Category: Fiction

Disclaimer: All the characters and events in this story are FICTIONAL!!

Grand ideas that later became turning points in Human Cultural evolution cannot always be mere accidents. Making ever so subtle changes, one little chip at a time, like the gentle handy work of a sculptor, TIME has made us what we are today. Thoughts that changed the world, are nothing but years of culmination of small yet strong ideas. This may be the case but there are exceptions. Some powerful ideas that shaped and pivoted the path in which civilization had progressed, were simple accidents. This story is about one such accident.

It was around 2500 years ago, on a bright sunny summer day, a young ascetic was busy in his hostel room reading some texts he found in the village library. He was preparing for his first big presentation on the topic ‘Religion: Is it time for some updates?’ at a local college. He had not always been an ascetic though. He was in fact a prince. Yes, years earlier, he was a prince, of a mighty kingdom and was brought up in all the riches that one can imagine. Beyond once imagination actually.

His father loved him so much (frankly speaking: ridiculous levels) that he shielded the young prince from all the suffering and ugliness of the outside world. The young prince was offered all the pleasures that the king could provide. He eventually grew up in that make believe world, where pomp and glory were all that he knew. By the time he was in his youth, he already had sex made love (consensual) with almost every woman (of legal age) inside the palace doors. No incest though. He was not a Lannister.

One day, he and a bunch of his vagabond buddies, decided to escape from the palace and attend the village fair nearby in disguises hoping to score with the ladies of the country side at the recording dance programme. It was the young prince’s first visit beyond the palace walls. Once outside, he was exposed to the crude realities of life such as old age, death, people spitting pan on roads.

He returned to the palace, not before scoring with the ladies of the country side, and vouched to renounce the life of a prince and to travel the world seeking the truth and purpose of life. Little did the young prince know that day, that he was going to change the world, in more ways than one.

Back to the sunny summer day. He was still reading the strange texts that he found in the village library. His own ideology was very different from that of the Karakinkaras. However, he admired the ideas. For a moment he even thought that he could plagiarise few ideas here and there, but decided against it.

“Dude, its almost time for lunch. Are you coming?” His friend knocked on the door. He was completely engrossed in the fascinating texts by then. He comepletely lost track of time. Those were texts written at different times in history, by 33 Karakinkaras, mythical spirituals beings, speaking about radical ways to not just change, but to entirely topple and rebuild the existing social order. It was a mere coincidence that he came across them. The prince, now an ascetic, was in search of truth ever since he left the palace. He came up with several ideas of his own. He was going to make some ground breaking announcements at the presentation in a day. Ground breaking, like the announcement of the iphone or the ipod only a couple of millennia ago.

“You go ahead. I think I will stay for some time and read.” He yelled out feebly.

“What a nerd!!” His friend thought and left.

When the sun was setting that evening, the ascetic finally decided that he would go to the river for a swim. The evening weather was particularly pleasant. He took his favourite pink towel and went to the river. He undressed few yards away from the river bank and walked towards the river with the towel wrapped around his waist. Leaving the towel on the river bank, he dived into the river. He had no idea what was going to happen.

By the time he reached the bank, he noticed that his towel was missing. “Those stupid monkeys” his thoughts continued, “But this should not perturb me. Life IS suffering. The only way to escape this suffering is by dispelling worldly cravings and by following my six fold path.” The Six Fold Path is one of his many ideas that he was still developing. He kept adding and deleting folds from time to time.

His clothes were a few yards away from the bank of the river. Since it was almost entirely dark, the ascetic, after checking once to see if there was anybody around, decided to just go for it.

“Shame shame puppy shame. Shame shame puppy shame.” There was a sudden eruption of laughter. The ascetic looked around. For a moment he thought that he was just hearing things.

“Shame shame puppy shame.” This time the laughs were evident. It was a bunch of young college girls who were out for an evening stroll. Three of the five girls were really pretty too (other two, not so much).

The ascetic froze, completely nude, while three pretty and two not so pretty girls made fun of him. The girls were ruthless. The fact that the water was cold did not help his cause. He did not know what to do and so he simply froze. They made fun of him (and his), for some more time and ran off giggling. He then took his clothes and ran away from there. For several hours he ran naked into the woods. After settling down near a banyan tree, he got dressed up and sat in deep contemplation. He needed to find a way out of this mess. His reputation was at stake. He sat there deciding stubbornly that he wouldn’t get up until he finds a middle path through which he can avoid being remembered as the naked guy near the river. However, he fell asleep almost immediately. He was tired from all the naked running afterall.

The next morning he woke up when a singing bird, instead of singing, shit on him. As he opened his eyes in disgust, he saw a swarm of young boys and girls sitting around him. He checked to see if he was clothed and felt secure when he realised he was. But then the questions started:

“Are you the naked swimmer?”

“Are you on keto diet?”

“Is that your hobby?”

“Hehehe!!”

“Are you single?” and so on.

A rather naughty young girl even asked, “Will you come today also?”

The young ascetic felt utterly overwhelmed, moderately humiliated and slightly flattered. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. He then spoke, while still closing his eyes, “That handsome, well built young man, might be resembling me. But I assure you my friends that it is not me. However, I had met him, as he came this way, running naked and spoke with him for several hours.”

“What did he say? Will he come today also?” It was the same girl. The young ascetic paused, blushed a little and continued,

“He is a 34^th and the last Karakinkara, who is the greatest of them all. He came to consolidate the existing knowledge in the ancient texts and present a new faith to the world.”

“Why is he naked though?” the naughty girl was very persistent. Her priorities were in different areas.

“Because young girl,” the ascetic continued make things up as he went along, “that’s just the way he is.” Then he got the idea, “He is showing the world, a way of renouncing material possessions. He achieved victory over the earthly desires and conformities. He is a great hero in that sense.”

“It felt like he just froze infront of us. If he such a hero, why did he not punish us?” Another girl, who saw the ascetic’s naked body from a distance asked. She was one of the unattractive ones. The ascetic had to think fast now.

“Because young lady, his philosophy is entirely based on non-violence and forgiveness. That’s just the way he rolls baby.” He dodged that bullet (Even though bullets did not exist back then)

They seem to have believed what he said. He was off the hook. Or that is what he thought until a rather stout young boy stood up as asked,

“How do you know all this? Who are you?” He seemed sceptical of the whole thing. “How do we know that you are not the same person.”

The ascetic thought about punching the young boys, voluptuous belly, but decided against since he was also proponent of non-violence.

“I am not the same person. I am here to make a presentation at the religious conference.” He stumbled a bit. The naughty young girl pounced on this opportunity.

“Then I’m sure that naked guru would be there too. Otherwise, why would he be roaming in this part of the country at this time.”

Everybody looked at the ascetic now. He was in a tough situation. He thought for a moment and realized that he bit more than he could chew. All he wanted to do was detach himself from the embarrassment, blame an imaginary guy and move on. However, he now had to prove publicly that they are two different people and not the same.

Thus began the genesis of two of the most revolutionary faiths that to this day and age, had made lasting impressions on human society.

That day, the young ascetic made not one but, TWO presentations. As himself, with clothes that is, he presented his draft thesis after adding and deleting some of those folds. Members of certain royal families who were present in the audience, immediately found themselves drawn to the ideas the ascetic presented. They endorsed him. He won the people’s choice award that night. The critics, who mostly were from the creamy layers of the existing social order, hated his guts.

After his presentation, he ran back in to the dressing room, changed his hair style, tying it into a bun of sorts, dis-robed entirely and came out on to the stage. He was received with thundering applause (both from men and women). There was some whistling also, perhaps from that naughty girl. As the naked ‘hero’ he presented the ideas that he had read from the texts of the Karakinkaras. It was mostly about being non violent and vegetarian. There were some random thoughts about not brushing teeth and not bathing regularly but the crowds gave his disgusting looks.

Apart from that, the presentation went well. Huge gatherings of rather hefty and wealthy communities in the audience liked what he said. They immediately made him sign contracts. Even though he pleaded them not to, they took him around and introduced him to everyone in their housing colony. He was nude the entire time.

That is story of how, on that fateful day, the young ascetic, who was once a prince, became the founder of not one but TWO faiths. Faiths that would stand the test of time. One might wonder how all those people were fooled? But, that’s how disguises worked in olden days. Pretty basic stuff actually. Go and watch any black and white movie if you want.

Note: Legend has it that there was a secret society that knew of the secret of the ascetic and his double role. For generations, they kept the secret alive by keeping it a secret in total secrecy. However, in the year 1998, a member of this secret society by the name EVV Satyanarayana, made a documentary titled ‘Aavidaa maa aavide’ loosely based on the story of that young prince who later became an ascetic and two GODS.

Rudolf walked into the living room drenched and shivering. He had never seen it rain like this before. It seemed to him as if mother nature was trying to cleanse the country after all the sins that were committed in the past few years. Thousands of people were killed mercilessly. People were betrayed by their own leaders. Rudolf wasn’t one such leader.

“Where is the kid?” he said standing in the middle of the room as he left a puddle of rain water dripping from his over coat. The old wooden floor squeaked as he walked around inspecting the family photos.

“Downstairs sir.” the servant came running and took Rudolf’s jacket and hat and offered him a towel. Gently rejecting the servant’s offer, Rudolf walked towards the basement door and held his breathe before holding the cold door handle. He was burdened by heavy guilt and began to feel judged already. He said a small prayer, took a deep breathe and walked in.

Ten year old Benjamin Franklin was the last one alive in the family. The family that lived in the same house and managed the entire estate. In broad day light two weeks back, the men in uniform barged into the house and killed them. The family was in the attic going through old photo albums while Ben was in the basement feeding the firewood into the furnace. Only Ben as alive by the time they left. His sister, a smart 12 year old was shot in her neck when she tried to protest. The attic floor soaked in the family’s blood. Ben was found two days later by a local farmer who worked in the estate. He was too scared to take him home so he left him in the basement and contacted the secret society that was helping people leave the country.

Ben was writing his journal sitting near the furnace when Rudolf entered. He did not turn back thinking that it was the servant. The basement was warm because of the fire. Rudolf could listen to the rain outside. It had been raining for the last three days. The walls have become damp and the air was moist.

“Hello Mr. Frank.” Rudolf said after clearing his throat. Ben looked over his shoulder without turning back.

“I am Rudolf. I am here to help you leave the country.” Ben did not say anything but turned around and waited for Rudolf to continue. He did not recognise Rudolf. Not many people knew what the brother of the ruler looked like.

“That is, if you are willing to trust me. I am going to do all that I can to help you.”

“Help me?” Ben spoke for the first time in several days. He felt calm. Rudolf seemed like a good man. He needed someone to trust.

“Yes Mr. Frank. It is not safe here. I insist we leave right away. There’s a secret passage in the woods towards the southern river and I have my men waiting there with a boat. It wouldn’t be long before the dogs know about you. If they do, they’ll be here within a day.”

“But it is raining Mr. Rudolf.” Ben said pointing at the ventilator whose glass window was soaked due to the rain.

Ben’s sharp eyes reminded Rudolf of his younger brother. As a child, he was gentle and kind. Now, now he had become a monster to say the least. Power had corrupted him. He and his group of trained killers, the dogs as they were called, were solely responsible for all the cruelty that was going on in the country. They were also responsible for the killings of Ben’s family. That is also why Rudolf wanted to personally see to it that Ben was sent out of the country before the dogs found out that he was alive.

“How can we go now? It is raining heavily.” Ben said snapping Rudolf back to reality.

“It would help if the rain had stopped but we don’t really have a choice Mr. frank.”

“Please call me Ben. That’s what my sister used to call me. My mom called me Benny.” he said leaving a lump in Rudolf’s throat. He wanted to tell Ben that he was the brother of the person who was responsible for his family’s death. He wasn’t afraid of being hated. He hated himself more than anyone else. He was only afraid that the kid would no longer trust him and that he wouldn’t be able to save him. Guilt is often too heavy to bear.

Rudolf and a group of his students from the university decided to save as many people as possible and help them leave the country by sea before his brother, and the dogs caught them. As soon as he came to know about Ben’s situation, he wanted to personally assist his escape. He knew that it wouldn’t be long before the dogs come back. The rain could only delay them.

“Ok Ben. Get your things now. We must leave immediately.” Rudolf said trying to change the topic. He did not want to remind the kid of his family. This kid doesn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation. Lives are at stake. Rudolf did not care about his own life. It was the kid’s life that he wanted to protect.

“You know my mother used to sing for me when ever it rained. I wasn’t allowed to play in the rain because of my pneumonia.” The kid said without making eye contact.

“Oh.” Rudolf did not have anything to add but he knew they had at least till sunset to leave and it was only noon. Even though it was dangerous, Rudolf decided to stay and talk. For the next couple of hours they sat on the chairs, looking at the fire inside the furnace and talked. Rudolf mostly listened as Ben spoke about many things. He was very smart for his age. But he was a very stubborn kid. He kept insisting that they could leave only when it stopped raining. Strangely he believed that he could control the weather.

“You just have to ask it.” He smiled. Rudolf looked at his smile and felt the urge to protect the kid at any cost.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah but it won’t listen to everyone. You need to have a good reason.”

“Who told you?”

“My mother.”

Rudolf wished it was that easy. But it was getting late and they had to start. Just then the servant walked in and informed them that the belongings were ready and packed. Rudolf looked at Ben and saw a scared little kid. He had to do something now.

“Aren’t there any raincoats and umbrellas in the house Benny?” Rudolf asked.

“Did you just call me Benny?” The ten year old started to cry. He was alone. All alone. Rudolf realised that Benny was how his mother addressed him. He was mad at himself for making the kid cry and immediately hugged him. Ben was shivering. He must survive. He must leave the country.

“Okay Mr. Frank. I have never done this in my life, but since you think it is that easy, let me give it a try.” Ben looked up wiping his tears. It was still raining. Rudolf walked towards the glass window of the ventilator and for the first time in his life, began to sing,

“Rain rain go away…
come again another day…
Little Benny wants to play….
Rain rain go away….”

Within the next half an hour, after three days of continuous downpour, the rain finally stopped.

*****

Aftermath:

Benjamin Franklin managed to escape that day and managed to lead a life in exile in Pakistan. He converted from one Abrahamic religion to the other (Judaism to Islam) and called himself Basha. Basha Farooq. His journal was published later as “The dairy of a young man” but it was not a best seller like his sister Anne’s diary which was published as a book.

On the day Ben was sent away in the boat, Rudolf was caught by the dogs and his younger brother Adolf sent him to a concentration camp where he was the subject of several experimental drugs. Rudolf often sang the song in his prison cell. He died later the same year.

“So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.” – John 16:22

“I don’t think I can do it.” She kept repeating the same thing over and over.

“You are overthinking sweetheart.” said the voice on the other end. “He needs to die. Take care of it and collect your money. We will meet you there.” the call got disconnected. She felt a lump in her throat.

She was hired to kill a man three weeks ago. Jack McBrayer. A rising star among the environmentalists in the country. The media loved him as he was extremely intelligent, young and charming. A research fellow from the state university, he was instrumental in the court ruling against the Mercury poisoning of tens of lakes in the southern states. After becoming an instant hit overnight, he was called in to fight against waste disposal in the northern hills by the fertilizer company. He readily obliged unaware of what was waiting for him.

When she first met him in a pub, he was attracted to her grace and charm. She was beautiful. All she had to do was seduce him and kill him, making it look like an accident. It was a difficult task but not for her. But it is a strange thing this Love. Happening to the most unlikely people at the unlikeliest of times. Each time he touched her, she felt his hands touching her soul and not her body. She was surprised at her ability to fall in Love. For two weeks she put the mission on hold giving her employers all kinds of reasons. He was always under public attention. Attending meetings and giving lectures. The children followed him everywhere. She was running out of time.

After dinner one night, they walked in the cold on a rugged path covered by the lush canopy of the Deodars. She thought about telling him the truth but could not bear the idea of him hating her. He looked at her like no one less did. Deep down she knew he deserved a lot better than a prostitute turned killer. She already killed seven people. She wanted to become a better person because of him. Love can do that to anyone. She was in search of redemption in the midst of Love and Death. It surely gives so many things, Love: Joy, compassion, kindness and redemption. But the biggest is undoubtedly, suffering. Nothing gives suffering to the soul more than this madness called Love.

“If you do not do it tomorrow during the trek, I will send someone else to take care of both of you.” her instructions were clear.

She knew that her dream wasn’t going to last forever. She had to eventually wake up. Her past will keep haunting her no matter what. They woke up early in the morning and started to pack their things. It was only the two of them. He seemed more determined than ever. This wasn’t like the other treks that they went on during the past couple of weeks. He was going to collect water samples from the springs near the factory outlets. A place prohibited for general public. He needed proof. It was her job to prevent this from happening but she ended up accompanying him.

It was still dark when they started and all throughout the trek, she could not stop looking at him. He held her close not letting her take a single wrong step. He was an expert mountaineer and she was an amateur. She did not know if he loved her the way she did. She did not want to know either. They took a few breaks in between mostly because she was exhausted. He poured her hot cups of tea and they both sat in silence looking at the sunrise as the clouds began to descend upon the valley. It was a dangerous trek and where they were headed, the cliff was steep which meant one wrong step might prove to be fatal. That was why he insisted he went alone but she was stubborn. She looked at his face in the silence and decided there that no matter what happens, she was not going to harm him. She would give up her life fighting for him but would never let anything happen to him. Love can give that kind of courage.

Within a hundred yards from their destination, they had to shift trails in order to reach the factory outlets and the path was dangerous. They could hear the springs from a distance. As they walked one step at a time, a shikra, an indigenous bird of the mountains flew past them, throwing her off balance. She slipped and twisted her ankle. Instantaneously, Jack tried to grab her arm and push her away from the edge but lost his balance and slipped off the edge. It all happened so quickly that when she looked into his eyes as he fell, time froze for a few moments. He for the first time seemed helpless and scared floating in mid-air trying to latch onto anything that was within reach. But the efforts were in vain. Jack McBrayer, the 32 year old, who gave meaning to her life just fell off a cliff into the thick canopy below while trying to save her life.

She could not comprehend what just happened but knew that it was impossible to survive the fall. When she looked around blankly, a group of people were coming from the factory. They looked at her from a distance and waved at her. It was the men who hired her. They were watching them from a distance and were now celebrating as the mission was a success. Jack died in a trekking accident while trying to enter uncharted territories on the hills. He would be remembered by the people as a beloved activist who lost his life doing what he loved. But not by her. Jillian Michaels, who loved him more than anything else in the world, looked at the men walking towards her, then looked at the sun, which meant so much more just a few minutes ago, then looked down into the valley and jumped. As the cold mountain air brushed against her face, she closed her eyes and saw his smile, his hands and his loving eyes. She begged for his forgiveness.

Weeks after the incident, it became clear that it was impossible to retrieve the bodies of the couple. The authorities however set up a committee to study waste disposal units in the factory and its report suggested that the factory was causing irreparable damage to the ecosystem there. Children in the villages below sang during the winter months sitting around their night fires, songs about the brave young man who died fighting for them and a young woman who gave up her life for love.

Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetch a pail of water, 

Jack fell down and broke his crown,

And Jill came tumbling after.

When he woke up, it did not take long for him to realize that nothing has changed. His breakfast was by his bedside which means that the maid had left for the day and that he was alone in the house. His father passed away three weeks ago from a heart attack and his step mother was unavailable and frankly, he wasn’t even expecting much from her. She never cared for the boy. She was already claiming the property and her only obstacle was the custody of John. He was a burden. He was a lonely boy. She was a nurse and that was how she met John’s father. A rich businessman who lost his first wife to a fire accident when John was just two years old. He took care of John with everything he had. The poor kid inherited type 2 diabetes from him along with all the property. He often fell sick and so was always under supervision and a maid was appointed to keep track of his diet and exercise. By the time he was eleven, John became an outcast. He chose to be an outcast.

It was a day after the funeral that John first heard his father speak.

“Johnny…” it was as if his father’s voice. John looked around but there was no one. He was going to slit his wrist when he heard that voice and he stopped. It was as if his father asked him to stop. He was protecting him.

It might be Dementia where people experience hallucinations and such things leading to suicidal tendencies, the doctors thought. They asked John several questions. When the voices first started and whether he was seeing things too. They were sure that the boy needed medical care and that it was better to shift him into a facility when he was still curable. After all, he was an eleven year old boy who lost both his parents. He needed care and attention. But John thought otherwise. He believed that his father was with him. He once felt his father’s touch when he tried to jump of the roof. He was sure that no matter what, his father will protect him.

The step mother was never convinced. He is a spoiled brat who was seeking attention, she thought. One the day the family doctor was going to arrive, she woke him up early morning and ordered him to behave properly and stop with all the father non sense.

“He is dead John, we cannot live like this anymore. I am willing to take care of you but you have to help me. The doctor says he might take you to the facility after he talks to you today. Please don’t do that to yourself.”

She was not all bad. She wanted to help him, if that was even possible.

“How often do you feel like your father is talking to you John?” the doctor asked calmly.

“Every time I try to hurt myself. He is there to protect me and stop me.”

“Is that why you are trying to hurt yourself? So that you could talk to him again?”

“ummm…..”

“Can you see him now John?”

“I can only hear him.”

“Oh.. then can you hear him now?”

“No but if I try to hurt myself, he will speak and you can all listen to him. I am not crazy doctor. I know that it is my father. Give me a chance.” He pleaded

“You know we cannot let you hurt yourself John. That is not how this works.”

John started to cry. He knew deep down in his heart that it was his last chance. If at all his father was really there to protect him, this was the moment. They will take him away from his home. All he needed was a sign. He prayed.

The doctor looked at little John and felt his pain. He knew the kid from the time he was born. He made an arrangement. He would give John a chance and if that were to fail, he should accompany him to his clinic and cooperate with the treatment. John was more than pleased. His father would not leave him at a time like this. His step mother walked into the room along with a friend and all the three stood around John as he sat in his bed with a jar of sugar in his hand. He then looked around the room, prayed for one last time and pretended to take a spoon of sugar and put it in his mouth.

“Johnny Johnny…” the voice was loud and clear. Tears started to fill his eyes but he was still smiling.

“Yes Papa…” he responded.

“Eating sugar!?” he was type-2 diabetic and was never allowed to eat sugar.

“No Papa…” he was crying and laughing at the same time.

“Telling lies..?!” John chuckled, mostly because he was relieved.

“No Papa…” He looked at the other members in the room proudly. His father saved him once again.

“Open your mouth?!” John could never forget that voice. He loved his father.

“Ha ha ha…”

“HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA…”

John did not stop laughing.

After five years…..

After John was taken to the psychiatric clinic that very evening, he was diagnosed with several mental ailments including memory loss, schizophrenia, dementia and slight Autism. John was immediately shifted to an Asylum where he lives today alone in his isolated chamber under constant supervision mostly sedated. One month after he was shifted to the asylum, his step mother married that friend and they now live in John’s old house with their beautiful daughter. John is still undergoing treatment for all the ailments and he is still not allowed to eat sugar because of his diabetes. Also, he got molested by a male nurse in the hospital due to which he often suffer from night terrors and social anxiety. He does not have any friends and he is allergic to the smell of rain.

The donkey seemed a little better but it was clear that his leg was still hurting him. The vet was hesitant while assuring about his recovery. It was old, frail and the injuries took a toll on him but he was a survivor, the man thought. He wanted the animal to survive. He did not want to trouble the animal so he carried all the goods on his back while it hopped its way on three legs valiantly. They started to hurry as it was about to rain and they had a mountain to climb and he knew the children would be waiting for them. Three girls, two of them twins. After his wife died giving birth to the twins, the girls were all he had and more importantly, he was all they had. As for the donkey, it was his wife’s companion. It carried her down the hill during her labor. It was a close friend. One close to her heart. So, he tried his best to take care of it. The little ones, the twins Inky and Pinky were the sweetest kids. Kind and caring. Like their mother, he often thought while he kissed them good night. He wasn’t so sure about the other. The elder sibling, Ponky.

Back at home, the twins sat by the fireplace, tired after a day of playing and doing chores and helping their sister clean the house. Ponky stood near the window looking out into the darkness listening to the thunders, trying to capture glimpses of the landscape whenever there was lightening. She loved her father. She was 7 when her mother died. She needed someone or something to blame but found none. They were not a family of believers. Her childhood ended very early. She became less interested in going out. Her father was dealing with two new born baby girls while grieving for his lost love. He did not realize that he was growing distant from his daughter who was a little too young to understand. She missed her mother and did not know how to cope up with what was happening. Her father didn’t seem to help either.

He was almost home. He saw Ponky looking out the window and glowing fire flickering behind her. He knew the twins must be playing and was excited to see them. Ponky walked away from the window and went to her room. She did not sleep with her sisters and insisted that she needed her own room. As soon as they heard knocking, the twins ran down stairs jumping with joy. They absolutely adored their father. They never knew their mother and didn’t have to. He was everything to them. He gave all the presents he bought them at the town fair and went to Ponky. She was reading. He kissed her cheek and gave her the new dress that he brought her. They spoke very little but the father felt she was the only adult in the house that he could talk to. He assured her that the donkey was fine and that the injuries were possibly due to some mischievous kids from the neighboring hamlet. He asked her to help him build a better fence in the back yard the next day. She nodded and the family had dinner. Silently like always.

The donkey was tied inside the barn in the back yard. He was growing old. The sound of thunder scared him and he was tired after the long journey. Ponky looked at the barn from her room. She took out the knife with which she tried to chop of the donkeys legs a few days back and walked down the stairs once again. She was a lost child. Torn between love and hate. She often shot squirrels with her catapult and once drowned a chicken in the river. Her father never knew any of this. Part of this might have come from him in the first place. He was an angry man. He left his wife during her second pregnancy after a loud argument. It was also on a rainy night like this. Now all he had was guilt and somewhere beneath that, love, for his daughters. On most nights after the kids are asleep he drank all night in the barn. He needed to move on but didn’t know how to. He wasn’t noticing what was happening to his elder daughter. His wife’s first gift.

Ponky walked to the back yard in the rain and opened the wooden door of the barn which shrieked, alerting the chicken. The donkey opened its eyes but was too weak to even get up. Ponky switched on the light and there sat behind the donkey, was her father. He was scared. He came there to drink his old bottle of whiskey and see if the donkey had its dinner. Looking at his 10 year old daughter who walked in to kill the donkey, he froze. Ponky was taken aback but wasn’t ready to go back.

“You know I will kill it sooner or later daddy.” she did not blink.

“Honey, listen to me. Give me the knife. We will go home and talk about this.” he tried.

“Talk about what?”

“Honey, listen.” 

She caught a chicken near by and stabbed it. He rushed towards her to stop her from hurting herself. Her knife cut his arm and it started to bleed profusely. Looking at what she has done to her own father, the girl started to cry loudly. He tried to close her mouth scared as the crying might wake up the twins.

“It’s okay. It’s okay let’s go inside honey.” he tried to calm her down.

“Daddy I am sorry. I am so sorry.” She kept crying and eventually fainted. He rushed her inside, lay her next to the fire and gave her some water. He never felt more distant to his family. He wanted his wife back and his guilt came crawling back.

Ponky slept next to her father that night. He could not sleep and kept thinking what he should do. He wondered what his wife would’ve done. She always knew what to do. He felt lost. He remembered the first time he took his daughter into his hands while his wife watched with content. Her tiny fingers, quivering lips and bright eyes. She had her mother’s eyes, he thought. He brushed her hair aside and covered her with a rug while it rained heavily outside . Looking at the innocent face, he began to realize how insensitive he was towards her. He treated her as an adult burdening her with responsibility that her little shoulders were struggling to keep up. He kissed her forehead and promised to himself that she will have her childhood back.

Inky and Pinky woke up early next day. The sun was rising when they came downstairs. They giggled looking at their father and Ponky sleep on the floor. They ran into the barn eager to see their donkey and play with it. They were heart broken watching it bleed a few days ago and now that daddy took it to the doctor, they hoped it would be healthy as ever and they could ride it like always. Ponky woke up surprised to see her father by her side. With his arms wrapped around her. He felt warm. She wasn’t this happy in a long time. So many things have changed since her mother died. Everything changed. They moved houses, changed schools and even bought new furniture.

“The kids need a fresh start.” he said to his family and friends. But it was he who needed a fresh start and it was time for that start to start. Inky and Pinky came in shouting. He woke up to see tears in all his daughters’ eyes.

Inky and Pinky hugged him and started  to cry.

“The donkey died daddy.. He isn’t waking up.. It is dead…” The night’s weather was too harsh on the beast and the poor animal could not fight back. He died in his sleep.

The father hugged all kids. Ponky wiped the tears off her eyes and said,

“I love you daddy.” 

It was at that moment he knew he was going to move on in life. His children needed good lives and it was up to him to make sure they do.That moment he knew that it wasn’t just the donkey that died, but a part of him that kept him distant from his daughters. With Inky, Pinky and Ponky in his arms, the father whose donkey just died, started to cry.

Soon after the doctors confirmed the illness, he decided where he wanted to spend the time he was left with. They gave him an year at the most. His children were skeptical, scared and hesitant but they knew that it was impossible for them to change his mind. There was an unsettling silence in his eyes when he told them about his plan to move in to their ancestral mansion out there in the mountains.

“One last time.” he said.

He had not ask for anything since his wife died and knew he had taken the right decision. He knew how much he needed that and no matter how much they denied, a dying, sick and stubborn eighty year old man is definitely a burden to the children.

During the first week of summer, he moved into the mighty mansion that stood a couple of miles away from the village overlooking the entire valley. He chose to stay in the master bedroom that was towards the western end of the building. Nurses were appointed and weekly visits from the doctor were arranged. Mornings were bright and warm with clear blue skies accompanied by calm and cozy nights. The old man spent most of the time indoors where an army of servants attended and treated him. Every once in a while, he went on early morning strolls, walking past the few small houses at the end of the boulevard that lead to the mansion. His treatment, even though could not alter the inevitable, gave him enough strength to put up a fight. He did not have much to do all day except read. However, each evening he walked on to the balcony in his room while the sun disappeared into the mountains. It wasn’t the crimson sky that he wanted to see. It was the woman who watered the plants in the flower garden below. She never knew that he was watching her but he was there everyday observing her every move, her gentleness towards the flowers and the freshness in her smile. He began to wake up in the morning only to wait for the sun to set.

Then came the rains cleansing the mountains and painting them green. She now worked inside the mansion as per his personal request to the caretaker. She was offered a hefty raise and a room to stay inside the mansion along with her teen aged son who was reluctant at first but agreed so that she would have a better life that he could never provide. The old mas saw her more often now and because of the rains, they mostly stayed indoors which left them with no other option but to explore each others company. She became his personal caretaker and stayed with him most of the time even though they did not have much to talk about. They often sat looking out while the woods drenched in the rain and spoke about the valley and the people. No matter how much he tried to make her feel comfortable, she still saw him as a stranger. He however saw her as one of his own, a very familiar being, someone very personal. He asked her numerous questions about her childhood, her life in the mountains and her son. She answered patiently talking about her mother, who also worked at the mansion until she died, her dead husband and her stubborn son. When it was her turn to ask, it was mostly about his life away from the mountains. He answered them calmly and elaborately even if he was tired. He told her stories from his visits all over the world. She began to pay attention to him and slowly began to see him as a real person rather than an old enigma. His voice often broke and sometimes he fell asleep in the middle of the conversation but she was a kind soul and took good care of him. They had supper together and she read him the bible at night. He did not care for what she was reading. He only wanted to be close to her and listen to her. See her live.

*****

By the time the rains started to recede, they grew fond of each other. She now moved into a much bigger room in the western corridor. Her son used the car to move in and out the village. She looked forward for the times she could spend with him. The doctors visited more often as he grew weaker. He struggled to speak and remained silent most of the time. He listened carefully to what ever she had to say. It was as if he was treasuring all that and saving it for a journey he was about to take. As winter began to set in, she spoke to him about being thankful and about the challenges and hurdles that god throws at people and how when it was all over, faith was what would remain. Such assurances were not new to him but he listened because she felt very dear. He used to close his eyes and give a nod when ever she finished saying something and looked at him for approval. She would then go on to the next story.

The villagers were not so kind about the happenings in the mansion. Such is the nature of the feeble minded. Being able to appreciate life and realize that all good things are good is not for everyone. They shared stories of the old man not all of which were true. The elderly folk spoke about how he had mistresses back when he used the mansion during the summer as a young man. Some of the stories reached her but she did not care to bother. But the stories continued to spread. They asked her questions whenever she met them. What was he like? Was he dying? What does he talk about? How much do they pay her? and so on. She paid no heed to all that was being said and continued with her life in the mansion. Her son too had to face those stories but unlike his mother, he felt the urge to defend their relationship and he often got into fights trying to. He often argued with his mother. Young blood. The old man had no idea about the stories that were in circulation down in the village. He was glad she was with him. Coming to the mountains was a good decision, he thought. She was the only reason he wanted to live.

When winter started to be merciless, the old man’s suffering became severe. Every time he moved, it hurt. He became pale and the wrinkles on his face barely gave way to his expressions. His skin became numb. All that he could feel was her touch when she took him on to the balcony every evening while he closed his eyes and tried to feel the soothing winter winds. Four weeks into winter, he lost his voice. He could no longer call out for her. His children came to visit one weekend but he insisted they leave within two days. She understood his muffled voices and attended to him patiently and gently. He often wrote thank you notes for her. His shivering hands made the notes clumsy but she treasured them and often showed them to her son.

*****

On a cold night, she was taking a nap, tired after reading the bible to him. He wanted to stay there watching over her. He looked at her face while she slept and noticed how familiar she appeared. She seemed to be having an anxious dream. She was breathing heavily and kept making rapid eyes movements. He wanted to sooth her and so he took her arm into his hands. He began to gently brush away the hair falling on her face when all of a sudden her son walked in. He became furious and in a fit of rage, pushed the man away from her. She woke up to all the commotion and stopped her son before he could make a second attack. The servants sent the mother and son away that night. They never returned.

She felt a tender indifference to the whole thing. Often looking through the tiny window of her room towards the mansion, she wondered what he would be doing. She wondered if he could survive without her. She missed him. He stopped coming out of his room, not even to the balcony. He was bed ridden and was not sure what to look forward to after waking up.

It was the coldest night of the year. Villagers sat around fires and told stories to each other, some of which featured the old man. Inside the mansion, he was in his bed breathing heavily surrounded by his family and doctors. She curled up in her bed, worried about how he would survive such a cold night, having no idea about what was happening in the mansion. She starting praying.

The next morning was surprisingly bright and warm.

“Summer had come early,” her son predicted while having breakfast.

News of the old man’s death did not seem to deter him. She too remained quite all morning until there was a knock on the door. It was the servant from the mansion with a sealed note. She took it, immediately recognizing the writing that was unclear, making it clear who the writer was. She read it, came back silently to her seat and thought about the last time she had cried in her life. It was when her mother died. She never knew who her father was and never really cared, until then. Her son came and took the note from her hand and it read:

“Sorry child. Sorry for not telling you that I am your father and sorry for being such a horrible one.”

Day 0

Since I am going to talk about yesterday, I thought it would be appropriate to call it day 0. To begin with, hi there, I am Inch, the caterpillar as people here call me. I will one day become a monarch butterfly, which is you, for whom I have decided to write this journal. Why? Why do the butterfly that I will one day become need to know what I have to say? Hopefully, you will find out as you read along. In case you haven’t come to know by now, 9 out of 10 larvae of the monarch butterflies end up remembering our days as larvae even after our apolysis, that is our transformation into a butterfly. However that is not the case with most of the other caterpillars. Once they form the pupa, what comes out of it is an entirely different being who would have no memory of its life as a caterpillar.

Then why should I write this for you if you are going to remember all the events anyway? We shall search for the answers as we take this adventure together. Firstly, it was Cynthia who talked me into doing this. There is a lot to talk about her but that can wait. Let me first introduce myself to you, my future self. As I have said, I am Inch and I was born in the Mulberry garden to the east of the lake; the thick bushy garden with the giant oak tree at the center. Like most of our kind, I too didn’t spend time with my parents as you might now know, butterflies migrate often leaving their eggs behind for fate to play with. With not many caterpillars to care for at the mulberry, I decided to leave it in search of my/our father. It is only through the stories I heard of him that I came to know about his life and his whereabouts. It is believed that he lives in the milkweed garden on the other side of the lake; the direction in which the sun sets every evening. For whatever reasons, I decided to leave my old life behind in search of a new one, for me and eventually for you. At dawn yesterday, before the colony woke up to start their never ending feast of the mulberry greenery, I embarked on this journey. It was tiresome especially because of my inability to move swiftly though the shrubs and because of all the predators. There were robins, sparrows and even slimy toads along the path and after an entire day I could only reach the lake.

Little did I know that the best was waiting for me; or that’s what I am hoping as of now. As the wind became colder in the evening I couldn’t take it any longer and decided to rest for the night. Just as I was about to wrap myself in a leaf, I saw a green colored caterpillar, definitely not a monarch kind, gathering leaves and berries. I followed him slowly as he returned to his burrow in the big tree with the black trunk close to the bank of the lake. I wasn’t sure what to expect there as I have never been outside my garden all my life and frankly I have no idea about the life of these outsiders. But because it was getting dark, cold and there was smell of rain that might show up any time, I decided to take a chance and boy wasn’t it a good decision?!

The caterpillar I saw was Morus, the best gatherer of leaves to the west of the lake, his words, not mine. But any story about Morus is incomplete without mentioning the love of his life Cynthia. Yes, I know you understand this feeling as now, you are a butterfly and you are capable of loving. But the thing with caterpillars is that not many of us have the ability to love. That is not part of the life as caterpillars we are expected to lead. We are supposed to eat, eat some more, then eat again to become fat and then choose a safe place for our apolysis and then cease to exist as we forgo our consciousness and identities to become butterflies who never even acknowledge our existence. But Morus and Cynthia are different. From this brief interaction I had with them from last evening, after being in the receiving end of their generous hospitality, and especially after what happened last night, I pray that my journey, which has now become our journey ends well, if not for me, at least for them.

As I was saying, after allowing me in for a quick bite and introducing me to his Cynthia, that’s what he said, his Cynthia, Morus took me on a short tour of the tree from where we saw the sun set. He spoke about how the few caterpillars in that small burrow came from different gardens there and they all are going to be different butterflies. He also spoke about how Cynthia is all that he has in this world and that she was all he ever wanted.

“We are not as lucky as you Inch. We are not going to be monarch butterflies. We will be the kind that cannot even remember our own lives.”

I did not know what to say to that. He seemed sad and just as Cynthia came in with a few more berries, he smiled and kissed her. They then asked me where I was from and where I was headed. I wasn’t sure if I should reveal all that so I just said I was out to visit the lake as perhaps find a new habitat for my friends back in the garden.

“Will you be joining us tonight at the event then?” Cynthia asked me.

“What event?”

“What event????” they both reciprocated in unison looking at each other wide eyed. “Don’t you know what today is? It is going to rain tomorrow, that means tonight there will be fire flies.” Cynthia said with a glow in her face.

I remember hearing about the night of the fireflies back in the garden. But now that I have been there to witness it directly, it was truly a spectacle. I accompanied the couple, Morus and Cynthia to the edge of a branch where they sat together facing the lake. I too joined them sitting at a distance not disturbing their moment but anxious to see what was going to happen. As I went on inspecting the surroundings, I saw several other caterpillars, beetles and other bugs in that tree sitting in groups on different branches facing the same direction. The weather was calm and the breeze, cold. Out of nowhere came this swarm of bees buzzing in perfect harmony hanging in the air. It was like music and then the truly magical thing happened. In that pitch darkness, one after the other, tiny green lights began to appear, growing in numbers by the second. The bees changed tunes as if they were in sync with the tiny lights, which were now flying in all directions. Morus and Cynthia were holding each other in silence and I, for the first time felt jealous because of my inability to love.

“You know inch… not all of us are as lucky as you.” Morus said signaling me to come closer.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, since we are almost close to our apolysis, our time together will end soon and even though we as beings continue to exist with a greater ability to love as butterflies, the moment we are out of that pupa, we become strangers to each other.”

Cynthia wiped the tears of his face failing to control her own.

“That is why I keep a journal where I write all that I want my future self to know to fall in love with this same idiot once again.” Cynthia said hugging Morus. “You need not do it right? You have the gift of memory. All monarchs do.” She sighed.

“You know not all memories are worth keeping.” I said.

“Ummm.. true. In that case you need to find the mad monarch in the west and create your memories by writing your own journal.” She said trying to laugh. I had no answer for her.

Cynthia and Morus seemed so endearing to me. I have never known what love felt like and I have never known my parents, at least in person but at that moment, they felt like family to me. I wanted them to be happy and that means together. We were in need of a similar solution from a similar source but are looking for two entirely different things.

I don’t know if I was carried away in the whole magic of the night or it was due to the sudden disappearance of the fear of consequences with which I had left the garden in the morning. The bees and the fireflies began receding and it started to drizzle when I went closer to them and whispered,

“I am not here as a visitor. I am a runner. I came out of my colony in search of my father.”

They were taken aback as it was unexpected.

“Who is your father Inch?” Cynthia asked while Morus waited for my answer.

“Danaus.” I proudly said. “I understand if you think I am crazy and I already owe you for all that you have done for me today. But I know what I said is true and I am going to cross the lake and find him.”

“Danaus!!??”

“Danaus..” I repeated.

“You mean Danaus, from Danaus-and-Petri is your father?”

“Yes.”

“Danaus, the mad monarch??”

“Yes”

“That makes Petrichor your mother…”

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

They looked at each other in what I thought was disbelief.

“You are now going to meet Danaus and you know where he is?”

“Yes, I know where he is and I will find him no matter what. I need to find him.”

A long silence followed. The fireflies left and all that I could hear were the rain drops falling on the dry leaves below. The winds became colder as the rain intensified,

“Then make some room Inch. You have two more caterpillars to accompany you.” Cynthia said

To be continued….

Three days since she last saw him. Even though every passing moment felt like a million years, she endured because she knew that the spark in his eyes when he walks in through that door will wash away even the slightest speck of dismay from her eyes. Which makes waiting worth it. But why did he go? and where did he go?

They met at the hospital where she worked as a nurse before she quit to move in with him. He came there with her little niece who was down with the flu. What happened between them later was a dream to her and brought a content smile on her lips whenever she thought of it. She remembers everything down to the last detail. Even though he only stays with her for two or three days every week now, her life was never this full. Growing up in a broken home with nothing much to look forward to, he brought with him a spell that changed her. A kind of change that she never knew was happening to her but began to feel and love after realising it in retrospection. All because of the way he looks at her. That adoration is what made her give herself to a man who is as much a stranger to her as he was her lover. A shadow and an enigma. He fascinated her and she loved it.

What she loves most about what they have is the amount of silence they shared. The way he touched her, hugged her, kissed her and brushed her cheek with the back of her fingers while she smiled with pride seemed to speak volumes. Those moments were poetry to her.

“How did I live before this?” she often thought. “What would I be doing now if not for him?” It doesn’t matter because she knew that he is with her and what they have is real.

She did however feel uneasy while kissing him good bye the last time. He stayed only one day and they couldn’t sleep that night. He still had those intense eyes but they seemed to hide something. Since they spoke little, she came to understand his silence more than he realized. His heartbeat sounded a little too anxious when she hugged him, hiding herself in his arms. His forehead was a little more moist with sweat while his eyebrows came closer due to an uneasy frown. But when she hugged him tighter, things came to normal. Or so she believed.

Three days later, she woke up early, got herself dressed up in a gala gown that he had bought her. She clearly remembers the way he looked at her the first time he saw her in that dress. She hoped any sign of distress he might have had the last time or he might have faced in these three days must wash away and make way for all the silent songs they sing to each other with their eyes. She put on her heels, decorated the living room with flowers and let her hair loose, just the way he liked. Expectation of what was to come was overwhelming to her. She sat in the chair dressed all fancy waiting without even realizing that she hadn’t eaten anything. Nothing mattered to her anymore. It seemed as if everything in the past happened because it had to lead her to this exact moment. It is her destiny to face him while he opened the door and walked in.

She dozed off soon but was prompt in waking up when she heard the familiar car drive in. She quickly rubbed her eyes and went to check herself in the mirror just to make sure she was how he would want her to be. Her cheeks began to turn pink as her heart began to sing ballads of joy. She realized that she fell in love with him all over again in these three days and that he was never really away. He was within her, she thought, while reaching the door knob when she heard the door bell ring. That is unusual. He always had a key with him.

A little girl was standing on the porch. It was his niece. Her eyes were swollen probably from lack of sleep or because she was crying a lot. His car was parked on the road at the end of the drive way with an older woman in the driver’s seat. No sign of him. The little girl came close to her and handed her a note, walked to the car and left. The woman in the car did not even look at her. Closing the front door from behind, she knew instantly that it was all over. She felt as if her body was set on fire and was about to melt. Her legs no longer had the strength to support the growing weight of her heart. As she collapsed on to the floor, she managed to open the note and read…..

“Please leave my daddy. We need him.”