon border and a matching blouse, in a plaitless hairstyle loosely tied in middle covered with hanging bunches of jasmine flowers like a silver cascade over black shadow of long hair and a golden necklace with no contrast to her sleek white neck supported by a long chain.

She cacme straight to me and wished me , "Good morning"

There was no response since I was astounded by her angelic look. I slowly replied,"beautiful"

She could hear, I think.

"Really", she said.

Gained with a courage, I told her that she is looking like a full moon moving slowly in a clear sky in summber nights.

Suddenly she laughed louder.

"Full moon...me" She laughed again.

"Yes",I said, enjoying her beauty.

"Do you know that there is a nick name for you when you joined our branch."

"I don't know really"

"New moon" - she was laughing.

I was offended beyond limit and shocked to realise my inferiority in color.

She was explaining the purpose of the function and prayer for long life of her husband.

My ear turned deaf. My entire thought was to go home and shift my family.

....................concluded.