Incomplete - 13 Murdered in Love - 6

As Sharada lifts her tired limbs towards her home down the village, her thoughts oscillated from past to present. Sharada had some horrid, unpleasant and a miserable feeling which was racked with sorrow, but through all of these all she knew was just to be Living was a Big thing. As she approached the lane near her house, there was a disturbed feeling, too many people around whispering among themselves. Unable to fathom the reason she increases her pace in the direction of her house wondering what has happened in her absence.
Swiftly she enters the room in which grandma lay speechless, motionless with flickering eyes. Her eyes rolled around the room and noticed newly wed couple- Meera and her Husband. Mute Meera had teary eyes; Sharada observed Meera really loved grandma. Before she could comfort and console Meera, grandma’s cough caught her attention. Her health was deteriorating drastically; a call for the doctor had already been made. Within minutes the doctor arrives and does a holistic checkup of grandma. Sharada, almost prepared to hear what she dreaded the most. The expression on the doctor’s face was convincingly and apparently reflecting helplessness. Doctor Ramakrishnan called Sharada in a corner and asked her to inform all the relatives that there was not much time left. With drooping eyes Sharada pulls herself, lets the news sink in. Doctor Ramkrishnan indicates to pray to the Lord for betterment of grandma and leaves the house. A sudden roar inside the house to be noticed, people have now started calling and informing relatives.
Grandma probably knows the consequence and calls for Sharada inside the room alone. They look at each other and with feeble voice they talk. Health now declines further, pulse rate slower, body movement minimum.
It was twelve in the noon and by four in the evening the eldest son of grandma had arrived with his wife. His eyes met that of Sharada and were pleased to see her. His first words were “Good you came here.” He entered the room where grandma was lying down, fast asleep. He held her hand and sat quietly. By the night almost all the close relatives had arrived except for those resided outside the country. All the neighbours and people of the village close to grandma refused to go back and stayed back inside the house praying for her health.
It was now two in the early morning when a car arrived at the entrance of the door. They were Sharada’s parents. There was a strange mixed feeling, it had been years they saw or even heard Sharada and now they met in such an unpleasant atmosphere. Confused whom they must attend first- Sharada or grandma, their minds make a quick decision; hugged Sharada and proceeded towards grandma’s room.
Grandma is alive, breathing, extending arms, recognizing her sons. At around five in the morning another car stops at the main gate. Jai Kaushik, his wife Madhuri and his kids- Dhruva and Dhriti get down from the car.

Incomplete - 12 Murdered in Love - 5

Locked inside the house for so long, it was time for Sharada to breathe a new week beginning and venture out. Fear plays a big role, and its true, the more the distance and running away from reality will bring it even more closer and proximate. As inside, nothing had changed outside. The day started the same way as it used to 20 years back. She recollects the early morning mist/ fog, Sharada and Rema collecting milk, running around the village, enjoying little games of marbles etc
The real world had coffee shops, malls, pubs, beaches and all these in villages were susbstituted by temple premises, water pond shores. These were predominantly places where women gathered and gossiped. Some visible changes were women had started driving and riding, once dominant with high caste so called “brahmins”, the line houses were also rented out to “hindus”. Festivals in the village were widely encouraged, participated and appreciated by all hindus. The monopoly, isolated, rigid tag for the community as a whole had vanished. Overall the originality, the smell of the sand, the camphor fragrance, the raw temple floors stood same without much modernisation. With slight changes in the basic structure of so called upgraded village everything remained unmoved, unaffected, passive.
Sharada had ruffling up in the store room, was looking for something and there she found, her cycle and the walking stick. Her memories of Grandfather was very little, and one was this. She was glad that she was the only grandchild to have been able to protest grandpa and get things done in her favour. It was her eight grade, Kerala was a vacation destination and it was then when cycle was introduced to her; she was the first girl to bravely pedal; grandfather was just against all these and especially girls / women- the rationale behind this is nothing to do with suppression, it was about general fear of accidents. On that account he hit her with the walking stick.
Sharada would not dare to do it now, however, a child in her would’nt stop and she stepped out with her cycle, of course this time not pedalling but strolling it along. Her dream was to walk along the way to her college. The roads led to a brick making factory, the smoke and emission gave a weird smell, however, the girls loved it. None knew how it was made, but the heating process and the pyramid made out of all this raw materials excited her. It is still the same, Sharada amused to herself. A verternary hospital; queuing up cows, bulls, some had dogs this time. As she climbed up the hill towards her college, she remembered how some girls had entered an isolated big house only to steal mangoes. With a smirk on her face she continues. A weird feeling, as Sharada stood in front of the college gate, strikes were a very common phenomenon earlier and so was the case even now. As she touched the gate railings, she stood motionless without expression.
Sharada moves back as all the memories are action replayed. Some places are not meant to be retunred because they always remain with you. If not for the suspension, things would have been different for Sharada. The sub plot in her life to get murdered in love, would have been a late entry.

Incomplete - 11 Murdered in Love - 4

A fastest week ever; such were the pace of some instances in life. By the time you look back you are almost reaching 35; the trend now is “life starts at forty” so it is reassuring that one has 6 more years to grow to start a life ;)
World is very intelligent around; one can be assessed by the kind of colours and clothes worn, the wrist watch brands, how neatly one has polished shoes, how the hair is kept – straightened or highlighted, these are enough for a person to be packaged into a box. These boxes are – enterprising, high potential, hard-working, calculative, presentable, deep, superficial, articulate, aggressive, go-getter, energetic, young, mature, immature, negative, emotional, positive, over confident, low morale, team player, leader, supportive, creative, rationale, logical and the list goes on. Now all these reflect in your personal lives too.
If everything is right with a handsome packet; nothing is wrong in one’s personal life. There will only be compliments; support in times of hardships, support in times of injustice and all kinds of support will follow through.
If some things are right and some things not so right; a packet not handsome yet okay; then the discontentment continuous. Sometimes you will be supported, sometimes you will be discouraged, sometimes you are the best and sometimes there cannot be things as worse as this.
The last one, nothing is good so obviously there are no complaints because nothing is good anyways.
Is there an analogy to this? Yes right, the rich, middle and poor gap. This happens on a psychological level inside the mind and that mental framework goes down to action as you try to live out a balanced life.
To start with we are all essentially “Gullible” people, in order to protect personal identity, we run around good, medium and bad and give it a definition “attitude”. It’s the way a situation is handled, reacted, responded makes us fit into any of the above categories.
In the said situation, a likely promotion slips to a non-deserving team member and if the deserving candidate happens to break-down, that’s it; beware this will be framed, which ever box, but the conclusion will be “very low attitude” or “low spirited attitude”. On the contrary the deserving person congratulates the winner, its termed as “good attitude”, the person has all the potential to go places. The subject of fear does not enter the mind, as the thought is for a long term success viz a viz the short one. And then person with neutral or no reaction; there are signs sent out “be careful”, there is one out there, can go around scheming.
Now split this as just a situation or an incident; then the person in the prior reaction is framed into a “low spirited attitude box” this is only for that moment and this should not be concluded as his/her character. But unfortunately the human tendency or so called mind is so naive that such framing affects the mind and the victim believes that this is due to “low esteem” and starts to work against an emotion which perhaps is just a throw and wrap case.
Suppressing an emotion leads to lot of complications. There is no right or wrong to this; it is how the system is functioning. And this is known to all or at least heard of.
In school, many must have gone through this act called “by heart” or “ratta maaro”; some chapters are just useless, you can’t figure anything out of it. This will eventually pose as a definite question on the paper, so students just memorise it and vomit the same on the answer sheet. (Hope everyone remembers the effects from a scene of “3 Idiots”); some of these will be remembered even after 20 years. Classic examples are poems; songs; proverbs etc. These don’t change; they stay, the more you rehearse the better you get at it.
That is how the case of “framing or boxing” is; very hard to change a mind that has fixed and categorised a person or the character based upon a certain incident. There is no chance of change or given a benefit of doubt (oops...wrong word) unlike what happens in compositions, or prose, one can change. Reiterating a phenomenon of a form or structure will after a long time become that phenomenon.
Similarly in love one ends up prioritising, giving importance to the partner involved - a catalyst, who enables the so called ‘heart’ enters ‘mind’. Love is indeed an art, a very creative and intelligent art. It can make you think what you are not. It can make you become what you are not. It deceives criminals like you and me. Here it is a murder by killing the very feeling of originality. This murder is committed inside a human body to begin with. It actually works on mind than heart. It can make u dream and on the same scale bring you out of it. Love becomes so powerful that in the end it defeats you. All these play a very vital role in your professional and personal life.
Sharada technically can be compared to dry leaves..... that sway exactly the way the wind blew. All it required was repetitive iteration “three times” by the other person and she would start coining herself, seeing herself just the way others saw her; not realising so called “others” can also be wrong. She would introspect and started viewing her identity simply how it was perceived by others. A tendency to harshly interpret herself; by the way, this also has a box “I am hurt stigma” “cry baby” “self pity” “seeking attention” “emotional”......enjoy, choose the best.
People don’t have time to read gloomy and teary things; all they want is a fast paced thriller or comedy or life inspiring, motivational books. Because all whatever is written here does not interest, gives tiring signals, the person behind this note is also so sad, upset and experiencing harsh things; so by far, very difficult to catch hold of one’s attention for the longest time and write to them “truth” because they are inadvertently facing them.

Incomplete - 10 Murdered in Love - 3

Nirmala, Meera, around 20 relatives plus some villagers prepare to leave the house; conclusively Nirmala had implemented her plans to precision and had set up everything at the Guruvayoor temple. Just about six days and Sharada was witnessing "love-run-shut" case; mute Meera forced into a wedding to a stranger. Some things don't change; one of them being the so called "roots", its profoundly engrained into the psyche untouched by time. Currently in this instance “caste” playing the perfect criminal, banished Meera to marry the man of her preference. It is highly inhuman to expect Meera accept the “groom-to-be.” As Meera prepared her second innings with a stranger, it became evident in her repertoire that all she could go was this far, prove herself by running away. Meera had lost all the strength and was in no mood of conversation. Silence was killing but it communicated many things only understood by Sharada. The ‘air’ in the house was becoming heavier; the only thing Sharada wondered was there anyway she could help Meera. Difference of opinion kept racing in her mind, the same question in all ‘tenses’ sprang frequently; however, she eventually detached herself. It was important to help but it was also important to allow them to help themselves.

The current instance called for getting locked up for some more days, for Sharada. Nirmala arranged for a care taker to look after grandmother. Nirmala invited Sharada for the wedding; evidently Sharada excused herself; for the same old reason of some memories attached with some places and Guruvayoor was one of them. Sharada saw Meera leaving the house with blessings from grandmother. That’s it! Meera's eyes were wide open and she had set out to be a part of a strange world. A world that’s cruel, harsh, insensitive, unkind, heartless….

What will happen to her? She will also live. Like everybody else. May be work, have kids......but she will ‘Live.’ And about the boy; he will also ‘Live.’ That is what it is to "love" ....straight jacketed answer, people will move on and live and live another life. Nobody today has the time to wait and waste time thinking about someone. Broken one cannot go beyond two months, it is superimposed by "good moments" shared between two people; ask why it didn’t work then the answer is "they had different things to do with life"; "we cannot be happy in marriage"; "everyday life is important to me, our concepts of love is different"......Sharada wondered how did grandparents and parents live a long married love less life?

There wasn’t any specific agenda that called Sharada's presence in the working world, so in spite of her running away spree, she stayed back and mulled over all details.

Before Meera left, Sharada overhead some relatives suggesting various beauty tips; like applying turmeric paste before bath, cleaning up of unwanted hair using an eraser, applying appropriate oil and shampoo on hair - just imagine, pushing someone into undesired act to please and be presentable. It’s sad an auspicious occasion like marriage has come down to only to prepare the girl to be attractive. The days of describing woman’s beauty, dressing her in gold and “pattu saree” so that she ignites positive energy and spreads radiance is the feature only attributed to bygone era. People can be just insensitive; but may be there is a lesson to all of these; may be it is an opportunity to fix up things and the “faster the better.”

Sharada used to enjoy marriages especially she loved singing and every function had a mandate of mikes. She probably made love to a mike more often than the man himself. She would just run and grab it, it didn’t really require anyone to persuade her. One such occasion, when her uncle was getting married all her cousins from different cities (Mumbai, Chennai, Ahmedabad etc) were home. They would sing in Hindi, Tamil, Malayalam, sometimes Telugu. English was very rare. One of her cousin's Uma was standing uneasy with tears in her eyes; of course Sharada being the oldest of all intervened to understand the situation. By now the girls’ strength had increased and there were about seven already trying to listen to Uma. She had a terrible stomach ache, it was a quick realisation, without any hesitation, Uma was pulled and taken inside the house; they all knew what the problem was. As Sharada readied a cloth piece and explain things to her, from nowhere came out a white rectangular cotton pad....Sharada was surprised to learn something like that helped women viz a viz a piece of cloth.

It was not a matter of exposure or awareness; it was more something to do with experimentation. Its like all these finite details are borrowed and followed within the household as it is inherited; and the bar of excellence is up to a "mother" and her encouragement to children how and when one should experience. Few things in life are excusable; one can blame the place and family. So Sharada convinced herself also with this reason and that widened her horizons. This passage is also to showcase how vulnerable, innocent, ignorant Sharada's upbringing throughout has been. Everything was black and white; and alas unaware of the conspiring world.

Sharada questioned, and answered all the questions. She wondered how women like her grandmother knew everything about all these. Some stories made deeper impact and one from the pages of history was this, Sharada had read that "Temple" structures and carvings on them were a way to educate woman. Men had the liberty to acquire worldly knowledge by indulging, socialising and reading; this exposure was limited when it came to woman. A man and woman relationship was understood and learnt from the little carvings on the temple structures. Marriage immediately calls for begetting kids, but talk about the process of creation and grandmother would give dirty looks. It was not in the books of women to familiarize their own kins with these things.

Meera belonged to now and her exposure to things would be much more than what Sharada had and all the more a reason for her forthcoming days to be good. Just wishing her the best and praying god for all the good things, Sharada had gone to bed, this time at 10pm.

Incomplete - 9 - Murdered in Love - 2

Let’s take a reverse gear and sneak into little things during our school life, which then of course mattered most. To buy and preserve ‘baer ke phal’, mouth watering ‘pan pasand toffee’ and waiting for some surprises exchanged in the form of colourful ‘ribbons’ are some of the common reminiscence of the school days. Each second guarded waiting at a place and ensuring every action is beyond suspicion from that of teachers, parents, fellow mates and even neighbours. Liberty of wearing wrist watches was though attributed only to the working class, the time was ticking just right for “us” – it was the new beginning - the first “puppy love” ‘Love letters’ existed and so did ‘love messengers.’ Only to prove that the person in love was more important than others, some messages were blood written. All of this existed unaware that everybody around is watching and noticing this development; unaware that this has become the talk of the town, unaware that grades are depreciating, unaware that parents are alerted. In order to get complete sanction to hold hands and walk around, a test has to be passed; prove your ability to score and score a distinction. On the Day of Judgment when results were out, you find the name on the "toppers list". Timely success blindfolds everything and intelligent people around strategically plot against world's precious feeling called "love", it’s rubbed as infatuation. The next thing to life is to score and this time score the best degree ahead. Taking a clue from epic movies, there exists concept of "waiting" and "waiting for that day"............a long wait only to realize that the loved one is settled somewhere happily with his loved one. Love after all is not about the hugs and kisses, but about the chills that hit every part of your spine when you think about them. Love is strange; it greets you as a stranger only to remain a stranger throughout. Another one, a phone conversation ignites and boils down to desperation within the love minds; a possible meeting in the evening will be disrupted, as the boss stands villain at the work place. The second step of "love", the adamant one, "only to outdo and correct one's perception". Dressed exactly the way to impress and get continued attention, breaking all norms, feeding all the lies, it thrills to bunk office in the afternoon only to meet him and duly come back to attend the missed schedules. Fight out all odds and end up marrying the guy only to find that everything seemed to be just a dream. Learnt to see the imperfections perfectly... aaauch that hurts. Then another form of love, which is termed as "soul partnerships"; everything is felt, heard, dreamt; believe it or not, it will exactly happen the way it is. The "Bhagawad Gita's", "Ramayana", "Mahabharata", "worldly things, positive things, "white" will be the colour; songs will be eternal, peace and only great conversations. Salt and sugar will be proportionate. Holidays will be in serene places, Himalayas will be a dream. A priceless moment and timeless love is born. But it vanishes, where doesn’t know. Then there is "one sided love"; bet "men" will beat "women" on this. They will continue to love, forgive, forget and help only to keep the woman. The ones into this will go through unimaginable levels of happiness only to see the wonderful day come true. Appreciate and empathise then it will be the mistake of life; neglect and it will turn out to be rude; neutral, the hope continues. “Materialistic love”. People fall in love not with the person but with status, standard, wealth and fame. This kind of love however, last longer than imaginable. The reason being all the wants are satisfied, life becomes self centric and one hardly gets time to think what has been missing.
Then there is “internet love”, “trial and test love”, “open love”, “friends forever love”, “unconditional love”, “conditional love”, “possessive love”, “obsessive love”, “love of beauty”, “love of minds”, “love of conversations”, “spiritual love”, “analyst love”, “assessment love”, “sun sign love”, “horoscope love” and the list goes on.
There are concepts of love – Selfish and selfless; Freedom and Possession.
The new trend (borrowing words from a conversation): “Love” is the biggest brand in the world, greatly marketed by Archie, Hallmark and of course Yash Chopra. “Forever Love”, “Long Lasting Love”, “First Love” etc.
Finally “ambiguous" love stories. The reason to start the relationship will be weird; from friends it will convert to brother, then it will convert to affection, and then convert into care, will convert to love. There are many roles to play, one of a friend, sister, mother, lover, wife (brother, father, husband) and god knows what. But then roles are limited so once the interesting “zing” goes away then there is no continuation to it.
Give 100% in a relationship (gender free)
• Be honest – they let you go• Be loyal – they feel suffocated• Be emotional – they don’t want moms• Be a lover – they don’t want “high maintenance”• Be level headed – then its convenience• Be articulate – then it’s manipulative• Be nice – then its diplomacy• Be a reminder – treating them as kids• Don’t remind them – not taking care of them • Fight – not in the line of frequency• Don’t fight – take advantage of the situation• If fat – loose weight• If thin – gain weight• If slim – don’t wear revealing clothes• Smoke and drink – easy picks and drops• Don’t smoke or drink – very traditional• Wear black – inviting somebody• Wear some other color – low color sense• Violence – its because they are short-tempered• Become aggressive – then its crazy• Joke – considered as no respect • Angry – not on par with humor • Take hurts – then no self respect• Take no shit – then egoistic• Spend – they disapprove• They don’t spend – because they don’t want to prove• Laugh and play – one isn’t serious• Serious – get a chill pill• Don’t have sex – infidelity• Ask for sex – maniac• Go the last mile to keep him happy – he isn’t happy• Don’t do anything to keep him happy – he isn’t happy either• If love does not succeed – there isn’t enough love• If it succeeds – then there isn’t love
On a starry night, holding each other tight and sitting on a verandah…..imagine with a sister; having candle light dinner...imagine with a father…..would it make any difference? If the feeling doesn’t change; then go with the trend. Concepts will change, love will change and suit according to the world’s needs…
Ultimately, love cannot be replaced as friendship.
Sharada fell in all the spheres of love; she wondered if she was Krishna’s Meera (epic); and her mind now slowly drifted to the real Meera in the house and she was trying to figure out her love.

Incomplete 8 - Murdered in Love - 1

Thoughts for the day:

"There are two kinds of people in this world, one who gives advice and one who takes";

"If you want to be happy, be happy, it’s in your hands";

Ways to go… and kick start a wonderful day.

Such proverbs/ axioms are very familiar and regular displays at the school or office notice boards. There is no doubt that experience of great people enables "ordinary people" to self motivate and lead a contented life. However, this comes with ‘some’ side effects; such inspiring text induces high standards and literally disables people to function the way they wish to.

A stark look at the students who perform terribly in exams serves as the best analogy to what mounted pressure does to students. Low grades resulting in low self esteem, low confidence and just getting categorized as non performers is sufficient to kill their aspirations. This is carried forward to later stages of life – both professional and personal.

Lets not forget cases of “love” and people going through relationships either smoothly move on to the next or just don't come out of it. Suicides; not offending anyone, but labeling it as a "cowardly act" is actually a defense - all in all to stop somebody from doing an act of crime to oneself. A priceless gift of GOD called life cannot be offended. All these are debatable, finally it ends up to the last thing, and life is to live and live happily...have an optimistic approach. The lesson learnt is, it is better to argue less else you will be framed of being “pessimistic – loser’.

Meera was back. The boy was very terrified, they were in two different rooms and police had interrogated them deeply - which the kids found difficult to take. The boys’ parents were there to take him back home. Somewhere the commotion had to calm; Sharada was there to negotiate and mediate every dialogue between the boys’ parents, police and other third parties. Sharada was very composed and absolutely rock solid without any reactions. As the crowd cleared, the house looked like a “place” after a heavy downpour. Sharada was exhausted, Meera was sleeping, Nirmala excited, confused yet relaxed, Grandma continued with her chants.

The fourth day, Nirmala along with some of her close relatives was having discussions with Meera. Sharada was attending grandmother. Meera was in a state of silence, she would not respond to any of their queries. "Just leave me alone" Meera would repeat these words constantly. As the day progressed, Sharada requested Nirmala and her relatives to give some space to Meera. It was best if she was left alone for few days. Sharada gave confidence that Meera would be back to her normal state if she was allowed to live the way she wants to. Though Nirmala would argue as marriage was haunting her mind and such behaviour was not socially acceptable. Sharada could do nothing but just try to strike a balance. It was an intricate issue and tricky to convince Nirmala, however she did attempt to pacify by buying time, till then some kind of message from boys’ parents would also arrive. Offensively Nirmala’s agony comes to surface for the first time when she utters "I would not agree for that"; "we have the right guy for her, and they can shift to a different city or place". Persuading her was becoming even more unattainable. All Sharada heard was grandma retorting "Sharada you don’t get involved here, just leave it"

Sharada had now become immune to many things; she would not allow her being to get hurt anymore. These kept happening and happening all the time; thankfully she had some good friends around who kept her alive. There were incidents of lies, betrayal, allegations, and people taking advantage!! Sharada understood that this wasn’t only about her life, many had similar instances; each one behaved differently. Sharada behaved differently and that is it. The act of suicide or self hurting was attempted by Sharada and she convincingly believed that these were not acts of cowardness but lot of guts. And if she hadn’t been successful, then it was because she wasn’t that strong enough. May be the moment of suicides were the most distressing realities to her.

She always stood up and remembered various realities, one about a woman who loved, married a man and lived life very normally until she had two kids; a boy (4 years old) and a girl (hardly a year). The man met with an accident and that was the end of his life; that left three souls in this world without him. They live, fight through all odds – the woman got a decent job, built a house, made engineers out of the kids, got the girl married and boy independent. The woman probably had an option or alternative – kids alive. The woman just killed all her desires and lived for them. But whose mistake is this? What if the kids weren’t alive? Or born? She would have another marriage? Kids out of that marriage? Another death? But “hope”, a hope of past, if the man was alive, he would have stood by her throughout, got the kids best of education (all subjective); may be give her all the satisfaction of life – financially, emotionally and physically.
Life is all about moving, constant, changing, shifting and probably adjusting. A girl pregnant with twins, on the night of labour goes through so much pain only to deliver still babies. Life is all about such instances. The most important thing is about people who live that life with memories; memories of the dead one's or bygones. Sharada always wondered how parents would react to find their only daughter dead and them alive… It’s all about LIVING and that’s why we are bestowed with this precious life!
But why live a miserable life? What is that one has to prove to the world? Who means the world? There is one tale of life written here, somewhere in some part of Trivandrum, Delhi or Neyveli there are other tales growing and all of them have a role.
But when you fall in love, you fall.

Incomplete - 7

It was now her third day in the village and Sharada was getting restless. In a jiffy her focus drifted to a different world- her world in which she lived, slept, breathed and survived. Fear and selfishness slowly crept in; it was important to stay detached. Grand mother's condition was deteriorating; and all she wanted to avoid was the last minute ceremonies and her relatives around. But she was running away from everything

To her dismay, Nirmala's current state was her tying down. She took forward her best step and got hold of the situation, not for anybody else but it served as cause to get away from the village. She picked the receiver of the phone and spoke to a high official in the police department to speed up the process and get the case attended on a priority basis. How did she manage to get such connections was not any miracle; she was just gifted that she had good friends around. In just half an hour the police arrived at grandmother's house.

Privately having conversation with Sharada, this time the investigations were more sophisticated; the team had changed and were holding interactions with people in the village. Nirmala got a little confident and now it didn’t really matter to her if Meera was raped or married; all she wanted was her daughter ALIVE. This was a great change considering the mental frame work the village people were in. Sharada was responsible for the inevitable change of attitude and took pains to prepare Nirmala for police confrontation. The only relief this time was that Nirmala heard her convincingly. The police had got some directions, a register office, background check on the boy - who hailed from a reputed family, and the places they could primarily escape to. Definitely a miraculous work, considering the pace of police investigations.

A phone call at around 3:00 pm gave some respite to everyone and relieved some tension. Meera spoke to Nirmala. The boy and girl were spotted, taken into custody and promised to be back by night to the village. Nirmala would just say "come back Meera, and we will get you married, don’t worry about anything" she would repeat that forever. Grandmother cried and held Sharada's hand for a long time in gratitude. Sharada wished to ask her why grandmother wanted to meet her; but didn’t say a word. She just wanted to avoid any of her forthcoming pleas.

Nirmala was into discussions on marriage modalities with her close associates. As it progressed, Sharada opportuned to get into her past. This was also a marriage.

It was the time when Grandmother's mental frame work had thickened with regard to Sharada, she was upset and "written her off" as somebody who would not come out with flying colours. Sharada just observed anger and silence and continued to do what was instructed to her. They both were off for a marriage at one of grandmother's brother's family. Some incidents were nothing to do with life but always remembered and this was one such thing- Sharada always remembered.

In the marriage, Sharada's role was only to help people around, she would cut vegetables, help put clothes into the washing machine (then having a washing machine was an asset enjoyed only by the rich), run around distributing things, offer drinks, iron clothes etc. Everyone would ask about Sharada and her ambitions and dreams. Grandmother would rubbish such questions and would just start discussing if a suitable match could be identified for Sharada. Sharada felt insulted almost all the time. There was only one soul in the entire family and gathering who empathized with Sharada and that was one her farthest "cousin" - Shekar, he was studying for medicine.

Two days at a stretch, Sharada wore very normal clothes and performed normal duties. She did feel the distance, the gap, the crack; yet suppressed her feelings. She was one among them yet not like them. Shekar’s mother wanted some clothes to be ironed. As Sharada took the clothes into the room, Shekar followed her. He would talk to her nicely and make her feel important. She wondered why. It was hardly fifteen minutes into conversation, he pulled her close, brushed her lips and kept it locked for more than 5 minutes. Sharada unaware, puzzled, bewildered, stood there shivering for the rest of the time and could not believe something like this happened to her. She would not move out of the room scared to face the people. After all she was just 17. Next day, during the marriage function, she stayed away from all formalities. She did not look into his eyes. All her eyes did was to look around for him one last time when they had packed bags to leave.

Ironically, Sharada wondered whose mistake it was all the way through her life.

After 20 long years, they happened to look into each other's eyes and this time the doctor was apologetic. Sharada sighed with her dimpled face.

Incomplete - 6

The score gradually depleted, Nirmala had four people in the house to give her morale support. Sharada easily sensed Nirmala’s uneasiness as night approached; there were intermittent messages from the Police station, some men would keep her updated on every progress; a team from the village was also out in search of Meera. It was yet not clear if it was “love and run” case; this was an appropriate time for everyone to weave stories and spread rumours around. Some people from media were insisting on photographs; Nirmala would not agree to any of their plea. Aloof and resigned Sharada showed very little interest into the case; unlike of her. Arguments could push some people and lend a virtual support; however, with her these persuasions seemed futile. People change and change a lot; some out of experience, some out of disinterest and some out of sheer adamancy. Sharada could be categorized in one of these boxes yet not completely. She is updated of every law and order situation and dealing with it. It could help Nirmala a lot at least if Meera was innocent or to help a boy who was going to be humiliated, in the name of religion. After a long time grandmother spoke for the first time in the day; she summoned Nirmala and asked for some change over. Grandma had drenched herself badly and had no option but to call her; as Sharada watched Nirmala rushing; and first time after her arrival, Sharada walked up and helped Nirmala and later took over. A sigh of relief, God made woman, good. Sensitivity, emotions, kindness, was core to any action as far as Sharada is concerned or connected to. A trip to Pondicherry with few of her friends is a definite recollection. All young and juvenile; hired a taxi. The driver halted in midway to fetch water, not aware of a speeding motorbike the opened door collided. In fraction of seconds the couple riding the motorbike were on the ground. Sharada kept her nerve, muted her friends and with an act of sheer courage walked up to them. She was the only one who knew six languages amongst her friends and instructed them to conceal all their valuables and cash. As she came closer to the collision site she immediately noticed that the woman wounded was pregnant. Her instincts told her she had case in hand and this is going to be a tough cookie. Taking command of the state of affairs she rushed the lady inside the hired taxi- SUMO. Without much delay they were now at the nearest Pondicherry government hospital. Only one thing kept her mind racing- the safety of the woman and her child. Apparently Sharada could read the husband’s mind and she knew he was not going to let go of any opportunity of squeezing money from Sharada’s friends; who obviously were alien to the place and would shell out money in order to escape any conflicts. She unaware of her mental and physical exhaustion kept her cool and ran around the place to have a clear picture of their wellbeing. In the end, all is well that end well. She managed to speak to the doctor herself though the husband did try his bit to shield information and rescue her friends, driver and ofcourse herself. This was one of the many things that came naturally to her- compassion for injured and defense for friends.
As Sharada got busy with cleaning and getting things fixed with her grandma and kitchen….grandma stretched her hand out and requested Sharada to help Nirmala and the whereabouts of Meera. Sharada stay hesitated.

Incomplete - 5

Just about 30 minutes into deep slumber; Sharada heard the early morning hustle in the house. For the people in the village, the day had already started. This time sparing them the difficulty of drawing water from the well or walk a distance to fill, they carry water from the road side pipes. The elderly woman, named Nirmala; did exactly the same work which was established for the longest time by grandmother- the daily household routine job. But this time it was easier, water pipes and readymade rangolis or paints on the floor were the trend and made life easier. It gave them forty five minutes of extra sleep.

Earlier huge pits were dug for toilet purposes which are now replaced by cemented Indian style lavatories. Sharada remembers how she used to bath in a virtual bathroom covered by her grandmother’s 9 yard saree. However the change now being a bathroom with asbestos sheet having a roof and a proper latch.

A disturbing door bell threw up Sharada from her sleep; a man at the door came over to meet Nirmala. Sharada stood there watching Nirmala rushing towards the entrance; and her ears glued to the conversation. She could hear whispers gradually turning out into loud screams; before she could reach out to the door; Nirmala along with the man were running towards the temple (in the vicinity). Unrest prevailed and Sharada could not leave grandmother alone in the house. An hour later Nirmala broke down into tears and did not speak a word as she sat there in grandmother's room. The news revealed that her daughter had eloped; Sharada just touched the woman and said nothing.

It was not surprising, there were fifteen odd people inside the house, some familiar faces, some beyond recognition, some very new. Sharada had very less role to play, stood there observing each one. A similar situation crossed her mind when she was young; however, at this time it was important to not to be spaced out. Inspite of political and personal scheming to over do one another, over a period Sharada had come into consensus and had started accepting that the village was a family for at least all the generations who lived and died there. She heard for the first time the girl's name "Meera"

In the year 2010, eloping was still eloping; it wasn’t any different from what it used to be. The difference was the girl hailed from a hindu-brahmin family and the boy, a muslim. Some things never change; this is for all the continents. It reminded of a conversation on marriage and its success, an older couple would vouch that every marriage has problems; just that it’s always a different and a new problem.

This eloping invited police investigation; obviously when there is a muslim boy involved, it called for a background check- if the boy was involved with any terrorist outfit- if the girl was forced into this- is it a racket - so on and so forth. It was visible to Sharada, how a "simple love story" was turning out to be a case of kidnapping.

It was not about chance or guts, as a matter of fact the so called society in the name of education, trust worthiness, faithfulness, obligations conveniently shaped teen or young minds to present love-cases and convince parents on a closure, which could be marriage or break-up.

And another section of people would run stories, theatre plays and movies from Romeo Juliet, Laila Majnu, Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenga to Love Aaj Kal. Sharada would have loved to elope; and perhaps had she; things would have been different from now.

Sharada had three bakras for her imaginations now, three characters in a row and evidently, one of them will be Sharada.

Three belonging to three different generations, the generation gap had come down drastically to about 7 years now; Sharadambal (1940), Sharada (1975), and Meera (1990). How all of them decided to lead a life. The older one of all, Sharadambal did not have a choice and she lived a life assigned to her. A man 26 years older than her (who would not have bestowed roses, silk saress or jewellery); At the age of 18 she was a mother for three little kids. For the woman it was emotional security and for the man the pride to procreate. Sharada had all the choices but she always made the wrong ones. She ran behind something, she had no clue of. Here is Meera, who decided and really did not look back or the future that is going to be.

To evaluate on a scale, Sharadambal had a better life. Atleast she was here in her 80's with her great grand sons and daughters; a world that had laptops. Two years back grandmother would sit in front of a computer (when she was travelling to metros to visit her son's or daughter) and watch her great grand daughter through a web camera.

Now the people focus shifted to Sharada, everyone wanted to know who had visited them; there were whispers......whose daughter....where is she from.....is she married....no kids....no husband.....looks old......some knew......some avoided eye contact......some gave dirty scanning.....

Decisions were primary for a great life or at least a life defined by society. If one decided to stay married to the same man for 30-40 long years with kids, and grand children; a palatial house, car etc then by standards she is accepted.

Others are called, whatever, but Sharada calls herself as "incompletely insane"

The moment now, Sharada's concerns were absolute silence and just chants by her grandmother, she would not quir on anything or lend soothing words.

Incomplete - 4

Compelling her being to come back to reality she closes the window. Also a corresponding closure to all thoughts she prepares to go down. While taking the concluding step she realizes how ignorant she has been of the elderly woman who welcomed her. Yes, she was a distant relative to the grandmother and was staying with her daughter - perhaps in her teens. Sharada had not seen the girl.

Her movement disturbed the elderly lady, who points towards Sharada’s bed while rubbing her eyes and trying to gain focus. Contrary to her ever so organized nature, Sharada lies down slowly in tranquility, skips to change or arrange her bags. The bed was on the floor – little had changed since her childhood - the same mattress, the same cushion, same smell, and of course similar feeling… and it was time to rest mind and body. She kicked her physical and mental weariness, as the body and joints stretched. The idea of food crossed her mind and it was too late, as she realized to have ignored the elderly woman’s plea for dinner.

There are living things, non living things and then there is Sharada. She miraculously oscillated between past and present; all persuading, motivational, inspiring talks by friends, counselors didn’t really work on her. Presenting to you, Sharada – subject of past. Her eyes stared still, wide open, did not close; easily about 20-30 shots of sleeping pills powered her body.

Her eyes jetted, first on the ceiling fan, then the regulator, next above the roof and within seconds into the space....."Time" and “lots of time”, a very fundamental cause of worry and issue around one. One thinks (broods), re-thinks (broods over), constructively thinks, introspectively thinks and then there is negative and positive thinking as well. There isn’t any definite direction to thinking, one will get convinced that it’s completely original and render a lateral perspective. Now the thinking rolled and climaxed into a world war. Food, Shelter, Clothing (Roti, Kapda aur Makaan); basic necessities for living; would that suffice or fulfill a man’s wish and allow him to permanently stop making money? To argue, a human body requires uninterrupted conditioning; till it decides to go hiding six feet under. This is debatable; the basic necessities are super imposed by luxuries, ambitions, dreams, and desires etc forcing a man to create ladders to growth, money and power.

As the discussion continuous, a convincing point makes her nod in mind, that there are forefathers, grand fathers, fathers who promise to provide and contribute to the future of the family. The process of breeding and rearing will see man progressing to a more perfected world, perfect society; and soon space on land will not be enough. This will enable him to build a perfect world right up on air; of course with the help of few scientists, there will be perfect solutions for burial or air-ial cremation. After all this there will sure come a time when earth and air population will wage a world - war for land-air space because there is definitely going to be a border J or Line of Control.

These deliberations sprouted in her mind to rationalize why she was the way she is. Sharada did not do anything constructively, productively or positively for the longest time; some radical changes in her mind kept her busy dying and doing multiple things. Framing herself a “loser” didn’t really matter to her; to think about it, what was she losing? Or did she glorify an act, which is not natural or justify herself to be adamant.

It was 5 am in the morning....."Time is an issue"

Incomplete - 3

Every detail was still afresh, not seen but felt by Sharada. She often wondered if grandmother's behaviour was a way to get her attention, demand respect, empathy, or just that it would control Sharada's straight forward crudeness whenever she would present instances that were erroneous. Sharada’s made extreme efforts to stop her mind, "try not to think," "forget it"; yet she continued to think....but all seemed unmarked that had a perennial flow.

Truth is easier when it is to others; not to us. Similarly with Sharada. She was so scared of the truth, the more she indulged in contemplation the more she came closer to the reality. And that hurt her more than anything. However, on the contrary sometimes absence of knowledge is equally painful.

Truth, Peace, Identity - are these adjectives? Some soothing words like "dont be harsh on yourself"; introspecting was good but Sharada was way beyond and more than introspection. She would always decide "this time is going to be the last time" but it so ends that "past" seems to be a very continuous factor both in present and her future ....its very subjective. "Trupthi Ellathadhu" - not yet contented and perhaps one reason why things look incomplete.

Her relationship strained beyond repair and one of the many instances crawled her mind:

1991
It was an exciting moment for Sharada's grandmother, she would depart to the washroom every now and then…her adrenalin worked faster than normal. She was about to be voted as the local guardian at the college where Sharada was seeking admission. Every 5 minutes she would be checking if Sharada had taken her certificates, admission forms, money and almost everything possible.

Sharada vividly remembers holding a ration card (palm oil card, which you get at the mavelli store). Her friends from the same village were also to join her at the same college (of course different sections, departments etc). Sharada not paying attention to anything around busy with her belongings, engrossed in her thoughts was only enthusiastic about the fact that all eyes were on her. Still not enrolled and she hit it off by shaking hands with a senior student Arun (a ABVP - party member - he was the most popular guy spoken about by almost everyone even before Sharada knew the college - courtesy some senior friends in the village).

It was after two days Sharada over heard her grandma talking to some of her neighbours about her visit to college. Grandma had never been to a school and here she was in a college for her granddaughter. She boasted about how she met the Principal, Department Heads and how respectful and forthcoming they were. Sharada wondered when that happened. Nevertheless, it was interesting to see her happiness, whichever way, not for long though. It was happiness short lived. Grandma had splendid dreams, one being Sharada passing out with flying colours and travel to the US of A and what not....

Dreams all thrashed, within a year, Sharada was suspended from her college. Close to dismissal, in the name of PICNIC.

Sharada had entered a world, which was not what she was seeing. Every action had repercussions. Her school of thoughts stayed pre-mature, she spearheaded a PICNIC programme for students in her class; it wasnt under any strategic approach, just to have fun at the end of the day, after all college was all about fun and studies. The programme welcomed at a level where lecturers appreciated the move. However, little was she aware that this would become a nightmare for her. First blow was when her grandma turned down her proposal; she could not convince her at any stage how important it was to her and what she was to this entire programme. All Grandma had to say was "your parents are not with us and this cannot be allowed", all phone calls and inland letters went down the drain. Parents could not convince grandma and they could not see things upsetting Sharada. Sharada backed out, however, the Picnic programme wasn’t cancelled, students girls and boys along with an office attendee and a department head (and his family) decided to go ahead - Kodaikanal the destination. As days progressed the toll came down to 20 and there were about seven girls. Agenda had it that the girls would stay with Sharada before moving the next day morning.

Grandma was not forthcoming, however, she just agreed to that bit. They all stayed with us and grandma was a friendly host if not perfect. Sharada tried to do the balancing act, not sure if it worked. The early morning was very exhilarating, as everybody bathed to an expedition, the bus arrived and as the girls were about to leave is when a call flawed the programme. The department head along with his family excused due to his daughter's poor health; guys and girls weren’t sure what to do, and that’s when a little push and encouragement from Sharada gave them the confidence and the engine started with wheels driving north.

For Sharada, the day continued to be a routine, a box of curd rice and pickle, her books neatly held around her hands touching the chest, she marched towards the college.

Even before the session started, Sharada was called to her department and enquired on the PICNIC, there were only responses to all questions and she did not understand what was going on. The next summon from the Principal's chamber. She was there in front of her College Principal, Dr. Leela. Sharada stood there wondering what went wrong, thought if everything was safe, if there had been any accident; however, it was soon to be disclosed and to her shock, the entire picnic was touted to be a "lover's runaway feat" and there were seven boys and 7 girls. This simply ripped off the concept and unfortunately one of the girl's father was a Police personnel. Sharada was showed the red card for spearheading the programme.

Sharada stood there still, shocked, a sense of failure, a sense of injustice, a sense of absolute nonsense. Grandma stopped talking.

To date, Sharada did not get a chance to clarify, fight and voice her state-of-mind. A blow very deep into a fragile mind; all around things became difficult, communication misconstrued, grandmother was hurt and her actions hurt Sharada, sometimes retaliated, sometimes succumbed; like sand, jelly and cement; pain, remorse started housing inside the mental building.

2010
Sharada, sometime early morning 2 am, stood there at the window, with her eyes wide open and this time without tears.

Incomplete - 2

Thoughts wired and connected through fragile palms, Sharada stayed awake as grandmother slowly entered her sleep. Strangely that heavy breathing feared her mind and ironically "one sleeping became dangerous"; slowly releasing herself, Sharada, worned out, extremely weak pulled herself forcefully towards the hallway that lead to a wooden staircase.

The vacuum in mind is now stirred by several memories which were buried under the rubble as she takes her first step.

Involuntary thoughts about her grandmother had now taken over her. Wide array of questions raced her mind - What was so different about her (grandmother's) life to that of mine? Did she suffer more than me? Or did she really have a better life than me? Was she happy at all or led life just because it’s meant to be? Undoubtedly she has always been a woman with a strong character. She knew exactly what she wanted and from whom. Any hurdles in her wish were conveniently given the name of culture, religion and customs. Smart with words, she convinced people of the village, gathered sympathy and managed to maintain that for years. Yes, hypocrite is the word. But who is not a hypocrite in this world. We all are. All of us are real life good actors.

I have been always been a victim of her critical comments, taunts and edgy looks. She used to detest me, I knew why.

In spite of all this she wanted to see “ME” one last time.

Taking the last step Sharada now enters the room towards the left. (Switches on the lights)

Her eyes wander aimlessly, captivated by the photographs hung on the wall. Photographs as old as a century may be. The entire wall was dedicated to family pictures. Some pictures traced the youth and old age of her grandmother. These were the witness of hanged time. The frames were tattered covered with layers of dust accumulated over the years. Apparently no one bothered about their value. Her vision fixed on a particular picture. She rubs the dirt on that frame to have a closer look. “That’s my favourite” she spoke to herself. It had her sixteen year old grandmother- so innocent, feminine and beautiful. Such milky blemish less skin, sharp nose, rosy lips, graceful slender body, talkative almond eyes, long black straight hairs that touched her hips, red “Bindi” (made out of powdered sindoor) on her forehead stood out in her pearly round face. Sharada wondered her grandmother’s enchanting looks could have won her front cover in Vogue magazine. Smiling at her thought she reaches to the window next to that frame to open:

1943
The window opens to a well. Sharada visualizes her 16 yr old grandmother drawing water from the well with tender hands / palms at 4.30 am in the morning, barefoot. Dressed in a simple 9 yard royal blue saree (madisar / puduvai), how attractive a woman can look! T’was in the year 1943. As a routine work her conditioned mind cleans the entire house along with the entrance. She sits to decorate the entrance with colourful rangoli- a custom carried out in the southern part of India. She then progresses to take bath with the remaining water in the bucket, washes her saree and blouse, dries them by squeezing every inch of water from it and wears the same again (a wedding gift). Taking on to her habitual tasks she enters the kitchen and prepares to cook for the family.

Big sigh- ‘Aaaahh.’ A sense of acceptance creeps in. Grandmother has indeed undergone a lot. Married at the age of 16 to a man who was 26 years older than - 42 years old; unimaginable today. The only reason for her to get married was poverty, security, enabling her parents course their responsibilities. My grandfather, a Vedic scholar, preached and propagated the Vedic scriptures in Sanskrit and possessed a huge ancestral property. He had no consistent occupation which could support the family financially, however, all compensated by her brothers who all took care of this 20 member close knit / extended family. Mute and suppressed my grandmother took everything that came her way in her stride. Then, there was no option of complaining as she came from a very poor family. The only option she had was to cry, sob, howl and carry on with the duties the next day. She stood there as the oldest / youngest daughter-in-law.

Customary or by tradition, first granddaughter is christened after her paternal grandmother. Many a things were different, some were similar, common, including one to begin with the Name "Sharadambal"

Incomplete

Sun has descended and taken its natural course. As dark sets in, sound of silence prevails in the month of January; there was a touch of northern winters in Kerela. Breaking the stillness of nature, honking bus stops with force and many rush to load and unload themselves. As eyes roll from left to right, a girl steps down from the bus- bewildered preoccupied, lost in her thoughts. In green cotton saree with white border, untidy hair, tired eyes, rough hands carrying a hand bag and a back pack; tries to watch her each foot avoiding the uneven terrain. May be in her mid 30’s she finally returns to this village- this place to which she is so connected and yet had pledged not to return. As she keeps walking the same lanes she had walked years ago, her mind wavers and cant stop thinking, so much has changed and still nothing at all.

As a usual routine, women gather to fill buckets near the water pump- a time that serves as a get-together were talks of day to day work is discussed. Definitely a sight which has not changed over the years. She maintains her pace and continues with a heavy heart when two young boys sing a song to her as they pass on a cycle- common symbol of eve teasing every girl/ woman faces in this part of the world.

Tiny lanes, muddy passages with sharp edges and curves are responsible for her to take longer time than normal to reach her destination. It is here when a car while taking a turn applies sudden breaks and she is alarmed as the headlights fall on her face. Not bothered of a probable escape from an accident, the driver head starts the car and rushes quickly. Covering her blinking eyes with her hand, she waits patiently for the car to move away.

And now that she has reached the center of the village, a bunch of men and women gather overlooking her, whispering, chatting, and questioning- “who is she?” There are now more people to be seen, more lights and more sounds. Every house illuminated with the rays of numerous deepam. “Hmm” she gasped. It is Kartike Deepam festival today.

Gradually her steps take directions towards her house, ignoring all the clutter – clatter of the people. An elderly woman in her mid 40s comes from inside the house and tries to recognize this girl. Failing in her attempts she decides to question directly.

Elderly woman: (Rubbing her eyes as though forcing herself to recognize) Who are you?

Girl: I am “Sharada”

Elderly Woman: (Warm welcome) Yes, please come in. I have been awaiting your presence for long but was not sure when you would arrive. We never heard from you about your arrival time.

Girl: (No smile just a nod) May I have a glass of water?

Elderly Woman: (Excited) Sure Sure. Your grandmother has been only thinking about you.

Girl: Where is she?

Elderly Woman: (Points towards the door of a room to the right)

Sharada enters the room with a blank mind and lethargic forceful body movement. Time had taken toll on her. She was not what she had been years ago. Turning her head towards Sharada, her grandmother lay still on the bed.

As their eyes met, many questions were asked, many questions were answered; many thoughts of anguish, joy, complain and dissatisfaction came to the forefront. A bond which existed and was lost with time is rekindled when two being meet again. The room was flooded with emotional outburst from both the sides.

They hold each other, hug each other and feel the emptiness in their hearts.

Recovering from their mutual feeling grandmother gently says: I was certain you would come today.

Sharada turns around the calendar- It was 19 January 2010.