"The Secret"

A beautiful spring day. A meadow. Green. Lush. Teaming with life; peeking out of the pores in the mud, nestling in the barks of the trees, flying from one branch to the next and running freely on the grass.

“Don’t be scared" the young woman coaxed, tugging at his sleeve. "Come on now.”
He looked up at her; scared.
“I won’t let anything happen to you” she smiled. “I promise!”
Very grudgingly, he let her lead her.
A little distance from the animals, she whispered “watch me!”
She moved very close to one and whispered something into its ears.
The horse moved its head ever so slightly and nodded. Suddenly it seemed more docile. Trusting.
She beamed at him.
“See?” she smiled, feeding it some sugar cubes. “He is harmless. There is a magic spell, you know. You just have to whisper that into his ears. It is supposed to help conquer your fears. Come on now. Try it.”
He stood rooted to the spot. But he tried it another day. And it worked! He learnt to ride them and they became his friends.

The sound of the clicking of heels brought him back to the present.
Everything was routine for the woman in white. To her the little underweight body lying almost limp in the bed, was just another little person, on a floor full of such very sick little persons. A little person who meant the world to him. For whom he could now do precious little. Reduced to being one amongst many in a sterile white world; in pain and agony. Wasting away. Pale skin and gaunt eyes. Shallow weak coughs replacing the sound of laughter.
Her job done, heels clicked out of the room after a perfunctory smile.

“Daddy I am scared.”
“Don’t worry baby. I will be right here. Right beside you. Always.”
And then a thought. A memory. He could try it. He will. 
“Tell you what” he whispered conspiratorially. “I’ll tell you a secret. Just say it in your mind every time you are scared. Kapeesh?”
“Kapeesh” she smiled weakly.

He bent down and whispered into her ears.
Her face lit up. It had been so long since he had seen it like that. So very long.

“The touch of love.................” she coughed.
“Shh. It is alright. Just say it in your mind.”
“It is alright Daddy. I am not scared anymore.”

Related Posts:
The Princess...

The Princess

I saw her for the first time on a winter morning as I waited for the music shop to open.
I was there to give my guitar for repair. She was standing by her doorway, just behind the music shop and looking towards the gate, wistfully; waif like with wispy brown hair and very gray eyes, clutching a big red book.

I smiled at her. “Hey there! What are you reading? Do you live here?”

She just nodded her head before quickly disappearing behind her door.

Two weeks passed by.
Another winter morning saw me standing at the very same spot, waiting for the shop to open. I was there to pick up my guitar.
Gray eyes that seemed grayer up close, approached me with a shy smile.

“Why did you run away the other day?” I ventured.

Gray eyes gestured towards the gate; a black collapsible gate.
“I am not supposed to cross it." she said. "You were standing on the other side of it that day.”

“And are you supposed to talk to strangers?”
“I have seen you before" she smiled. So I know you.

“Who lives in that house with you?
“It is a room. Two rooms. I live there with my grandma. You see, my parents…My mum, she works in a different city and comes down once every month. And my dad, he lives very far off. Grandma says he is very busy…very busy. So he cannot come. But I can probably go see him when I am bigger.”

“When did you see him last?”
“When I was very little…Grandma says I was too little…So I don’t remember.”

“Do you always carry that book around with you?” I was desperate to change the topic I think.
“Yes. This is my favorite book.” she smiled.

“Why is that?”
She opened it out for me. It had many different stories with very pretty pictures in it.
“I want to know if like this little boy here, if I were to go and walk along this road…all alone…If I were to do that…you know…then would I be able to see goblins, fairies and elves.”

"But you are not supposed to cross the gate alone."
"No. Maybe when I am bigger and I can do that...Then I will..You know..Search for them...But not too big..You know.."
"Only little children can see them." She added in a conspiratory tone.

“Who are your friends?”
“It is Christmas now. I will see my friends when the school reopens. I cannot cross the gate. So I cannot play with the kids here. But it is all right. The princesses in fairytales never have friends. Not for long at least. And they live alone till they are saved by a prince.”

“Don’t you believe in Prince Boy Cooties? What if you get it?” I teased.
“Euwww. No. I have my book. I don’t need anything else for now.”

I knew then, that she was a little princess. A real little princess. One that could sense a pea beneath a 100 soft mattresses. And her book was her prince; her window to the world. A world as only she knew....

Related Posts:
A Promise... 

A Conversation; A Page from a Life

An overnight train journey from Destination A to Destination B…A realization that our group had been allocated only upper and middle seats…A sudden blanket of sullenness as one mulled over a life long fear; of falling off the upper berth…A stranger in the adjacent lower berth overhears and offers his seat…An exchange of smiles and pleasantries as one was forced to retire to bed early just because everyone else wanted to…

There is something strange about traveling in a train. Its gentle rocking can lull even an insomniac to sleep, at 8 in the evening. But old habits die hard. The time by the watch was 2am. Walking up and down the aisle in the neon light, amongst light and loud snorers and using clean loos are perks that only the sleepless can enjoy. Sitting all hunched in one’s seat while the middle seat was up was no fun. But there were a couple of vacant seats right at the end of the corridor.

Music, Jhumpa Lahiri and cold blasts of air from the window….

“An early riser?”
I look up at my savior from the previous night…Sleepy eyes and unmanageable hair that had been tamed through a good haircut, now disheveled.
“I guess you can say that.”
“Not me. I never wake up nice. Don’t I look grumpy?” he smiled ruefully.

Conversation started with introductions; warily.
Conversation revealed how one had traveled by train all of one’s life while the other always had to plan for it and loved the feel of it….Conversation marveled at the slight changes in the management of railways; how the second class sleeper had mirrors and bottle holders now; that were not being stolen…
Conversation skimmed over the topic of the sleepers; who could be going where and why…It dwelled over books; why one likes, what one reads, when one reads it….
Conversation mulled over fear; of falling off bunk beds and upper train berths, for one and of being left alone with really old people in large numbers, for another…
Conversation was cheeky; how very easy it was to buy coffee for someone in a train...Conversation complained; too fast a life with too few meaningful vacations…

Conversation that led to unbridled laughter; laughter that traveled right up to sleepy dark brown eyes….

Conversation that got over at 6am in the morning…

“It was really nice meeting you.”
“It most certainly was Mr Dark Brown Eyes…It most certainly was…”

Related Posts:
A Winter Morning...