Do or Don't - A Short Story

“Naani, Today I will go inside that Khandahar (Old House)” said Mehir.
“Which Khandahar?” asked Naani.
Mehir replied, “The one that lies behind our school. I have heard many stories about it from my friends. I will check whether they are right or not”
“Buddu(Fool)!! Don’t ever try to enter that Khandahar. Bhoots (Ghosts) reside there. They will kill you and make delicious food out of your parts.” Informed worried Naani, Mehir’s Maternal Grandmother.

These sentences were enough to frighten Mehir and he vowed never to go to that Khandahar. Naani felt worried about Mehir’s adventurous nature. She was looking after Mehir as his parents lived in a village and he was sent to his maternal family, living in the city, for studies. But every day Mehir would do something that would frighten Naani about his safety. Even today she knew that there was no ghost in the Khandhar but felt it safe to frighten him as the old khandhar might be filled with snakes and insects. She thought it safe to keep him away.

Mehir would always pass through the Khandahar while on his way to school…looking closely at it. He would see the mosses all around it. Trees had grown over its walls. The open space infront of it was full of grasses and many small plants. The house was in complete mess. “Why do the bhoots like to live in such a dirty place?” wondered Mehir.

He could not keep his eyes away from the Khandahar whenever he passed through it. He would try to imagine its interior. He would concentrate hard to hear voices from inside. He was attracted towards the mysterious Khandahar but the fear of bhoots would not allow him inside. It was always “DO or DON’T”. He would choose later. It became a daily routine.

The interest in Khandahar kept on increasing day by day. Not a day passed without some new stories being heard about it. Time washed away the fears that were instilled in him by Naani and one fine day Mehir decide that it was enough now, he would go inside the Khandhar today.
He asked his friends that he needed to collect some copies form teacher’s room and would not join them when the school closed. He left alone after some time. The road was empty. He walked fast as he wanted to go inside the Khandahar before somebody could sense his plan. When he reached the Khandahar, a wave of shrill passed through his veins. He controlled his fear and zoomed inside it. By the time he got back to his senses, he was inside it. It was dark. He recaptured his composer and started walking in the darkness. He heard different noises. He kept on moving slowly and suddenly saw red light coming out of one of the rooms. Loud noises were coming from inside. He wanted to run away. He could remember all the words of advice from his Naani. He was sweating. His hands were shaking. He could not walk an inch.

“It will be safe if I look inside the room by hiding myself” thought Mehir. He moved ahead slowly. The noises got louder. He hides himself behind the doors and when he was assured that nobody could see him, he peeps inside the room. The noises were getting irresistible. Finally, when he managed to get a clear view, he was stunned by what he saw. “Ohhh...my God!! Naani was right.” A large flame was burning at the centre of the room. Big monsters were sitted around it and small children were being fried in the fire. Fear gripped his soul. He decided to run away.

Thuddd….Mehir felt something on his shoulder. He looked up…It was a monster looking at him happily. He asked,”who are you?” Mehir fainted.

When he got onto his senses, he was lying on a dirty floor. His hands and legs were tied. A monster was sharpening his kataar(Sickle) in front of him. He sensed his end. He was fully soaked in water due to excessive sweating. He applied all his strength but could not free himself. He started crying. He wanted to run. Mehir promised...”God… Help me! I would never come back here again.” The monster was coming nearer…his eyes were red…Mehir saw his death floating there. As Monster raised his kattar, Mehir closed his eyes.

Dhammm……..Mehir opened his eyes and saw fan running over the roof. He touched his body. He was alive. He was sweating viciously. “Ohhh..it was a bad dream” assured Mehir. He recollected himself and had water from the fridge. He felt better. He moved out of bedroom to balcony. The cool breeze calmed him down. He felt relaxed.

Standing in the balcony of his flat, Mehir’s memory went into the afternoon in college last Friday. Memories of that Afternoon in college filled his senses …the lunch followed by those routine chats with friends and then, on his way back … fight with Mehek… when all those smaller frustrations, those bits n pieces of anger which somehow had got stagnated inside found a way to erupt … taking such a strong force which threw the instant caution of the mind and the deepest love of the heart in to the wind

“Who was wrong?” he thought. Quite possibly no one.

Many a time one’s expectation outweighs other’s act and hence it gets complicated. He was aware that he might be talking to Mehek for the last time. He knew that Mehek would not meet him again, pained by his behavior. He had expected Mehek to go wild at him but she was as cool as ever. She heard him silently and moved away slowly.

But everything we do, does come back at us… just the form in which they come remain a mystery – and here it came, with all its cruel claws at him – the effects of those bits n pieces of stupidity trying to take away all that genuine feel and all that abundant care weighing on his heart, away from him. It was the same Mehir who fought with Mehek well aware of the outcome and then suddenly in midnight he was feeling bad, that too after a week.

“Why is it so?” he wondered. Maybe that dream had a message for him.

He never met Mehek after that incident. He had anticipated the outcome of the fight but then again he did it. It was again “DO or DON’T”. This time he had chosen the former. Naani had warned him never to go to that Khandahar but he went and found himself in danger. He could now decrypt the dream. He fought with Mehek well aware of the outcome and again he is in mesh today. He felt choked. An urge to call Mehek and say “Sorry” came but….he knew that she would never receive the call.” It’s all over” whispered Mehir. He looked into the sky. It was a beautiful moon in a cool night. A lonely night. He could remember Mehek going away. Will she look back again? That might never happen. Mehir closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His eyes were moist. He wished it was also a dream.

THE SPHERICAL WORLD:WHATEVER THAT SEEMS TO BE MOVING AWAY, IS ACTUALLY COMING BACK TO THE ORIGIN.

It was nothing unusual for that day. It was not a festival, no one was getting married and I didn’t come first in the class. But our house had a festive look. The scent of newly painted walls was present all over the place. It was neat and clean everywhere. The bed wore new bed sheet, window curtains were clean and the room was dust free. The dampness of the soil made it cool all around. The whole family waited anxiously in the open varanda of our ancestral home. We were waiting for my grandfather who was coming home after a long time from his work place, kolkata.

This was a routine affair for most of the families in our village. This was the day when we would anxiously wait for the head of the family to return to our ancestral home after every six months or so. It was a common norm in those days that the earning member would be living in the city and the other members of the family would remain in village itself.
Situation changed with generation and when my father moved to the city, he brought us along with him. We would visit village during vacations and festivals.
The life of village was totally contrasting to the city life. The silence of the village, the loving neighborhood, the nights spent on daadi’s lap, days spent in fields and summer in mango orchards……………list goes on. There was no electricity, no TV, no pizzas and no cinema hall. But those were the best days of my life. Daadi’s stories were more enjoyable than the TV serials, Ramlal’s samosas were tastier than pizzas, the starry nights on rooftops were cooler than ACs, and the hand pump water was warmer than the geysers. That pure and serene beauty of a typical Indian village mixed with the innocence of childhood makes those days quite irresistible today.

I have been living in cities for some decades now,. With the time, the life of cities has changed a lot. It has become quite costly. The population has increased quite considerably. Indian cities have become the most populated cities in the world. In addition to that increased living standards of people here have led the land prices to skyrocket. The two room flats that were affordable for middle class families are out of range for a well paid citizen today .The loan facilities provide a helping hand but the high interest rates make sure that we remain in their clutches for quite some time.

If this shooting of real estate prices continues, I foresee a future where we would be forced to move our family back to our ancestral homes in villages and live single in cities to save money and sustain family. I can imagine my next generation waiting for me as anxiously as, I used to do for my grandfather.
I pause and think for a while:
Are we moving away from our past or getting closer to it? Is History repeating itself?
I must say this is a spherical world: Whatever that seems to be moving away, is actually coming back to the origin.

WITH BROOM IN MY HAND, I MISSED MY MOM ON THE TIME SAND

It was a weekend day and I rose early. The morning was lovely with the sunrays intruding slowly into my flat through the windows and the birds singing the rhymes of God. The room was silent and the environment soothing. I never felt such freshness and calm. Was it different from the other days or was I missing it everyday? I was enjoying every bit of it and went on to complete my morning chorus.

The next thing to catch my attention was the dirt which had became a part of my life. The sound of newspaper flying in the room, the dust stored over TV, computer and Utensils and the stack of books lying all over the room made wonderful scenery which made sure that I never missed the natural surrounding of my village in the concrete jungles of the town. But the stillness and silence of the surrounding made me realize their true colours. I decided to clean it. Ohh..it took minutes to even locate the broom in the small flat of mine. When did I clean it last? Do we need to clean our rooms everyday? Ohh…God! What am I doing? I was standing still with my entire brain cells working actively and the images of past rushing through my eyes.

I never saw the dust on TV, papers flying and the stack of books earlier. How the things got changed so drastically? Had I changed? The only difference was that I never got to see those misadventures of mine. There was an angel who cleaned my room, who kept money in my pocket before I could anticipate that I had no money, who knew my marks before I got my results, I never felt hungry, I never experienced pain. An angel who never asked for any return, who never shared her pain, who never called me by my name. I was standing still.

I sent the same angel to old age home last week. I found the same angel to be a burden on my young shoulders. I found her to be an intruder in our privacy when she was the one who was happiest to see me married to a girl of my choice. I found her expenses created a hole in my pocket when she made sure that I never had an empty packet. The dust and dirt of mine reminded me of her. With broom in my hand, I missed my mom on the time sand.

WAITING FOR THE RAIN TO WET MY SOUL

Patience and perseverance are told to be the two of the greatest virtues of any human being. Wait..everything will be alright. Wait…there is always a silver lining. Wait …future holds good for you. These are some of the lines which we keep on listening from our parents, teachers, peers and well wishers. We keep dreaming about the better future. When we are in mid-forties and all our hope vanish. We pass the baton to our children. Wait for their better future which in turn will make our own shinning….then the baton is passed to the Grandchildren…and it becomes a chain.

The wait never ends…….it just takes away different shapes. I wonder why we need to wait. Why can’t we live in the present unbothered by the past and unworried about the future? Why can’t we accept the simple fact of today however hard it is? Why do we need to console ourselves with the unknown sympathy of a better future? The very nature imbedded in us from the childhood days makes us a personality asking for excuses at every step later in our career and a day dreamer. I quote some lines of Mr. Atal Bihari Vajpayee:

“ kal kal karte aaj haath se nikle saare
Bhoot bhawisyat ki chinta me wartamaan ki baaji haare”

Kalpana : A flight of Desire

“The planet below you is our campsite, and we know of no other campground” said Kalpana while talking to a fellow astronaut. The only campsite they knew was planet Earth and even that eluded them when they tried to re inter its protective and caring arms.
It was not just another worst moment of science. It was the end of 7 individual stories as well and one of them was Kalpana Chawla. The girl from Karnal, Haryana, who dreamed high and one day reached there, but didn’t return home. What we have today with us is a compelling saga of aspiration and adventure, of pure heroism. Someone called Kalpana spreads her wings and flies away to play with the stars and disappears in a shooting glow in the sky. She hasn’t, she has become just another star.

It is not surprising that her mother had been hoping for a boy, being living in a country obsessed with male child. But came out Kalpana who achieved more than a boy could. She was born on 17th March 1962. She decided to be a space engineer by the time she was 14 and was the only girl to study aeronautics at Punjab Engineering College. Still, idea of going to USA was a shock to the traditional family, and they agreed only when her brother went with her to settle her in. she became an astronaut in 1994 and flew with her first shuttle mission in 1997. She could not get over the marvel of it and readily agreed for her second mission when any astronaut who has gone to space once is not keen to enter it again, as by this time, they are fully aware of the hazards involved in space flights. She was even ready to join the team going to the Mars whose return was not guaranteed.

Any risk much repeated can become routine, and so is for shuttle flights, except when they become tragic. Thats when we are reminded that knowledge doesn’t come easy and that many consequences are unintended, especially when we set off on an adventure. Its strange that we glimpse the impossible only when it fails. How can this space craft exist, one that leaves the earth like a ballistic missile, a fragile plane strapped to half a million gallons of explosive fuel, but two weeks later returns as a glider, swooping in wide S turns back to earth under nature’s power alone ? Columbia was the 88th mission since the challenger was lost in January 1986 – one flight lost to cold, one to the heat.

The life and deeds of Montu, Kalpana’s nickname, is a way for the whole India to follow. A girl born in a small Indian town went up to fulfill her dreams and came out with flying colours. Kalpana’s study started in her hometown karnal itself in Tagore Baal Niketan. She completed her Pre-University from DAV College for women and Pre-Engineering from Dyal Singh College, Karnal. She later moved to Chandigarh to complete BSc in aeronautical engineering from PEC in 1982. She then shifted to US where she married a French national named Jean Pierre Harrison who was her flight instructor in a pilot training institute in 1983. She completed her MS in aerospace engineering from university of Texas and PhD in aerospace engineering from University of Colorado in 1988. She was selected by NASA as an astronaut in 1994 and had her first flight mission in 1994 and again in ill fated 2003 which was to be her last.

Some of the famous sayings of Kalpana are:
Follow your dreams
The path from dreams to reality does exist. May you have the vision to find it, the courage to get onto it and the perseverance to follow it?
The quickest way may not necessarily be the best.
Pioneers don’t have role models.

Her last day in space began with ‘Scotland the brave’ piped over radio. “Wild are the winds to meet you. Staunch are the friends that greet you, kind as the love that shines from fair maidens’ eyes “.people watching in eastern Texas heard a crushing rumble outside and a rain of shuttle pieces fell onto backyards, roadsides & parking lots. It felt like an attack on the calm of watchful winter, in this case no apparent evil, no enemy other than the limits of man and machines and tension between the goals we set and the risks we take. Just in few seconds a promising career and a great story came to an end. Kalpana who always wanted to live with stars became a resident of Milky Way. I would conclude with these very words:

“What she did is past, what she would have done, would have been the present, but what she showed is the way.”