மணம்

               என் மனைவியின் உடலைக் கண்ணாடிப் பெட்டிக்குள் வைப்பதற்கு முன்னால், அதை முத்தமிட்டுவிட வேண்டும் என்று நினைத்தேன்.  செய்ய முடியுமா என்று தெரியவில்லை.  குளிரூட்டப் பயன்படும் கண்ணாடிப் பெட்டி அப்போதுதான் ஆஸ்பத்திரியிலிருந்து வந்த வேனிலிருந்து வெள்ளை உடையணிந்தவர்கள் வீட்டுக்குள் கொண்டுவந்து இறக்கிவைத்தார்கள்.  ஏற்கனவே வீடெங்கும் மனிதர்கள் தென்படத்தொடங்கியிருந்தார்கள். இனி ஒருபோதும் என் மனைவியை முத்தமிட முடியாது, என்ற வேதனை என்னுள் இறங்கியது. இதுவரையும், அவளுக்கு  என் முத்தத்தைப் பெற விருப்பம் இருந்ததில்லை.  ஆனால் அந்த நாள் அவள் இறப்பதற்குள் வந்துவிடும் என்று கனவு காணும் வாய்ப்பு இன்றுடன் முடிந்துவிட்டது.  இடாத முத்தத்தை இப்போது இடுவது அவளுடைய ஆசைக்கு எதிரானது.  ஆனால் எனக்குள்ள ஆசையை இன்றே நிறைவேற்றிவிட வேண்டும்.  அந்த என் ஆசையை நிறைவேற்றிக் கொள்ள இருக்கிற கடைசித் தருணம் இதுதான்.  அதற்கான நேரம் இன்று கடந்துவிடும்.

               அவளுடைய எதிர்ப்புக்கு இனி ஒரு மதிப்பு இல்லை. என் விருப்பமும், அவள் எதிர்ப்பைத் தெரிவிக்க இயலாத நிலையும். அப்படி எதிர்ப்புத் தெரிவித்திருந்ததையும் நான் பொருட்படுத்தவும் தேவையில்லை. ஏனேனில் அது அவளுக்குத் தெரியப்போவதில்லை. எனவே கடைசி முறையாக அல்லது முதல் முறையாக, அவள் உடலைக் கண்ணாடிப் பேழையுள்ளே வைப்பதற்கு முன்னால், என் மென்மையான, தடித்த, குறுகிய மீசை வளர்ந்து குத்தும்  கிழட்டு உதடுகளால், என் மனைவியின் உணர்வற்ற, உதடுகளில் ஒரு முத்தமிட அருகில் சென்றேன்.  அதற்குள் வேறு எதையோ யாரோ கேட்டார்கள்.  என் கவனம் சிதறிவிட்டது.  ஆஸ்பத்திரியிலிருந்து வந்த உடலைக் குளிப்பாட்ட வேண்டாம் என்று யார் யாரோ பேசி முடிவெடுத்திருந்தார்கள்.  நான் இங்கே இருக்கிறேன் என்பதை நானேதான் எனக்கே நிரூபித்துக் கொண்டிருக்க வேண்டியிருந்தது. இந்த மனிதர்களைப் பொறுத்தவரை நான் அவள் கணவன். இந்த சமயத்தில் அதற்குமேல் எதுவும் இல்லை. எனக்கும் அவளுக்கும் மட்டுமேயான தனியிடம் ஒன்று என்றுமே இருந்ததில்லை.  இருவரும் பேசிக்கொள்ளும் முறையும், வாதங்களும், நினைவுகளும், ஆர்வங்களும் ஏன் எதுவுமே பொருந்தியிருக்கவில்லை.  ஆனால் நாற்பது ஆண்டுகள் சேர்ந்தே வாழ்ந்துவிட்டோம்.

               நான் என் மனைவிக்குக் கடைசி முத்தம் இட்டு விடைபற்றுக் கொள்ள விரும்புவதை மற்றவர்கள் யாரும் புரிந்து கொள்வார்கள் என்று நான் நினைக்கவில்லை. அவர்களுக்கு அது ஒரு சாதாரண விஷயமாக இருந்திருக்கலாம். ஆனால் அதை அனைவருக்கும் முன்னால் செய்வதோ அல்லது அறிவிப்பதோ என்னால் முடியாது.  அப்படிக் கொடுத்திருந்தால், மேற்கத்திய பண்பாட்டின் பாதிப்பில் வந்த முத்தம் என்று பலர் நினைத்திருக்கலாம்.  ஆனால் அவர்களுக்குத் தெரியாத சில விஷயங்கள் என்னிடம் உண்டு.  அதில் ஒன்று, நான் அது வரை என் மனைவிக்கு முத்தம் கொடுத்ததில்லை. முத்தம் கொடுக்காமலேயே கணவனும் மனைவியுமாக, பிள்ளைகளும் பெற்றுக் கொண்டோம்.  அதற்கெல்லாம் முத்தம் அவசியமில்லை என்பதைப் பின்னாளில் தெரிந்து கொண்டோம். என்னைப் பொறுத்தவரை என்னுடைய கடைசி முத்தம் என்ற ஒன்று இல்லாமலேயே என் மனவியின் உடல் சவப்பெட்டிக்குள் போய் முடங்கிவிட்டது.  அது தான் என் முதல் முத்தமாகவும் இருந்திருந்திருக்கக் கூடும்.  எனது துரதிருஷ்டம் என்று நான் நினைத்துக் கொண்டிருந்தேன்.  ஆனால் அவள் பார்வையில் அது அதிருஷ்டமாகிவிட்டது. அவள் என் முத்தத்திலிருந்து தப்பியே விட்டாள்.

               என் மனைவிக்கும் எனக்கும் உள்ள வேறுபாடுகளில் தலையாய வேறுபாடு திருமணம் முடிந்த அன்றே எனக்குத் தெரிந்து விட்டது. கருத்து ஒற்றுமை, கருத்து வேறுபாடுகளைப் பார்த்தா திருமணம் நடக்கிறது? மாடுகளுக்குப் பல்லையும் வேறு பலவற்றையும் பார்ப்பது போலப் பெண்ணையும் ஆணையும் பார்க்கிறார்கள். வெளிப்படையாகத் தெரிகிற குணங்களைப் பார்க்கத்தான் கற்றிருக்கிறோம்.  உள்ளிருப்பதை அறியவோ அதற்கு மதிப்புத்தரவோ இதுவரை நமது பண்பாடு நமக்குச் சொல்லித்தரவில்லையே. இப்படி அதையும் இதையும் பற்றி யோசித்து நான் வாழ்க்கையை வீணாக்கிவிட்டதாக அவள் கடைசிவரை சொல்லிக் கொண்டிருந்தாள்.  அது உண்மைதான் போலும்.

               இப்படி நான் யோசித்துக் கொண்டிருப்பதற்குள் உடலை கண்ணாடிப் பெட்டிக்குள் வைத்துவிட்டார்கள். பக்கத்து வீட்டுப் பெரியவர் பவர் பிளக்கில் சுவிட்சையும் ஆன் செய்துவிட்டார். இனி நான் அவளைத் தொடமுடியாது. பிறகு என்ன ஏதேதோ நடந்து கொண்டே இருந்தது.  நானும் இருந்தேன். நடுநடுவில் அவள் உபயோகிக்கும் ஒரு சென்டின் மணம் அடித்துக் கொண்டிருந்தது. எனக்குச் சென்ட் வாசனை அவ்வளவாகப் பிடிப்பதில்லை.

 

The young Teacher

 

It was the sports day in the school. There were signs of celebrations all around. The school had a big play ground, a 400 metre track around a football playground. for running races and athletic events. There were colourful banners at the entrance to the school,  in the shamiyana put up for the purpose and in some other places. It was considered to be a famous school, which had many facilities that I could not even dream of. There were small crowds of boys, girls and men and women of varying ages gathered around the arenas where particular sports events were being held.

There were parents of students from nursery to higher secondary classes, eagerly waiting for, or watching the events in which their children are participating. A loud speaker was blaring at certain intervals, listing the the names of winners of specific events, and calling them to the podium erected for medal ceremonies. The management, School teachers and parents were making it a memorable day.

       That day was remarkable for me in a special way. A cynic like me would always point out the mistakes, maladministration, in any ceremony. I was very sure of the ways in which Indians do injustice to others. The individual who taught me a lesson was not a teacher or principal or a man of such or other status, but a small 7 year old boy. It was around 3.00 pm. Most of the events had been completed.

          My son Rajesh, aged 7 was running a 'jute sack race' which might have been an invention of Indian school system. Small boys insert themselves into a bag of jute. The are supposed To run catching the top end of the jute bag. It is a fun to watch since it is difficult to even walk with that kind of arrangement. The distance to be covered by the contestants was 50 metres.

My wife walked my son to the starting point. I positioned myself near the finishing line. 

         The race started with the whistle. At least 10 boys were running with their legs inside the sack jute sack. As the boys struggled in their efforts to run faster than others, I noticed my son Rajesh was forging ahead. I presumed that his mother would have coached and trained him in this also, like in other academic subjects (They start using big words in class 2).

       By the time he reached the finishing line and crossed the tape, he was ahead and he was the first. I lifted him and kissed him on his cheek. By the time my wife also reached and hugged him tightly. It was her victory too. After that We three watched other events. 

       Then came the moment we were waiting for. Rajesh my son was called for the victory stand for receiving the medal. He ran to the stand and took the position on the stand. I was at a distance, for we had been already advised not to venture into sporting arena as other events were on.

       I noticed from where I was standing that there was a minor scuffle at the victory podium.  One more boy was being lifted and being placed adjacent my son on the victors stand and the boy alighted from the stand shouting at those who were trying to make him stand along with my son in the place meant for the boy who came first. This happened three times and the medal giving ceremony was delayed. I and my wife started moving towards. The boy was struggling to free himself from those who looked like his parents or grandparents. My wife told me that they were the chairman of the school and his wife. They were the boy's grandparents. I noticed the badges the had on their chests.

       When I went near, I heard the small boy shouting at his grand parents 'No, this is not right thing to do. He came first in the race and he deserved it better than me. I won't deprive him of the honour'. His english seemed foreign. Ultimately he won his argument and my son stood alone in the stand meant for winner. We were immensely happy.

        I later came to know that boy was Newin and he was the grand son of the chairman of the school. He was studying in Chicago, USA. He won my heart and taught many things to those who were ready to learn.

 

I won't go to that paradise

 

Trishanku dropped almost dead at his feet. Viswamitra was shocked. The man, no a noble man, and a king, that he sent to the paradise on the strength of the boon he was granted after many years of his prayers and devotion to Lord Shiva, has dropped at his feet like an exile thrown out of his country.

Viswamitra's eyes turned red with anger.

He caught Trishanku by the Royal Dress he wore and lifted him and made him stand like a man. 'You are a coward, Don't you have the strength and courage to stand and fight Indra and his thugs in their paradise? You fell at my feet like a boneless worm? You had enough of my blessings to reach paradise. Why did not you enter the paradise?'

Trishanku replied with humility 'Sir, they shoved me away from paradise saying that I am not qualified to enter paradise.  'Only the sage Vashist, not Viswamitra had the authority to send people to paradise. The whole clan of Indra and others born after conducting yagna in accordance with Vedas are eligible to live in paradise' they said.

Viswamitra knew his strength and power. He started creating a new world, exactly opposite of what was the then existing world. There existed only cows, the ox, the beast of burden, then. He created Buffalo, with blackest of skin. He wanted to establish a second universe.  He started his creations.

The clan of Indra came to know of Viswamitra's efforts. The sent two of the most beautiful women dancers to distract viswamitra from creating another Universe which would be beyond their jurisdiction.

Though it angered him in the beginning, Viswamitra could not resist the desire for love that he had suppressed within the depths of his being. The conspiracy of Indra and his men succeeded. Vashist called Viswamitra a Brahmarishi, the rishi of Brahmas, the clan of Indra. Viswamitra was very happy to be with them.  He forgot Trishanku and his subjects, whose rights of entry into paradise he fought for, which enabled him to endear vashist and become his equal.

Trishanku tried in vain to meet Viswamitra. He wanted to ask him 'Did you support me only to use me for getting a place near Vashist?'

But in order to make Trishanku happy and to show that he has not betrayed his cause, Vishwamitra came to his palace and said that 'I still support you to reach Paradise of power. Whereas I was fighting earlier sitting near you, now I am fighting for you sitting among the Indra Clan. This is necessary for your future welfare. Otherwise they would not hear you or redress your grievance.'

But Trishanku was not convinced. 'Sir, you had good intentions and you worked hard for uplifting me and my people. You wanted to create a new universe where everyone would be equal. But you fell for the charm of their paradise and wanted to gain status and power quickly. You forgot your goal and fell into their trap and followed their rules to become great sage. This is where I disagree with you. I was a disciple of a fighter who wanted to create a new world, not a man who reached paradise and forgot his disciple. Now, not only I will create a new world by following your earlier path. I will also create a new paradise where the likes of Indra and his clan and his beauties would not spoil others.  My paradise would be a place where everyone would be welcome. You go to your paradise and I will work hard for creating another heavan. But there would be one difference.  There would not be people who claim higher status by birth. There would be people who have worked hard to reach heavan. It would be my heavan, not yours.'

Viswamitra wanted to narrate his past work that inspired Trishanku. But Trishanku had no more time for him.  He was looking to the future.

Trishanku, was never happy with the human world which was hell for him and his people. He was thrown out of paradise of those noble men who conferred upon

themselves of high status. He won't enter that. He continues his efforts to create a new world order that will do justice to all. He lives in his dream and lives in the hearts of men who have the same dream.

Innocent Tears.

 I saw my cousin sister Nirmala for the first time in her marriage. She was my uncle's daughter. I was hardly ten years old. I remembered this occasion as my father acted as bride's father and fulfilled his duty of giving her in marriage. It was a surprise for me.  Till then I was not aware that I had an uncle, my father's elder brother. I did not see my cousin sister for many years after her marriage. Once when I was coming from Delhi, she waited for me at the station. I could not guess how she got to know of my arrival. After asking questions about my health, with tears flowing in her eyes, she asked the same question, that till then no one had given answer to. It was like a mountain of frozen tears melting. "Why my father had left my mother and me?". I saw the weight of 50 years of her sadness in her voice and in her face. She continued 'Brother,   how is that no one knows where he is? ' I was also moved to tears.  Her voice trembled and her lips quivered with the emotions welling up in her throat.

This was the question I had been asking as often as I thought my father's elder brother, who I have never seen. He, unlike my father had a respectable job in commercial tax office and my father told me that he was a straight forward man, honest and fearless. I developed a liking for that image, for I never saw even his photograph in the house. Whenever I raised the subject among my relations, there was only silence for an answer.

              Many years ago, I heard from my father that his brother left his wife and his only child and disappeared without trace on a moonless rainy.

              Whenever I asked a question or two, about my uncle, my father seemed to evade giving answers and chose only to say that he was not aware of his whereabouts.  It appeared to me from his expression that he was suppressing something but he was not worried. His brother must be alive I presumed.

              My mother revealed discreetly that my father had once met his brother in Cuddlore. Curiosity got the better of me once when I spoke to my father about this meeting.  He said 'I met him at the station. We spoke for a few minutes and he advised me not to come and meet him."

              I asked my father "You met him after 20 years and returned without bringing him back?". He said 'Yes, I called him to come with me, but he refused. He also told me not to come again. This meeting was over in few minutes". I could not reconcile with this 'story' of a short meeting between long lost brothers, if ever there was one. The question 'Why' remained. Sometimes I thought that my father had no love lost for his more successful brother. Some times I felt that my father was hiding something from me. I did not press for more information. He would have lied.

              This was lingering in my mind for many years.  I could not understand that how could my father did not care to bring his brother.  I hated my father for being a heartless man. What could be the one thing that could stop a man from returning to his wife, child, brothers and sisters. I was not mature enough to guess an answer.

               I met my cousin sister again after 10 years. She seemed to be calm and composed. She was now 60 years. I had lunch in her house. The pain in her eyes, visible during my earlier meetings seemed to have lessened. She seemed to be weary and distant.

 

                Later, she told me that she had found out that her father deserted her mother and married someone else. She also told me that her father was in love with one of his colleagues and ran away with her.

                My sister's mother either did not know or knew, but not revealed the truth that would hurt them both. My cousin sister also told me that if she knew this earlier, she would not have grieved for over 50 years.  She stopped worrying about her father.  Someone very casually had revealed, after hearing her long wailing that had become so unbearable to him, of her father's betrayal. Why she should have cried and shed tears for a such a man? It was a closure.

               But many questions remained with me from that day. Why none of those who knew the events, did not tell this innocent girl? I could only make a guess. It could be about my cousin sister's birth. Like darkness beneath the light. Only she did not know.

              I did not share my doubts with her. I did not want to meet her again for the fear that I would give any hint. It is better to hate a cruel father, than to know he was not her father.