The Wishing Tree- the Benefactor

Quick wits, hard work and destiny relented at last; breathing new life in Sanjay’s withering branches.  Gradually and then by leaps and bounds his (business) tree sprouted shiny new leaves and succulent shoots.  His trunk became a force to be reckoned with. Nature’s ferocious furies failed to move it.  It had arrived at the pinnacle of its potential.  Now he Sanjay, an oft scorned relative became “a wishing tree”.  Many a time, his help was sought when a business was on its last legs.  His monetary aid became a “sanjeevani “medicine, reviving it.

Needy kith and kin who had given him the wide berth before now suddenly found his whereabouts and closed in.  Smarmy and wheedling they soon ingratiated themselves to him.  Success can and does go to one’s head and he too was not immune.  Drunk with success and shamelessly pandered to by his many hangers on, Sanjay became insufferable. He still helped people but made them grovel besides humiliating them in front of his coterie.   Aid seekers were grateful to him for his timely help but in their heart of hearts they started resenting him.  Sanjay’s one saving grace was that he never forgot his bad times and often helped many needy folks secretively, no one being the wiser.  Only his personal chauffer knew this side of his persona.  He had sworn him to secrecy.

Trying to keep up with the in crowd of society had slowly weaned the creative side of his personality.  He had been a fine poet in his time.  He no longer penned ghazals and verses.  His refinement had been overtaken by shallow superficiality.  He was oblivious to the price eked by success from him.

Sanjay’s old mother saw what had happened to her elder son.  She was treated like a well preserved cared for antique and nothing more than that these days.   Sanjay no longer visited his mother in the evenings like before.  She missed him dreadfully and grieved… The old lady prayed to the lord to knock some sense into her generous albeit misguided son.  But it was too late.

Cycle of destiny took a full turn.  Long period of drought took its toll and Sanjay “the wishing tree” soon suffered huge financial losses.  The multi business branches were chopped for financial reasons.  The Wishing Tree became a mere shadow of its former glorious self.  The hangers on vanished like hair from an age ravaged bald head.  Sanjay was now left with only his own small family, faithful jack of all chauffer and mother.

This change in fortune strangely enough did not perturb him. In reality Sanjay felt at peace.  He had more than enough for his family’s needs.  The old lady smiled contentedly knowing that her “wishing tree” son would flower again but with prudence this time round.

Notes:  No personality can be termed black or white. Everyone has saving graces/ redeeming qualities along with in between shades. That is my contention.

In Hindu mythology, Sanjeevani is a magical herb which has the power to cure any malady. It was believed that medicines prepared from this herb could revive a dead person –source-wiki

Ghazals: is a poetic form consisting of rhyming couplets and a refrain, with each line sharing the same meter. A ghazal may be understood as a poetic expression of both the pain of loss or separation and the beauty of love in spite of that pain. The form is ancient, originating in 6th century Arabic verse. It is derived from the Arabian panegyric qasida. The structural requirements of the ghazal are similar in stringency to those of the Petrarchan sonnet. In its style and content it is a genre which has proved capable of an extraordinary variety of expression around its central themes of love and separation. It is one of the principal poetic forms which the Indo-Perso-Arabic civilization offered to the eastern Islamic world.- source -wiki

Five Fifty-Five Word Micro Tales

eye witness 

these babies have had free ride for long.  time to set them free.  she researched , planned to nth degree.  zeroed in on best of best finally.  D-day had arrived.  her only stipulation was to be an eye witness before signing on dot.  Agreement was arrived at.  Plastic surgeon skilfully reduced bust to relieve her back.

Murder

Bent on vengeance, Sheila thought “murder”.  Finally she got the expected tweet.  Her best friend Judas Judy would be arriving any minute.  She had made her the laughing stock among their friends.   With her toy gun cocked, she bided time.   This would surely scare living daylights out of nervous Nellie JJ.  Sheila savored the thought.

Accident

Overturned car teetered at cliff’s edge.   Occupants, mother and toddler lay nearby.  Help was on way.   Weepy boy appeared to be consoled by his mother.  Crowd parted as blaring ambulances neared.  EMTs  checked  injured.  They shook their heads sadly as the mother had died on the spot but miraculously the child had escaped unhurt.

Amnesia

Falling on head on icy driveway had caused Sam’s amnesia.   Doctors assured Mona his memory would return.   It was critical he recover fast.  Company they’d built by hard work lay at brink of disaster.   Their stock had fallen steadily in the market, investors were  nervous.   Only Sam knew safe’s combination containing those valuable bonds.

Hysteria

Their only daughter Tiffany was getting married today.  It was four hours since she had gone to the beauty parlor and not returned.  Marge, Tiffany’s mother felt a steady rise of hysteria.  How would the senator and she face their VIP guest?  Horrible thoughts like kidnapping or  that Tiffany had runaway in panic, plagued her.

The Urns

Builder Ram had purchased the lot including the old house and stables for a song.  It was in the older part of the city and upwardly mobile people these days preferred newer suburbs with all the mod cons.

**

Ram loved old things and recalled his grandparent’s grand old mansion which now belonged to his cousins.  He too wanted to build a similar house in its full glory and it would be a perfect property for film shoots as well.  After all he was a businessman.  Before the structure was pulled down, he had salvaged all usable mantles, doors, windows, fixtures et al.  Now they were preparing to lay down the foundation.  It was then that his laborers found two urns full of ashes.  They were covered with red cloths covered in ancient script.  The work was halted as the urns were carefully lifted and placed in a secure spot.  Ram decided to investigate regarding them.

 

**

 

Three houses down lived an old priest called Shastriji.  The priest’s ancestors had looked after the needs of the whole neighborhood since times immemorial.  Be it birth, death, marriage or special prayers, they were much in demand.  Recorded journals with names of all the family members of every family with detailed history were in his possession.  Ram hit pay dirt when one of the local workers told him to approach the priest.

**

Ram:   “Greetings Shastriji.  I’ve bought that old house three doors down your lane and seek your help”.   The priest sat up straight as these days clients were a rare sight.

Shastriji exclaimed, “Oh! So you are the one that bought that house.  I know the history of it well.  No need to refer to my detailed journals. This will take up a while so I hope you have time to spare.  Let’s share a cup of tea first.

That house belonged to Surya Pratap the younger son of Raja Ratan Singh of this state.  He was an ascetic and a devout Hindu who preferred all things Indian.  He had no love for the East Indian Company and the British upstarts.  He was married off to the beautiful second daughter of the royal family of the neighboring State.  Sita was so beautiful that Surya Pratap succumbed to her charms in no time.  With love and patience she smoothed out the sharp edges of his personality.  Surya became mellow and less obdurate in nature.

 

 

They had four children.  Three sons and one daughter   Eldest son and daughter was educated in England at the urging of his wife Sita who herself had schooled there and the other two received their education in local schools and colleges.  Their daughter Chandni was incredibly lovely and the family’s lucky charm.  Ever since she had been born, many good things had occurred in their lives.   Whole family doted on Chandni and she too had a lovable nature.  Chandni had long curly dark hair, big almond shaped light blue eyes and perfect features like her mother Sita.  She was a great archer and equestrienne too.  She met and won many a challenge her three brothers posed.  She was their match in every which way and more.

Chandni finished her education in London and returned home to settle down and eventually get married.  Many alliances arrived from far corners of the country for her hand.  She turned them all down.  She wanted to spend more time with her loved ones.

Then, something unexpected happened.  A young British officer Peter Pruitt had been sent to the nearby Company Residency as a second in command.    He was very handsome and loved all things Indian.  He was kind hearted too unlike his haughty supercilious colleagues.

Chandni’s best friend Tara had given a birthday party and Chandni was looking forward to catching up on the local gossip.  She dressed herself in simple clothes and even then she was the cynosure of all eyes.  Peter Pruitt and his fellow officers had been invited by Tara’s parents as they undertook contract work from the Company on various projects.  They managed the local workmen well and hence rarely was there any friction or untoward incidence.

At the very first glance Peter and Chandni fell headlong in love much to the consternation of everyone present.  Chandni knew her family would never accept Peter but she had lost control over her wayward heart.  Peter’s state was equally bad.  His friends too advised him against it as Chandni’s father’s reputation as a stern Hindu was well known.  He was inflexible on many fronts.  Soon the affair became known to Chandni’s parents and even as the lovers were eloping with the help of her faithful nanny, all the three brothers caught up with the fleeing lovers and in a heated moment, the hot headed eldest brother shot the couple.  All present became stunned and he the most.  He was shocked at what he had done and in reflex action shot self too.  The remaining two brothers quickly carried the three bodies home.  Peter and Chandni’s bodies were secretly taken to an underground cave to be dealt with there.  All the servants were sworn to secrecy for fear of repercussions at the hands of the cruel firangi (foreigners).  It was decided that since Chandni had disobeyed the family, she and Peter would be secretly cremated and the ashes would be kept in urns and buried deep in a chosen spot by the family priest.  The urns were then duly sealed by red square materials that had a fine print of tantric mantras all over.  As a punishment, the ashes were not released in the holy Ganges.  The lovers were left to languish in anguish till eternity.

The son was given a royal sendoff with all the rituals.  And that was the beginning of the end of this family.  Their luck ran out with the departure of their lucky charm Chandni and they fell on hard times.  Soon everything dwindled- lives, money and the hangers-on leeches.  All the fine carpets and fixtures- everything was sold off one by one and finally only the bare bones of this lovely house remained.   Hence, this property was sold for a song.  People swear that they have seen the lovers’ ghosts on the roof in the evenings.”

Shastriji became silent after that and builder Ram’s mind began racing.  He rubbed his hands in secret glee. He was not perturbed at all.   This house was going to be used by movie makers and the ghostly touch would be an added allure.  But first he vowed to give the lovers a decent sendoff with full fledged rituals and fanfare.

The renovated house’s inauguration and the Lovers’ send off simultaneously would be great publicity.  Ram silently chortled to himself.  Thanking Shastriji profusely, he hurried off sporting a huge smile on his chubby gum chewing face.

The Safe Legacy- Micro Fiction

The safe was opened finally.

Last week the funeral had been conducted as befitting a much loved father and husband by the grief stricken wife Sheila and twin offspring Yogi and Yamuna, both doctors. The deceased was one of Jaipur’s top industrialists. His name was Yograj Sisodia.

Dr. Yamuna was short and stocky like her dad with gorgeous flowing hair and limpid clear eyes that mesmerized. Her other attractive feature was a tinkling laughter which reminded of soft musical notes. Other than that, she was ordinary in looks department but was a gifted general surgeon.

Dr. Yogi her fraternal twin was classically tall, fair and handsome. He had taken after their mom Sheila who was a known beauty in her heyday. Handsome doctors attract more nurses than their counterparts and Yogi was no exception. A graveyard of broken hearts could be chalked up to his name. He was an incorrigible flirt. His sis warned that one day he was going to fall flat for someone who would not give him the time of day. He merely snorted. The siblings however loved each other very much. Yogi was an interventional cardiologist.

The family was quite well off and hence inheritance was the last thing on their minds. It was more curiosity to know what their beloved (dad/partner) had had to hide from his family.  The attorney came over with the key to the safe and they gathered in their father’s study room. It was his private den and only place that was taboo to all, without exception. Their dad even cleaned the place himself.  Various properties had already been distributed per deceased’s last will and testament. The only item left was the safe.

Sheila said “I wonder what Yograj hid from us all these years? Yogi, Yamuna, do you guys have any inkling?” Both shook their heads equally mystified.  Impatience and curiosity were palpable. Per instructions of the deceased, the attorney opened safe and left them alone. His work done, he quietly saw himself out of the mansion.

With rising excitement Sheila opened the safe door. In it covered by an antique red velvet table cloth, edged by an exquisite gold filigree lace was an antique Chinese box with carved dragons. It was one those trick puzzle boxes and they had a tough time finding the secret drawer as it definitely contained something which rattled when gently shaken.

Yamuna said, “Ma please hand it to me. Let me try“. Skilful surgeon hands gently tapped the mouths of each carved dragon. Finally the left side gave a clicking sound and a drawer sprang open.

Wrapped in a scented embroidered kerchief with royal insignia was a huge blue topaz the size of a small egg. It had to be priceless. Their collective mouths fell open. There was a sepia tinted old newspaper cutting under the stone. It spoke of a daring theft of the legendary Topaz from the royalpalaceofJaipur.

This stone was, per the legend stolen from an ancient temple and whosoever possessed it- misfortune would befall his immediate family. The temple thief had sold the gem to the royal jeweler for a mere pittance and disappeared. He had met with a freak accident and died on the spot. The royal jeweler made a forehead ornament for the royal princess and presented it to his highness the Raja of Jaipur. The jewel had next been stolen by an ancestor of Yograj Sisodia called Pratap Singh as he had easy access, being the chief treasurer of the palace.

Pratap

“This topaz is driving me crazy. I have to have it or I will go crazy. Please gods either free me from this obsession or help me acquire it by fair means or foul”.

The minute Pratap had laid eyes on the topaz he had been hypnotized by its beauty and was driven to do the unthinkable. He seemed to be possessed by the evil spirit of stone itself.

Once the stone came in his possession, bad luck came along with it. His prize winning horses suddenly broke their limbs and an ancient Peepal tree inexplicably shriveled and died. Pratap Singh realized his error but it was too late.

Repentant and grief stricken, in order to make amends, Pratap Singh performed various rituals and tantric remedies with help of knowledgeable priests to appease the malefic planets and demi gods. Then per the sage’s instructions, he placed the stone in this box along with its history to be passed on to his bloodline. Tide of bad luck had been successfully averted.

Sheila and the twin doctors were shaken, enchanted and fascinated by their discovery. Knowing one another well, they decided to gift the topaz to the national museum where it truly belonged, unanimously.

**Hindus worship Peepal tree like a deity, without having any knowledge about its history & origin. Check out a few interesting legends about it. Peepal Tree- The Sacred Fig  (written for a challenge- using “safe” word in a short story 1000 words max)

 

Yogi – Micro Fiction

The couple met as planned near the park’s third bench.  There was a heated argument and woman said “I’ve already given you half in advance!  I will pay you rest after you complete the job.   Do not call me until you’ve finished it!”  

 

Yogi sat on the bench but for all they cared he was a piece of furniture!  He looked like a washed out junkie, best ignored. 

Yogi quickly taped the whole meeting on his camera. Then, after reversing his jacket, combing his hair and with a scarf round his neck, he was a changed man!   After all he was a famous detective who had honed his talent for disguise into a fine art.  Like a shadow he weaved in and out of gatherings with no one the wiser.  He was a great success in his game.

 

 

 

Raj Kumar was a makeup man. He fell into this job by chance.  His mother Neeta was famous movie star Ruby’s housekeeper and took him with her as the madam did not mind it.  Ruby often threw away her makeup after a single application and Raj would retrieve it.  He loved to draw and paint and once his mother allowed him to apply makeup on her as Ruby had asked her to be present for her birthday party.   Neeta looked so stunning that Ruby noticed her makeup and asked about it.  When she came to know young Raj had applied it, she asked him to do her face as an experiment.  Raj enhanced Ruby’s already gorgeous looks in such a way that even her agent whistled.  Raj’s career was decided.  Neeta’s only stipulation was that he had to study side by side and Ruby felt the same.

Raj had lost his father in infancy and mother and son had a close relationship.    Neeta’s widowed aunt took care of their house and watched Raj whenever needed.  She loved young Raj as her own son.  Raj fell in love with a classmate Yogita and married her as soon as they both turned twenty-one.  Yogi came a year after and their family was complete.    

 

 

Yogi went home and relaxed in his swanky apartment.  He had several places of residence and carried many passports and aliases.  They came in handy in his line of work.  The only way people could contact him was via his front man, business partner Andy who had an office in the business district.  Due to word of mouth and goodwill their business flourished by leaps and bounds.  They had ethics and were very discreet.  Andy helped whenever Yogi needed a second person.  They were very close.  Both were a mere twenty five in age.

 

The bonus from his recent job was substantial.  The woman was his client’s rival who wanted to access his quotation on a prestigious contract bid.  Yogi’s legwork had not only disqualified but also blacklisted her firm.

 

He wished his parents and aunty were alive to share his happiness.  They had died in a horrific accident after performing the last rites of great aunty (Neeta’s aged aunt).  A bus had lost control and swerved into their car, killing Raj and Yogita instantly.  Yogi was spared as he had final exams and had stayed back with granny Neeta His most prized possessions were an ornate handcrafted cane which had a sword inside.  It had been used in a blockbuster movie and had been gifted to his dad Raj by the movie director.  The cactus was made of glass and was exquisite. It looked so real.   His parents had bought this for Neeta who had a green thumb and loved cacti best.  Neeta often told Yogi that he should be tough like a cactus- strong, resilient and a survivor.  On his eighteenth birthday, she had gifted him with her glass cactus as Yogi loved it very much.  Whenever he missed his loved ones, he would sit for hours in front of their family portrait together with the cane and the glass cactus by his side.  He had many such blue moments.  Much against her will granny Neeta had allowed Yogi to bring a puppy home as that would take the edge off his loneliness.  His friend Andy often came over to spend the night with him.  Time had flown and now his pup Rocky was seven years old and weighed sixty pounds and was 25” tall.   Granny Neeta was pushing eighty six and wanted Yogi to get married and settle down.  She kept saying she would die in peace once he had settled down with a bride of his own choice.

 

 

Yogi was playing with Rocky on the beach when a Frisbee came flying and hit him on the head.  A beautiful vision came running and abjectly begged his pardon.  Yogi’s moth fell open! The young lady was the spitting image of his late beautiful mom! He shook his head to clear it and promptly stuck out his hand for an intro.  The beauty’s name was Ankita and she was visiting her cousins for a week.  She was from Delhi.  

Yogi promptly invited Ankita for dinner as a price for bopping him on the head.  Reluctantly she agreed.  Over dinner, much to their delight they discovered they had much in common.  At close range, she had a strong resemblance to Yogita, Yogi’s mom, yet she was unalike her too.  For next seven days, they met daily and became quite comfortable with one another.  Yogi proposed and she accepted. She could easily transfer to a Bombay branch of her firm.  Rest is history…. 

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