Nandini's Confession

‘Dear Diary,

It is happening again. It is three in the morning and I am still up. It’s not the time that has started to bother me but the reason I am awake for at this God forsaken hour. I know….I know, it is pretty common for people to be up all night these days. What with 24 hour jobs that don’t depend on time zones anymore…but still. For a guy like me who does two jobs during sunshine, it is just hard to squeeze in a three hour sleep until midnight and then slog for another few hours chatting with absolute strangers. God…I honestly hate it. One thing I have come to realize though is men can be such pigs! A reasonable well educated and decent seeming fellow turns into a hormonal beast that is just waiting to grab the first chance to expose his perversion. I wonder if this only happens in our country. Oh well whats the difference…I might never find out. My dream of leaving this awful place and getting a plush and cozy place for myself overseas is still that – a dream. I mean, how can I possibly go on spending this meaningless existence to cater to nameless faces who are NEVER satisfied! Hopeless morons. No – I need an identity. Something that distinguishes me as unique! Is that too much to ask for a twenty year old! God…should have continued college when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t have to put up with what I have to now! I mean…do I really care if this guy isn’t getting married! Why doesn’t he just find the nerve to get a girl friend instead! I wonder if that’s it though. That if Indian men are always craving to get married just to get laid! Oh man…that would be just sad. No – I’d never do that. But well…here I am dealing with these fellows who are desperate to chat with someone like me instead of getting a girl for myself. So I guess I am no different at all! Damn...that made it worse. And where the heck are all the girls! All I ever find here are men whining and wailing about how their searches are in vain and asking for ways to improve. Maybe I should scream at them and tell them to get the heck off the Net for that! LOL...oh well. Cant do that either if I want this job.

Hopeless …hopeless indeed.

Oh well…time to stop ranting. I see the usual bar flashing and I know what that means….yeah yeah…I am coming, dude. It should be fun getting all technical if this fellow acts funny. Always great to get all serious and make them apologize! God…these guys are sad. Wait…is it a guy…oh yes…it is.

It … always…is.

Until tomorrow then! See you later! G’Nite old friend!’

And so he proceeded to close his document and responded to the flashing bar. The moment it opened he typed.

‘Welcome to matrimonials4u! I am Nandini here. How may I help you today?’






..ShaKri..

PS: For the uninitiated, this piece is centered around the fact that Nandini is a girl's name in India.

The ghost in Miss Devaki’s purse – Part 2 of 2

For those who came in late - Part 1 of 2



The ghost in Miss Devaki’s purse – Part 2 of 2
A ShaKri Tale


IT HAD STARTED FEELING strange that Nandini was actually being led to God knows where by the same woman who had been her biggest fear for so many long years. After the first few steps she was suddenly unsure of her spontaneous albeit noteworthy mission since she was beginning to feel oddly out of place. She knew the moment they took a steep turn into a dimly lit alley that she had somehow managed to make the wrong move. An immediate rush of uncertainty clouded Nandini’s thoughts as she passed by an array of crumbling walls attached to blackened houses with tired housewives looking back at her in mute wonder. This just seemed like a little too much reality for what was supposed to be a more predictable reunion. At least the way it had played out in Nandini’s head at some point. And that’s when she knew – she had to tell the woman who she was even if it was beyond reason.

‘Miss Devaki…’ she mumbled in a tone that still had hints of a primary school girl.

The old woman kept talking to herself in whispers and completely ignored Nandini’s initiative.

‘Miss…Devaki?’ said Nandini again after clearing her throat a little and raising her tone.

‘What is it now? Are you already tired from the walking? Look at me! I am seventy five and still slaving like a dog to keep that bastard happy. What woman my age wants to go through this hell! I can’t even kick the fellow out since that will make me the crazy one! What a life this is! Now shut up and bring my bag. I still insist I wont pay you a dime…’ And then she continued ranting about several things that made Nandini lose complete track of what her original intention was.

But that wasn’t the problem anymore. The moment they stopped at a cream colored wall that had a large poster of some rally by an unknown politician, Nandini was about to get a glimpse of her teacher’s purse and the ghost in it.

There was a distinct smell of something rotting that hit Nandini’s nose. This made her cringe with disgust as she quickly grabbed her veil once again for help. She just couldn’t believe how on earth her teacher had ended up in a place like this. Devaki pulled out a bronze colored key and unlocked the door that opened with a tiny squeal. The interior of what looked like the living room was lit just by the subtle rays of the sun that were peeping through from one of the only two windows in the wall. There was the strong stench of body odor that had enveloped the interiors and got to Nandini once again. As she looked around she realized that right under that open window was a bed on which lay the silent body of someone moaning in dull murmurs.

‘Yes! Yes! Don’t shout! I have brought your bloody medicines! Let us see how many more days this can keep you screaming! Do you hear me? Are you still alive or dead?’ yelled Devaki as she grabbed the bag she had handed to Nandini earlier and disappeared into the only other door that room had.

Nandini walked a little closer to the person on the bed. Just as she had taken two steps further her eyes casually rested on an old black and white photograph that was lying on a pile of two steel trunks and a rolled up mattress. It was clearly a photograph of a couple and needless to say one of them was Devaki but she couldn’t quite place the other person in it. She then walked a little closer to look at it in the light that showered into the room when she heard a shivering masculine voice from the bed say softly ‘…a smaller size of that used to be with her all the time you know…’ Nandini was a bit startled at this rather unexpected interaction and turned to speak to the stranger.

‘Excuse me?’ she said as she took another step closer to the ailing man.

‘….she kept it in her purse then…old stories…who are you?’ he responded straining his silver eyebrows and trying to place the woman in front of him.

‘Uh…’ started Nandini before being interrupted by the old man. ‘Oh… it doesn’t matter. It is nice to have company…would you like to sit down?’

‘No thank you,’ said Nandini as she realized there wasn’t anything in the room to sit on. All the room had was an old carpet rolled and set aside, a medium sized metallic cupboard that had an outdated calendar stuck on it, a rickety tea table with three and three fourth legs and an old bed pan that lay next to it.

‘…times have changed…’ continued the man without acknowledging Nandini’s words, ‘…there was a time I used to say the same thing and people would say ‘Thank you, sir!’ and sit in front of me with respect….now…’ he stopped and turned to look outside the window ‘…even I don’t respect myself for what I did…’

Nandini could swear she had heard that voice somewhere before. But she wasn’t really sure where. That soft gentle way of putting things in perspective and that easy going attitude which could easily win over the toughest of children. Yes – Nandini definitely was having flashbacks about this man too.

A bunch of steel pans rattled in the other room as Devaki yelled back ‘Oh! Don’t worry! I am OK! No need to come and help me! As if you can just walk up on those lifeless legs and hop by to finally free me from this jail!’

Following the incoherent chant from the woman, Nandini ventured the next obvious question.

‘I am sorry about your condition. How did you lose your legs?’

‘….they had warned me against it…’ the old man continued oblivious of Nandini’s existence. ‘…they had told me….Namboodari…don’t do it…Devi is tricking you…don’t do it…what about Parimala…don’t do it…but…’

‘Oh! You are still here! What the hell do you want from me! Go away! I am not giving you any money! Go now! Out! Else I will have to call the neighbors!’ screamed Devaki as she emerged from the room with two small bottles. She waved one of them viciously at Nandini screaming at her to leave.

Nandini took one last look at the couple – the oddest kind she had ever seen, smiled back quickly at the emotionless face of the old man and walked outside the door. No sooner had she stepped out back into the rotting alley Devaki slammed the door shut behind her. ‘Thieves! They are all thieves! They put on perfume now and cheat you…’

A minute later Nandini was out of the alley and into bright sunlight again. She quickly opened her shoulder bag and took out her cell phone. A few buttons later she awaited the call to be picked up.

‘Nanda…where are you?’ said a male voice.

‘Pa I got off at the wrong stop that’s all. Don’t worry. I am waiting for the next bus.’

‘I told you not to take the bus! What is it with you? All auto-drivers are the same. Just pay them whatever and get on one will you! This city is unsafe…and you…’

‘Don’t worry pa,’ she continued realizing that her worried father was missing the point.

‘I am not far away. I will call Shamili and have her pick me up in her bike. But listen…’ she said as she quickly started walking back to the bus stop. ‘Do you remember Vidyavardaka Primary?’

Her father paused for a moment and responded ‘Uhh…yes yes…why?’

‘OK. I will explain that later but was there a man called Namboodari there?’

‘Namboodari? Yes. The Principal of your school. Why?’

‘Do you know anything more about him?’

‘Well,’ continued her father ‘…you were too small then so you didn’t know. The man was fine but they say he had an affair with someone. Some teacher in the school. I don’t know her name but she was definitely not popular. The guy was married too…so that caused more issues they said. Maybe your mother knows I think. I can ask her….but…Nandu…are you OK? Why are you asking me this? Did you meet him?’

After bidding her father a quick goodbye Nandini fell silent for a few seconds. There it was. The ghost in Miss Devaki’s purse. That photograph that showed the two of them together in some random park somewhere. The dirty little secret that nasty woman had hidden from everyone at that school. Nandini suddenly saw the irony that the crime she had been publicly humiliated for was actually something Devaki was guilty of. Not only had she stolen the man from his wife but had made him absolutely miserable in what were possibly his last few days. How they both went from being respectable educators to leading an insufferable existence in a nameless shanty town was best left unexplored.

And just like that – Nandini was no longer afraid. No longer did the threatening looks of the men on that street bother her. No longer did the rabid looking canine scare her. No longer did the stench of the rubbish annoy her. No longer did the disturbing image of her past haunt her since now she knew – she had not only found the ghost but had also released it. The smacks she had received for being an innocent had returned to haunt Devaki for the rest of her life. Namboodari was just paying the price.

And as for Nandini, well she had finally found redemption.





End of Part 2

The ghost in Miss Devaki’s purse – Part 1 of 2

The ghost in Miss Devaki’s purse – Part 1 of 2
A ShaKri Tale




IT TOOK MORE THAN A COUPLE OF MINUTES for Nandini to recognize the old bag and register a mental confirmation. The crooked nose, the hollow cheeks, the ridiculously obvious mole that stood staring back in brazen shamelessness from just below a dangly chin. And of course, the trademark gold rimmed spectacles that had lost its bi-focal power centuries ago yet remained on that bridge clinging for dear life. Yes – there was not an ounce of suspicion left that it indeed was the mug shot which was connected to a sinful hand that had once planted intense slaps across little Nandini’s sobbing face.

The incident back then had consumed a little over three minutes of Nandini’s time and six minutes of the classroom’s but had haunted the girl for over three decades after. The moment she had realized it was her long forgotten nightmare, Miss Devaki Rani, sitting just two seats beyond her on the bus that fateful afternoon, Nandini’s graveyard-friendly fears suddenly made a brief but shocking comeback. She found her hand automatically heading to her right cheek that had felt the sting of a heavily ringed and immensely flaky palm one rainy afternoon back in Vidyavardaka Girls’ Primary School. An image flashed by the following second in black and white where she saw herself as a seven year old standing helplessly in front of a figure larger than any door she had ever been through at her grandmother’s ancestral house. She then witnessed the Hercuelean silhouette barking those unforgettable words – ‘…Why you little cunning witch! You are not even as tall as my thumb and you are already stealing! What do you want to be? A dacoit? A robber? Will that make your mother happy? Is that going to bring your father smiles? Tell me! Should I call the police and ask them to take you away? Should I? Tell me! SPEAK UP!’

As tears flowed from silent Nandini’s saucer cup eyes, she had found further reason to bellow in pain as the large trunk like arm swung up once into the air and flung back on to the little girl’s reddened face.

SMACK!

As Nandini’s head reeled under the ripples of shock that impact had created, her ears had gone momentarily deaf to human sounds. All they could hear was the faint buzz of a telephone ringing in the distance. But before she could inform the furious teacher that the phone needed to be answered….

SMACK! SMACK!

Two more freshly baked crisps had been stamped on the little one. And with that it was over. The woman had carelessly pushed the child back into her place and had yelled out a stern warning to everyone that any further attempts at trying to find ‘the ghost who lived in Miss Devaki’s purse’ would result in more serious consequences.

As Nandini returned to her present state of nostalgia she couldn’t help but feel relieved. One couldn’t blame her since she had been after all – guilty. Thanks to the endless taunts of her fellow class mates as to how cowardly and puny she was, there was never a chance Nandini would not have dared to explore the five rupee note sticking out of her teacher’s purse while the woman had left the classroom for an errand. What Devaki, on the other hand, didn’t know was the child was actually looking for what was popularly called ‘the ghost in Miss Devaki’s purse’. This had been a trendy way to taunt the woman by the kids as they had all wondered who exactly would release that ‘ghost’ some day. That brave girl! Who would it be? The one who would go ahead and do the impossible! Unfortunately the day Nandini had taken it upon herself to become ‘the one’ was the day she had been stung by the owner of the purse so badly, that it became one of the most traumatic experiences of her entire life. An incident that had come back to her thirty something years later, while traveling to meet her class mate from that very class in her native.

As Nandini struggled with the dilemma of whether or not she should go and reconnect with her nemesis, the old lady’s stop arrived. Despite being four stops away from her original destination, Nandini took a deep breathe, adjusted the long flowing veil of her salwar-kameez, pulled the tiny lock of hair hanging near her temple back behind her ear and got down too.

The first thing Nandini noticed was the location she had chosen to pursue her past. The stop was located in what was easily one of the dirtiest neighborhoods of her city. Strewn with open sewage drains and scantily spread out garbage bins surrounded by trash around it rather than in it, Nandini suddenly covered her nose with the edge of her veil to escape the stench emanating from almost everywhere.

‘Gosh!’ she thought. ‘What sort of a place is this!’ But given the reasoning behind her rather abrupt move, she didn’t have a choice but to see its end. And so she walked slowly behind the frail looking figure staggering a few feet in front of her avoiding cow-dung and other manure.

The vision of seeing Miss Devaki from behind suddenly seemed like a new context. The woman now looked old, fragile and extremely unhealthy. There had always been a rumor that she secretly smoked but considering Nandini had left that school just a year after the ‘smacking’ incident, she knew nothing more about the teacher’s life except the three minute physical ordeal she had endured. Devaki kept coughing into what looked like a napkin as she shooed away stray animals that seemed interested in what she was carrying in her four plastic bags. Nandini suddenly felt insecure as she began noticing that she was the clearly the odd man out in what looked like a lower middle class locality with bare-bottomed kids playing outside with rabid looking street canine and bare-chested middle aged men staring emotionlessly at the well dressed woman who was following an ill tempered old lady.

To play it safe, Nandini did the unthinkable. What had started as a non-plan was now turning into a sequence of meaningful events. She paced herself and joined the old woman who was struggling with her bags.

‘Can I help you, Miss?’ she enquired in her British accented English that had only improved after she had moved to the United Kingdom with her husband a decade ago.

‘What?’ coughed the old lady back as she strained her aged eyes to recognize the stranger offering her needless and intrusive help.

‘I said can I help you?’ she repeated with a genuine smile that she hoped would vitalize the aged soul.

‘Who the heck are you all of a sudden? Go away!’ said Devaki making it clear to Nandini – that she hadn’t changed one atom. Age had definitely not deterred the will of this woman who could only spew bitterness. She was treating Nandini the same way she had fanned away the canine earlier.

‘O! I am no one…’ Nandini found herself saying almost apologetically. ‘I noticed you were being hassled by the dogs…so I wanted to help, Miss.’

She found it odd that she couldn’t stop herself from calling the woman ‘Miss’.

‘No need! I do this every day. Now go away! Lot of thieves these days. I don’t want you stealing my things. You can’t fool me by putting on make up, I say!’

Nandini was shocked. She couldn’t believe Devaki still accused people of being criminals who were out to burgle her blind. Even if it meant random blokes who were trying to be good Samaritans.

‘Miss please…’ Nandini insisted as she found the old woman almost dropping one of her bags. ‘Please let me help. You can hold my hand if you don’t want me to run away. OK?’

Once a teacher – always a teacher. They cannot stand too much whining. And so this tactic worked somewhat. Devaki immediately lost whatever was left of her temper and flung one of the bags at Nandini and grabbed her right hand. ‘Amma!!!!Fine! My God you are a pesky little girl! What a pain! But listen! I wont pay you anything for this service you hear me? I don’t want you haggling outside my door for money!’

Nandini smiled back and responded, ‘That’s OK Miss. I don’t want anything. Let’s go.’ And then they walked. Devaki held on to Nandini with the same sinful hand that had come crashing down on the child one rainy afternoon in pursuit of a rumored ghost. What Nandini didn’t know then was within the next few minutes, she would actually meet the ghost in Miss Devaki’s purse.



End of Part 1

Click here to read Part 2 of 2