Utopia page 45: Three stars to separate thought processes
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- Bu səhifədəki naviqasiya:
- 60 SECONDS TO FREEDOM (MELISSA)!!
- THE PRINCE THE MINOR
- SEX, LIES AND VIDEOTAPE
TSUNAMI Putri was a young girl from Rima Jeunue, a small village in Indonesia. Her father was a farmer and her parents had died of snake bite when she was barely four years old. Putri became an orphan within hours and the whole world collapsed for her. And her innocent eyes could not make out what had happened or what could happen thereafter, where would the food come from, how she would manage life. Sauda, her aunt decided to bring her up because she also had a dream (like any other woman of her age) that one day her child would become a doctor and serve the poor, hapless people. But as luck played pranks with her, her husband Thawaraja, who was a fisherman, died of heart attack one day suddenly within one year of marriage and even before she could conceive. All this happened about ten years back. She could now see an opportunity in Putri for her dream fulfillment. She could see Putri serving thousands of people and giving each of them a meaning in life. She could also see that one day, her little Putri would be the talk of the villages for all the work she was doing. ***** Life has dreams for all. But Sauda’s life was shattered with the turn of events. That was of course ten years back. Sauda had been struggling to make both ends meet but never allowed Putri to understand the vagaries and vicissitudes of the life to an innocent child. Sauda brought up Putri as if she was her own child. Widow Sauda was now a fruit seller in the local market and made some money from her fruit sale to provide for their food needs and school fees for Putri. Whatever little saving Sauda made were used for making bohorombrom (an Indonesian delicacy of a sticky coconut jelly roll filled with palm sugar, served on banana leaf) and selling at a profit during festive seasons. ***** Life was tough but continued for both of them. Putri grew up in front of her eyes. One day, Sauda realized that little Putri had become a woman. She was good in her studies, good at painting and also good at writing. “How can you become so good in all these when your father was a farmer, your uncle was a fisherman and neither I nor your mother knew anything? When both of us had been busy with our daily chores till midnight..?” Little Putri replied “Auntie, it was your faith in the Almighty and my hard work in school. Years back, you had told me about your dream. I still remembered every word till today. One day, I shall be very famous, shall work for thousands of people. For making their life more beautiful. You would feel proud when all the villagers told you, Sauda, you have made Putri an asset to our society... We are all proud of you.” No one could see the tears rolling down the cheeks of Sauda that day…it was really what she had dreamt of, being a small time fruit seller. ***** The Indian Ocean Tsunami on December 26, 2004 was the strongest earthquake felt on Earth in more than 40 years — a magnitude 9.3 tremor off the coast of Indonesia's Sumatra Island — spawning unprecedented Tsunami waves that leveled cities and villages across the region. Almost 230,000 people in 11 countries perished, with Indonesia the hardest hit, and millions were displaced. Hundreds of villages were gone; their buildings were shattered, their homes reduced to rubble, all belongings washed away. Those who survived were suddenly scattered in displacement camps across the area. ***** Putri’s life changed forever. When the Indian Ocean Tsunami struck the area, she had gone to collect firewood in the hills above her village. Because of that, she survived — but she lost her auntie and almost all her neighbors. The seawaters stood over the ruins of their village for couple of days. Putri stayed up in the hills, taking shelter with a few other survivors, until the waters subsided. Putri could see many hanging onto the trees for survival and was petrified to see one of their neighbor’s kids falling in the ocean water below and being sucked with a horrific sound in the turbulent sea below and swept away. The child’s mother jumped to save her kid but both of them were swept away in the sea. How Putri survived those fearful nights, only almighty knew…Her tears had dried up, what had happened to Auntie, she had no clue and knew nothing… ***** Putri could see some villagers coming down the tree to catch some food from the seawaters. Every step was slow, stealthy and cautious; lest the Tsunami water should devour a few more…children were crying for food, no one came to their rescue, not even their own parents… Nothing was left of the village, only the foundations of a few houses. Putri could not remember how she survived those cruel four to five days. Putri could see that houses, trees and everything were flat to the ground and the area had turned to swamp, with pools of brackish water everywhere, caused by the Tsunami. ***** Putri gradually came down along with the others; she was now fourteen/ fifteen years old… She could not locate their hut and could see only debris. There was no sign of any street, market…they had all been washed away and devoured by the Indian Ocean... She could not locate auntie, she asked every one about her, no one knew, every one was busy on some thing or the other and looking out for their own kids, relatives etc... She could see in the distance the solitary mosque standing among the blocks of flattened houses, the old school building ravaged to the ground, uprooted trees, the debris-choked waters, many boats thrown far inland into what had been neighborhoods once.. Putri could now see the frightening strength of nature… She looked at the mosque and thanked Almighty for giving her a new lease of life. She was saddened since she had lost her aunt but some how could hold her tears back, when she came to know that thousands had died...but that was no consolation… What would she do now, where she would stay, what she would eat, what would happen to the promise made to auntie, how she would rebuild her life, how she would keep the promise she had made to auntie... ***** This was the opportunity to serve thousands of people, this was the opportunity to fulfill her dreams, this was the time to keep the promise made to her auntie, and this was the time when she had nothing else to think of but the safety of the surviving people… She could hear the CALL from the almighty “...Putri, this is the time, please go and SERVE. They need you…” ***** Ten years back, her life was changed when her parents had died. Today her life had changed after this Tsunami onslaught when auntie had died. But Putri thought she was not alone, GOD was with her… She gathered courage and met Sister Flabian and offered to render all types of services and also explained her very own as well as her auntie’s dream… This was gladly accepted, since Sister Flabian was looking for some one who was local, knew the local language and the dialects… Putri started working with this “Disaster Management” team. ***** Four years had passed since then…Putri had been an invaluable asset to the “Disaster Management” team and had worked tirelessly side by side with one and all at every step to help & reorganize women's groups, help in setting up infrastructure, sanitation, drinking water facility, working with local banks to give easier access to loans that helped survivors to rebuild, and also making visits to many neighboring villages to make sure everything was going well as advised by her superior sisters. Putri had shared her sorrows and joys with every one with a smiling face, giving hopes of living to one and all and leaving the past in the backyard... ***** It was untiring work for twelve to fourteen hours a day…in the camps for rebuilding from the catastrophe. It was quite challenging to ease the shock of survivors and that too the ones who had lost each one of their own years back. Putri had gradually restored a sense of routine of daily life to survivors and constantly reminded each one who had uncertainty that “LIFE MUST GO ON...” Putri could gradually see smiles on the faces of surviving kids, mothers, men and one and all including her superiors and Sister Flabian… ***** She was now sitting in one of the camps and recounting the events and the journey of her life...the writing skills, her passion of painting, the cruel deaths of her parents and auntie and above all, her being able to bring smiles to thousands of faces in the aftermath of the Tsunami.. Although she was now nineteen/twenty years old, she realized that she had grown immensely in the last four to five years… Using the skills she had, Putri was now writing a book with hand sketches of the traumatic events, of tales of sorrow and joy, tales of working together after a disaster, tales of challenges and struggles… The book “Tsunami-Aftermath of a Catastrophe” went on to become a best seller and won the highest award for “Fiction” category internationally… ***** The night she won the award in the glittering function amidst cheers and claps, she came up to the podium and said… “This is not a work of fiction. This is a dream come true with thousands smiling...I owe everything to my auntie who was a victim five years back. I dedicate this award to my auntie late Mrs. Sauda...May her soul rest in peace…” The cheers and the claps following her speech were indeed of such high decibels that possibly Mrs. Sauda could hear the same from some where in the skies… 60 SECONDS TO FREEDOM (MELISSA)!! As she rolled into an embryonic posture on the Church bench, the local priest held her hand and escorted Melissa back home… ***** “60 Seconds to Freedom (Melissa)!!” could perhaps be described as the moving & poignant, though highly inspirational story of an ultra-talented (ultra-blessed!) individual struggling with her inner voice! The protagonist is a great lover of music, a great musician herself, she writes, understands, appreciates, lives, dreams, sleeps & breathes music! And she simply loves the ‘Sound of Music’ (and Julie Andrews), The 5th Symphony and ‘My Fair Lady’! She does however nurture a great passion for dancing as well, particularly Ballet, but takes care to take doctor’s advice when flexing her limbs! She is not a very poor dancer either; unfortunately, illness has eroded the power of her limbs… The protagonist loves the “Symphony on Ice” but more often than not, her Femur betrays her when she needs it the most… She knows she survives on medication, though the world’s doctors have been unkind to the extent of refusing to disclose the name of her disease! This is insane, all the world’s doctors are surely out of their heads, she thinks! All she knows is that there is some disease she suffers from, what with all those bitter drugs, those painful intravenous injections and worst of all, those terrible electric shocks! She often wonders what has happened to her when doctors say her dreaded disease has weakened her immunity to the extent of driving her to behavioral issues! The protagonist knows complications have occurred! Though she is determined to survive! She knows life is a beautiful word! And so is courage! She knows of Helen Keller & Anne Sullivan! She knows of Mozart & Beethoven! If Beethoven who was hearing impaired could compose music, so could she, she thought! If Louis Braille who was visually handicapped could invent Braille, what was to stop her from dreaming of doing some good work? If Napoleon Bonaparte could proclaim with confidence that impossible is a word found in the dictionary of fools, then wherein a life to be wasted without a purpose! (In the story, the protagonist appears to be struggling with her inner voice!) ***** -Melissa contemplated: “God (in humble faith) O Krishna, thou loving shepherd Of the people, Buddha, lord of infinite compassion, Jesus, thou lover and savior of the soul, Ramakrishna, thou face of the divine Mother, and Vivekananda of the mighty heart, May ye and all the nameless Masters Of the spirit, Receive and save this soul!”
…but then my ‘med-studs’ (the whole, new world’s most brilliant doctors) have always made me believe- that I have ‘a beautiful mind’…(Prof. John Nash may have just fallen off his Princeton Chair! I never did, fall off my chair! Despite all those medical cultures & pathological tests & ventilatory therapies! (What therapeutic cultures!))… (My mind takes me to Cambridge, MA, Princeton, to Albert Einsteins (& dreamy ones!) & mathematicians & decipher(ing) codes & “intelligence quotients”, the Pentagon & finally Oslo…a prolific rioting of ideas, a story of immense courage in the face of adversity & ultimate triumph following a life of harrowing struggle, a triumph not through war, conflict & gore (& talk of pre-conflict & post-traumatic disorders & resolution & reconstruction and/or transformation!), but through the power of the human spirit to ever make possible the near – I’m possible conversion of lives & pasts of darkness into pathways of light – (nee beacon light)…” It started as a dream, a dream of the painful realities she had faced: ***** At a formal “Creative Awards for Freedom & Young Philanthropy” ceremony, city of Calcutta, India, amidst much media glare- Melissa was felicitated by the International Creative Artists’ Festival Committee, Liverpool, UK- As she emerged from the venue, Melissa was hounded by the paparazzi (amidst much glitz & glamour!) She was now in action following the formal ceremony; during an evening marked by a formal rendition of the theme “Songs for Freedom & Non-Violence”! -As she performed the songs (to music) onlookers cheered. There was a local rendition of songs for freedom & non-violence at the behest of the International Society for Peace Consciousness, city of Calcutta, India… -As the performance drew to a close, amidst exuberant cheers from the audience! Melissa collapsed…
*****
Artificial ventilation, doctors, nurses, attendants, being a patient, being administered artificial respiratory therapy, and pain, perhaps Melissa was pre-destined to suffer…
Melissa was then in sound sleep- Suddenly, she shouted in tremendous pain, These were the tribulations (struggling & suffering) of a patient – the pain of disability… The patient then started throwing objects around; as doctors & nurses rushed, Melissa was in excruciating pain, as her mother cried in desperation. ***** They had given her a sedative… She woke up to struggle to move her feet as she began tapping to Classical rhythm- (Melissa had not given up; one could find her either playing music or struggling to sway to rhythm, but struggling both ways!) She was now in the Emergency Room/Intensive Care Unit of the hospital, and once again on artificial ventilation, as her mother requested for Classical (both Western and Indian) musicians to play at the patient’s bedside, doctors tried their utmost to arrange for music therapy- Jesus came to the protagonist in her sweetest dreams! Melissa was now recovering! Doctors had noticed some movement in her thumb & little fingers! ***** Six days later The patient struggled and fell into Jesus miracle dreams; this time she was really seriously ill (had slipped into a coma) and would not survive- Melissa had now been given an hour (60 seconds) to live! (As her mother cried ceaselessly, The musicians had arrived at the patient’s bedside) (Melissa’s mother finally appealed to Churchgoers to pray for her recovery) As musicians played by her bedside and as followers prayed in Church The patient still did not move, was completely static- It was extremely morose; this time all eyes were on the patient- perhaps she wouldn’t survive… Then, suddenly, Jesus’ love flooded Melissa- And she miraculously recovered! Melissa was finally being helped to come home! ***** Her mother was jubilant as she received a letter that has just arrived from an International Creative Artists’ Festival Committee in Liverpool, England inducting her daughter into a special online hall of fame and inviting her to London to perform at the Liverpool International Creative Artists’ Festival! (Melissa had actually mailed a detailed portfolio of her creative work to the organizers through a friend who loved her dearly. This was before falling seriously ill) The protagonist immersed herself in prayer before the altar of Jesus! She also took care to visit the local Hare Krishna temple! Melissa was now unable to avoid media glare! She however expressed her inability to attend the festival though she graciously accepted her induction into the online hall of fame… A few days later, she received a letter from Liverpool laying down very clearly that the organizers should be coming down to India to honor her and were expected to arrive in about two weeks time! The protagonist was now crying and speaking to all & sundry of Jesus miracle! Melissa was actually praying, now that she had been flooded with Jesus’ love… ***** She had following her beautiful experience learnt to actually appreciate the beauty of flowers and leaves falling in autumn! She was now waking up early in the morning religiously every day, taking long walks in the park and consulting Literature on transcendental meditation! The (once patient) protagonist was now a changed person! (‘I am now a changed person’) (Melissa would often come out of Church to cover a beggar sleeping under the flyover with a blanket…) ***** She was now offering her everything… Her books to God… Her musical instruments to God… (To Lord Jesus inside Church and to Lord Krishna inside the temple)… She had already started signing charity letters… And donating… (‘I live for the one that has saved me…!’) She had finally decided to share, if not preach her experiences for the good of God’s living creatures, in a word…mankind… (‘I seek to offer my all to the one that has saved me…!’) ***** At her first Liturgy: scores of people arrived… The protagonist was now actually speaking following an epic battle for life & a miraculous recovery! “The past 60 seconds have been disturbing, terrifying, wonderful… It started with an order from Caiaphas the High Priest, Caiaphas the Puppet of Rome, Caiaphas whom I serve… My orders were to pass on the High Priest’s instructions to the Captain of the Temple Guard, go with him and his men to seize Jesus, and take Him to the Judgment Hall… But this time something in me resisted my orders… Months earlier I had heard Jesus speak, and I tell you, no other man spoke like he did! ‘Love your enemies. Do good to them that hate you.’ Now that is a message you don’t hear often! With everyone else it’s ‘an eye for an eye.’ The zealots want their country back. The religious fanatics want their religion back. The crooked merchants who have been out-cheated want their money back. It seems everyone wants revenge. Jesus was different. Caiaphas wanted us to arrest Jesus in the dead of night because he was afraid there would be a riot if the common people were around to see it. Jesus had done many miracles, and most people loved him. In fact, the crowd had called for him to be their King upon his entry into the city just a couple of days before… We could have saved the temple treasury the 30 pieces of silver that the chief priests paid Judas, because before we could say or do anything, Jesus asked us, ‘who are you looking for?’ ‘Jesus of Nazareth,’ I answered. ‘I am He,’ Jesus said. His presence was so overpowering that all of us who had come to arrest him fell to the ground. ‘Who are you looking for?’ Jesus asked again. ‘Jesus of Nazareth,’ I repeated as I struggled to my feet. ‘I have told you that I am the one you are looking for, so let these others go,’ he said, pointing to his disciples. But one of them – the one they call Peter- didn’t want to leave without a fight. He drew a sword and swung. I dodged and thought he had missed, but then I felt a sharp pain and blood gushed from the side of my head. My ear was gone! I dropped to my knees and clutched the wound, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood. My clothes became a red-soaked mess and I began to lose consciousness. Suddenly a brilliant light engulfed me...” -This was a powerful voice speaking!- ***** Melissa was now taking prescribed medications (on time!)…She was now extremely disciplined as also very grateful… She would often contemplate & pray in earnest regularly! As Melissa meditated in serenity; there was complete calm and she remained undisturbed, undeterred and meditating against the skyline. As children played in the park, she continued meditating- “Someone called my name. It was Jesus, kneeling over me and covering my wound with his hand. I felt a warm tingle. The pain stopped. Jesus’ eyes were full of love. He didn’t say a word, but I knew then that he was my friend, not my enemy. I also knew that I would be all right- but what would happen to Jesus? I had played a part in his arrest, and now I regretted it. ‘Put that sword away,’ Jesus said, turning to Peter. ‘He who lives by the sword will die by the sword.’ I think some of the guards were as surprised as I was that Jesus could have enough love to heal his enemies. Some may even have wondered, like I did, if he really was the Son of God… Alone in the garden, I contemplated the miracle that had just taken place… I ran to the High Priest’s palace to see what would happen to Jesus, and found the place filled with people. News of Jesus’ arrest had spread quickly. ‘Where is he?’ I asked one of the guards. ‘The trial has begun… I kept feeling my ear. There was no pain, no damage. I ran my fingers over the spot, but couldn’t even feel a scar. How could that be? Then that thought came back, even stronger than before. I’m responsible for this! I felt like I was the one on trial. He healed me. He showed me love and mercy. Now he is surrounded by wolves crying for his blood. What have I done? The guard was right. Caiaphas and the chief priests were quick to pass judgment, but they didn’t have authority under Roman law to condemn Jesus to death. I followed as Jesus was taken to stand trial before Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor… They knew Jesus was no ordinary man. ‘I find no fault in him at all,’ Pilate declared after his interrogation. But when he saw that the crowd had been incited by the priests to demand Jesus’ execution and was about to riot, he called for a basin of water and washed his hands, saying, “I am innocent of the blood of this just man. If you want him crucified, you see to it!’ Then Pilate handed Jesus over to be crucified, and the whole garrison of Roman soldiers gathered around Jesus. They dressed him in a scarlet robe and put a crown of thorns on his head. They spit on him and mocked him. ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ Then they put his own clothes back on him and led him away to be crucified. I was pushed along by the crowd as it surged through the narrow streets of Jerusalem until we came to the hill called Golgotha- ‘the place of the skull’- just outside of the city. By the time I pushed my way to the front of the crowd, the soldiers had already nailed Jesus to a cross and hoisted him up to die like a common criminal. His face and body were splattered with blood, like mine had been in the garden. In my mind I traveled back several months, to when I had heard him tell a crowd, “I have come to seek and save the lost.’ Even though I was sure he wouldn’t be able to hear me over the noise of the crowd that had gathered to watch him die, I told him, “I am lost, Jesus. Forgive me for what I did!’ Then he looked straight at me with the same love in his eyes that I had seen in the garden. I knew I was forgiven. It had been a miracle when he healed my ear, but an even greater miracle when he healed my heart. A moment later Caiaphas arrived to taunt Jesus and gloat over his victory. He was so different from Jesus- so filled with hatred and malice. “If you are the King of Israel, as you claim, come down from the Cross! Then we will believe. You trusted in God- let him deliver you now!’ The sky turned dark, the wind blew, thunder shook the hillside, and Jesus cried out, “father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!’ Even as he hung there dying, he forgave his executioners… Now I know what I must do…” Now I know what I must do…” ***** Melissa now knew that… -‘Nothing could deter her…’ -‘She was healed…’ -‘Jesus had healed her…’ -‘Krishna had healed her…’ -‘Now she would live for others… Particularly those in certain ways less privileged or less fortunate than her…’ -‘I love you Jesus, I love you Krishna…’
(Her mind had already traveled to a distant horizon!) ***** (“I believe day-to-day life is a bit like Easter! We experience disappointments, sorrow, and pain, but through our savior we can find sweet relief and ‘resurrection.’ Our troubles won’t last forever. In those moments when we feel like we are dying, when we feel burdened and full of sorrow, we need to remember that the ‘best is yet to come.’ Just as Jesus’ death was not the end, only the beginning, so the problems of life that threaten to undo us can signal a new beginning, the turning of a new page. That’s Easter-the joy of starting again. ‘I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in me shall never die’…Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal’ Were Jesus’ followers able to see him after he was resurrected? Yes! Were they able to usually recognize him? Yes! Did he walk and talk with them? Yes! He even cooked for them and ate and drank with them…Jesus was able to do all these normal, natural things, and in your new resurrection body, so will you. Think of that! But that’s not all. You’ll also be able to do some things you can’t do in your natural body. When his followers were in a locked room for fear of those who had crucified him, Jesus walked right through the locked door. Another time, when he had finished talking with two of his followers on the road to Emmaus, he ‘vanished from their sight’. You’ll be able to walk through walls and doors and appear and disappear, just like Jesus did. You’ll also be able to travel from one place to another, not merely at the speed of sound or light, but at the speed of thought. ‘We shall all be changed!’ The main thing that’s going to be changed is your body, but if he’s going to change your body, he’s certainly going to change your clothes. You’ll be clothed in a robe of light, a robe of righteousness. Just think, no matter where you are or what you’re doing, you’re suddenly going to notice a wonderful change and look to see that you’re wearing a beautiful new robe of righteousness! You’ll sure feel different because you’ll ‘be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump’… At the sound of that trumpet you’re going to be raised from the dead, if you are dead, or raised from the earth if you’re still living…”) - Courtesy David Brandt Berg et al They gave her a standing ovation… As she rolled into an embryonic posture on the Church bench, the local priest held her hand and escorted Melissa back home… She had indeed “saved the best for last”… THE PRINCE & THE MINOR All that brouhaha. That too on the eve of the elections. They said he had said these words but the Prince of Mawar denied the allegations. It seemed he had said that he would if elected drive away from the country all ‘unpatriotic’ Indians. It was not clear however what the Prince had meant by unpatriotic. Were these the members of the minority community, non-resident Indians or foreigners? In the run up to the election, the Prince had ordered that all members of minority, NRIs and expatriates should leave the state or face dire consequences. What followed could be the worst nightmare for any one, and Mawar was no exception. The famous Mawar-Jhumla Express was burnt and reduced to ashes, buses were torched and shops forced to close down. An enraged mob would then drag out female members of the minority community and either rape or strip and parade them naked. Finally, curfew was imposed in the state of Mawar. ***** He had seen all of it but survived. Now Rafiq Ansari was quite a man. His mother Hamida Begum had recently turned 60 and his two elder sisters Sameera and Farzana were now married and settled. Rafiq worked as an auto-mechanic in his late father’s garage. He was earning a decent living when one day a group of men arrived out of nowhere insisting that Rafiq should join them in making a living conspiring to kill the Prince. They were offering him money in dollars. ***** Rafiq had seen some of his own people being humiliated in the rioting. He was young blood and his blood was boiling. So they went ahead with the conspiracy. ***** Elections were round the corner. The state was still under emergency rule. Rafiq and his accomplices stealthily entered the Maharaja’s Palace. They went straight up to his bedroom and beheaded the Prince. On 19th May, 1994, the bloodiest year in the History of Mawar, a tiny princely state near Delhi, Rafiq Ansari and his 10 accomplices surrendered to the police. They were sentenced to life imprisonment. As for Mawar, it was a black day. The state flag was flown at half-mast. And people were in mourning. The new Prince, a rather benevolent one, promised to be more tolerant and compensate all those that had suffered. The stars blessed him, hailing him as the generation’s Messiah… The curtains finally came down on the epic saga of a Prince and a minor… RACHEL The truth is they never realized her worth. Or the worth of the book she had written. So when the nominees were announced, her parents were stunned. Rachel Elizabeth Thomas had been long listed for the Lionel Gelber Prize for Non-Fiction 2009. They were informed over the phone from Toronto. Rachel had finally been declared the winner! And all this after a lengthy personal struggle that spanned almost 1/4th of her existence so far… ***** The media were all over her. The new ‘Queen of Non-Fiction’… From ‘The Times of India’ to ‘The Hindustan Times’ to ‘The Economic Times’ and ‘The Telegraph’, they had all queued up outside her flat in Kolkata (India). They were all waiting for the Queen to emerge. All eyes were on the front door. The door opened to the outside world, and photographers clicked… There she was, being assisted by her parents and with a caregiver! ***** There were only two questions relating to her book. All questions related to her current condition, how it happened, etc etc. Suddenly, the would be cynosure of all eyes had become an object of pity. But she had gone through this ordeal before. ***** You know how it feels! When they don’t quite respect you for what you are. When your very appearance or otherwise gait becomes the subject of attention. When society decides to brand you without considering your worth. When people on the road speak in whispers every time you pass by. When even your parents don’t realize your worth. That is when you say that the ‘Biwako Millennium Framework’ has been a disaster! You only wish then that you were free… ***** She was not born with depression. She was a bundle of cheer in college. The best fresher (and subsequently best sophomore). Always singing (she had a degree in music), dancing (she was best dancer) and proficient in the Arts. One could always see her smiling. And yes, she loved the rhythm and blues, hip-hop, fusion and world music. Though she never listened to trance, she would often go into one just listening to music! Her favorites, regardless of genre were Celine Dion, Sir Elton John, Pink Floyd and Madonna. Rachel would often be found sitting alone inside the Cathedral, and praying to Jesus to give her strength in times of difficulty. She had truly mastered the art of prayer, and when the time came, she found that the only one by her side was Jesus. (Truly, the only one always by your side is Jesus) They were always there by her side. Her parents. They gave her so much love that one could never dream of. They brought her presents every time they went on a holiday. She was the ‘darling’ of the family. But things have changed ever since… Things have changed. ***** By the time she was 17, she had been put in a hostel. And hostel life was fun. Rachel was not aware that something more challenging was coming up. At the age of 21, she graduated with a major in Psychology and a minor in Economics. Life in undergrad had been fun, but she was supposed to give it all up for an internship with the ‘Centre for Development Studies’ in Bhubaneshwar, the capital of Orissa state of India. From the moment she arrived, she sensed there was something spooky. Mahesh, one of the canteen staff seemed to be a big lech. He was always staring at the girls, and this made them slightly uneasy. By then, she had found two very good friends in Kate, who was from Australia and Judith, from the Netherlands. ***** Kate and Judith were her best pals. They were always together. She shared her cabin with Kate. They would massage each other for hours. They would frolic for hours. The local Indian staff members were also very good. Although Rachel was Indian (actually Anglo-Indian), she could not speak the local language, Oriya. This was often the subject of discussion amongst colleagues, but no one chided her or said anything. They were all very nice people! Between themselves, Kate, Judith and (the local intern) Rachel had a colleague from Dacca, Bangladesh. His name was Mohammad Kashif. Kashif was a travel-writer who was traveling through the Indian sub-continent at that point of time. His main objective was to study patterns of behavior in primitive South Asian peoples, beginning with some of the tribes of Orissa. His research was expected to result in a report. Under Kashif’s guidance, Rachel learnt the A-B-C of writing. Soon she was traveling to the local slums and recording her experiences. She would often keep a diary. This was something out of the ordinary. Like she had never experienced before. The extraordinary experiences of ordinary people. The rickshaw puller, the ‘paanwallah’, the washer man (dhobi) and the domestic servant all lived under the same roof. There were also perhaps child laborers, and construction workers. The people we would call the poor. People for whom there was no place in the malls of new India, emerging India. One thing Rachel was sure of, that the people of Orissa lived in abject poverty. With Kashif’s help, she was also able to discover a ‘different’ India, the likes of Kalahandi, Bolangir and Koraput, where children died of hunger the way they kill ticks. Rachel canceled her party-appointment to take a trip to Koraput. Kate was with her. On the way, however, as the overnight bus touched deep jungle, Kate was molested by a middle-aged village man who had boarded the bus seeing the girls. No one said or did anything. The ordeal was now to begin… *****
Rachel had meanwhile been teaching Mahesh and his canteen co-staff Baldeo. She was teaching them English and numericals. Every evening, she used to sit down with them at the end of canteen hours, then take her dinner and then retire. Tonight, it was different… Usually, she took her food in the canteen. But this evening there was something fishy. Both Mahesh and Baldeo insisted that ‘Rachel Madam’ should take her food upstairs. Innocent as she was, Rachel or Ms Rachel Elizabeth Thomas did not realize that something serious was coming up. ***** It was a dark night and raining heavily. Rachel got up and closed the windows. By now, she was alone in her room, not asleep and yet unaware of the impending danger. There was a knock on the door. It was Baldeo, and there was a plate of food in his hands. Much as he insisted on her taking the food, she refused wondering if they were trying to drug her. Finally, turned down Baldeo went away. But what was to come could have been the subject of any crime thriller. It was 12:00 a.m. Rachel was fast asleep. She woke up to see a shadow in the verandah surrounding the intern residence. Soon, there was a man inside the room. He was only in his underpants. It did not take her long to make out that it was Mahesh! What was he doing there? Rachel Elizabeth Thomas was not alone. Jesus was with her. She folded her hands in prayer for a moment, and then raising her voice and threatening dire consequences for this employee (telling him that she would inform the management) she threw him out of the room! (Contemplating doing this to the lady who had been taking the pains to teach them grammar and numericals, it was a shame, wasn’t it?) ***** The Centre’s CEO, Mr. Jogeswar Mohanty, had arranged for a vehicle to take her back to her hometown. She was indirectly blamed for the incident. No one said or did anything. Kate, her friend gave her a hug for perhaps the last time. Then the car sped away… Rachel arrived in her hometown around dusk. She was in a delirium. The events of the past few days had affected her thinking. ***** Mr. and Mrs. Thomas were visibly upset. And this was quite natural. She had been such a darling, and now they had to cope with this. It seemed their entire life had turned up side down. Next morning, they drove her to the hospital. The doctors were unanimous. It was something to do with a Serotonin imbalance in her brain. They gave her a sedative. She was now a patient. A patient for ever. Perhaps that was what was written on her forehead. ***** Rachel Elizabeth Thomas, alias Rachel was born in the City of Kolkata on the 25 July, 1974. Her father worked as an IT Consultant and her mother was a homemaker. When a little girl of two, she (or rather her grandmother) had been told by a soothsayer that the girl would grow up into something extraordinary. All this, whatever was happening, was extraordinary, wasn’t it? At the age of five, little Rachel’s parents sent her to a Convent, where she grew up whacking tiffins and praying at the Chapel. She was to later join the school choir. Completing high school from a Convent, the girl then went to a Jesuit institution to pursue secondary education. Finally, she was sent to a boarding under grad institution in Delhi, where she majored in Psychology. ***** Life is sometimes an experience. Always an experience. Sometimes good and sometimes bad. The truth is that the good never happens. The bad always does. SEX, LIES AND VIDEOTAPE Do you know what the life’s biggest tragedy is? To be punished for the crime you did not do and more so without a trial. That is what exactly happened at my last job. My wife left me and my children were remorse. My mom just prayed. I made a huge loss on the stock market. My decimation to some was complete. But I remember the words of my old friend who had said to me that I was a Phoenix and that I was capable of rising from the ashes. The country of Japan rose out of the ashes following Hiroshima and Nagasaki. King Bruce of Scotland did. And so did the great Napoleon Bonaparte who has always inspired me with his famous quote: “Impossible is a word found in the dictionary of fools…” My friend was right --- I have in the past risen out of the ashes almost three times. ***** I wanted to leave the country and an opportunity arose when I was informed that the Government of India wanted to send me on deputation to Australia to bring in the reforms on the Australian stock markets. I grabbed it with both my hands as I wanted to be away ------- to find peace and reinvent myself.
***** Every year the company had an outdoor meeting of the Board of Directors, and so we were at Goa, March 2008. It was on one of these occasions that I met Mrs. Chand, an ambitious woman who never showed it outwardly but was an excellent manipulator. She was the Deputy Managing Director and the term of the Chairman and the Managing Director was soon coming to an end as approved by the Board, the shareholders and the regulators. Mrs. Chand along with another woman was the front runner. She undoubtedly had put in lots of effort to rise and was a good executor but not a visionary like the Chairman or the Managing Director as told to me by my immediate boss Mr. Tantra. However it seemed she had pocketed almost all the power centers of the Company including some of the members of the Board. ***** She was not a very attractive woman. She had slim, long hair and nice lips but nothing at the top to attract a man’s attention. Well, off course she had a nice small butt which jutted out while walking. Though I was a joint company secretary I was not allowed to attend the meeting of the Board as I came to know later my boss Mr. Tantra did not want it. I must tell you that Mr. Tantra was ten years younger to me and had very little knowledge of company law and more so the job for a listed company on the stock exchanges, so undoubtedly was insecure to that extent. But he never interfered with my job and respected me for my profound knowledge required for the post I held. ***** “Sitting here all alone, come join us!” It was one of the Company Directors. He had a glass of Scotch in his hand. I had no option but to order a drink. Post the Board meeting in the evening we had a party to be followed by dinner. I was sitting at the table with the Managing Director and other colleagues. The music was on and some of them were dancing. I was just a silent spectator, and feeling some what out of place as I could see that entire people wanted was to sit with the power centers or talk to them. One of the Directors told my boss that I had to be indoctrinated to the company’s way of living. I did not follow what it all meant, however I smiled and took another round of whiskey. Later on I was friendly and discussed stock and the stock markets with him quite often. Yüklə 1,05 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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