Within the borders

I am nothing but a Sari, destined to be pretty
Not to house dreams, or to voice words,
Not to feel hurt, or thoughts petty,
the symbol of elegance, the epitome of beauty.

I was crafted with art, raised with love
but they painted borders on me, in red, to imprison me
I was cherished with pride, and displayed with taste
for the world to behold, and covet

Many faces came, looked and felt me
and left me for the cheaper, glittery ones
Till one day you came, knowing my worth
and draped me, feeling my softness on your skin

You haggled and argued, to strike the right price
and when both parties agreed, I was traded
wrapped in glittery paper, I choked
No one cared if I was willing to go.

You showed me off to anyone who would see
and pinned me up stiff, to lend the right curves
I endeavoured to look pretty, and held my head high
Though I was hurting at the pin pricks that held me in place

Within days, I lost my sheen, and crumpled
no longer able to stand stiff, no more pretty
You washed me and ironed me and starched me
to restore my glory, while I writhed in pain

I slowly lost life and went limp,
my heart hurt and my head bowed
I was no longer the most pretty, the queen of all silks,
I was just another Sari, past my prime.

No more did you caress me, there was no love,
I lived my life in solitude, still bound by my borders,
I longed to have been a pant or a shirt - anything free
and cursed the fate that made me a Sari

Slowly but surely I faded from your life,
folded and pushed into the recesses of your wardrobe
Until you would take me out and tear me up
to add colour to your quilt or to clean your floor

I do not utter these thoughts, my voice is not heard,
I am ignored and stepped over, but I harbour no grudge
for Oh Fool, you woman, little do you know
that your fate is no different from mine.

How (not) to do a presentation

Well, the topic does raise the question on whether I am qualified to make this post- however, having attended quite a lot of presentations, I have qualified at least as an attentive (read- attempts at attention, often futile) listener.
Some people are born endowed with the gift of word, they can hold audience spell bound even while talking on the most mundane of subjects. However, this is not for those elite few- this is for the ones who are moderately good and would have the attention of the audience on their brilliant days.
Unless you are presenting on a topic like 'how to make a million in an hour', there may be few among the audience who would gladly sleep while you babble. Let us ignore them for the moment and concentrate on the ones who would have lent a ear if things werent so boring.

Some key points:
1. Make sure everybody knows the intention of the presentation. There may be somebody who is in the room by mistake, so this is the cue for them to slap their head and move out.
2. Keep the heading simple and not head-whirling. You arent here to pose a tongue twister to the audience. Keep it short and simple, yet capturing the key idea of your talk
3. When you begin, it would be a good gesture to give an outline of the presentation so that people would at least know if you are close to the finish line. If you put the page number on your slides as 'page a of b', you may almost hear their brains working, doing the math to gauge the distance from the current slide to the end.
4. An introduction would be very good, giving the lesser enlightened folks an opportunity to get a grip of whats going on. However, keep it short, otherwise the enlightened may get bored. Try to avoid huge definitions and theorems - those can always be looked up in the internet. Give a broad picture, and a gist of the stuff as concisely as possible and put a reference where they can look up the actual words.
5. A brief word about the colour scheme- if you dont want the people to watch your presentation with teary eyes, go for mild colours like light blue, green or brown. However, if you want to watch them cry, go all out for the fluorescent colours.
6. It would be fatal to put all that you intend to say on the slides and then read out from it- people can very well read on their own, some even faster than you can. A slide full of text is bad enough without someone reading aloud from it. Just write the key points on the slide- they need to make sense only when you elaborate- otherwise you wouldnt be needed there at all.
7. Stick to the time frame. If you are allotted half an hour for the presentation, dont prepare a 100 slides (unless you are those fellows who warn about the license agreements being subject to market risks) - you would end up having to skip all those or run through them.
8. Plan your presentation in advance. Before preparing the slides, think of all the things you want to put across- that forms the body of your presentation. Add introduction and conclusion to augment what you are going to say. If you are presenting for half an hour, allot 5 mins for the outline and intro, 15-20 mins for the body, and 5 mins for the conclusion so that you have ample time to take a few questions. Even if there are no questions, no one will hate you for winding it up early.
9. Even the best of plans go wrong. If somebody keeps interrupting you with questions, or carries on a question for too long a time, tell him/her politely that the questions can be answered offline as time is of essence.
10. Encourage questions- if you stare down your nose at anyone asking a question, people will keep mum. Adopt a pleasant attitude while speaking. That doesnt mean that you have to act the clown or smile as if you are being photographed- just keep a pleasant face and smile at people occasionally
11. Maintain eye contact. Dont keep staring at your own slides. Look at the audience, let your eye run through them- look at all sections of the audience, not just at the front where people whom you deem  important sit. It is good to include all in your talk.
12. Humour is a good way to catch the attention, but go for it only if you are good at it and think it fail proof. No humour is better than a failed attempt at humour.
13. Talk slow- this isnt the place to show off your speed or accent. Speak in a way and speed such that it is understandable.
14. Dont get very excited and start shouting. Maintain a cool and calm attitude throughout. You may be nervous, but that shouldnt affect your voice modulation.
15. Try not to move all over the place. Some people have a habit of walking to and fro while speaking and people hurt their necks trying to follow the speaker with their gaze.

This is all that I could think of on the spur of the moment. Will keep adding. Have a nice time presenting.

Of life in general

My life, over the past few years can be summarised succintly in a word - monotonous. Of course, I should hasten to add that life, as meant here, refers to that 8 to 9 hours which are the prime hours of the day. Never an early riser, I always detested rising in the morning for school/college. Especially if it was raining, I would rather snuggle deeply and call it a day. However, I never wanted to miss anything in school or college, so everyday saw me trudging along to the sacred institution - be it rain or sun. Years passed in this way - yes, I was the unusual child who never cried and complained it didnt want to go to school. I never minded going on holidays, or staying after hours- it was all part of the process called student life. And I was never bored!
And then, it all burst like a bubble, and I was sucked into the monotony of a job. For a person who is fond of company and conversation, I spent much more time with electronic devices (whose conversation was hardly entertaining, though better than that of some people, I should say) and was often in the company of myself. Though I find myself amusing, I had enough of myself. I was growing more and more into an introvert, and my nerves (those solid iron rods that had always stood by me in good stead) started weakening and somewhere in the way, got replaced by sponge.
Everyday seemed the same, and the prospect of similar days for eternity made me recoil in horror.
I started hating people (wishing ill luck befell them) and was even more frustrated that I couldn't show my angst to them. Never having learnt the useful art of saying NO, I found committing things I never wanted to do. I slowly turned into the door mat that people always speak about.
I fell ill regularly, but had to go. I became the complaint box that cried it dint want to go everyday. I hated overtime and abhorred working on holidays. The girl who never wanted to miss a day was gone a long time ago.
I lost interest in most things (my deserted blog being one of them) and found refuge in food and books. A person of infinite leisure, I din't like people dictating to me how to sepnd my time, making plans for myself, or even taking my time for granted.
I fairly ran away (though it meant I had to be away from home too, something I never wanted) and became a student again- and lo! life's little pleasures found their way back. It felt good to be around so many people who are close to ones age, having any amount of leisure, dictating your own life, spending your time as if it truly is your own. Of course, exams and assignments do stray in and cause discomfort, but they dont matter - all in a days work.
Looking back, I suppose those years of monotony had made me mature, deeper and much less frivolous. Above all, it made me appreciate time!.... This is a short respite, however, it would suffice! 

Buried Treasures

“Treasure your relationships, not your possessions”

Prologue:

Many centuries ago…..

It was a busy time at the town of Sampath- the yearly harvest festival was a day away and there wasn’t much time left to do the preparations. The citizens of this wealthy town worked and celebrated together; wayside stalls selling artistic ware were thronged by females, picking up accessories to dress up for the festival day. Beads of different shapes and sizes, colourful bangles, chunky earrings- they were all there, waiting to be picked up. The children, too, had a wide range of toys to choose from- traditional wooden toys lined the racks while the coveted iron toys- the latest item in the market- were kept on display to entice the longing kids.

 Iron was indeed the craze of the day, for it wasn’t discovered until recently how to mould it and strengthen it. However, it was still out of reach for the common folk and only the palace and ministerial households could boast of ironware while the commoners had to make do with the low cost gold counterpart that got bent and dented easily.

Jwala was walking with her kid, cursorily glancing through the merchandise on display – her thoughts were away with her husband who had gone to a distant port to sell his products. He ought to have returned yesterday. It was not yet time to panic, as the sea was very unpredictable and there have been instances where merchants were delayed months. Still, she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that something was not right. She put aside the sensation, as the astronomer hadn’t spotted any bad omens. She stood aside with her daughter, standing a bit apart from the crowd and watching their preparations for the festival.

The astronomer, however, was oblivious to everything except for his current passion – that of preparing the longest time chart that would divide the time into cycles and map the celestial positions in each cycle; that would help to predict the events of any day in the distant future. While he was musing about the distant future, predicting dangers centuries away, he overlooked the imminent danger that threatened his town.

The people were thus involved in their independent pursuits when all of a sudden, the earth shook. Tremor after tremor rocked the town and soon the raised platform on which the town was built cracked. People scattered to all sides helplessly – they would have bravely fought an army of ten thousand, but they didn’t know what to do when the ground they stood on wasn’t steady. The display racks toppled onto each other, crushing the unfortunate ones who took refuge within them. Jwala ran, clutching and dragging her daughter along but she wasn’t fast enough to escape from the pile of gold plates that came down on them. The astronomer, too, died in the process of noting down a natural catastrophe that was to occur on a date in the very distant future– his dream chart left unfinished. There were wails of despair all around, while the cruel nature swallowed up the town into its deep interiors.

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Chapter 1

It was a great day at the dig. The previous days were spent in fruitless toil, rewarding nothing but some broken bits of pottery, rusted iron ware and worn beads. Today, however, was different; they seem to have struck gold- literally. They had been digging in this site for some days- it appeared to be some mass burial ground, skeletons in awkward poses piled on top of each other, surrounded by a jumbled assortment of stuff- toys, pots, jewellery and what not. They had gone further ahead and found a different grave. By all appearances, it was a double grave, and a royal one at that, judging by the amount of valuable stuff that had been cramped in the limited recess to accompany the dead to the other world. The two skeletons lay beneath a pile of gold and the workers delicately brushed off the dust and unearthed them. The custodians of the grave were raised respectfully- they would soon be put on display, after a round of analysis.

The chief archeologist ran around happily –this was the first time he had spotted actual gold, that too in a royal grave. Images of the Egyptian tombs passed through his mind and he hoped that his royal skeletons too would some day gain similar popularity and notoriety. A stir among the workers roused him from his thoughts and he rushed to behold what the new discovery was.

A huge stone tablet lay buried, a portion of it visible where it had recently been dusted and cleaned. There were curious markings etched on to the tablet. The seal expert was called and he immediately recognised it as an ancient astronomical chart.

“Similar charts have been found in other digs too, but none are this big. This is something that would make our excavation famous!”

The archeologist, whose only aim in life was fame, jumped at the word.

“How do we make out what the markings say? Will there be any instructions to a treasure?”

“I don’t think so. However, I know an astronomer who can decipher this for us”

By the time the astronomer arrived, the entire chart was visible and he set to work enthusiastically. He pored over the chart, passing over some sections quickly and scrutinizing some portions, until he reached the end of the chart. He made some calculations, repeated them over and over again and then raised an unhappy face.

“This is a unique chart that sets down every day in the life of earth. Even though this chart is centuries old, it has mentions of incidents that had happened in recent times. A great astronomer should have prepared this for he has accurately predicted the events so far into the future.”

“My concern is something else. This chart mentions about a natural catastrophe that will affect life in this part of the world and abruptly ends there. I think, that the date he had noted is”, here he lowered his voice until he was barely audible, “Doomsday”.

A set of perplexed faces welcomed his announcement.

“Doomsday refers to the end of the earth or of life as we know it”!

The faces took on a skeptical look until the astronomer explained that he wouldn’t have believed it himself if he hadn’t seen this chart. Since its creator could predict other events that happen now, there would be a grain of truth in this prediction too.  

“When is it?”

“Ten days from today!” He sighed- this was the one finding of his that he wished was proved wrong.

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Chapter 2

The ten days that followed had seen heated debate on the issue of doomsday- experts, scientists, astronomers, astrologers- everyone had their say and it could be said that the world- the believers and the skeptical ones- waited with bated breath as the day dawned.

Susan was alone with her daughter as her husband had gone to town for some urgent business. He should have returned yesterday, but the incessant rain and associated landslides had made it difficult to traverse the rocky terrain to reach their village. George had called and assured that he would be back today. She still had a lingering feeling of something wrong, but she shook it off and went out- there was work to do.

She was outside her home, when the earth shook. The hill on which their village stood, already weakened by the rapid run offs, couldn’t hold out much against the tremors. Susan ran inside, fetched her daughter and scurried down the hillside, but she was lifted off the cracking ground and came sliding down as part of the hill crashed down into a huge mound of mud, stone and doomed lives.

George came home to find that his family was wiped off the face of the earth- there was nothing he could do but gape at the slow and persistent work of the rescue personnel, hoping each time that a body is lifted out that it shouldn’t be his wife or daughter.

After a whole day of waiting, he started hoping that at least their bodies be found, so that he could give them a decent burial. The rain had continued and there were minor landslides in nearby areas too, dampening the efforts of the rescue personnel.

The rain grew heavier until it was difficult to see a few feet ahead. George saw that the rescue team was winding up their operations. He rushed to them and begged,

 “Sir, my family lies buried there and I have a feeling that they will be alive. Please don’t wind up the search, in fact there may be many lives waiting to be rescued”.

“I am sorry for your family. However, we have orders to suspend the search operations as the rain makes it difficult to progress and it wouldn’t be worthwhile digging up the mound as the chances of finding a live person are almost zero now.”

George, though tired by the lack of food and rest, couldn’t go to sleep as every time he closed his eyes, he saw images of his wife and daughter lying trapped in a mound of earth, banging their fists and wailing to be let out- a sight that would haunt him for days and years to come.

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The dig was a site of buzzing activity ever since the royal grave was found. The rain beating down on their faces and blocking their visibility did not deter the workmen form their work and the work progressed at a fast pace. The entire grave was uncovered and had turned out to be a treasure trove of gold. Doomsday had come and gone, and apart for a few quakes and landslides, nothing much had happened. The astronomical chart was ridiculed and the error put down to the lack of intelligence of a ‘barbaric and ancient ‘culture.

The archeologist was blissfully unaware of everything and everyone around him- lost lives, lost livelihoods, crushed dreams and bruised hopes. He could only think of what more the site could give…….

Epilogue

This is life…

Times change, people change, values change but the human emotions of love, hatred, jealousy, angst and sympathy remain the same. Like iron and gold, the materials we value change over time but the value of relationships lasts forever.

Just because things are different doesn’t mean they are wrong, it just means that our understanding of them is incomplete. We often tend to ridicule the past and worry over the future- ignore our ancestors and fret over what the future holds in store, but like the astrological chart, life in itself is a cycle and it goes on continuously.

What of Susan and her daughter?

They still lie buried, in their natural graves, waiting for a time, when their bones would also be buried treasures for someone. Only then, will they be worthwhile digging up.

The End

Love

“Love is not a habit, a commitment, or a debt. It isn't what romantic songs tell us it is - love simply is.” – Paulo Coelho  

Prologue

Love- the feeling that binds life to earth- the emotion which gives birth to smiles and tears alike. It is of love that I wish to speak- of love, and life. Love has many dimensions – sometimes gentle, at times violent- always possessive. To me, love is pain – not just the immense physical hurt that I feel now, but the soul wrenching pain that my mind has to bear.

I indulged in these pointless thoughts, trying to keep my mind off the pain, but my thoughts kept reverting to the question – ‘Is this love?’ – Love, which had made poets go into raptures, which had inspired melodies, had made people do the impossible? I suddenly felt angry, and stupid! I turned to the window, hoping to see a pleasant sight – anything that took my mind away from the bland interiors coupled with the unmistakable smell of a hospital room – the mingled smell of medicines, lotion, despair, tears and hope. Luckily, my bed afforded a view of a road, so that I didn’t have to be a constant witness to the sad sight of bodies rushed into and taken from the hospital – the relentless wails of the ambulance, the rush for a life! I could see a young couple, walking hand in hand, their heads close together – oblivious to everything around them- their world had suddenly become small enough to contain only two people. The silly fool – little does she know that this is all a farce! She is not to blame, for I too was the same! I looked out the window again, and this time I saw myself…..

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I was in college when I met him- we used to board the same bus, even though I got down before him. I started noticing him since the day he helped a poor old lady onto the bus- a touch of gallantry and kindness that appealed to me at that impressionable age. It wasn’t long before our nods of acknowledgement grew into smiles – and once a word was spoken, it was impossible to limit them. I started spending a longer time before the mirror every morning, and then had to hurry to reach the bus stop early – those few moments of conversation snatched from my otherwise monotonous life made my days. It was a very small step from friendship to love, and finally, when he proposed, I was so happy I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time!

I should say this for his sake – he was genuinely in love with me, in fact it was a bit overwhelming. I lived in this bubble of beauty and happiness for a week when things took a turn for the worse. Initially, I had appreciated his concern over my affairs, but when he started making decisions for me, setting taboos on whom to speak to and not, I was annoyed. Our times together were now entirely spent on blames and excuses. He grew more jealous and I more defiant until we could no longer tolerate each other. However, things would have sorted out with time- if I hadn’t realised that the bubble he made for me was crafted from a pack of lies. He had lied to me about his education, means and his family- for fear that I would shun him for his lesser means- I don’t know if my love was strong enough to overcome any such objections on his part, but these lies made me lose trust in him. Finally, during a particularly angry meeting, I asked him to clear out of my life for over – ‘Whatever it was between us, it is over!’ – these were my parting words.

For a few days, he hung around the bus stop, for an opportunity to talk to me – but I wasn’t giving him a chance. I, too, was not my normal self – when the bubble has burst it had drained me of whatever happiness I had. Days went on to weeks and months, until I graduated from college. They say there is nothing that time cannot heal – that was true in my case too. My days were back to normal and I had landed a job at another state- which would further reduce my chances of coming into contact with him.

I saw him next when I came home for a few days. He caught up with me on my way home, from the bus stop. With pleading eyes, he asked me to give him another chance, but I was adamant. To end things quickly, and to avoid further meetings, I lied that I had found someone else – someone who was much better than him, and was planning to marry him. The plea in his eyes vanished, and his deep eyes took on an expression I could not fathom – was it love, which had turned to hate?  I hurried home....

Somehow, call it a woman’s instinct, I was afraid.

On the day of my return, I found him waiting for me at the same place. I averted my eyes, indicating hat I wasn’t interested in a conversation, but he had another objective in mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him uncork a flask and throw something at me- the sudden heat and pain that I felt – as if my flesh was melting around me- blotted out everything else from my view. I woke up at the hospital bed- yet another victim of the acid attack- and they call this Love!

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Immersed in my bitter reflections, I hadn’t noticed the other people in my ward. Now that my self introspection was complete, and disillusionment was staring at my face, I thought about my fellow patients. There was a good looking girl in the next bed. She had been asleep when I saw her last. Now, she had woken up and her parents were on either side of her. Her mother was crying uncontrollably, and her father was sitting with a shocked expression on his face. The girl, too, was crying…. ‘Why?’, the mother was asking, ‘Why did you do this? We would have agreed in the end! Have we ever stood against any wish of yours?’

The girl replied,’ When you forbade me to see him, I saw no other way out! I cannot forget him’, and went into a crying fit.

I understood the situation- the stupid girl had tried to commit suicide for love- here was another victim of the mighty Love! Had she succeeded, Love would have added another name to its list of losers…I saw the father lean forward and say, ‘Anything you want! It is always your well being that was our prime concern’. In his eyes, I saw Love – Love that was capable of letting go! It made me realise that though we often mistake love to be a monopoly of the young, something that occupies a brief stretch of time and moves on – rarely do we realise that love is forever prevalent, shaping our lives, till our death.

My attention was caught by the sounds from a bed on the opposite side. The doctors and nurses had rushed in and were trying to do all they could for a frail old lady - she was finding it more and more difficult to breathe- an old man, her husband, was staring helplessly as the doctors and nurses worked against fate- but as always, fate had the final laugh! The woman stopped suffering and the noises died away instantly- to be filled with a meaningful silence. This is the worst about a hospital ward, you see death up close, more close than you ever have and ever wish to. I looked at the old man, who was leaning against the wall as if he had lost the power to stand upright. Very slowly, he limped forward, and took her hand in his. Planting a teary kiss on her forehead, he closed her eyes – it was Goodbye. For the first time, I realised that Love exists – not only in the shape of the fiery fiend that had ruined the life of many, but also as the bond that makes life worth living. The old man, with his time tested love, showed me love that doesn’t let go….that goes even beyond death……

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Epilogue

I had recuperated as much as possible – the days in the hospital had made me witness many separations, reunions – had shown me the difference between affection and affectation. I had seen the loving glow in the face of a mother, kissing her new born – pure love, mixed with strength and security. I had seen people fighting illnesses to get back to their loved ones, brooding parents, loving husbands, affectionate children, caring wives….. My own parents were the sole reason for my recovery, if you could call it a recovery!

I still felt the pain, I still felt angry at myself for bringing this on me – but I had changed. I was still wary of love, but I acknowledge its existence.  I realise it is no use being either a hopeless romantic or a disillusioned cynic- my tale of woe did not mean that all the love in the world is a farce- love is everywhere, waiting to be found, in the most likely and unlikely of places- acknowledged and ignored…

Love is not just the beginning or the end; it extends before the beginning and continues after the end.

Today, my pain had eased, but I know I am scarred for life – physically and emotionally. I also know this – I do not want to see him anymore, but I do not wish him ill luck, I do not seek revenge, neither do I wish anyone else to avenge….

 I forgive him - as, to me, that, too, is Love!

The End

Story Freedom

“Freedom is not always about breaking free from chains”

Prologue

I woke up to the persistent ringing of the telephone. Rubbing my eyes groggily, I gazed around in semi stupor, trying to get a grip over my slow senses. By the time I was fully awake, the person at the other end of the phone had given up. Something odd about this set me thinking- and then it hit me like a flash- I was alone in the apartment!  

It has been four years since I have rented this apartment. Along with the apartment, came Kamala- the maid. Over the course of these four years, every day has been the same- starting with a hot cup of masala tea brought to the bedside by Kamala. She had complete freedom over the running of my homestead- she moved around the furniture, decided when and what the meals were and even the clothes that I wear. Being a writer, and a temperamental one, it was imperative that I am not disturbed by these trifling matters- Kamala gave me the luxury of never having to attend to trivial household matters and, in return, I never pried into her domain.

My friends were jealous of my find- a jewel in the competitive world of house maids, and did their best to lure her away from me- but she stayed on. Imagine my chagrin when all of a sudden, she vanishes from my life. I felt like a toddler taking his first steps without anyone to hold on to. Thus began a new part of my life.

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I had started with an attempt to make my morning cup of tea, but I had to search for everything, from sugar to spoons. I lost the entire morning trying to make breakfast.

I realised that I was over dependent on Kamala and that my daily routine was built with her as the core. I, who boasted of being a free bird, was actually a tame pet of an inconsequential house maid! I decided that it was high time I broke free from the invisible shackles of domesticity that bound me and became a master of myself, and made up my mind to terminate the services of Kamala if she returns.

I started out with moving the furniture around. I reorganised everything in the kitchen, from the cupboards to the racks. Once I was done with cleaning the entire house, I felt I had accomplished something. Several days passed in this manner, with no sight of Kamala and I grew more and more accomplished day by day. I was enjoying my freedom to choose my life- revelling in my successes, determined in my failures and the warrior in me rose to the challenge of redesigning my life in my own terms.  After a week or so, Kamala had vanished entirely from my life and my thoughts. One day, when I went out to empty the dustbin, my neighbour- a natural in the field of gossip mongering- signalled to me indicating that she had vital information to pass on.

She knew that Kamala had been absent- in fact she knew even why! Kamala had gone insane! I gulped down the retort that it was she who had gone insane, merely nodded, and went back.

I may not be much of a conversationalist but I prided myself on being a good judge of character and in my opinion, Kamala was perfectly sane – she had absolutely no tendency of falling over to the other side. Since I was rather free that day, I decided to enquire into the matter. I got her address from my landlord and set my steps to her home.

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Kamala lived in a tumbledown shack with her husband and four children. When I reached her place, it was crowded – people usually flock to a place of tragedy like insects attracted to the light. From the bits and pieces of conversation around me, I gathered that my inquisitive neighbour was right- Kamala’s mind had indeed gone astray.

After some conversations I could gather the full story, rather the same old story. Kamala had married young and even though her husband was loving, he was a drunkard. He barely spent any time at home, spending all his income on drinks, leaving her to fend for the family. Even while she went about her duties in my house with a stolid demeanour, her mind might have been heavy with worries over her home- piling debts, increasing expenditure and growing kids- each held their share of space in her thoughts. When the weight was too much to bear, and her mind couldn’t keep pace with her thoughts, her mind had got deranged.

One fine morning, she sat on bed, intensely staring in front of her, as if concentrating on something – putting all her mind to it. Even the kids crying for food did not awaken her from her meditation. It was when her husband came home- drunk and late as usual- and found the tired and hungry kids sitting pooled around their mother, that he realised something was wrong. Several local doctors were called in, but none succeeded in waking Kamala from her meditation. It seemed like her entire world had shrunk into the tiny square of floor tile in front of her.

She was initially labelled as a patient of chronic depression, but after a week the verdict was delivered that she was officially insane – the diagnosis coinciding with the one that the localites had derived since day one. I went inside to support them in their tragedy- or rather to see the sight of the day.  She was sitting in the same pose, oblivious to the stares and chatter of the people around her. One of her kids got up and attempted to walk towards her father- but she stumbled and fell. I was still looking at Kamala, and I caught the sudden look that she darted in the direction of the kid. That look – the concerned look of a mother- belied her sanity and at that instant I knew- she was as sane as you or me. However, nobody else seemed to have noticed her momentary lapse. I walked out slowly, wondering about why she would forsake her life, earning and family and act insane.

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I spent a whole day and night thinking about Kamala, and then my thoughts were replaced by more pressing matters. I no longer required the services of a housemaid- Kamala had in fact taught me dependence and independence. My life went along the new lines for a month or so, when one of my ramblings brought me face to face with Kamala’s husband. He seemed to have undergone a transition. I enquired after Kamala’s health.

“She is much the same. Since we are not able to support her in this condition, she has been shifted to a home for the mentally challenged. A week after she was admitted, she grew rather violent and vindictive and consequently was shifted to the isolation ward. We rarely go to see her now, as we do not know when her mood might change and cannot bear to see her in one of her tempers. I have heard rumours that they use chains to keep her checked during her violent days.”

He seems to have gotten over his old ways and looks after the family now. They had got some financial help from the government and were able to live a better life. Except for the fact that Kamala is not with them, they seemed to be doing rather well. Like me, they too have grown accustomed to a life without her.

Epilogue

I thought about that one look of intelligence that came from her and wondered if she was acting insane for this very end. Call it a writer’s imagination, but I believe her to be perfectly sane. She might have forsaken her life, family and freedom so that her family can lead a better life.

People have changing views of freedom- it is the absence of responsibility to some, the choice to mould their own life for some others. For me, freedom was a life devoid of meagre tasks- a free mind, infinite time and engaging work. Kamala made me realise that freedom is also about choosing the way one lives, making small yet significant decisions every day. Freedom is not about independence- it is more about the luxury of being able to choose your dependences.

I believe, in her isolation, bound in shackles and branded insane, she had found her freedom- worlds apart from her worrisome life- with weighing thoughts of her family and the mechanical and frustrating job of a house maid. I realised that one could find freedom even in chains- Freedom is not always breaking free of chains; sometimes freedom might be better when fettered than free.

The End