Spinster Doctor / A story- 2nd part

I sat silently before the Doctor for a few minutes. A male cook brought the tea for both of us in an old style cups, bringing the memory of English people, subsequently the Anglo-indians.Though Auntie, an Angloindian in dress and maintaining etiquette, knows thoroughly the Indian roots and its culture. She lays far too much emphasis on 'life' and ' values', and too little on more and materialistic pursuits.
I in my low voice asked her 'Rose?' and took her hands in my hands, I could feel the rhythmic blood flow in her arteries and slow increase in her body heat. The skin very tender, nerves see extremely strong in her hands, and wondering, how many lives might have come to the earth through this hands of Gynecologist, that too through the hands of benevolence and blessing.
God selects some hands among billions of hands in the world to do some noble jobs, although many who are blessed so never realised the Power behind such nobleness.
I raised my face and looked at her face, which was looking down the earth, could feel the trembling and twitching of muscles in her face trying to stop the outburst of whimper.
She in her masked voice,although trying to conceal her emotions, said ' Devi, fifteen years passed since she left me'
I kept quiet looking at her, giving her time to recuperate and compose herself.
She started talking after a few minutes ' She became a Nun in a convent, looking after the orphans, I gave her love enough more than a mother could give, but she felt more alienated owing to her thinking that she had been left behind by her mother. She loved me more equally she moved away and became concerned about her mother's leaving her behind. And she developed the attitude of a mother to the orphans always ever since she was a child.'
Doctor continued' I wanted to make her a nurse which would have been more suitable for her nature towards the orphans and old alike, but she wanted and became a nun............. so.' she stopped awhile.
I looked down on the floor near her a few drops of tears turning into brown , may be the color of the floor showing the back ground of the floor or the love of tears becoming so ....... I don't know.
No wings of compassion can bring back Rose to the Doctor auntie, although I know Auntie expecting her any moment like a child expecting her mother.
I sat before her for a long time visualizing my friend in the robe of a nun, attending orphanage works and praying . That beautifully complexioned Rose , covered her body completely from her head to foot and showing only the face like a rose at the altar of God.
Here there is a child of 85 yrs old waiting for her mother to return.
Heart knows how to adjust to human emotions, now I could feel in her wrist heart rate is normal.
More than individuals heart knows how to adapt to a situation.When goes beyond , it s l o w s down................

Spinster Doctor / A story Part 1

When I walked in the road which I might have walked hundreds of times in my native town ,I stood stamped in front of a old building, no it is a bungalow with its portico .Once the same bungalow which my memory had gone back to the scenic beauty of the bungalow with its compound wall cleanly white-washed and the compound gate painted in green , though which always passers by could see the bungalow.
The trees both flowering and ornamental, shrubs,meadow with grass of alien variety and the carpet of colorful flowers of various hues like yellow,white,green, brown and combination of various colors blended by nature, which we could see when we passed by the street.I remember once when my father and I went by that street, I pulled my father's hand to stop and leaving his hand I ran towards the gate of the bungalow. I looked through the gate , gazing at the flowers, trees, fruits,like mango,jack fruit,coconut and other trees.
When an old man came near the gate and asked me ' child, who are you?"
I just blinked my eyes standing silently.
One small hand came from behind the old man with a red rose flower and I collected through the gate.That was the hand of a small girl with fair complexion who came forward and smiled at me.I smiled at her .
The bungalow had a name board Dr.Miss.Susan., Gynecologist, and the name of the hospital she was working.
Now again I am standing before the same bungalow .
No proper compound gate , but what remains as gate is opened and could any one walk through.No one manning the gate when I visited there when young.
I entered into the compound and dismayed to see the condition of the garden, no flowering trees or plants, only trees which stood there without being cared about.
I saw a calling bell switch but a plaster pasted on it showing it was not in use..I tapped the door............ silence continued .........again tapped , seeing no response ,I looked through the window which was opened, though that I could watch someone living there.
Again I called ' Is there anyone in ? Auntieeee ...are you there?'
After five minutes I could hear a rustling sound of someone coming to the door and unlocking from inside. I could see as though someone from the shadow walking out into the light .
My God ,' this is Doctor Aunt.'
She came closer and looked at me , I said ' Doctor aunt , I am Devi'
She moved inside to give way for me to move inside the house.We moved inside the hall with wooden furniture, she sat on one chair and showing me to sit on another chair nearby.
'Dr.do you remember me?'
She smiled at me .
'How are you Auntee?'
She looked at me patiently for a few minutes and moved to a closet and came back with a photo in black and white ......... that was the group photo of the final year of the school where Rose and me studied .
She had shown me where I stood in the row and near me that Rose , my close friend of school days till school final.
I know Rose was picked up by her in front of her Hospital left by someone , whom she adopted as a child and brought her up.
My memory started running like a horse backwards.
My mouth opened to ask the question where she was now.
But kept quiet, had she been there house would have been different , kept clean and the garden also.
Aunt sitting before me as a frozen painting of yesteryears .
What would have happened to Rose, my friend.

Tom and his fading sight / a story

An old man with white beard and sadness writ large all over the remaiining space of his face, sunken small eyes semi closed , hunched over his table, feverishly searching the papers scattered over his table and all over the room.
Many papers are letters either written by him or written to him, the swirling fan spreading further all the papers all over place as though all the pages torn from his daily life and years of his past life. Every paper has a meaning and mood and scene of his individual days. Sometimes these papers are like mirror reflecting his entire life as a painting in a single canvass. His face seems to suggest so. But still he is searching the papers as if trying to find out some thing more important than all the papers around him.
Still he is searching, sitting in his old wooden chair with handles to rest his hands, another chair next to him vacant.
'Tom ' a voice called.
Tom has not heard the voice or rather seemed not heard the voice.So concentrated he was in his papers.
' Tom ' again the voice called him.
' Tom , what happened to you ? what are you searching for?'
" Oh, nothing , nothing I am fine" Tom said.
' What are you searching ? his friend Susan asked, his only friend over decades.
" oh, sorry I am searching you , last night i lost you , so searching from last night to find you " Tom said.
" But Tom I am here in front of you . " I sat next to him in the vacant chair.
I could make out what did he mean when he said since last night he lost me. He has been suffering from progressive deterioration of his eye sight.
He knew many years before one day finally he might not be able to see.
I stood up held his hands and said ' I am here Tom"
I took his head in my bosom and held his head between my hands.
When i sat down i could see the eyes with out sight but filed with full tears.
In the tears I could see my face reflecting completely.

untold love / just passing cloud---- a story

I am in a beach alone unlike other times I came here , but the scenic painting of nature remains as usual with children of various age group, ladies ,men, old ,young and pairs of either loving or married .

I stood how long I don't know just seeing the waves coming towards the shore, some bring hopes and aspirations to some, some waves disappointments, some soothing the ruffled feelings, some calm down the emotional turbulence but waves do the nature's job ceaselessly to the shore and people..Animals like horses,dogs birds like mainly crow and other species either wander or fly about like human minds; do they also think like us or don't have any thinking like us. If so , are they liberated unlike us who bound down to Karmic wheel of sorrow and happiness.

Is there any change or is it possible to change the pace of Karmic wheel as we try to do everyday.? When helpless comes, how seriously or how concerned we are about ourselves. Why don't we accept as and when anything comes? Then why we take birth ........... is it only to suffer ? Well, if we know the fact as described by scholars and mythology alike, that life is an illusion , does it not prove that life is meaningless.

She came back to reality and started seeing people , one section with Pundits conducting the ritual of bringing peace to departed souls and after placing the cooked rice and other things on a banana leave , taking a dip in the sea and coming back to the shore with emotions writ large on the faces.

Seema also came for that ritual of giving the " Pindam" to the departed soul , one difference being she in no way related by any sense as known to the world .First she thought of the relationship she had with this man who passed away. He was a bachelor , name Sarath, hailed from a village, a journalist like her.

He neither behaves like any other journalist as if skulking on the ivory tower of knowledge not with a face with which they move with the society. He was a good man with manners , not showing any false mask to her.He was what to her --- she was thinking. , husband,lover, friend or what . He was not anything to her . They were both journalists, always talking on many issues including personal problems , but never talked anything of affection or love.

Am I loving him now? No , I don't...... or did I love him when we were friends, when he was alive. I am not clear..... never talked anything beyond the boundary of decency, neither of us went into the private domain of another.Did he love me in anyway?....... I could not make out neither he ever broached the subject of love .

Then why is it I am here to conduct the ritual when he passed away , when no one is interested to do this ?

Is is some unknown feeling or untold love which pushes me to do this.? Does his soul know this in this sea shore. We visited here so many times and talked. Is he here now looking, observing me , my thoughts ?

If he right now observes , is it that he becomes one with me - the observer becomes one with the one observed? Am I thinking in the right direction? Or he will misunderstand me now, spoiling the image of friendship. Why does not someone with true attachment , or whatever give this last rite to one departed among us.

I feel nothing wrong in doing this.Pandit or priest asked the star , name , my name and the relationship....... relationship I keep mum......... thinking I have not heard what he asked me, he asked me again , I said ' Friend' ........still under confusion , but he conducted the rite , uttering all the mantras and asked me to give it to crows and take a dip in the sea.

I am standing in the sea knee deep after taking the dip, I looked up , one shadow passing over my head , it is a big cloud.

Is that cloud him ....... is that face I see belongs to him or is that he?

The cloud moved away. I don't know how long I stood there.

I do remember once he told me " how can I see you if suddenly I pass away. no body knows."

When turned back people crowd had become thin .

But world is always with people , never crowd becomes less.

Love and affection are always remaining things in this world.

Rest are not permanent.

Wings

He is sleeping in his small boat with oars tied to the ground. Somehow he feels land is some place where he does not belong to, but a place to take rest and ruminate on the accumulation of memories he stored in life . He always feels he is safe in sea.

His boat is stationed always on one side of the river where the river meets the sea as if a lady meets her lover - this estuary is a place where he thinks he belongs to whenever he takes rest in his boat.Lonely boat with a man alone always, but talking to his lover. His lover is calm and gentle always flowing into the sea and the salty water takes her into his fold always , his memories fade into the emotional turbulence and calmness of the lover and the loved.

His lover is the river gentle and calm when he takes rest ,never demanding anything from him. But always blows gentle breeze in his direction making him comfortable. The coconut , neem and other trees are her friends besides many twiners,tendrils,shrubs,herbs and small insects are her children whose needs are taken care by her.And he is the lover .

The vast expanse of the sand and sand dunes are dear to him since he hardly sees humans as close as these creatures of God; does God visit them every day or He is always there whom he is not bale to feel and see.No although does not feel he talks to Him like the way he talks to his lover.

No interruptions in their talks.......... even while fishing he talks to her and she directs where to go and when to come back to shores. He is feeling so ....... may be so .

He comes to think of his friend, he alights from the boat starts walking looking at his lover , plunging his feet one by one into the sagging sand of this vast expanse.

Does this walking makes any strain to him............. no he never walks on streets or laid road..... no need he never goes into the town or the village . He does not have anyone to go and meet or talk to except his lover - the river which is here.

When walking he looks at the sky with the hot sun blazing down on earth but to him the sun is always cool .This is what one friend from abroad told him when he took him into the sea to show him how he works in the sea, his fishing.

The foreigner told him ' when you become a friend to the nature, nothing disturbs you since you in no way disturb the nature owing to your friendship'

The sun, the water,the sea, the sand dunes , the river the centipedes , millipedes,snakes....... nothing disturbs him , sometimes happen to see at him but walks away as if saying hello to a friend ,looks at him for sometime and says bye.

Now Peter, oh that is the name of the boatman, reaches near a hut; this is the hut of his friend for more than 50 or 60 yrs , he does not know exactly how many years. His friend name is Lawrance.

He is able to see Lawrance from a distance of ten feet , as a hunched figure sitting in front of his hut .

Lawrance waved his hand towards Peter.

Both are sitting before the hut and chatting something as if two speak the unknown language.Both understand each other by looks and gestures.

A voice from inside the hut said 'Lawrance, give him a cup of black tea' The voice belongs to Lawrance wife Margaret bedridden.

Both ignored as if hearing bird's sound from somewhere.This is routine and no one moves.Again calmness inside and outside the hut.

Peter stands up puts his left hand inside the worn- out coat and brings out a small cloth bundle contained coins and hands over to Lawrance. Peter saved this over a few days.

Lawrance is also equally old but not able to work. Totally a weak individual.

Friendliness continues ........ between Lawrance and Peter.

Peter waves his hand to the direction of Lawrance and starts walking looking at his lover flowing at a far off distance.

She is calm, gentle always flowing helping others always , she will live on but he....... is time bound.

She never dries up he knows........ well he is a friend of nature.......... he knows when he has to stop and where.

But he also follows her trait of helping without knowing the meaning of the word.

" Oh, she smiles at me " he says to himself and walks........................................