The Heart has its reasons

Hello friends

 I am back again on the blog spot. I have kept you waiting for a long time.  Many of you have been asking me on the phone as to why am I not publishing anything.  Well some events at the work place had kept me very busy and also out of tune to allow me to bring something new and fresh to you.  However, whatever may happen there should not be any laziness on my part.  I hope that new posts on this blog will be now a regular feature.  What I am bringing to you is a story which will be covered in more than one part. It is  from our everyday lives. Hope you enjoy the story. Please leave your comments to which I look forward to most eagerly.

 

THE HEART HAS ITS REASONS

  Nisha hurried through the breakfast

gulping down big chunks of chapattis paying little attention to her mother’s instructions to eat carefully. After finishing her milk, she rushed out of her apartment with a bag, hanging on one shoulder. She put on her stylish brown sunglasses that surely added more gravity to her powerful and attractive personality. This is how her mornings have been for the past eight months.

She walked down the lane towards the bus stop, nearly seven hundred meters from her house tip-toeing on her stilettos.  She was hoping to catch the 8:30 bus that would reach her to the office by 9:05 hrs. Lo and behold, as she neared the bus stop, she saw the bus moving away and by the time she reached the bus stop, it had already sped away. 

Trying to stop auto-rickshaws, one after the other, proved to be futile. All of them were already full. It was already quarter to nine, however, one auto slowed down near her but in the back seat there were two hefty looking guys sitting and one of them ogling at her mumbled, “chalegi kya?” Nisha retreated two steps but the auto became stationary. The guys inside starting staring at her and Nisha became very irritated and angry. Before she could retort a bike came to stop between the auto and her and the guy on the bike turned towards the auto and asked the twosome in the backseat whether he could accompany the guys in the auto.  The auto moved away quickly.  Nisha felt relieved but was surprised when a familiar voice urged her to hop on the bike behind him. As the face was half hidden under the helmet, she could not make out earlier that it was Suneel, a colleague in the office three years senior to her. She did not like him since the day she had joined office because it seemed to her that he was very arrogant. He used to walk in the office as if he owned it.  He would try to poke his nose in almost everyone’s affairs.  Sometimes he would pose as if he is the conscience of all his colleagues. She had always felt that he did not like her and at times would mock at her and would undermine the efforts she was making on the newly assigned project. And above all he seemed to be against Deven her favourite colleague at the office.

“Come on sit behind me quickly. What are you staring at? Those guys are already gone,” he urged her.

“I don’t want....” Nisha started but her soft voice was lost in the din of the horns that had started blaring behind the bike on the congested road.

Suneel looked at her in amazement and shouted over the blaring horns so that he could be heard, “are you mad? Do you suppose you are going to get any auto at this time? You do not want to reach in time?” “OK suit yourself,” he kicked the bike and started but then his gaze softened for a moment and he said,“It’s, Okay, move on behind me we will reach very quickly”. Gazing all around Nisha realized that people were looking at them with amusement. As if on impulse she quickly jumped on the seat behind him and as soon as she had settled Suneel sped off towards office. Within 10 minutes they were in the parking lot. Both got down, neither said anything even while entering the lift and Suneel made his way straight to his chambers as soon as he got out without hearing the thanks that she mumbled.

Nisha felt that the starting of that day was not so good and her mood was not up to the mark, although she had reached office ten minutes earlier than her usual time.  She started with the chores pending on her desk and the mail in her inbox.

While sipping coffee with Neerja her friend during coffee break who had joined the company one year earlier than she did she shared her morning experience.  

Neerja exclaimed “You did the right thing. Suneel is a very nice guy.” 

 

Nisha retorted,“Nice guy! My foot! I don’t give a damn to how he is. To me he appears to be very arrogant and irritating. He ignored even my thanks.   He is very rude at times! He thinks he is a genius and all others are fools. He thinks he is the only one who is running this company.” 

“Cool down, cool down baby” said Neerja, “I think he is a nice guy and a very competent officer, the management take his advice on a number of important matters. He appears to be arrogant but it is just..., that he is very confident,” she expressed her views. 

Nisha started to protest but suddenly there was a call on her intercom for discussion with her Team Head on new schemes, the company was planning to launch.

Nisha had been given a task to prepare an implementation plan for the trainings of personnel, who will be handling various projects for the company.  Her Team Head had fixed a meeting with Project Heads at four in the afternoon, so she remained very busy the whole day and had to hurry through her work. She thought it better to skip lunch and finish her work, and be ready by three thirty so that there was enough time to discuss the plan with the Team Head before the meeting and carry out any last minute changes.

The meeting began and Nisha found it very boring, wishing it to end by 5:30 pm, so that she could catch the quarter to six bus and reach home in time.  Soon her team’s plan came up for discussion, everything went well, but an objection was raised that the implementation was not practical.  Who else would say so, Nisha was half expecting it and it was Suneel indeed. This would mean that she would have to work out all the details again.  This thought agitated her and she felt that the objection was on frivolous accounts.  She looked up at her Team Head for support but she was already noting down the changes.  Nisha felt left out of the discussion and lost track of what was happening. After the meeting was over she quickly left office almost running towards the bus stop.  Again she had missed the bus and it would mean waiting another half an hour. 

Soon a silver coloured Honda city stopped by her side and she was flattered to find Deven peeping at her and offering her a lift.  Deven was the manager under whom Nisha’s team worked.  Nisha quickly hopped in beside him.  Most of the girls at the office seemed to like Deven.  His way of talking could flatter anyone and he had a charming smile.  He was always dressed stylishly and Nisha was going well along with him.  A number of times she had shared a cup of tea with him in the office and she had observed that he was liberal in complementing her on the good work that she performed.

“Shall we have some coffee before I drop you?” Deven offered.

Sensing her reluctance he quickly added, “It will not take more than 15 minutes; anyhow you will still be reaching home earlier than you usually do.”

Nisha was puzzled but she nodded, realizing that she would like to spend some time with Deven. She had earlier had a few happy moments with him in office and had a number of times seen admiration for her in his eyes.  Besides she liked him. He was so immaculately dressed and his mannerism was so pleasing.

Soon Deven pulled in the car in the parking lot of a small restaurant. From the look of the exteriors Nisha could guess that it would be expensive. The waiters and other service providers greeted Deven heartily and from the attention that they received Nisha conjectured that he must be visiting the place frequently. Deven talked about the movies he had seen and learnt about what interested Nisha the most.  Even before Nisha realised, it was time to go, quickly they left the restaurant and Deven dropped her just near her house and made a detour to reach the road he needed to catch.

        The events of the evening raised her spirits and she could not stop thinking about the last comment made by Deven before she came out of the car.  In her mind she could hear Deven say that he found her different from the rest of the world and that he liked her very much.  She realised that for the last few months she had been seeing Deven more and more during office hours and the first meeting alone this evening had brought them closer.  Humming a soft tune of her favourite Bollywood song she entered her house.

poem Mushkile

Dear friends
The poem Mushkile is as below:

I hope you will leave your comments on the poem.
All the best.
Manisha

A Gift

Dear friends 

Thank you so much for the vast response, appreciation, love and affection that you showered on me. I received many messages of your appreciation in my e-mail for which I am truly grateful and am deeply touched. After two short poems I am now posting a story and am looking forward to your response.

 A GIFT

Hearing the door bell as I opened the door and found an attendant from the hospital where Mithoo had been admitted standing in front of me. He handed me a heavy box calling it a locker and asked that it may be emptied and returned the next day to the hospital.  While completing the formalities at the hospital we did not remember anything about the locker. Patients were given lockers for keeping their valuables which would remain in the custody of the hospital and could be opened only by a secret number chosen by her or the kin.  The hospital staff could not open it.

The uniformed attendant refreshed the memories of our lost war. For the last year we were fighting a war against acute leukemia, a deadly monster, which had crept silently into our lives and snatched Mithoo away from us. It all started with Mithoo having frequent fevers, rapidly losing weight and becoming weak day by day.  Many times teachers used to send her back from the school as she was not able to cope with the pressures of studies.  A series of blood tests followed by a test of her bone marrow confirmed the doubts of the doctors.  Nobody including the god could give me an answer that why this happened to my only child, the one who is our lifeline, the one around whom our whole world revolves. 

The war included many battles on various fronts. We had immediately started the treatment after it was diagonised but somehow it was overtaking us and instead of going into remission it would raise its head again and again and was spreading too fast. We had tried to give her the best medical treatment and services even though we could not afford it. Financially we had become very weak. I had to leave my job to attend to Mithoo’s daily needs and medical condition. Each and every rupee was somehow drained by the treatment, medication, and other expenses.  Over and above the emotional trauma that we were undergoing was gnawing into our lives, the frustration as the disease spread and progressed, drained us of all hopes and pumped in fear and a general disbelief with the life.  The pain from chemotherapy and the paleness on Mithoo’s face used to cut through my heart like thousand of knives and I was reduced to a mute helpless spectator of her sufferings. It was a challenge everyday to keep ourselves calm even in face of all the despair and keep fighting with the imminent loss of awaiting us. Though doctors had declared a long time back that Mithoo will not be with us, the desolation kept on increasing with the passing of each day.  A glaring void that would be created by Mithoo’s going away in our future lives haunted us day and night.  To keep away panic and to fight this trepidation both of us used to drown ourselves with daily chores and pretended to be cheerful all the time. However the activity of staff and visitors and the need to appear positive for Mitthoo’s sake kept us going and neither of us dared to speak anything negative.

  Both of us were also trying to spend every moment with her but of course we needed to be away for work, he to earn money and I to tend to household needs mainly cooking, washing and cleaning.  In the last few months Mitthoo’s condition had been deteriorating very fast.

  For those months our sole purpose had been to keep her happy.  Almost all our relatives had visited us to see and meet Mithoo.  Visits from her school friends in the evenings had become a regular feature.  Invariably before dinner at dusk every evening she would hold my hand and would not allow me to move anywhere unless her father came to her to the hospital after returning from work to talk to her.  He was generally coming quite late because he was doing an extra shift of taking tuitions every day to earn more money.

Only a few days before her thirteenth birthday on 24^th of January in spite of my efforts to dissuade her Mithoo brought me into agreeing to get her a necklace as a gift.  I felt that she had inkling that this was her last birthday and because of this notion I could not say a No to the want in her eyes.

She was not aware of the poor pecuniary condition that we were in.  The bills of the hospital, medicines, groceries and the cost of daily transportation could not be met from her father’s meager salary.  Besides I could not go to work leaving her hospitalized. The Provident Fund was depleted; in fact we were deeply in debt and had exhausted all sources of money.  We had already borrowed money from most of my friends and relatives.

Those days I was daily walking around two or more kilometers daily to reach the hospital and then again to come back. Next day while returning from the hospital I took a detour through a nearby market.  While walking browsing through various stores which had artificial jewellery items displayed I saw a very appealing necklace quite close to Mithoo’s imagination priced at rupees 750.  I knew that even an ordinary looking necklace would cost a minimum of rupees 400 and then this was such a beauty.   My two or three month’s savings would easily allow me to buy it but I didn’t have so much time.  It was a dilemma and wisely I decided not to purchase it because I knew about the payments that were due the next few days.

  A lot of contemplation gave me an idea. So on the eve of Mithoo’s birthday I collected and cleaned the last lot of old newspapers in the house that were scarce since a long time ago I had asked the delivery boy to stop giving them. We had stopped taking them to economize.  I opened Mithoo’s Almirah and searched for materials I could use in my project. I could find most of the things and some red and blue water color left over from Mithoo’s school days.   Using my Origami skills I came up with a delicately cut and beautifully colored necklace. I soaked some apple seeds in yellow and red colour. I glued sequins spacing them in floral and star shapes and then I fixed some yellow and green coloured apple seeds in place of gems as a finishing touch. I also made strings of blue colored wool glued with sequins and red and blue stone pearls.  I felt satisfied with the ethnic look that the delicate necklace had.

On Mithoo’s birthday all her friends had brought her gifts. Even her maternal and paternal uncle had brought her dresses in pink and white colors that she loved. I was really grateful that she was happy with the video game which she could play even while lying in the bed and other girlish accessories. To my relief she seemed to have forgotten all about the paper necklace I gave her in the morning among these attractive gifts.  She seemed to be quite excited to get it but I felt a grudge in my heart as I handed it to her.  I had quickly promised her that I would be replacing it soon with a real one.

Last month her pain increased and her body further deteriorated refusing to respond to medication and the doctors told us to pray for her. I had started spending maximum time with her and would leave her side only occasionally.  My helplessness against our fate had completely marooned my spirits in a hideous grief.

After return from funeral five days ago home was reduced to a place of bricks people call a house lacking the joyous laughter and her pranks.  A deep sadness loomed in the air. A cold feeling of ultimate defeat and despair crept up inside me. I suddenly had nothing to do. All the relatives and friends had already left us after trying their best to console us.

  On Mithoo’s insistence we had already decided that we would give away all Mithoo’s possessions to needy people.  Now I doubted that there would be anything inside the box because Mithoo never had any valuables with her in the hospital and had given away all of her stuff by her own hands to smaller children.

It took me a lot of time to summon up the courage to open the box fearing what memories it may unfold.  And there it was staring in my face the red and blue necklace kept away safely in the locker as the owner was afraid that she may lose it!  Her valuable possession!! Beside it was a slip on which was scribbled in the very familiar writing “I love…..” The rest of the words were blurred in front of my eyes because of the tears rolling down from them over on to the necklace which made the blue color fluid.

MANISHA BHATNAGAR

Andhera aur Roshani

Dear friends
After a lot of Intezaar I am posting a new poem.  A number of people have asked me to post something new. As I was away on an official tour I could not do so earlier.  However i am looking forward to your comments on the poem and its presentation. The pic associated with the poem was taken with a Canon DSLR camera.  Enjoy the poem but please do leave your comments.
Manisha

Andhera aur Roshni poem by Manisha

Intezar

Dear Friends
Thank you all for the wide appreciation of the story 'I luv u Papa'. I know I have kept you waiting for a long time for the next creation.  Friends waiting is a part of life, we wait for things and events to happen, for people to come back, for our turns and so on....

I have tried to capture these feelings in my poem titled 'Intezar'.  I hope you enjoy it . Please leave your comments.  I am waiti........ 
Manisha

I luv U PAPA

Dear friends

 I am posting my first creation which is a story. I hope you will like it. Please leave a comment even if you don’t like it.  It is your comments on which I thrive.  I am waiting for your reactions.  So please, please post your views about the story.

 

                       Shailesh felt very depressed knowing that Smiti had a broken arm which may become a lifelong problem or may not give her a very happy situation in future. Although the doctor had tried to comfort him telling that children recover pretty fast negative thoughts kept nagging him. He also felt very tired after the afternoon’s ordeal of rushing to the hospital, the doctor’s belittling talk and the sense of deep guilt inside. He missed Meena terribly and wanted her to be at his side now.  He kept on telling himself that had she been there probably such situation would not arise. It was easier talking to her about the accident on phone but he did not know how to face her on her return and she will be here any moment now. He glanced at Smiti sleeping on the couch nearby with a small chocolate clutched in the left hand and her plastered right arm resting on her side.  Her face was swollen and cheeks were stained with the marks of tears that had run down her face along with her shrieks of pain.  Except for a few grimaces that her face made she seemed to have forgotten her grief at the moment.  Shailesh remembered that soon after her birth she had given him an angelic smile when he had held her in his arms for the first time. The smile had filled his heart with a  strange lightness and he felt as if the whole world had been illuminated and was glowing with happiness. Many a times while playing with Smiti he would mimic like joker or walk on his toes like a kangaroo just to see her laugh. He could die for the smile that would light up her face on getting a toffee or a small chocolate.  He had decided to name her “Smiti” that is smile in Hindi and Meena had agreed to it very easily.  The memory made him smile too and he thanked god that children are able to forget their grief so fast.

Smiti now aged more than five was learning to write and would mostly try to doodle everywhere with her pastel colors. None of the walls were spared by her art and the alphabet of the English language whichever letter took her fancy. He had admonished her to not to soil everything that comes into her sight. 

Even though it was a Sunday today Shailesh was very busy in a time bound project and with great effort had prepared designs which were a result of many months hard work. He was stressed because the deadline for submission of the designs to his boss for presentation to the clients was just the next day. While he was engrossed in finalizing a proposal to accompany the designs were resting beside him on the table.  Smiti kept pulling at his trousers to draw his attention and wanted to say something but he just could not leave the work at that moment. he was at a very important point of his proposal and he required to concentrate. He had asked her several times not to bother him and go in the other room to play, but she was adamant. He was already irritated by her disturbing interruptions. Without looking up he just nodded to something she was mumbling oblivious to what she said. But she kept urging him to get up and come with her. Then he saw the lids of the red and green permanent markers lying on the floor and Smiti using the marker pen on the drawings he had kept aside a few minutes ago. He was highly angered his valuable work was being spoiled by a kid’s folly.  Months of labour gone in a few minutes. In his rage, he just pulled her arm shouting as to what she was up to whereas Smiti very proudly tried to display him her beautiful work catching it in both the hands.  This further enraged shailesh and in a fit of frenzy pulling her arm he just thrashed her aside. The great thrust made Smiti collide with the wall and with a big shriek she collapsed.  Scenes of making frantic calls, carrying her in his arms, rushing her to the hospital, waiting for her to come through in the hospital just flashed through his mind like a nightmare and he shuddered at the thought that Smiti might lose the arm.

Shailesh stooped to pick up the permanent marker which would now be useless and replaced its lid.  He started collecting the drawings scattered on the floor and there he saw a little heart drawn which he had taught Smiti to make into a perfect shape. It danced before his eyes mockingly between the words “I U PAPA” the heart shape meaning love and the writer was proud to be able to write PAPA! A word!  An achievement for the little one! Shailesh just sat there on the ground staring at the words tears streaming down his cheeks feeling devastated.

Manisha

INTRODUCING MYSELF

Hello World,

This is Manisha Bhatnagar. Well, don't worry I won't post a long introduction. It will suffice to say that I am a trainer with the Government of India, and a writer and a poetess. My stories, articles and poems have been published on various forums and I would be glad if you participate in my blog activities. Each of my post will carry one or more of my works.

Please do take out time to read my posts and do leave your feedbacks on this blog. Let it be a wide forum for free exchange of ideas.

Regards,

Manisha