”உடனே கிளம்பணுமா’

“ஆமாம்.  ரொம்ப சமயம் கிடையாது.  இதுவே லேட்”

”இவ்வளவு சீக்கிரம் எப்படி? இன்னும் கொஞ்சம் நாளாகும்னு நெனச்சேன்”

“எங்களுக்குக் கூட தெரியாது.  தகவல் வந்தது.  உடனே உங்கள பார்க்க வந்துவிட்டேன்”.  “பெரியவருக்கு எல்லாம் பக்காவா நடக்கணும்.  கொஞ்சம் லேட்டானாலும் பிடிக்காது”

“அப்போ இதுவரைக்கும் ஒரு முறைகூட தவறினதில்லயா?”

“ம்ஹூம்.  கிடையாது.  அதுதான் சொன்னேனே பெரியவருக்கு பிடிக்காதுன்னு”.  “விசா கிடைக்கறதுக்கு மட்டும்தான் வெயிட் பண்ணலாம்”.

“விசாவுக்கு அதிக கூட்டமோ?”

“முன்னல்லாம் அதிகம் இல்ல.  இந்தியாவும், சீனாவும் தலையெடுக்க ஆரம்ப்பிச்ச பிற்கு ரொம்ப கூட்டம்”.  “சில சமயம் தமிழ்நாட்டுக்காக மட்டும் 25,000 அப்ளிக்கேஷன் வரும்.  ஒரு விசேஷம் என்னன்னா யாருக்கும் விசா ரிஜக்ட் பண்றதில்ல. எந்த ஊர்க்காரன்னு பாக்கறதில்ல”

”ஓ! விசா கிடைச்சதும் ஒடனே கூப்பிட்டுடுவாங்களா.  டைம் கொடுக்க மாட்டாங்களா?”

“அதிக டைம் கிடைக்காது.  விசா கிடைச்சாச்சுன்னா, பெரியவர் கூப்பிட சொல்லிடுவார்”  “ஆனா ஹெல்த் க்ளியரன்ஸ் கிடைக்கணும்”

”கொஞ்சம் பேருக்கு ரொம்ப சுலபமா கிளியர் ஆயிடும்.  அதிகம் தொந்தரவு இருக்காது.  சிலது ரொம்ப இழுத்தடிச்சு, மருந்து, மாத்திரை, ஊசின்னு போயி க்ளியரன்ஸ் எப்படான்னு ஆயிடும்” “விசா எக்ஸ்பைரிக்கு முன்னால இதோ அதோன்னு இழுத்து, கடைசியில பெரியவர்கிட்ட கொண்டு போய் ஸ்பெஷல் பர்மிஷன் வாங்க வேண்டியதாகிடும்”

“இவ்வளவு சீக்கிரம் கிளம்ப சொல்றீங்களே.  பையன காலேஜ் சேக்கணும், பொண்ணு கல்யாணத்துக்கு பாத்துண்டு இருக்கோம்.  விசா வரதுக்குள்ள இதல்லாம் பிக்ஸ் பண்ணிடலாம்னு நெனச்சேன்.  லீவாவது கொடுப்பாளா?”

“மாசா மாசம் கூட வரலாம்.  அலவ் பண்றா.  ஆனா செலவு ஜாஸ்தி ஆகும்.  ஏன்னா இதுக்குன்னு ஒரு நாள்தான் தருவா.  சில சமயம் சேந்தாப்ல ஒண்ணு ரெண்டு நாள் வர முடியும்.  பெரும்பாலும் எல்லாருக்கும் வருஷத்துக்கு ஒரு வாட்டிதான் லீவு கிடைக்கும்”  “ஆனா இப்பல்லாம் வருஷத்துக்கு ஒருதரம் வரதுக்குக் கூட அவசியம் இல்லாம போயிண்டு இருக்கு”.

”நம்ம ஊர்க்காரா நெறய இருக்காளா?”

“நம்ம ஊர்க்காரான்னு கேட்கவே வேண்டாம்.  பல பேர் அங்க தலைமுறையா இருக்கா.  சில பேர் குடும்பத்துலதான் ஒண்ணு ரெண்டு பேர் இன்னும் பொறந்த நாட்டுலயே இருக்கா.  அவாளாலதான் கொஞ்சம் பேரு வருஷத்துக்கு ஒருதரம் வரது.  இவாளும் அங்க வந்துட்டா வருஷா வருஷம் செலவு மிஞ்சும்”.

“சரிதான்.  ரொம்ப பெரிய ஊருதான் போலயிருக்கு!” “கேக்க மறந்துட்டேன். வேல பளு ரொம்ப அதிகமா? நான் பேசிப்பாத்ததுல ரொம்ப பேர் ரொம்ப கஷ்டப்படறான்னு கேள்விப்பட்டேன்.  இன்ஃபாக்ட் நரகம்னே சொல்றா”

“அப்படி சொல்ல முடியாது.  எல்லாம் இங்க உங்களோட அனுபவம் பொறுத்தது.  ரொம்ப சில பேர் இங்கருந்து நல்ல அனுபவத்தோட வந்து அங்க சொர்க்கத்த அனுபவிக்கறா.  மத்தவங்களுக்கெல்லாம் இங்க அனுபவம் எப்படின்னு பாத்து அங்க வேல கொடுப்பா.  கொஞ்ச நாள் வாட்டி எடுத்துடுவாங்கறது உண்மைதான். இங்கந்து அனுபவம் இல்லாட்டி கூட சர்டிபிகேட் எடுத்துண்டு வந்துட்டா கொஞ்சம் தப்பிக்கலாம்”.

“அப்போ என்னன்ன சர்டிபிகேட்டுன்னு சொல்லுங்கோ, ஏற்பாடு பண்ணிடறேன்”

“அதுக்கல்லாம் நேரம் இல்ல.  இப்போ கடைசி நேரத்துல இதல்லாம் பண்ண முடியாது. உங்க கன்சல்டண்ட் யாரு? வெங்கடேசன் தானே? அவர் எல்லாத்தயும் உங்க ஆத்துல விவரமா சொல்லி ஏற்பாடு பண்ணுவார்.  அவா அதெல்லாம் சரியா பண்ணினா போதும்”

“பெரியவர் ரொம்ப பவர்ஃபுல்னு சொன்னீங்களே. அவருக்கு இந்த ”ஏற்பாடு பண்ண” சர்டிபிக்கேட் பத்தி தெரியாதா?”

”ஹா! ஹா! அவருக்கு தெரியாமயா? கண்டிப்பா தெரியும்.  ஆனா அவர் இந்த முயற்சிக்காக மன்னிச்சுடறார். நெறய பேர் இந்த முயற்சி கூட எடுக்கறதில்ல”

“அங்கந்து யாரும் திரும்பி வரதில்லையா?”

“ஓ! நிறைய பேர் அனுபவம் குறைவா வந்து, ட்ரைனிங்குக்கு அப்புறம் இங்க வரா.  ஆனா போஸ்டிங் பெரியவர் கம்பெனிலதான்.  எங்க போடுவார்னு தெரியாது.  அதுவும் அனுபவம் வச்சுத்தான்.  சில பேர் திரும்ப வந்து நாய் படாத பாடு படறா.  புழு, பூச்சி மாதிரி அனுபவம் கிடைக்கும்.  அதுக்குத்தான் நல்ல சர்டி்ஃபிகேட் வாங்கறது.  அது இருந்தா இங்க மறுபடி வர தொந்தரவு இல்ல”

”ஓகே, அப்ப இருங்கோ பேக்கிங் பண்ணிண்டு ஆத்துல சொல்லிட்டு வந்துடறேன்”

“பேக்கிங்கா? அதுக்கெல்லாம் நேரம் இல்ல சார்.  ஏற்கனவே ரொம்ப நேரமா பேசிண்டு இருந்தாச்சு. விமானம் வேற வந்துடும்.  எல்லாம் அங்க கிடைக்கிறது.  கிடைக்காத வஸ்து இல்ல.”

என்ன சார் இது. இப்படி அவசர படுத்தறளே. கட்டின வேஷ்டியோட வர சொல்லுவேள் போல இருக்கே!”

“அது கூட வேணாம்”

“சரி.  இப்போ என்ன பண்ணணும் சொல்லுங்கோ”

“ஒண்ணும் வேணாம்! ஜஸ்ட் கண்ண மூடுங்கோ. போதும்”

அவன் கண்ணை மூடிக் கொண்டான்.

டாக்டர் வந்து பல்ஸ் பார்த்து, கண்ணில் டார்ச் அடித்து பார்த்து “சாரி மேடம்! காப்பாத்த முடியல” என்றார்.

அவளும், மகனும், மகளும் அழத் தொடங்கினார்கள்.

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In the skies; day and night,
As the Sun goes down- they unite.

She rose up from her bed and approached the window: slow and pensive. Pulling the curtains apart she gazed at the setting sun as the sky started to fade from glorious orange to inky black. She looked down at the buzzing traffic down below- vibrant blurs on a granite canvas. She stepped back and ran her hand through her graying hair and then, closing her eyes, felt her way down to the creases on her brow. Making her way to the dining room she set herself to work.

For hours she slaved, sneaking occasional peeks at the clock perched on the wall. She laid out the plates carefully on the tablecloth and the centerpiece was her Filet Mignon. Candle-lights, her Jasmine room-freshener and Frank Sinatra set the mood.

Niranjan, I- BA (Eng.), Vivekananda College, Chennai

A quick glance at the clock told her that she had less than two hours before her lover arrived and she dashed into her bedroom to get changed. She garbed herself in a flowing red dress; a gift from past years. The only one in which she looked slim. Her phone rang and her answering machine dutifully picked it up. She couldn’t hear the message, her ears deafened by her preoccupied mind.

She daubed her face with the cosmetics she had acquired over the years, not once looking up at the mirror- for she did not have one. She knew she was beautiful. She believed it would be narcissistic to fall in love with herself, her own beauty. She pulled a brush from a drawer and attacked her hair cautiously not wanting to pull out a lot of it. She wore her best wristwatch and sprayed herself with her favorite perfume that she had used sparingly to make it last. She was a hospice nurse and most of her income was used to clear her mortgage and the remaining, her everyday needs.

Not quite day, But not yet night
Into the darkness fades the light.

She seated herself on the couch facing the door in the living room. The second clock atop the frame of the television informed her that she had a couple of minutes before it was time. She stared at the door, expectant. The sky outside was an echo of her mood.

She thought about her love and to her, love was a term used loosely.

He was a successful lawyer many years younger than herself, the son of her current patient. She hoped to be wedded to him almost immediately for they had been in a relationship for more than five years now. He was her security: financially and socially. For that, she submitted herself to him, his every whim and fancy. In the recent days she felt him growing more distant and cold towards her. Issues that were trivial turned into arguments and those in turn were blown out of proportion, into fights. She was counting on that dinner to have a chance to talk with him and try to mend their failing relationship.

The answering machine beeped again, breaking her line of thought but she ignored it.

Falling, falling- the sun is drowned
No light, just darkness all around.

She was on the verge of tears. Her clock now showed three hours past. She steeled herself and undressed. Setting the answering machine to play she started putting on her night gown.

“Melissa. It’s me. Listen- I can’t take this anymore. You and me… it is just not right. I mean, the age difference is one thing. But even if we put that aside I still see no way of making it work.

“There’s someone else for me.  I’m sorry-”

Sinatra crooned away on her stereo, oblivious to her emotions.

An errant tear escaped her eye as she stopped the answering machine from playing the rest and erased all the messages. Turning off the stereo she walked back to the dining room and started putting the plates back into the shelves, feeding her untouched Filet Mignon to the trash can. She pulled out a large bowl and filled it with water and placed it on the table. After the ripples from the movement settled, she bent over and looked into it and saw her reflection looking back at her. There she was- her salt-and-pepper hair, her aging skin, her pallid face and her blue eyes of sorrow.

Silent tears rolled down her cheek and dropped into the bowl, breaking the silence with their soft pitter-patter.

She walked away with a bottle of medication in hand and lay down on her bed. Closing her moist and glistening eyes, she prayed for sleep.

All the lights in the city went out in unison, engulfing everything in an impenetrable blackness.

She had never really known what kind of a person she was. She had always thought of herself to be a kind & caring person, beautiful and romantic. Now, she knew.

She was a rose: fragile, withered and vain.

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T P Anand

It was a lovely Sunday morning and as usual there was general laziness all over the house.

There was no hurry for anything as is normal for a holiday.  Children were also relaxed as they were not having college.  We all got up around 9 a.m. and I lazily settled down with my cup of coffee and The Hindu on my lap. The Hindu carried an interesting news on Ocean Receding Day.  It was to happen on that night at 3 a.m.

I had been reading about Economic Recession for almost one year and this was the first time I got to read something on the great Ocean receding.

As a resident of Chennai I always admired the Bay of Bengal.   A walk along the seashore is an experience one would  relish everyday day after day for ever.

I told my wife and children about the Ocean Receding Day an that we should be there at the Beach that night to watch the “never before seen” great event at 3 a.m. I had office next day and my children had to catch their college bus at 7.15 in the morning.  Still, there cannot be anything more important than watching that great event on the seashore.

We all went out for lunch and as usual we went for a long drive along the East Coast Road up to Mamallapuram.

It was very pleasant drive all along the sea coast. We came back home around 5 p.m. in the evening.

All through this time, I kept on thinking about the Ocean Receding Day.  After dinner we went to sleep after setting the alarm to ring at 2 a.m.  so that we would have ample time to reach the beach to watch the spectacle.

I could not sleep in the night as I was wondering about the Ocean Receding.  It appeared mysterious to me especially since it was unheard of before.  I could not wait till 3 a.m. to unravel the mystery.

I was restless and somehow managed to get some sleep around 11 p.m. Even before the alarm sounded I woke up at 2 a.m. and felt very fresh though I had slept only for 3 hours. I took a nice cool shower and then woke up my family members.

We all set out at 2.30 a.m. and reached the Marina Beach at 2.45 a.m.

It was a startling sight as the beach was full of men, women and children.

I had never seen such a huge crowd even during Pongal holidays in the last four decades. Everybody was watching the sea.

I stood there with my wife and children and it was very soothing and pleasant to look at the sea. When I looked at my watch it was 2.55 a.m. and I suddenly felt that the waves were becoming slow. Within the next couple of minutes the waves stopped and I felt as though I was standing in front of a lake and not Bay of Bengal.

I saw the water receding rapidly and within couple of minutes the water had gone back by a couple of miles – far away. There was pin drop silence in the Marina Beach with so many children, men and women standing absolutely dazed at the sight of the beach receding by a few miles. In that beautiful moonlight i saw a nice lovely Blue Castle which was glittering in the moonlight.

I felt that blue marble structure should have been built several centuries ago and would have got submerged in the sea.  But why nothing had been written about this structure by historians all these years? I was amazed by the sight of such a huge Castle just few meters away from the Marina beach in Chennai.

I looked at my wife and children and they were also standing there with their eyes wide open not able to comprehend the whole scene. We were standing at Marina Beach and instead of the usual sight of the never ending waves on the sea we were  witnessing a large stretch of land, almost like a valley, and in the middle right in front of our eyes was the magnificent Blue Castle.  Where from did they get that blue marble? Or did it get the blue color because of all those years under the blue sea?

I kept looking at the blue marble Castle – what a spectacle it was. Huge Castle in the middle of the sea and now clearly visible under the moonlight because of the Ocean Receding.

Suddenly the thought of “what goes would come back” came to my mind. I felt the chillness all over my body at the very thought of the Sea coming back to its old position.

The sea will come back and it would come back with a huge force. I also dreaded the thought of the Castle again getting covered by the Sea. That would be a great disappointment.  But, sea coming back with a huge force sent shivers down my spine.  We had to run from the place rapidly.  Thoughts of Tsunami came to my mind.

The mixed feelings of fear and disappointment ran in my mind.

I had to do something immediately.  My mind started working out possibilities.

And I got up with a jolt to find myself in my bedroom in Dubai and it was exactly 3 a.m. in the morning.

….. T P Anand, Dubai

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I was organizing my computer last week, cleaning up all the junk that had accumulated over the months, just because I felt lazy to format and reinstall all the software once again. It is a tedious process to format the machine, especially backing up all the files, including the music and ebooks and emails and restoring them.

While on the job of cleaning up, I got to read this interesting book extract that was part of a newsletter I had received way back in August 2002. It is an extract from the book “The Wealthy Spirit–Daily Affirmations for Financial Stress Reduction” by Chellie Campbell (A five star rated book at Amazon.com). Below is the extract reproduced for your benefit.

X—————X—————X—————X—————X

Send Out Ships

Thinking positive is your first step to living rich, inside and out. But it is not enough. You have to take action to achieve your goals. I call this “Sending Out Ships.”

In the nineteenth century, the merchants in London built grand, tall masted sailing ships. It would take many months, sometimes years, to build them. Then they would hire a crew, outfit the ship, and store provisions for the long sea voyage. One fine day, the ship would weigh anchor, hoist her sails, and sail out of London harbor, on her way to visit foreign ports, and trade for gold, jewels, silks, and spices. The trip would take many months–often years–and there were no communication lines open then; no ship-to-shore radio, no telegraph, no cellular telephones. Once the ship had sailed, the merchant could do nothing more; only wait for that future day when the ship would return, sailing into London harbor laden with treasure. On that day, the merchant’s fortune was made. And that’s where the expression, “I’m waiting for my ship to come in,” comes from.

Some people are going down to the dock, waiting for their ship to come in–but they haven’t sent any out! If you want the fortune, your responsibility each day is to send out some ships. And you had better send out more than one, because stuff happens to ships: One runs aground just outside of the harbor, another sinks in a hurricane, a few get commandeered by pirates, the whirlpool gets one, and on the next one there’s a mutiny and they sail off to Pitcaim Island and aren’t heard from for another twenty years. Then, of course, there’s the one that hits the iceberg! Once you send the ship out, it’s out of your control. You are only in charge of sending it out, not when it comes in.

When you get into the habit of sending ships out on a daily basis, even if you know some ships aren’t going to make it back home, you are still confident and optimistic because you know you have a whole fleet sailing out there. It creates a positive expectation that ships are going to be sailing in, docking at your pier, and unloading riches for you any minute. Positive energy shines from you. You feel good about yourself because you’ve been doing what it takes to succeed. This is what Tony Robbins, in his book, “Awaken the Giant Within” calls “massive, positive, constructive action on a daily basis.” (Although that sounds a little too much like hard work to me.) I prefer the image of breaking the champagne bottle and waiving goodbye to a proud clipper ship on a beautiful spring day as it sets forth on my behalf. And then celebrating the ship’s safe arrival with all my wealth.

Send those ships out every day. Then prepare to unload your treasures.
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If you plan to buy the book, click on the image placed above. That is my ship out today

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• உன்னைப்போல் ஒருவன் இன்னும் வேண்டும் (2)

A short story by Niranjan Sathyamurthy

There was this curious door on the twenty second floor of a residential building. He didn’t hear or see much most of the time and neither did he speak except for in occasional creaks and groans. He wasn’t very old. He was in the prime of his long age. At least until the builders would come to tear his home down. But that wasn’t anytime soon and so that didn’t cause him any grief.

The door was the pride of the house. He was crafted beautifully by a curious craftsman who had died soon after finishing this one door. He stood tall, seven feet high and much broader than any of the other doors in his building. While they were those modern doors, he was made from the sturdiest Mahogany and was panelled with intricate carvings of flowery patterns (identical on the front and the back) that he very much liked. A shiny brass door-knob and a shiny knocker that hung from a brass lion head’s maw adorned his frame on both sides.

He liked to sleep most of the time as he had no one to talk to. And that was his only grief. Although, beautiful as he was, the builders had fixed him wrong side out at the entrance to his house. While all the neighbouring doors faced the inside of their houses, he alone was fixed facing the hallway that was boring and empty almost all the time.

Occasionally a neighbour or two would leave open their doors while they ran an errand and at these occasions the Mahogany door, wide awake, would creak and groan to the open doors that could now talk to him, and rejoice at the company he had. They would creak back in turn coveting his sturdy frame and beautiful panels with their intricate carvings. Moments like these were absolute bliss for the Mahogany door who longed the company. But these moments were hard to come by and quick to pass. So, our friend, the Mahogany door would creak a silent prayer to his dead maker and go back to sleep.

Sometimes, while asleep, he’d hear bits and pieces of the human conversations that took place in the almost always empty hallway as he liked to call it now. Human tongue was confusing for him with their many different sounds. He liked the creaks with which he spoke to his kith and kin (on rare occasions).

But he did not like to alone and longed to be set right some day so he could finally hear what the family inside spoke of. He knew who lived inside from when they came to the hallway. There were two little humans who were always laughing and he enjoyed listening to them. Yes, he knew laughter. His neighbouring doors, taking pity on him, had educated him on it (among many other things).

The two little humans had two caretakers; ones that they called a ‘mother’ and a ‘father’. He couldn’t tell the difference between the two yet. He liked listening to their conversation about travelling and the outside world and yearned to learn more about it.

One fine day, the Mahogany door’s lament was heard and his prayers, answered. The humans living inside had noticed that the peep-hole was on the wrong side of the door and had summoned another human to set the door right. The new human had, painfully (for the Mahogany door), extracted the door and with the help of five other humans had finally set it right. Bearing the pain, the Mahogany door rejoiced. Now he would never feel lonely ever again.

Day and night and night and day the door creaked happily to the windows and other doors. Few of them answered and some of the replies were unfriendly. But, nonetheless, the Mahogany door creaked on happily. He learned a lot of things from the humans.

In time he came to learn that the little humans were offspring of the larger humans and could now identify the ‘mother’ and the ‘father’. He also learned that the little humans (children, he called them now) were not always laughing but were noisy most of the time and did not let him rest. But he didn’t complain. He creaked away, night and day and day and night.

This break from loneliness was like ‘a shot of heroin’ (an expression he’d heard the father whispering to a black rectangular object that had a curling tail) for him.

While the Mahogany door spent his time happily learning the ways of the humans and rejoicing in their company, the humans in the house grew tired of his creaking; night and day and day and night. They discussed to themselves about getting a new door; one which was smaller and didn’t creak as much and keep them up at night.

The few friendly doors and windows in the house warned the Mahogany door to creak less. But the Mahogany door in all his joy and glory paid no heed to the warnings they creaked and turned a deaf ear to them (another phrase that he pick up).

Soon enough, more new humans arrived and putting the Mahogany door in pain, they pulled him out. Thinking that they were going to put him back as he originally was the Mahogany door momentarily felt sad but sadness quickly turned to panic as he was carried away down the stairs held up by the six humans that had removed him from the entrance. He could not creak and call for help nor could he creak and cry.

He could not creak at all anymore and as he was carried away he watched some other humans carry a new, smaller and modern door to replace him.

The Mahogany door, now unable to creak whether happy or sad or in anguish, was carried to the woodwork shop and to an object that kept rumbling angrily at the Mahogany door.

‘They are going to feed me to that rumbling monster!’ the Mahogany door wanted to creak in despair. But alas! He could not and as he cried to himself, his final lament, he was fed to the shredder, his seven foot tall frame and all, that tore him down to little pieces and then, the Mahogany door was no more.

Thus was the lament of the curious Mahogany door that once lived on the twenty second floor.

(Author of this story is also the author of a Harry Potter Fanfiction

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