Confession 2 (Page 2)

Yesterday was the best day of my life. Ten years I'd been wandering aimlessly, without fame, shame or anything that would make me more than excited to say "Oh that". Suddenly I felt like I've a purpose to live the moment I saw her. She poured out her heart over the butterscotch milkshake we ordered. It was the warmth of her heart that melt the ice cubes. She began:

"I don't know where to begin. So much has happened after you left me"

Questions swarmed my mind. Why does she even remember me, let alone believe I've left her! But I let her continue.

"You remember the boyfriend I had when we left college? Both of us got placement in the same company and it was time to start a new life. We decided to get married right after college. It was after I got pregnant that our relationship took a turn for the worse. Fights became a common entity. Though we had fought before marriage, I'd never felt so disconnected to him. Something was missing in our relationship - my unwillingness to belong to him.

Right after my son was born, I got the divorce notice. I was fighting a losing battle from then on. I... I lost my.." her voice trailed off. Her tired eyes had lost the spark I saw fourteen years before. They were slowly filling with tears. The blue eyes looked like a deep ocean about to overflow.

I reached out my hand to hold hers. This was my first time I touched her. Her hands felt small in mine. In between silent sobs, she managed to say "I've a confession. I've always loved you."
I was completely shaken. "Why... why didn't you ever tell me?"
She turned her head aside and said "Why didn't you?"
I'd no answer.

She turned her head back towards me. This time I saw the spark had returned to her eyes. She told me how she'd liked me from the moment she saw me.. how she noticed me looking at her in the corridors.. how my presence had been the silent comfort during sad times and encouragement during the good ones. It was like traveling back in time. Living every moment again, moment's that we'd lost. I gathered some courage and invited her home. She agreed...

It's today. The bed seems to have been slept on by more than one. But no one's around. Funny I can't remember anything of what happened after she agreed to come to my home. Was it just a dream? Na. There she comes wearing my shirt. She says with a wicked smile "Oh you're back to blogging again?"

'Dajyu' by Shekhar Joshi

I’m 11 years old and I’m about to enter seventh grade. Thanks to our school’s policy to not teach the regular NCERT English readers that contain rather boring lessons but to teach the text books issued by the Oxford University Press, we have very cute, small and interesting reads as our English texts. The contributing authors included big names like Hemingway, Doyle, Satyajit Ray, R.K. Narayan, Oscar Wilde and much to my delight; Isaac Asimov and Roald Dahl. Short stories by Asimov and ‘Charlie and the Chocolate factory’ by Dahl continue to be my favourites. However the story that impressed me most was one by an unknown Indian author, Shekhar Joshi. I rarely had emotional overflows reading a story…stories amazed me, puzzled me, made me think, made me sympathize but rarely gave me tears. And the ones that gave me those, remained etched in my memory. One by which I was deeply moved was ‘Charlie and the Chocolate factory’ about which I shall write someday later. The other one was from my very own English text of seventh grade, the one by Shekhar Joshi. I still have the text with me and it has travelled with me across the state and I must’ve read the story more than fifty times. I post it here and hope that some of you will share the same emotions that I had when I read the story as a kid of 11.

Big Brother

SHEKHAR JOSHI

Jagdish Babu saw him for the first time, at the small café with the large signboard, in the market place. He had a fair complexion, sparkling eyes, golden brown hair, and an unusual smooth liveliness in his movements-like a drop water sliding along the leaf of a lotus. From the alertness in his eyes, one would guess his age at only nine or ten, and that’s what it was.

When Jagsish Babu, puffing on a half-lit cigarette, entered the café, the boy was removing some plates from a table. By the time Jagdish Babu had seated himself at a corner table, the boy was already standing in front of him. He looked as though he’d been waiting for hours for him-for a person to sit in that seat.

The boy said nothing. He did bow slightly, to show respect, and then just smiled. Receiving the order for a cup of tea, he smiled again, went off, and then returned with the tea in the twinkling of an eye.

Jagdish Babu had come from a distant region and was alone. In the hustle and bustle of the market place, in the clamour of the café, everything seemed unrelated to himself. Maybe after living here for a while and growing used to it, he’d start feeling some intimacy in the surroundings. But today the place seemed alien. Then he began remembering nostalgically the people of his village region, the region, the school and the college boys there, the café in the nearby town.

‘Tea, Sha’b!’

Jagdish Babu flicked the ash from the cigarette. In the boy’s pronunciation of ‘Sahab’, he seemed something which he had been missing. He started to follow up the speculation-‘What’s your name?’

‘Madan.’

‘Very well, Madan! Where are you from?’

‘I’m from the hills, Babuji.’

‘There are hundreds of hill places-Abu, Darjeeling, Mussorie, Simla, Almora. Which hills is your village in?’

‘Almora, Sha’b,’ he said with a smile, ‘Almora.’

‘Which village in Almora?’ he persisted.

The boy hesitated. Perhaps embarrassed by the strange name of the village, he answered evasively- ‘Oh it’s far away, Sha’b. It must be fifteen or twenty miles from Almora.’

‘But it still must have a name,’ Jagdish Babu insisted.

‘Dotyalgaon’, he answered shyly.

The expression of loneliness vanished from Jagdish Babu’s face. When he smiled and told Madan he was from a neighbouring village, the boy almost dropped his tray with delight. He stood there, speechless and dazed, as though trying to recall his past.

The past-village …. high mountains … a stream … mother …. Father ….. older sister ….. younger sister …. big brother.

Whose shadow was it that Madan saw in the form of Jagdish Babu? Mother? - No. Father? - No. Elder or younger sister? - No. Big brother? - Yes, Dajyu!

Within a few days, the gap of unfamiliarity between Madan and Jagdish Babu had disappeared. As soon as the gentleman sat down, Madan would call out-‘Greetings, Dajyu!’ ‘Dajyu, it’s very cold today.’ ‘Dajyu, will it snow here too?’ ‘Dajyu, you didn’t eat much yesterday.’

Then from some direction would come a cry of ‘Boy!’ Madan would be there even before the echo of the call could be heard.

‘Anything for you, Dajyu?’ he would call out repeating the word ‘Dajyu’ with eagerness and affection of a mother embracing her son after a long separation.

After some time, Jagdish Babu’s loneliness disappeared. Now, not only the market-place and the café, but the city itself seemed like home to him.

‘Madan! Come here.’

‘Coming, Dajyu!’

This repetition of the word ‘Dajyu’ aroused the burgeois temperament in Jagdish Babu. The thin thread of intimacy could not stand the strong pull of ego.

‘Shall I bring tea, Dajyu?’

‘No tea. But what’s this “Dajyu, Dajyu” you keep shouting all the time? Have you no respect for a person’s prestige?’

Jagdish Babu flushed with anger, had no control over his words. Nor did he stop to wonder whether Madan could know the meaning of the word ‘prestige’. But Madan, even with no explanation, had understood everything. Could one who had braved an understanding of the world at such a tender age fail to understand one, unimportant word?

Having made the excuse of a head ache to the manager, Madan sat in a small room head between his knees, and sobbed. In his situation far from home, his display of intimacy towards Jagdish Babu had been perfectly natural. But now, for the first time in a foreign place, he felt as though someone had pulled him from the lap of his mother, from the arms of his father, and from the protection of his sister.

Madan returned to his work as before.

The next day, heading for the café, Jagdish Babu suddenly met a childhood friend, Hemant. Reaching the café, Jagdish Babu beckoned to Madan. But he sensed that the boy was trying to remain at a distance. On the second call, Madan finally came over.

Today that smile was not on his face, nor did he say, ‘What can I bring, Dajyu?’

Jagdish Babu himself had to speak up- ‘Two teas, two omlettes.’

Even then instead of replying, ‘Right away, Dajyu’, he said, ‘Right away, Sha’b’, and then left as though the man were a stranger.

‘Perhaps a hill boy?’ Hemant speculated.

‘Yes,’ muttered Jagdish Babu and changed the subject.

Madan had brought the tea.

‘What’s your name?’ Hemant asked, trying to be friendly. For a few moments silence engulfed the table. Jagdish Babu’s lowered eyes were centered on the cup of tea.

Memories swam before Madan’s eyes-Jagdish Babu asking him his name like this one day … then, ‘Dajyu, you didn’t eat much yesterday’ … and one day, ‘You pay no attention to anyone’s prestige …’

Jagdish Babu raised his eyes and saw that Madan seemed about to erupt like a volcano.

‘What’s your name?’ Hemant repeated.

‘Sha’b they call me “boy”, he said quickly and walked away.

‘A real idiot,’ Hemant remarked, taking a sip of tea. ‘He can’t even remember his own name’.

Monopoly 2

Summary of part one: A middle class Cuban family was forced to shift to China due to job related reasons. They set up China’s biggest corporate company in a short period of time. Shawn was the all in all of the company. Chinese government imposes some restrictions on their company due the monopolistic behavior and Cuban ownership. After this Shawn visits Cuba. On his journey through the Havana International Airport Highway Shawn asks for “Angetine Phigteror” in some medical shops.

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MONOPOLY 2

Shawn resumed his journey. He reached the resort that was arranged for his stay. It was ‘Paradisus Rio De Oro” hotel located right alongside Playa Esmeralda beach, in the Natural Park of Bahía Naranjo, 5 km from Guardalavaca in the province of Old Havana. The hotel has a very special beach. The beach has a three side seashore with one side heavily covered with rocks, and the other two sides are beautiful sandy and calm beaches. The hotel can be said to be situated in a small subcontinent.

The evening sun was floating over the sea when Shawn got into his room. He still doesn’t have any plans about what to do in Cuba. He stayed in the resort for one day. The resort had only foreign tourists. He had not had much chance to interact with anybody.

On the second morning after his arrival in the resort he decided to investigate the possibilities of starting his business in Cuba. Shawn decided to get to Havana, this time in a taxi. He went to many consultancies and discussed with them, most which got the agencies interested. Shawn didn’t need any introduction, as he was well known among the world business circles for the amazing growth of his company. But Shawn was clever; he was getting as much information about the situation as possible. The situation was such that the government was open to any investment from anybody. They were wiling to provide anything the investors wanted, land, power, tax exemptions etc. Shawn took two days to get hold of the situation. He started his journey back to “Paradisus Rio De Oro Resort” after a long discussion with Mr. Victor Vance, the secretary of industrial minister of Old Havana province, which lasted till 9 pm.

As his taxi flew back through the Havana International Airport Highway, he saw many ladies wearing mini skirts and t-shirts waving towards his car. They were trying to get a customer. The waving ladies disappeared after Jaguey Grande. It was nothing new for the taxi driver, yet may be for Shawn’s amusement he said” Cuban women are prostitutes not because they needed to be but rather because they liked to make love, and they are the most educated and the healthiest prostitutes on the market”.Shawn didn’t respond, may be that’s why the driver didn’t open his mouth till they reach Paradisus Rio De Oro Resort.

Shawn often says” Business can stop to grow or die, nothing in between”. Its this belief that tempted him to make some investment in Cuba as the growth opportunities in China were few and far. He called in a group of his managers from China to discuss about the opportunities and challenges of investing in Cuba. They flew in within two days, they held many discussions with the Cuban government. After a month of meetings and analysis Shawn and his managers have decided to build a Ship manufacturing company at Matanzas. Matanzes is located on the northern shore of the island of Cuba, on the Bay of Matanzas, 90 kilometers east of the capital Havana and 32 kilometers west of the resort town of Varadero. The Cuban government has offered to give land in Matanzas for free.

In the proposed project area of Matanzas lived a community called Matanzians who earned there living from fishing alone. They have to be evacuated from the project area. That was no new trick for the state cops. It has been a general trend in Cuba to take land from the poor fishermen, and give it for free to multi billionaire industrial tycoons to make profits for themselves. Nobody except the sufferers questioned it since this has been happening in all third world countries. Anyways cops did their job .Around five hundred families have to be evacuated. Almost hundred people lost their lives during the evacuation drive which made the job easier. It took around one month to evacuate the land. All this time Shawn’s head was working like a computer. He had to attend many meetings, make arrangements to roll the money for new investment and gather the resources required. At last, the day has come, the commissioning of the new plant. His whole family has flown in from China. Shawn flagged of the first work in Matanzas Ship Factory. As the metallic noise of the huge machines filled the atmosphere, Shawn felt like an yellow light filling his eyes, he lost the strength of his legs, and he fell down. His father rushed towards him, Shawn said in crumbling voice” I forgot to take Angetine Phigteror..since I left…CH..CH….”over, it was all over for him. His father murmured holding his son’s cold hand”SON, you are not the money you have, you are not the car you have, you are not the companies you set up… how did u forget to live?”

Disclaimer: This story does not have any relation to the present or past political, social or economic situation in Cuba or China. The places and characters are mere imagination of the author. Any resemblance is purely coincidental.

"To err is human":any errors may be indicated.