Love Story
Blasé of reading the same old love stories; the overwhelming tragedies and display of passions, the unmatchable sacrifices and lachrymose parting scenes had long back stopped yielding any emotions. I often wondered what love was. Was it something beyond all these tickling love stories? I knew there was more to it….a lot more.
It was the summer of 2007 when I went to see my grandma who is now 75. My visits to her always meant loads of anecdotes. We shared our experiences; I intended to learn from hers and she seemed to enjoy mine. She in a way tried to see how the world had changed through my eyes. That evening as we chatted, I dint know that I was about to witness (virtually) a true love story - Love story of a girl who was married at the age of 11 and that of a 16 year old boy who married that naïve girl. Love story that was subtler with no romantic proposals, no candle light dinners and no scintillating exhibition of emotions. A love story that stands tall and strong and is still going on…the story of my grand pa and grand ma.
As she narrated me her story that day, she reckoned, "I was very excited about my marriage. Marriage for me was nothing more than beautiful dresses, loads of gifts and the liberty to ask for anything I liked! I had not seen your grandpa. No girls were allowed to do that. I was different. I was my father’s darling and was brought up much lavishly. I was inquisitive and outgoing. I wanted to know who the man was. Not because I was getting married to him (I didn’t really know what marriage meant) but because I was told that he was going to be the most important man in my life thereafter."
I saw her eyes travel to some distant land as she spoke again, "Your grandpa’s family was very traditional and conservative. Those were the most difficult days of my life. There were no friends, no books and no games. There used to be a lot of work and practically no entertainment. Moreover, during the initial days we were more like two strangers tied together for no reason. I discovered him as a person much later.
My Grandpa was a maverick much ahead of his times. He knew that my grandma had potential so encouraged her to study further. It was his efforts that grandma became the first working lady in her society. It wasn’t easy at all. Both had to fight the old customs and ideas of not just the society but their families as well. They stood firm on their decision unaware that they were kindling a revolution. She became an inspiration for the many young ladies of her clan who stepped into the outer world to explore opportunities and stand on their own feet.
Struggles and predicaments are a part of life and they inevitably make the bonds grow stronger. My grandparents too faced their hard time when he succumbed to paralysis and then coma. The only parts of his body which showed movement were eyes. We didn’t know if he recognized us. We didn’t know what rolled down his eyes were tears or plain water. We weren’t sure if he wished to speak something when he coughed. But, there was one thing that we all inevitably noticed. The moment she entered the room, his eyes would fix on her. The moment she held his hand, his breath would calm and when she sang for him, he would instantly fall to sleep. According to the doctors, he had lost the power of hearing and perception. What was this then? What else would you call it…if not love?
My grandpa is no more; he left us 13 years back. Death is invincible and nothing stops for it. For granny too life didn’t end. Most amazingly their love story too didn’t!
They say couples sharing a strong marital bond for a while start resembling each other in thoughts, actions, idiosyncrasies, ideas and wisdom. They almost become interchangeable. I strongly believe that both of them were in resonance with one another at a spiritual level. I believe they still are. My granny is content with life today and there are many instances when we find her avowing, analyzing situations and dealing with issues in a manner my grandpa did.
I ask her, what was it that made their relationship so strong? She puts it simply, "It was loyalty and selfless love."
---------------------X---------------------
"We are living in an era where marriages and relationships have ceased to be the ‘bonds of love’ and are fast becoming ‘bondages and contracts’. An era which has lost the essence of love and selflessness altogether. But, there are hundreds of ‘Life Stories’ waiting to be discovered and can teach us to share our achievements, our failures, our struggles, our shortcomings and our whole life with that one person we love."
Lost in these thoughts I boarded my bus back home. As I sat, my attention was drawn to a septuagenarian couple sitting right beside me. They sat quietly holding hands. A smile crossed my face as I was on my way to unveil another love story.
- Vagmita Joshi
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Recollections of a Hundred Rupee Note
“Stream of red fluid oozing out of his body approached me. It had a peculiar stench. I could not move and soon found myself soaked in it. I looked up at Kumar and found him drenched in the same. His hands were limp; eyes still wide open and his body … lifeless.”
Fresh out of the ATM, I felt life for the first time. His fingers touched me and I - a hundred rupee note was born. I was crisp and new, my edges sharp and my touch tempting. Being on the top of the pile I could watch him closely. He was a fair, handsome and richly clothed young man. Taking pride in my luster and my tempting innate scent, I thought, “I am in deserving hands, indeed.”
My owner was a rich man who conducted his business with a lot of authority. His subordinates and friends called him Kumar. The nature of his business was a mystery to me. He spoke to his dealers in strange and cryptic language. Kumar was in the business of heroin and brown sugar. These to my knowledge were very precious substances costing thousands of hundred rupee notes like me.
Kumar was rich, married to a beautiful young lady, had a magnificent mansion; had everything that any man would desire to lead a happy and content life. Yet, he was always tense and for all the days I was with him I never saw him happy.
While I was still enjoying my stay in the rich man’s wallet something unfortunate happened. One morning Kumar received a call that disturbed him immensely. He was exceptionally quiet for the past few days and this call turned him pale. He hurried and I saw droplets of cold sweat on his forehead. He was in a state of alarm as if fearing something. With trembling hands he grabbed his wallet and other essential belongings, rushed out of the house, and gear-zipped the car engines. The steering gyrated between his arms and I could feel his pulse intensifying. Before I could comprehend more I heard few bullet shots. There were five of them and with the sixth one the car met a major hit and came to a halt.
When I gained senses of my surroundings I found myself lying on the road. Stream of red fluid oozing out of his body approached me. It had a peculiar stench. I tried moving away but could not and soon found myself soaked in it. I looked up at Kumar and found him drenched in the same. His hands were limp, eyes still wide open and his body lifeless.
I saw people around but to my surprise they did not come for help. Instead, they rummaged his car for what they came looking for; kicked and whipped his body and left him there to die.
Staggered by the recent happenings my thoughts raced with several questions in mind. What did they come looking for? Why was Kumar shot? Why do people with life disregard it to this extent? While I was still looking for an answer I felt another touch. Someone picked me up and crumpled me into his fist.
Unlike Kumar he was a small boy; shabbily dressed, dirty hair, malnourished body and face covered in mud. There was fear on his face as he looked at the body lying near him. The very next second I found him running. He held me tightly; breathing fast, steered through narrow lanes. His speed made it impossible for me to make out where he headed. I waited patiently till he slowed down. Gradually the lanes grew darker and his grip over me loosened too.
It was a small dark room, unkempt and not painted for ages. There was barely any furniture visible. Few utensils, a crumpled pile of clothes and a bed were all that I could see.
As he reclaimed his breath he headed towards the bed. An ailing woman laid there wrapped in tatters. The boy handed me over to her who I discovered, was his mother. I heard him say, “Mother, keep this money safe. I would buy you some food and medicine later. Right now I need to go and get help for somebody.”
After the boy left, his mother looked at me intently. Soaked in blood and dirt and extremely conscious of my furrowed look I wished if I could hide myself and thought, “Who would like to possess me now?” To my surprise, the woman who was staring at me with wide open eyes kissed me and few drops of her tears fell over me. Her tears were warm like Kumar’s blood but this time there was no discomfort. I wished I had eyes like those with life possess.
The boy came back late in the evening. The room was dark and I still lay clenched in the woman’s fist. The boy who had gone to rescue Kumar then spoke, “Mother, the man was dead by the time I reached. There were a lot of policemen there. I overheard them as they spoke about the dead man. He was a smuggler and cheated his own gang. He was fleeing to some foreign land with all money he had when they chased him down and shot him dead.”
There was silence for a long while. The boy then picked me up and spoke again, “I do not care how and where this money came from. For us it means blessing, meal for a week and medicines for you.” He placed me in the pocket close to his heart pressed it tight and ran. I was gradually realizing how great a worth I had in human life.
He reached ‘Satnam da dhaba’ which was known for its food. Located on the highway it was always a crowded food joint and a dream of numerous slumwallas. The boy handed me over to the Sardar at the counter who gave me a strange look. The blood stain by then had dried and turned brown, the tear drops had created a pattern over the mud stains. On the whole, I barely gave an impression of a hundred rupee note to any sane person with accurate vision. He looked at the miserable child and then back towards me. Finally, he made up his mind and placed me in his drawer away from the pile of other currency.
Satnam da dhaba was my abode for the next few months. I was kept secluded from my peers always. Satnam tried his best to exchange me but it turned out a never ending affair; I was a famous hundred rupee note by then.
During my stay there I learnt a lot about dreams. According to my comprehension dreams were imaginary drawings and that, man made them in air. Satnam was a fulltime dreamer and dreamt of almost everything on the face of this earth. Surprisingly, all his dreams had something in common - Canada. Canada, I learnt was a beautiful place. It was a town, a city or a country was something which Satnam himself was confused about. But he surely knew that one day he would be there.
It was for this reason that he needed many more hundred rupee notes like me. I wanted to help him out and often wished if I too could replicate like human beings did. But then, I knew that he would detest my decedents just as he abhorred me.
That day something strange happened. A gang of young teenage hikers came to the restaurant for refreshments. The hotel owner played his trick again and tried returning me as a change. This time it worked! The young girl who had come to clear the bills looked at me with wonder. She had not seen such a currency note ever. “It looks like an antique”, she murmured to herself and accepted me as a change.
This was the end of my sentence and my new owner now was a pretty, 18 year old girl. Her name was Simi and she was in love. She was surely the most amazing of all owners I had in the past. She was in love with almost everything; mountains, rivers, flowers, the moon, the stars, her boyfriend and even piglets! Probably, this was one reason she loved me too. She thought I was special and I often found her examining me with wonder. I enjoyed this attention and knew she would never let me go.
But then came Adi’s birthday. Adi was Simi’s boyfriend and Simi was looking for a perfect birthday gift for him. She surf websites, consulted friends and at times even spoke to me! She wished to gift him something that would grow as their love grows. After weeks of contemplation and research she found the perfect gift she was looking for – a potted plant with beautiful flowers.
As I and Simi stood in the nursery waiting for the gardener to groom the plant she looked at me and kissed me. I blushed as she left the mark of her lip color over me. Soaked in love, I was then handed over to an old granny who was the owner of the nursery. Ambivalent, I saw Simi leave. Somehow the blissful smile on her pretty face made me feel content.
My new owner-the old granny lived with her grandson, Deep in a small hut near the nursery. Granny too wanted to give her grandson a birthday gift and this too was a unique one. She wished to gift him his first pocket money and with this she wanted her grandson to learn some facts about money.
That morning as Granny and Deep sat together she took me out of her bag and spoke, “Deep, this is your birthday gift and you have to learn how to use it wisely.”
With some pause she spoke further with more seriousness, “Money that one earns can either be spent or saved. And it takes a great deal of contemplation and wisdom to do both these actions the right way. Always remember that too much of money lying idle rots and loses its value with time while too much money if spent ruthlessly and without a thought brings penury.” A mischievous smile crossed her face and she spoke further, “There are very few who know of another face of money - Money as a magician!” With this Deep’s eyes sparkled and he leaned forward, eager to know more. Granny spoke again, “The magic of money lies in Investment. Investment is nothing but spending money in a way that it earns you back more money, much more than you already have. Now, you own this money so think of a way you can invest it.”
Deep was a wise young boy. He took a month to decide what he wanted to do of me. His investment plan was simple and he decided to exchange me for banana seeds. After discussing the same with Granny he placed me in the pocket and set out to make his investment.
It was a bright Sunday morning and Deep could see many children of his age playing in the park nearby. Deep felt proud of his investment plan as he knew that none of them would grow the money they have spent on their toys and bicycles like he would. Engrossed in these thoughts as he moved further, he heard a bang and then a crash.
Deep turned stiff and pale of what he saw. A car had hit one of the kids playing outside the garden. The driver had run away and the child lay there lifeless. “He should be taken to a hospital immediately”, Deep whispered to himself.
The very next moment Deep was on his heels holding the child in his arms. I lying in his pocket could hear two heart beats, one fast and rhythmic and the other interrupted and weak. In a while stream of blood oozing out of the child’s body approached me. It had the same peculiar stench. I could not move and soon found myself soaked in it. I looked at the child and found him drenched in the same. His hands were limp; eyes shut and his body lifeless.
At the hospital, the doctors were prompt and took the child to the ICU. They needed some medicines urgently and Deep was asked to get them. But the hundred rupee note was that entire Deep had and this was essentially meant for investment. The lush green banana trees laden with fresh green bananas appeared before his eyes but somehow, the thought of the injured child never left him. He then decided to sacrifice his plan because investment can wait a year but a life at risk cannot. Deep exchanged me at the medical store for medicines.
My thoughts now raced back to all the life experiences I had witnessed. I lay there soaked in blood which flows as life in bodies; in tears that help emotions flow; in love which binds them together; in hunger, in cure and in sacrifice.
Human beings chase me for the power I possess but they have not realized how enormous the power of their own deeds, thoughts and emotions is. It’s this power which has made me – a hundred rupee note, the medium of realizing dreams, exchanging blessings, love, care, hurt and cure. I am powerless without them.
It’s them who instill life in me…I am lifeless without them.
Vagmita Joshi Sharma
“Stream of red fluid oozing out of his body approached me. It had a peculiar stench. I could not move and soon found myself soaked in it. I looked up at Kumar and found him drenched in the same. His hands were limp; eyes still wide open and his body … lifeless.”
Fresh out of the ATM, I felt life for the first time. His fingers touched me and I - a hundred rupee note was born. I was crisp and new, my edges sharp and my touch tempting. Being on the top of the pile I could watch him closely. He was a fair, handsome and richly clothed young man. Taking pride in my luster and my tempting innate scent, I thought, “I am in deserving hands, indeed.”
My owner was a rich man who conducted his business with a lot of authority. His subordinates and friends called him Kumar. The nature of his business was a mystery to me. He spoke to his dealers in strange and cryptic language. Kumar was in the business of heroin and brown sugar. These to my knowledge were very precious substances costing thousands of hundred rupee notes like me.
Kumar was rich, married to a beautiful young lady, had a magnificent mansion; had everything that any man would desire to lead a happy and content life. Yet, he was always tense and for all the days I was with him I never saw him happy.
While I was still enjoying my stay in the rich man’s wallet something unfortunate happened. One morning Kumar received a call that disturbed him immensely. He was exceptionally quiet for the past few days and this call turned him pale. He hurried and I saw droplets of cold sweat on his forehead. He was in a state of alarm as if fearing something. With trembling hands he grabbed his wallet and other essential belongings, rushed out of the house, and gear-zipped the car engines. The steering gyrated between his arms and I could feel his pulse intensifying. Before I could comprehend more I heard few bullet shots. There were five of them and with the sixth one the car met a major hit and came to a halt.
When I gained senses of my surroundings I found myself lying on the road. Stream of red fluid oozing out of his body approached me. It had a peculiar stench. I tried moving away but could not and soon found myself soaked in it. I looked up at Kumar and found him drenched in the same. His hands were limp, eyes still wide open and his body lifeless.
I saw people around but to my surprise they did not come for help. Instead, they rummaged his car for what they came looking for; kicked and whipped his body and left him there to die.
Staggered by the recent happenings my thoughts raced with several questions in mind. What did they come looking for? Why was Kumar shot? Why do people with life disregard it to this extent? While I was still looking for an answer I felt another touch. Someone picked me up and crumpled me into his fist.
Unlike Kumar he was a small boy; shabbily dressed, dirty hair, malnourished body and face covered in mud. There was fear on his face as he looked at the body lying near him. The very next second I found him running. He held me tightly; breathing fast, steered through narrow lanes. His speed made it impossible for me to make out where he headed. I waited patiently till he slowed down. Gradually the lanes grew darker and his grip over me loosened too.
It was a small dark room, unkempt and not painted for ages. There was barely any furniture visible. Few utensils, a crumpled pile of clothes and a bed were all that I could see.
As he reclaimed his breath he headed towards the bed. An ailing woman laid there wrapped in tatters. The boy handed me over to her who I discovered, was his mother. I heard him say, “Mother, keep this money safe. I would buy you some food and medicine later. Right now I need to go and get help for somebody.”
After the boy left, his mother looked at me intently. Soaked in blood and dirt and extremely conscious of my furrowed look I wished if I could hide myself and thought, “Who would like to possess me now?” To my surprise, the woman who was staring at me with wide open eyes kissed me and few drops of her tears fell over me. Her tears were warm like Kumar’s blood but this time there was no discomfort. I wished I had eyes like those with life possess.
The boy came back late in the evening. The room was dark and I still lay clenched in the woman’s fist. The boy who had gone to rescue Kumar then spoke, “Mother, the man was dead by the time I reached. There were a lot of policemen there. I overheard them as they spoke about the dead man. He was a smuggler and cheated his own gang. He was fleeing to some foreign land with all money he had when they chased him down and shot him dead.”
There was silence for a long while. The boy then picked me up and spoke again, “I do not care how and where this money came from. For us it means blessing, meal for a week and medicines for you.” He placed me in the pocket close to his heart pressed it tight and ran. I was gradually realizing how great a worth I had in human life.
He reached ‘Satnam da dhaba’ which was known for its food. Located on the highway it was always a crowded food joint and a dream of numerous slumwallas. The boy handed me over to the Sardar at the counter who gave me a strange look. The blood stain by then had dried and turned brown, the tear drops had created a pattern over the mud stains. On the whole, I barely gave an impression of a hundred rupee note to any sane person with accurate vision. He looked at the miserable child and then back towards me. Finally, he made up his mind and placed me in his drawer away from the pile of other currency.
Satnam da dhaba was my abode for the next few months. I was kept secluded from my peers always. Satnam tried his best to exchange me but it turned out a never ending affair; I was a famous hundred rupee note by then.
During my stay there I learnt a lot about dreams. According to my comprehension dreams were imaginary drawings and that, man made them in air. Satnam was a fulltime dreamer and dreamt of almost everything on the face of this earth. Surprisingly, all his dreams had something in common - Canada. Canada, I learnt was a beautiful place. It was a town, a city or a country was something which Satnam himself was confused about. But he surely knew that one day he would be there.
It was for this reason that he needed many more hundred rupee notes like me. I wanted to help him out and often wished if I too could replicate like human beings did. But then, I knew that he would detest my decedents just as he abhorred me.
That day something strange happened. A gang of young teenage hikers came to the restaurant for refreshments. The hotel owner played his trick again and tried returning me as a change. This time it worked! The young girl who had come to clear the bills looked at me with wonder. She had not seen such a currency note ever. “It looks like an antique”, she murmured to herself and accepted me as a change.
This was the end of my sentence and my new owner now was a pretty, 18 year old girl. Her name was Simi and she was in love. She was surely the most amazing of all owners I had in the past. She was in love with almost everything; mountains, rivers, flowers, the moon, the stars, her boyfriend and even piglets! Probably, this was one reason she loved me too. She thought I was special and I often found her examining me with wonder. I enjoyed this attention and knew she would never let me go.
But then came Adi’s birthday. Adi was Simi’s boyfriend and Simi was looking for a perfect birthday gift for him. She surf websites, consulted friends and at times even spoke to me! She wished to gift him something that would grow as their love grows. After weeks of contemplation and research she found the perfect gift she was looking for – a potted plant with beautiful flowers.
As I and Simi stood in the nursery waiting for the gardener to groom the plant she looked at me and kissed me. I blushed as she left the mark of her lip color over me. Soaked in love, I was then handed over to an old granny who was the owner of the nursery. Ambivalent, I saw Simi leave. Somehow the blissful smile on her pretty face made me feel content.
My new owner-the old granny lived with her grandson, Deep in a small hut near the nursery. Granny too wanted to give her grandson a birthday gift and this too was a unique one. She wished to gift him his first pocket money and with this she wanted her grandson to learn some facts about money.
That morning as Granny and Deep sat together she took me out of her bag and spoke, “Deep, this is your birthday gift and you have to learn how to use it wisely.”
With some pause she spoke further with more seriousness, “Money that one earns can either be spent or saved. And it takes a great deal of contemplation and wisdom to do both these actions the right way. Always remember that too much of money lying idle rots and loses its value with time while too much money if spent ruthlessly and without a thought brings penury.” A mischievous smile crossed her face and she spoke further, “There are very few who know of another face of money - Money as a magician!” With this Deep’s eyes sparkled and he leaned forward, eager to know more. Granny spoke again, “The magic of money lies in Investment. Investment is nothing but spending money in a way that it earns you back more money, much more than you already have. Now, you own this money so think of a way you can invest it.”
Deep was a wise young boy. He took a month to decide what he wanted to do of me. His investment plan was simple and he decided to exchange me for banana seeds. After discussing the same with Granny he placed me in the pocket and set out to make his investment.
It was a bright Sunday morning and Deep could see many children of his age playing in the park nearby. Deep felt proud of his investment plan as he knew that none of them would grow the money they have spent on their toys and bicycles like he would. Engrossed in these thoughts as he moved further, he heard a bang and then a crash.
Deep turned stiff and pale of what he saw. A car had hit one of the kids playing outside the garden. The driver had run away and the child lay there lifeless. “He should be taken to a hospital immediately”, Deep whispered to himself.
The very next moment Deep was on his heels holding the child in his arms. I lying in his pocket could hear two heart beats, one fast and rhythmic and the other interrupted and weak. In a while stream of blood oozing out of the child’s body approached me. It had the same peculiar stench. I could not move and soon found myself soaked in it. I looked at the child and found him drenched in the same. His hands were limp; eyes shut and his body lifeless.
At the hospital, the doctors were prompt and took the child to the ICU. They needed some medicines urgently and Deep was asked to get them. But the hundred rupee note was that entire Deep had and this was essentially meant for investment. The lush green banana trees laden with fresh green bananas appeared before his eyes but somehow, the thought of the injured child never left him. He then decided to sacrifice his plan because investment can wait a year but a life at risk cannot. Deep exchanged me at the medical store for medicines.
My thoughts now raced back to all the life experiences I had witnessed. I lay there soaked in blood which flows as life in bodies; in tears that help emotions flow; in love which binds them together; in hunger, in cure and in sacrifice.
Human beings chase me for the power I possess but they have not realized how enormous the power of their own deeds, thoughts and emotions is. It’s this power which has made me – a hundred rupee note, the medium of realizing dreams, exchanging blessings, love, care, hurt and cure. I am powerless without them.
It’s them who instill life in me…I am lifeless without them.
Vagmita Joshi Sharma
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