A surrealist masterpiece, René Magritte’s 1928 painting, The Lovers, (via google images )

Gorby (Govardhan) – Ghost, Ravi’s friend/adversary/ TV-movie star

Biba – Gorby’s love, Monu’s mom, Ravi’s wife

Monu (Mandeep): Ravi’s son fathered by Gorby

Kaka- bungalow caretaker

Ms. Rosie: Monu’s nanny

~~

Silently, ninja entered the house. Surefooted, knowing exactly where to go, he reached the bedroom. He tapped awake the sleeping man ever so gently.  It was movie and TV star the Great Gorby.  Once he was awake he threatened Gorby menacingly, “Leave Ravi Talwar and his family alone or else you will be sorry!”  Gorby quietly extracted a gun from under his pillow and tried to shoot but his hand was shaking badly and the nimble ninja deflected the gun. Gorby shot himself instead.  The gloved ninja left same way he’d come.

After initial hue n cry, the death was declared accidental. Mumbai’s tinsel town, notorious for its short memory span, soon forgot Gorby.

Gorby’s ashes were ritually immersed by his grief stricken dad but he never left.  His ghost roamed the bungalow determined on seeking revenge.    The caretaker Kaka was sorry that he had rented the place surreptitiously. He should’ve asked his “sahib” first.  It was too late now.

Ghost Gorby was bored.  He longed for real people to scare.  Ever since his ignominious end, he had been thirsting for revenge, stuck as he was between the living and the dead. To date, he had merely scared caretaker Kaka and a bunch of adventurous kids.

Ravi Talwar was a restauranteur in New York. He had had no desire to join the family business that was well run by other family members. Quick wits and hard work had paid off and now he owned three successful restaurants offering ethnic Indian food.  He had dark thick hair, laughing eyes, big forehead, biggish Talwar nose and full lips. His body was athletic due to morning workouts and careful eating.  Altogether, he was a well dressed easy on the eye marriage prospect. Happy and ready to settle down, he proposed marriage to his childhood fellow prankster and love, Biba.

Biba was a distant relative of Ravi’s mom and often came to stay in their house with her parents who were also their business partners.  Only child of doting parents, she had become a spoilt princess and being beautiful, everyone simply indulged her shamelessly.  Only Ravi did no such thing hence Biba had a love hate fascination for him.  She always tried to get the upper hand but failed- this had earned Ravi her grudging respect.   She even felt a sneaky kind of love for him. The minx had determined that only way to make Ravi succumb was to marry him. So far, Ravi had held out.

Ravi’s proposal had been everyone’s dream come true and they became engaged.

Gorby after graduation had left for tinsel town Mumbai to try his luck in movies.  A few pulled family strings had panned out and he had landed a small part in a TV serial.  He was a consummate actor and soon got noticed.  His drop dead looks, green eyes and chestnut hair also helped.  His mom had been a fair green eyed Kashmiri beauty whose family had been uprooted from their beloved Kashmir valley.   Enroute to their second home in Dehradun, militants had struck again and she had died on the spot.  Pandit Kaul hastily made a makeshift pyre to consign the body to flames and waited for dawn to gather her ashes. Thereafter, he hid his three year old son under his shirt and headed non stop for Dehradun.  His wife’s ashes were duly consigned to the holy Ganges there, amidst tears and chants.

Mr. Kaul’s close friend and neighbors, the Talwar family had taken them both in and healing had begun.  Talwars and Kauls were business partners and to occupy his grief stricken mind, Mr. Kaul took upon himself all out of town travel secure in the knowledge that his beloved son was in caring hands…  Gorby was easy going and charming but with a flexible slant to life unlike Ravi who had been molded by his mother and grandmother in strict moral code and conduct.   He and Ravi were close buddies.

Biba heeded to her inner drummer alone.  In their heart of hearts Ravi’s mom and granny would’ve been happy if Ravi had chosen another.  But love is blind and they were happy enough with this choice.  Better to deal with a known devil than an unknown one.

Dashing actor Gorby swept Biba off her feet at the engagement party and she fell headlong for him.  He praised her looks outrageously and encouraged her to become an actress.  Ravi and the rest were unaware of this.

A week before the marriage day, Gorby and Biba eloped to Mumbai.  Spoilt Biba was in for a rude awakening.  Nymphets like her were a dime a dozen and she was not amenable to the casting couch.  She was blacklisted and Gorby had to apologize to everyone and mollify Biba as well.  He genuinely loved her and wanted to marry her.  They both felt terrible about backstabbing Ravi but were madly in love.  In a moment of weakness, they made love after another scathing rejection of Biba.  She became pregnant.  Both were aghast as they did not wish for a child.  Repentant and tear stricken she returned home.

Ravi still loved Biba and both the families quickly got them married and soon after they left for New York.

The nurse brought the wailing baby to Biba but she turned her face away.  She had gone into depression.  Ravi singlehandedly took care of both and finally engaged an Indian nanny to care for his son.  They named the baby Mandeep but called him Monu.

To prove to herself her own self worth, Biba soon took an interest in the restaurants and became a cordon bleu chef. Digging out old family recipes and begging family ladies for recipes, she dabbled and created new dishes.  She gave them exotic names and gradually introduced them in their restaurants.  Their revenue trebled.  Finally the family had come together.  In time, she came to adore her geeky son Monu as well.

Monu was in the process of boarding his school bus when a brakeless car slammed into the bus injuring several kids.  Monu’s spine was injured and he lost the use of his legs.  He was only ten.

After trying all treatments, devastated Ravi and Biba decided to sell everything and return home to their beloved Dehradun valley.  Fresh air, Ayurvedic massages were next on their agenda.

Exercise equipment, physical therapy aids, computers et al had been shipped in advance.  The bungalow was readied for wheelchair accessibility.  It was then that Kaka made a clean breast of having rented their bungalow to actor Gorby without their knowledge and his subsequent accidental death. Kaka was unaware that Gorby, Biba and Ravi were childhood buddies.  He also said that their house was haunted.  Ravi and Biba laughed in his face.  Sheepish at this reaction, Kaka slunk out.

Monu was a nerd and it had been agreed by his US school principal that he could appear for exams online- so everyone was happy. His Indian nanny Ms. Rosie had agreed to travel with them and Ravi and Biba were relieved.

Monu was a night owl and as he worked on his homework, he felt a presence. He turned his swivel chair and saw a man seated on his bed. He was looking at him with love.  Monu asked, “who are you?’  Gorby replied, “I am your dad son! “ But how can that be Monu cried my dad is Ravi and not you! But Gorby insisted.  Then Monu asked why are you  still here? Gorby said he wanted to know who had plotted to scare him to death literally.   Then he saw that Monu was unable to stand and was stricken. He came to know about the accident and their move back home.

During subsequent days he noticed the love and devotion Ravi had for his son and he softened.

The day before, he had been seething in anger when he’d overheard Ravi and Biba talking.  Ravi had confessed to Biba that he had sent his close friend, a New York cop to scare away Gorby from them for good.  On chatting with a local Dehradun friend, he had come to know about the paying guest in their bungalow. The town was all excited to have Gorby the actor in their midst, his friend had expressed. He had had no intention of killing him he told her emphatically.  She’d believed him.

During childbirth, Ravi had come to know that Monu was not his son, but had forgiven Biba and loved Monu as his own flesh and blood.  Now he only wished to keep Gorby away from disrupting his family again.  That was all.

Gorby forgave his childhood buddies and quietly departed from their lives.  Next to Monu’s pillow they found an exquisite cameo with Gorby’s mom’s picture in it.  Gorby had worn in his neck when alive.

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

My earliest memory takes me to the one person with oodles of grace and that was mom who gave of herself in every which way wholeheartedly. It annoyed us no end. She willingly allowed herself to be exploited by clever friends with nary a crease on her brow- now that is grace. Another person I was blessed to know was our family” employee Dajiba” more like a brother really- he oozed amazing grace. Purportedly he claimed that divinity manifested in his body with such strength that he could cure with mere touch on forehead when he called upon IT after an hour of prayer. How many of the gathered throngs he cured are anybody’s guess but he transferred upon his slender self all the numerous childhood fevers and nosebleeds I was stricken with. He declared that he was stronger than me and could weather them fine. I never questioned and ran off to play while he writhed in pain and mom plied him with numerous cups of ginger tea etc… Later it was impressed upon me that I should have borne this “karma” myself and not allowed another to physically suffer thus on my behalf. He exited from our lives when mom left us. That mom reached home was amply conveyed to us by divine manifestation.* -will not digress here. Now come to think of it- maybe mom and Dajiba knew one another from previous lifetimes- he never offered to help with her illness- guess he knew better.

One other memorable incident that comes to mind is about the intriguing relationship between my cousin’s mother-in-law and their young hired help. This boy was so attached to that lady that when she passed away –he jumped off the roof and gave up his life rather than live without her. We were all shaken to the core. Such “bond” between an employer and employee cannot be pigeonholed. It left an indelible imprint on my mind.

One unexpected but welcome event that did occur upon mom’s passing was the unstinted love extended to us by an aunt (dad’s younger brother’s wife) who had never ever shown any interest in us before. It took me a while to realize that it was as pure as it was genuine.  She filled the gap somewhat that mom had left behind.  What motivated her to do this beats me but it was so welcome.  On and off we spoke, connected with one another when ever I visited India. She left us last month.  She had this amazing grace which shamed my initial cynicism. She genuinely wept when life served me lemons and celebrated when it came up trumps. No one else did that for me.  Even though much older, she celebrated the child in her and we had some truly fun times travelling together in India. We chortled and cackled like two kids rather than grown ups when she shared some of her rather harebrained antics away from the prying eyes of her “bahu” *and daughters. May she RIP.  Really miss you “chachi”.   To be contd…. (* bahu= daughter-in-law)

Amazing Grace (personal journey…2)

One person who features as numero uno fairy godmother in our lives is/was mom’s younger sister. Cinderella’s fairy godmother cannot hold candle to this one as she was the living breathing real McCoy. She added whipped cream, glaze, glam and dazzle to our otherwise humdrum lives seamlessly without even trying.  I have never seen such understood deep love among siblings.  It was that perfect.  We simply basked in that glow.  Thank you masi.  She was amazing grace personified.  A 24 carat brick in letter word and spirit. Such people value add unobtrusively in a rather nonchalant manner. She was that rare bird.

One person that also begs mention is that seven foot Nubian dark iterant monk who stopped by for a meal at our place inBombayon his way to the holyHimalayas.  His towering stature that impacted more was his aura that glowed from his person.  I felt rather blessed in his presence.  He left an indelible footprint in my mind.  He placed his hand on my head and showered me with blessings. In my hours of grief and agony I hugged that blessing to myself often in recollection and took heart.  We had two lamps fromKashmirwith carved faces.  I often visualized that monk in those faces and experienced solace.

That about sums up our Bombay years in this regard.

One lady who carved a place in my heart is my middle sister’s mother-in-law.  She had such a large heart that it had room for just about everyone.  She was simple in worldly ways but genuinely good hearted.  She filled the hole mom had left behind more than amply with her amazing grace and love.  Yes, I have experienced amazing love in many unexpected places and many faces.    She never made me feel unwelcome in my sister’s huge joint family.

USA years

One person who came into my life as a give n take deal was Josephine Ferraro.   Truly a remarkable person.  She took me under her wing- and gave me a to and fro ride from work in the wee and late hours without quibble.  Her listening capacity and love shored up my neediness amply.  Initially I paid her but later on she refused to take anything from me.   She was there like a rock during the uncertain days of our lives when we were caught in the sudden downward slide due to market‘s economic depression.  She is very much in our life even today and considers my son as her grandson and his kids as her gr8 grandkids.  Just spoke to her (Dec. 26, 2011) and she told me she carries the babies’ pictures in her pocketbook.  I truly feel blessed.

In New Delhi,India

Have experienced many miracles and visions and what have you- whether they were self induced stupor(ed) or real is anybody’s guess but I felt uplifted and fresh with new hope.  By nature I never give up and never stayed down for long.

A negligent doctor injected something lethal and my husband fell fatally ill.  During those harrowing days in the hospital inIndia, do not know from where, a father and son came into our room and brightened it with their selfless service and gift of laughter.  The father actually sat on my husband’s bed and massaged his head and feet with infinite love.  It filled me with a state of shock mixed with wonder.  Being finicky by nature it would’ve been repugnant for me to do likewise.  The love and light in his face was Amazing Grace personified.

They left with their recovered kin soon after but before leaving he gave me his full address and phone to contact in case of need.    I thanked him with wet eyes but never called him.    During those days, even the Nepali help who had been in my past employ bandied together and offered their help 24/7.  My husband and I had always treated everyone just the same as we did our own child most of the time.  Hence they too gave back their love in full measure when it was sorely needed.  I am truly grateful for that.  During those years, we had been robbed and I’d lost a chunk of my valuable jewelry among other things besides valuable electronics and cameras et al.

In India, often the eunuchs come around and invoke terror and alarm in people because if you do not give in to their demand for money, they roundly curse you in coarse epithets.   Such a group landed at my doorstep as well.  I opened the door and faced their sing song demands stoically and then beckoned the leader to come close.   I told about how I’d been robbed and how my husband lay in the hospital fighting for his life- He/she immediately changed his belligerent stand and became soft and misty eyed and then placed his hand on my head and blessed me with everything he could muster.  He told me I have much happiness in store and to never lose heart.  He filled my despairing heart with new zest and fighting spirit.  I salute that eunuch for his genuine amazing grace.

Part 3..conclusion

After the eunuch episode, I lost my husband and became a widow. Found many helping hands but most came with invisible strings.  I longed to fly solo- soaring freely without any encumbrances but being a widow in India is never a piece of cake. It can be pretty awful.  Pity can scotch one’s spirit to cinders and one dies in inches. Somehow I felt I’d landed from the fire into a frying pan or vice versa.  I felt forsaken by my inner beloved.

My faith was sorely tested but I hung on nevertheless.  The option of checking into an ashram never had any appeal for me.  I missed the freedom I had enjoyed in USA.  I longed to return.  Help came from a most unexpected source and things fell in place and I returned to USA.

The day I was leaving for USA turned out to be truly memorable.  During last minute shopping, I espied a tiny image of my beloved deity “Krishna” and I entered the jewelry store to purchase it. But the store owner refused to sell it saying it was their “resident store deity” and hence could not be sold. I offered a large sum to no avail.  Disheartened I left the store dragging my feet.  Suddenly we heard someone running after us.  It was the store owner who shouted, “Please stop”.   Then proceeded to give me the deity and said, “ HE wants to travel with you to USA”. I was taken aback.  I failed to ask how he had come to that conclusion, instead gladly accepted the “deity” and with a huge smile on my face proceeded to the airport.    This deity accompanies me everywhere on all my journeys away from home base.  In case I forget to place it in my purse, we usually have to return for one thing or another.  I have learnt my lesson well and now pack it first when leaving town.  This is HIS amazing grace.  I always feel blessed now.

In conclusion I have to acknowledge the ready help extended by both of my bosses when I had surgeries scheduled and my husband was in India.   They picked me up and waited patiently when I was done. Is this amazing grace or what I do not know.  It was selfless.

I also felt comfortable enough to call Supriya( an efriend/daughter) and share my anxiety with her and she poured some horse sense in me and forced me to rush to my surgeon doctor instead of bleeding from burst varicose veins and wasting time in phone chatter. I thank my “Krishna” to have her in my life.  She is a blessing as well.  Last but not the least I must thank both malathi dechiraju and meghana Joshi(two efriends) for selflessly putting together my two books of poems by  generous offer of their valuable time.  They truly floored me with their magnanimity.  That is also grace! One person who meant the world to me was Vickie Chiong- a Cuban Chinese office colleague.  She added so much meaning and substance to my life.  her friends grieve for her to this day myself included.  Here is my eulogy for  Vickie Chiong:

To try to qualify or quantify what she meant to me

Is to try to pin down the will-o-wisp that was Vickie

She was a pint sized ball of pure effervescent energy

A master in  aikido, reiki and other healing   arts

Her generosity knew no bounds as she gave of herself freely

Her helping hands imparted instant relief to many aching limbs

Her occasional inscrutability came from her oriental origin

And her practical quirky earthiness made her fun to be around

Her presence in my life brought a nice richness to my persona

And I can emphatically say the gain was all mine, just mine

She had no bone to pick with anyone, least of all, her destiny

And she sailed through life sublimely, taking all in her stride

She was only four feet tall but could tackle any hefty person easily

Her diminutive looks were as deceptive as the depth of her spirituality

She entered my life like a breath of fresh air and managed to show me

Myself, for what I really was inside out so that I could measure up

I will miss her dreadfully but know full well that her spirit will always

Encompass all her loved ones giving courage and acceptance, with grace

Go forward free from pain, dear friend even though we will miss you

But know full well that you now reside in blissful greener pastures.

 Yes I am truly blessed and there is a reason and a season for everything. People do enter and exit from our lives as ordained and not a second before or after.

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.

Bunty, Goldie and Raja, aka the triad sat staring at the safe they had just unloaded from the van as if it were a cobra!  They had never done anything illegal before but in this case the cause justified the means.  

They were all headed back to India during summer break and by a mere fluke they had been privy to a cryptic text message on a fellow passenger’s cell phone.  They had quickly noted down all the info and had decided to investigate upon landing.

Raja’s dad was a bigwig in the airline’s corporate staff.  Through his aegis they acquired full data with copy of fellow passenger’s passport.  Their job had been made easy by this information.  The safe’s secret had to be unlocked to get to heart of the matter.  Excitement tinged with fear was palpable.

Raja was tall and reedy in structure with a prominent adam’s apple but due to his dark liquid eyes, all the girls shamelessly gave him chase in the college campus.  He was shy to boot.

Bunty and Goldie were the extreme opposites and were constantly riding love’s seesaw on an off and on basis.  Bunty was of rugged build, fair and tall and had a wonderful voice.  Hence he too was much sought after. 

Goldie was the nerd of the triad and hence kept them afloat in studies singlehandedly.    Goldie was hooked on workouts, if not busy solving difficult problems.  He spent half of his free time tackling weights.  His body was like a Greek God’s and hence cynosure of many eyes of both genders.

The passport revealed the name of the passenger to be Salim Malik.  The message had come from a girl named Ameena Begum.  On further research they were able to locate the whereabouts of Ameena.  They had to find the alleged safe quickly to get to the bottom of this plot.  Here they faced a stone wall.  They went into a huddle to solve this issue.

Fortunately everyone was from Mumbai which made things much easier.  They solicited aid from   local police station officer (SHO) who thought if this yields some crime in the making, he would make headlines and hence helped them with all means at his disposal.    With inside information from the cell phone service provider they had nailed down the exact location of the house and hence the safe.   The police usually made the rounds in the riot prone areas and hence their SHO with help from his Mohamed Ali road counterpart, effected a raid on Ameena’s house.

Ameena’s father Abbas Baig was a cab driver and father of five girls.  Ameena’s mother Samina Begum was deathly scared of her bully husband and did his bidding.  Hence the children suffered without respite being girls.  The SHO had seen the dilapidated safe hidden in a small alcove in the backroom wall covered by a dirty curtain.  He told the triad that now it was up to them to retrieve, open and put back without anyone the wiser.

The trio rejected the numerous invites from local friends and relations and went into a huddle.   A series of festivals were imminent and the streets would be teeming with processions and an odd blast here and there to create communal disharmony.  Keeping all this in mind, they designed a harmless noisemaker as a diversion and planted it near Ameena’s house.  As everyone ran out, they ran in and retrieved the safe.  

Finally the SHO with expert help pried open the safe and it yielded three neat dollar bundles along with passports of Ameena, Samira and Aamna the three older girls aged 17,16 and 15 years.  All had Saudi Arabia visa stamps in them.  Apparently the girls were being sold to rich Saudi sheikhs.  They were all shook up to confront this human trafficking by a parent.  Now they wondered how Salim Malik their plane’s co-passenger fit in here.  They decided to visit him.

The SHO explained the whole situation to Salim and then he told them of his own heartache.  He was in love with Ameena from childhood but knew her abba (dad) was bent upon encashing all his daughters and had forbidden them from meeting.  They were only able to meet near their school or the mosque at given times.  They communicated via a note they left under a designated stone at a nearby park.  About two years ago Salim had gone to USA on scholarship and had been saving money to buy off Ameena from her Abba.  The information about safe and other details were messaged to Salim by a desperate Ameena who was scheduled to be married within the fortnight to a Saudi Sheikh along with her two younger sisters who had brokered a deal for all three of them paying handsomely to cab driver Abbas Baig, their father.   Now all the pieces fell in place.  The girls were under age and hence this was an illegal trade.  

The SHO openly returned the safe back to Ameena’s house even as the camera’s from all news channels rolled in live action.  Abbas Baig was arrested and all the girls were rescued.  Ameena and Salim Malik were married by the mosque priest and rest of the girls along with their mother were whisked off to a new neighborhood under different names with relevant paper work, ration card etc…  With Salim’s permission, Ameena sent money to her mother each month to meet all the expenses.   No one missed cruel Abbas Baig.

**

Ten years later

Raja, Goldie and Bunty as preplanned inaugurated their brand new NGO called Safe Haven meant for all homeless, abused and society’s pariahs seeking care and shelter.

An unexpected SOS call from their US settled engineer son Shivam saw them on a flight bound for America.  The ceremony would be rescheduled upon return.  Shiva’s office staff started making cancellation calls to all invitees.
**

Ailing prisoner number 8957 had been released with thirteen others in exchange for the one political prisoner.  Pakistan authorities had failed to elicit any credible information from 8957 and had happily gotten rid of him.  8957 was sent to the army hospital.
 

Fingerprints and other tags in his old bag provided some clues and finally he was identified as Caption Karan Singh who had gone missing about a dozen years ago.  Sadly his grieving family of grand parents, parents had passed on due to broken hearts.  His only sister was happily married and lived in USA.  She had reluctantly sold the property and had decided to also leave the family portrait after taking several photographs of it.   The sale was contingent upon two conditions which had to be met.  The family portrait would occupy a place of honor and the tree house would not be cut down.  One friendly request was a permission to visit the property whenever she came to India.  Shiva Shenoy and his wife had acceded to them.  They were empty nesters with a son in USA and daughter in Dubai.  They couldn’t wait to move into their new home.
Jyoti Kanwar Singh, Capt. Karan’s sister was contacted and given the happy news.  Ecstatic with joy, she flew back to India the very next day.  Seeing her brother’s vacant eyes and piteous condition, she was heart broken.  Being a determined lady, she decided to help get him back on his feet.  The doctors suggested he be taken to the old home to accelerate recovery.  They left immediately.
The tree house, family portrait and other small knick knacks still kept in storage in a back shed by the Shenoy sparked some flares of recognition. 
Jyoti would keep talking about all their childhood events of joy sadness truancy and the umpteen tree house parties they had enjoyed together in their
growing years.  Slowly and surely Karan started regaining his strength and memory.  Finally it all came back.  This was like a watershed and they both
wept over the loss of their loved ones.  First thing they did was to have Karan perform shraddha** ceremony for the departed at the behest of their
family priest.  Now they could move forward.
She showed him photos of her husband and twin boys.  Karan was delighted to know that he was an uncle.  She wanted him to migrate but he wanted to stay in the house and resume service if his officer would have him.  She told him the property no longer belonged to them but he refused to budge.  Meanwhile she had to fly back which she did after extracting a promise of weekly phone calls and email updates from Karan. 

**

The Shenoys returned home after a couple of months.  They couldn’t wait to move into their dream home.  They called the pundit for an auspicious time and day for the move.  This time it would be only close family and friends.  All set and fully rested, they drove to their property.  They got the shock of their lives. 
The house was lit and the music was playing.  Gingerly they opened the door and walked in.  They saw a stranger sitting comfortably as though the house belonged to him and they were the interlopers.  Keeping their wits about, they greeted the man and asked to be seated. Then Karan spoke.

Karan told them that he knew that the house was no longer his but he had nowhere else to go. He had grown up here and wished to die here as well.  He wanted to buy it back.  The Shenoys were aghast.  They told him that it was not a matter of money.  They had built their dream home for which they had sweated all their lives.  He could not abort their dream before full term.  They would be devastated.  They had come to an impasse.  They decided to go home and sleep on it and return in the morning in a better frame of mind.  Karan appeared nonchalant.  For him there was no other option!
The Shenoy couple’s heads were in turmoil.  What to do! How to skin this cat!  They thought of various options but nothing appealed.  Their squatter meant business.  He was an army man and they had lots of respect for him and also felt sorry for him.  Poor man! He’d looked so lost but “we want our home backkk” their minds wailed!  They decided to speak to Jyoti, Karan’s sister.  She gave them an ingenious out.
Next morning with a spring in their steps they went to see Karan.    He welcomed them with tea and pastries and reiterated his offer.  They told him to hear their counter offer.
They said why not share this home!  We can build a small outhouse adjacent to the tree house as there was lots of acreage with the property.  This way they would both have privacy and each other’s company when desired.  Karan too liked the idea as he missed the old folks terribly.  He agreed and they came to amicable financial settlement with everything written in black and white to avoid any future strife.
 

The housewarming was attended by close family members of both Shenoys and Karan Singh who had also invited comrades from his old regiment and childhood friends.  Shenoy children, grandchildren and Jyoti along with her seven year old twins and husband were all in full attendance.

 
The faces in the family portrait beamed.  It was as though old ancestors had come home. The branches and the leaves on the old tree shook happily in celebration.

**
Vaastu*:  means the dwelling of humans & Gods. Vaastu shastra is an ancient science which helps one to get the natural benefits
 freely offered by the five basic elements of the universe in which we all live. These basic elements are Akash (SKY),
 Prithvi (EARTH), Paani (WATER), Agni (FIRE), and Vayu (WIND). Vastu Shastra can be applied by keeping in harmony with
 these basic five elements of nature. Vaastu Shastra is an edifice science that was developed by our learned people
thousands of years ago. Its application today is purely architectural and its principles are based on becoming one with nature.
sraddha**, Sanskrit ?r?ddha, also spelled Shraddha, in Hinduism, a ceremony performed in honour of a dead ancestor. The rite is both a social and a religious responsibility enjoined on all male Hindus (with the exception of some sannyasis, or ascetics). The importance given in India to the birth of sons is to ensure that there will be a male descendant to perform the sraddha ceremony after one’s death.

The rite is performed for the deceased father, grandfather, and great-grandfather and also for the mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. It is intended to nourish, protect, and support the spirits of the dead in their pilgrimage from the lower to higher realms, preceding their reincarnation and reappearance on Earth. The rites are performed between the 11th and 31st days after death, depending on caste traditions, and at regular intervals thereafter. The first annual death anniversary is observed by a sraddha ceremony that enables the deceased (preta) to be admitted into the assembly of forefathers (pitr).

The panhandler seated at his usual perch every few minutes jiggled his paper cup to shake the few coins to attract attention of passersby who scurried past him as if he was a statue in their line of vision, best ignored except for that one old lady who without fail psyched herself to walk down that cobbled sidewalk as a daily ritual to coax her aging limbs to move as she was afraid that if she did not they too would desert her like her children and she never failed to drop a coin in his cup to receive his grateful blessing. 

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picture from internet