The Graveyard of the east

I share my room with Mr.Dayal , and we guarded the graveyard near a river in suburban Calcutta. I can’t walk, for I had lost my legs in the war against China. I was employed to take care of the paper works at the graveyard, which I did well enough to hold my job for ten years. We lived in a single room; with windows on both sides, and a front door which had a fondness for Dayal’s forehead. Dayal was a tall, sturdy man in his early forties. He had a look of a corpse, an expressionless face. Dayal’s bed was on the window side facing the eastern side. I occupied a table facing a broken window, looking out into the graveyard, relentlessly gazing for a dead man to come alive. There was a clear view of the path that led to the gate from our room.

Our trapezoidal graveyard ended in a dirt road, had high walls built around it to avoid wild animals into the graveyard. Our room was at least a quarter a mile from the main gate that led to the dirt road. The main gate was the only way out of our graveyard.

On a chilly moonless winter night, someone knocked at Dayal’s window. We were not expecting a visitor at this time, a time when all those wild animals made irksome noises.

Dayal covered his head with a bright blue shawl, and opened the front door only after his forehead had its usual meeting with our short door.

I saw the stranger through the broken window; a man in his thirties, with a long beard, wearing a muddy suit and a torn shoe. His suit looked out of place, I ‘d never seen such a suit in a long time, and the wet mud on his suit made him look like a stone age man wearing a trendy suit.

“Who are you?” enquired Dayal.

“I’m a murder convict, for a murder which I never did and that never occurred,” replied the stranger.

“What do you mean? How can they charge you for a murder that never occurred? How did u end up in my graveyard?” beamed Dayal.

“It’s a long story, but you must help me to get out of this graveyard. These walls are too high to escape,”

“Then, how did you get in?” asked Dayal.

“Oh! A few hours ago, the police were chasing me; I made it to the top of a parked van and leaped across those huge walls,”

“Yes, that was my master’s van! On the western side?” asked Dayal.

“No, not on the western side, the sun was just moving down, “ clarified the stranger.

“What? There is only a river on the western side,” replied Dayal.

“I was too nervous, may be I saw the moon, “joked the short stranger

Dayal led him through the shortcut possible path to the main gate, through the graves, where they were sleeping an eternal sleep.

As they started walking towards the main gate, the stranger queried
“What do you think of ghosts, I’m scared of them, I feel a prison would be a better and safer place to live than your graveyard. I feel nauseate,” commented the stranger.

“That’s a terrible opinion; I’ve lived here for fifteen years and never had any sore experience,” shot back Dayal.

The stranger did not reply. A thin wind blew on Dayal’s face, carrying the howls of wild animals.

“Nobody has proved the existence of ghosts, and why should I fear a non existent thing?” said Dayal

Dayal unlocked the gate, and moved away to show the way to the dirt road.

“Neither the existence of God” said the delighted stranger.

The stranger walked away, through the dirt road into the dark woods.
Dayal returned to our room, confused and utterly maddened by the thought of the queer stranger. We had a light dinner, Dayal told me about the conversation he had with the stranger and soon went to his bed. I wrote everything in my diary, and soon dozed off on my chair.

On the next morning, a grave on the eastern end remained open, with a fresh scent of a corpse. The cross above the grave read “George Fernandes”, a murder convict, dead a decade ago.

The lost hair

I am hair number 68, 75834. They call me frontal, because I stay in front of my master’s head. We live only hundred days on our master’s head, hundred days are like hundred years to humans. Just like humans, our average age has been ebbing away.

When I was young, my master was a teenager in a big city. He used to apply all sorts of creams, shampoo’s and oils. Me being frontal was his favorite hair, he allowed me to grow longer and longer while all my brothers were never allowed to grow more than half of me. He oiled me discretely and curled in between his eyebrows. I had grown very long, as long to touch my master’s nose tip.

It was then I met Miss. Eyelash 2, 67385. We, the hairs never meet any eyelash. Though we often see eyelash of other humans, we were not supposed to talk with eyelashes. Very few of my older brothers, especially the ones near the ears making my master’s sideburns have met eyelash. We all hear great stories from Sideburns, although they are under constant cutting and chopping men always prefer trimmed sideburns that give them a tidy look.

While my master is working, he keeps me aside over the ears to avoid distraction. I would never stay on his nose, constantly moving toward my master’s eyes to see my Eyelash. Every night when my master is asleep, I crawl up his forehead and go near his closed eyes. Just to see her, never aware of the time spent with her rather time spent looking at her.

As I grew up old, many of my older brothers had died or Mr. Comb had plucked them with him. Mr. Comb is very harsh .Despite the fact that he makes us orderly and good looking; he kills many of us everyday. But my master took special care of me, I’m his longest and favorite hair and he never allowed the combs to touch me.

For the first time after my birth, my master went to his mother in a distant village. I never believed the myths about his mother, but now after listening to the oldest sideburn. I’m frightened. Sideburns have the longest life time among us.

As soon as we reached my master’s house, his mother started complaining abou his;appearance, shoes and hairdo. She took me with her hand, closing her fist tried to pull it to my full length. That was the end of my happiness.

Now I’m short, on par with my brothers. Now I could never meet my Eyelash, but I was content seeing her in the mirror every morning. Thank god I was a frontal, I could still stay in front of my master’s head. All in my life, I’ve never approached her, for it is not possible for me to stay with her all my life.

Presently I’m seventy days old. very weak and old. Death may call me anytime, it came in the form of a harsh comb.

Soon after leaving my master, I stayed on the comb for some days and then in his food. I was in his payasam ,on his birthday payasam.. Pulling me out of his payasam, he yelled at his mother unaware of whose hair it was. My master without even realizing my presence threw me out to the kitchen sink near a window. A cool breeze came up to me and asked me why I looked dull and weak.

I told all my tales to him.

The Breeze started laughing and said, “My dear friend, there is an end to everything, every relationship and everyone in this beautiful planet will be dead one day.”

“I’m worried about being discarded by my own master and where will I go now?”
“Do u know the way to heaven?” I asked him.

The Breeze replied, “When you move beyond your fear, you are in heaven.”

He continued, “Nobody can take you to heaven. It is only one’s own conscience that is holding us from reaching our own heaven. Our own heaven; where you are the king and your slave.”

The Breeze then took me with him, I flew through the window, over meadows, rice fields, rivers, oceans and even touched a rainbow. I saw different people and learned to be happy with what I have and seek what I want.

So many years passed by, I reached a big city where I met my old master at his new big house. I carefully looked at his eyes; my eyelash had left my master’s eyes. None of my brothers were there on his head, leaving behind a glossy appearance. No one were there at the place where I stood, not even a single hair in his frontal region. He was bald!

PS:
The character Breeze is based on the philosophies of Dr. Spencer Johnson’s “who moved my cheese.”

Round the clock.

Once upon a time, when the earth was flat, there was no moon and night. It was day all along. People worked throughout the day; they slept whenever they felt tired and worked whenever they felt restless. No one knew about a thing called “night” and they did not keep track of days, months and years. Eventually everyone on the planet had the same age, a mother and her child had the same age.

The Sun had a lot of work, no rest at all. But he would work tirelessly like the software engineer of twenty first century. In spite of his hard work, nobody respected him. Darkness is the absence of light, and absence of darkness made the Sun insignificant. No one recognized his hard work. No one would look into his eyes and to this day, we all avoid looking at him out of respect.

There is a story behind how the living beings came to value the sun rather worshipping him. The story goes like this.

After many hundred years, the exasperated Sun planned to engulf the earth. He was furious about the lack of respect and recognition that meted to him. He turned hostile; burned the farmlands, leaves turned brown, sucked more water from the lakes and rivers, tanned earthling’s skin. The earth looked brown, devoid of all the greenery of the past. Heavy rain resulted from intense evaporation, causing natural disasters. The earth was at the verge of its expiry date.

People prayed to the God, to save them from the violent Sun. They had no water to drink, no place to live and no food to eat .Moved by the prayers of the earthlings, the God approached the Sun. The Sun was busy moving towards an already depleted Earth.

Upon enquiry the Sun reasoned him. The God sure knew TQM ( Total Quality Management) long before Edward Deming. Recognition and reward were an essential part of the God’s pay packages to his employees. The God had invariably followed the principles, but the Sun expected recognition from his customers rather than his employer.

The God expounded him about the effects of his present intentions; he was instilling fear among the earthlings and sooner they all would vanish from the Earth.

The almighty had other plans. He presented him a big clock, which would ring every twelve hours. The God implored him to take rest every twelve hours, though very reluctant, the Sun agreed to the God’s request.

Thus there was day and night. People would work in the day and rest when the sun faded on the west. People could make note of the days and months. The age of a mother was no longer the same as her child. Yet, there were some more problems to be solved. There was complete darkness at the night, for they had no means of light in those days; people stumbled on each other and children never ceased to shed tears.

The God had been closely observing the changes on the earth. People had begun respecting the Sun; they even worshipped him. They had realized how the sun made life possible. The God decided to employ a new candidate in the night sky; not as bright and warm as the Sun but as clear as the cow’s milk.

The God conducted a rigorous interview (no aptitude test) for the post of a torch bearer in the night sky. The God was looking for a fair headed aspirant, some one with a lot of patience to stay awake throughout the night. He finally chose the Moon, a shy rounded fellow, to fit in the role. Thus the happy Moon entered the night sky to brighten the night of the earthlings.