The Treasure
Veena p koul
Thefts are very common these days. Almost every alternate day the daily newspapers carry the news about the thefts. One can hardly imagine what a horrifying experience it is for the people who fall prey to it. Loss of hard earned kind or cash is a shock no doubt, but the way the belongings are thrown upside down leaves a scar in the memory. I have experienced one myself.
One fine morning me and my husband left our home locked at 8 a.m. and at 3 p.m. on my return I found almost everything on floor lying in shambles. The theft had taken place. It was like a night-mare and took us almost 3 or 4 days to settle down and resume normal routine of life. I don’t intend to give an account of how I felt that day or how we settled down afterwards but to narrate how I overcame the whole psychological trauma.
It was hell of a job to readjust everything that was lying in sixes and sevens all over the house. But as we all know that what can’t be cured has to be endured. So finally, in the centre of the room, on the floor I seated myself with a heavy heart to do and undo things which were spread all around me. In the process I laid my hands on a bundle that contained some cards and letters. Ah, the fond memories, the reminiscences! I got absorbed in searching and finding whatever it contained. Therein I found 3 letters addressed to me, two written by my father and one by my uncle. It is needless to say that I adored and admired both of them. And these happened to be special letters they had sent on different special occasions. Now that both of them are no more, I felt that these letters were sent to me from heaven, and I still enjoy their patronage and blessings.
The bundle also contained a book ‘The Prophet’ by Khalil Gibran which was presented to me by my brother about 18 years ago. I remembered having read the book without actually understanding it. Now that it was in my hands once again, I went through it and found it as an unparalleled philosophy of life, and an all-time reference book.
Last but not the least, I came across some pages that I had preserved but conveniently forgotten with the passage of time. One of the pages contained the first sentence my daughter had written for me, “Mom, I love you”; the other one was a pencil drawing she had drawn; 3rd one the newspaper cutting carrying news of her dance performance in school. Along with it there was the first Barbie Doll she had played with.
I held all these things – the letters, the book, the pages and the doll in my hands, hugged them and kissed them. It filled my heart. I could feel tears rolling down my eyes that washed me of the bitterness created by the theft.
I had found the treasure, an invaluable one that will remain very close to my heart for the rest of my life.
Sh…… Sh…… Sh! No loud talking loudly about ‘The Treasure’. Only whisper, lest the thieves may listen and misconstrue the word.
veenapkoul@gmail.com
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
a knock--- tak-tak-tak
‘Tak-Tak-Tak’
Veena p koul
Have you ever lived in a house, where in the mornings you find birds instead of chirping trying to break the window panes with their small beaks?
I am living in one for last one and a half month. Don’t be surprised. I am not talking about any Bhoot-Bangla (horror-house), it is my home, a newly constructed house where we have shifted recently.
It took us 2 years and 5 months to construct this house. When it was being constructed, these birds have lived there and made every cavity in the ceilings, which are normally kept for lights, bulbs and fans, their sweet home. I have been witness to it during my frequent visits to the house during its construction. Often I would see their beaks full of straw, would listen to their chirping sounds, would see at times their eggs dashed to the room-floor and some times had to wipe their shit as well. But I had hardly visualized that what it could mean to these innocent birds after we fit in the bulbs, tubes and fans, close all the windows with glass panes and close the other openings with doors. Our shifting to this new house has deprived these small innocent creatures of their sweet homes.
Now it is one and a half month that during the mornings and after-noon there is only one sound tak-tak-tak persistently resounding in our house. The other interesting thing that takes place in this house is that if you happen to keep any of your doors open, immediately you see some of the birds flying inside the house making beautiful chirping sounds, as if singing and dancing with joy.
I can feel their pain when we have to push them out of the rooms, I can visualize their unseen tears. This is so because it reminds me of our exodus from Kashmir. It reminds of me of my home in Sopore when I was a child and of Srinagar when I was young and I am convinced that no house, how so ever big or small, can fulfill my desire of being at home other than the one in Kashmir, my own native place. Living and being one with Kashmiri Muslim brethren, where you don’t have the identity crisis, where you are recognised and respected, where Eid and Shivratri means festivity for all, is a dream that almost all Kashmiri Pandits like me will be dreaming of. The newly constructed flats and houses may be a refuge for them but not a home.
Till this is made possible, the world has to be a witness to the ‘Tak-Tak-Tak’ sounds from the soft tongues and pens of Kashmiri Pandits.
veenapkoul@gmail.com
Veena p koul
Have you ever lived in a house, where in the mornings you find birds instead of chirping trying to break the window panes with their small beaks?
I am living in one for last one and a half month. Don’t be surprised. I am not talking about any Bhoot-Bangla (horror-house), it is my home, a newly constructed house where we have shifted recently.
It took us 2 years and 5 months to construct this house. When it was being constructed, these birds have lived there and made every cavity in the ceilings, which are normally kept for lights, bulbs and fans, their sweet home. I have been witness to it during my frequent visits to the house during its construction. Often I would see their beaks full of straw, would listen to their chirping sounds, would see at times their eggs dashed to the room-floor and some times had to wipe their shit as well. But I had hardly visualized that what it could mean to these innocent birds after we fit in the bulbs, tubes and fans, close all the windows with glass panes and close the other openings with doors. Our shifting to this new house has deprived these small innocent creatures of their sweet homes.
Now it is one and a half month that during the mornings and after-noon there is only one sound tak-tak-tak persistently resounding in our house. The other interesting thing that takes place in this house is that if you happen to keep any of your doors open, immediately you see some of the birds flying inside the house making beautiful chirping sounds, as if singing and dancing with joy.
I can feel their pain when we have to push them out of the rooms, I can visualize their unseen tears. This is so because it reminds me of our exodus from Kashmir. It reminds of me of my home in Sopore when I was a child and of Srinagar when I was young and I am convinced that no house, how so ever big or small, can fulfill my desire of being at home other than the one in Kashmir, my own native place. Living and being one with Kashmiri Muslim brethren, where you don’t have the identity crisis, where you are recognised and respected, where Eid and Shivratri means festivity for all, is a dream that almost all Kashmiri Pandits like me will be dreaming of. The newly constructed flats and houses may be a refuge for them but not a home.
Till this is made possible, the world has to be a witness to the ‘Tak-Tak-Tak’ sounds from the soft tongues and pens of Kashmiri Pandits.
veenapkoul@gmail.com
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
God Smiles
God Smiles
Veena p koul
Mornings are not cool for working people particularly for women. It is a tough time to keep running between kitchen to bath-room, to ward-robe, to dinning-table and so on. You may be mistaken if you think that this exercise is taken up to burn calories. Take my example, I simply keep running as I have to manage home and reach my office in time. After attending to all that seems important at my home, I have literally to run to reach my car to drive it as fast as I can in the terrifying rush of traffic. It is a great relief to see everyone around rushing and driving fast at least faster than the one who is just preceding him/her. You say why relief? Yes, otherwise I would feel I am the only mad person in this world.
However, yesterday in the same rush of madness while on my way to office, I was caught in a traffic jam at one odd point of the road where the Fly-over and the road from Jewel to Tawi Bridge meet, exactly at the point where Tawi Bridge leads to join Vikram Chowk. I saw a group of children around 7 or 8 in number from a distance, holding hands, trying to cross the road very earnestly. Given the circumstances, it is understandable that none of us can afford to wait for a second not to speak of a minute to give these children a safe passage to cross the road. Of course, I am not blaming anybody; after all we are all in a hurry and hence bent upon to over-take each other. I watched the children looking at every passer-by with pleading eyes. A forward jerk moving every vehicle closer to the one in front of them could be seen as if not allowing even air to pass in between. Finally it was my turn to pass that particular point without wasting a second. Suddenly I could feel those innocent pleading eyes watching me as well. I don’t know exactly what struck me that I applied the brakes of my car and waited for these children to pass. Suddenly I saw their eyes turning cheerful and naughty. While they were crossing the road some of them waved at me and some smiled as if they had conquered the world.
It was then that I realized that my waiting for a minute and letting these children cross filled me with happiness. It was share joy to see their eyes radiate light.
I took a pause for a moment and saw them leaving towards my right. From them my eyes happened to glance at the temple. I bowed in obeisance and felt that God was smiling too.
veenapkoul@gmail.com
Veena p koul
Mornings are not cool for working people particularly for women. It is a tough time to keep running between kitchen to bath-room, to ward-robe, to dinning-table and so on. You may be mistaken if you think that this exercise is taken up to burn calories. Take my example, I simply keep running as I have to manage home and reach my office in time. After attending to all that seems important at my home, I have literally to run to reach my car to drive it as fast as I can in the terrifying rush of traffic. It is a great relief to see everyone around rushing and driving fast at least faster than the one who is just preceding him/her. You say why relief? Yes, otherwise I would feel I am the only mad person in this world.
However, yesterday in the same rush of madness while on my way to office, I was caught in a traffic jam at one odd point of the road where the Fly-over and the road from Jewel to Tawi Bridge meet, exactly at the point where Tawi Bridge leads to join Vikram Chowk. I saw a group of children around 7 or 8 in number from a distance, holding hands, trying to cross the road very earnestly. Given the circumstances, it is understandable that none of us can afford to wait for a second not to speak of a minute to give these children a safe passage to cross the road. Of course, I am not blaming anybody; after all we are all in a hurry and hence bent upon to over-take each other. I watched the children looking at every passer-by with pleading eyes. A forward jerk moving every vehicle closer to the one in front of them could be seen as if not allowing even air to pass in between. Finally it was my turn to pass that particular point without wasting a second. Suddenly I could feel those innocent pleading eyes watching me as well. I don’t know exactly what struck me that I applied the brakes of my car and waited for these children to pass. Suddenly I saw their eyes turning cheerful and naughty. While they were crossing the road some of them waved at me and some smiled as if they had conquered the world.
It was then that I realized that my waiting for a minute and letting these children cross filled me with happiness. It was share joy to see their eyes radiate light.
I took a pause for a moment and saw them leaving towards my right. From them my eyes happened to glance at the temple. I bowed in obeisance and felt that God was smiling too.
veenapkoul@gmail.com
Friday, September 25, 2009
veena vadan
Beating the Heat
Veena P Koul
“What should be done to avoid drowsiness while driving,” I asked young and smart lady working as computer assistant in my office. It is almost 3 pm that we leave from office for home every working day. Lately I experienced that due to scorching heat I feel drowsy while driving at this time of the day. “Madam, it is very dangerous to drive while you feel sleepy. I have heard people talk of very serious accidents within a wink of sleep,” she exclaimed. “Yes, I am conscious of that and hence am seeking a remedy to avoid sleep a wink,” I replied. Both of us observed calm till we reached the stop where she gets down for her home and I heard her saying, “kindly take care. You may call any of your friends to keep yourself busy and alert.” Saying this she got down and I was left to myself. Suddenly I thought of calling my friend. I dialed her number. “Hello,” I said. “Hello,” she replied almost straining herself to maintain cool, which normally she never loses. “What a hell it is to attend kitchen in this hot weather at the peak hour of the day. Anyway, what is it?” She sounded fatigued and disturbed. I wasted no time in replying, “Nothing dear, carry on.” I drove for sometime again and got reminded of another friend. After exchanging compliments he asked, “What is this noise? Oh I see! You are driving? It is very risky to talk on mobile while driving. Moreover, I am a law-abiding citizen and you too try to be so.” Saying this he immediately went off the line. The bit of his mind that he gave me worked good enough to keep me alert and ensured my safe drive to home. But at the same time I cursed myself for even attempting to call any one while driving. Thankfully, next day my smart computer assistant had come up with a new formula. “What is it?” I sounded excited. Very eagerly I watched her opening her purse and taking out a chewing-gum. “Madam, chew it. This will surely help you,” she sympathised while getting down at her stop. I took one and started chewing it. After a while I got reminded of how people make bubbles out of the chewing-gum, which I had of course never attempted. Could I do it? A strange thought crossed my mind and I started with the process of making one. At the beginning, the exercise was futile but with trial and error method I finally succeeded. I felt happy like a child when I could make easily one bubble out of my chewing-gum, though a small one. Now I tried for bigger ones, as I had seen people with big bubbles around their lips, almost of the size of their face. I succeeded in blowing out some big ones too. While one such big bubble was around my lips, I saw my much respected teacher coming from the opposite direction and watching me very curiously. I tried to bow in respect but only could see a strange expression of surprise on his face. ‘Sir, yes chewing-gum……..no sir, I know it is unbecoming of me…… sir, in fact I was … yes sir, I teach my students not to have it, not in class, not in the face of others, yes sir… I understand but this was only to beat heat… No sir, bubbles… yes sir, that is shameful but it so happened… yes sir, we teach our students and we are the role-models for them….. But sir this heat and drowsiness… yes sir, even then. Sir, definitely I should not have blown bubbles at this age, never sir, I should have remembered I am your taught and above all a teacher.’ Suddenly I heard a strange voice from the other side, “Madam, what are you thinking? Are you alright? Should I open the gate for you? Oh my God, you are perspiring.” It was my neighbour feeling very much concerned about me. I suddenly realised that I had reached my home, stopped my car at the gate side, with chewing-gum spread all over my face. I simply heard myself saying, ‘No more tips. Now never.’
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