RamGanapathy.com

Category: Short Story

  • Half-a-Truth or a Lie

    Wait! I hear them talking again. They stop whenever I go downstairs, which I do rarely these days, especially after the recent trip.

    Hang on. I can’t even hear myself talk. How can I tell you my story?

    They are yelling now. If you hear them over my voice – I have shut the door against any sound seeping upstairs into the room, but if you do understand what they say, I beg you, ignore them. Please. Please, don’t listen to them.

    As I was saying…

    “No, Ma. I am not talking to anyone. What do you want?”. See, my mum is trying to be as loud as my grandma used to be. She can try all she wants, but she can never be the grand old lady.

    About my grandma? She was some lady. I have so many tales to tell you. She gave me this box. Wait. She first took me into her room, closed the door behind us and whispered to me, “Vinita, my dear, this box is precious. My grandma gave this to me, and now, this is yours. There is a mirror inside, but only those with a pure heart can see it, see anything in it. Only the chosen ones. No one in our family is good enough to see the mirror, I am sorry but that’s the truth.”

    If you are wondering, I brought the box to Australia! Yes, I wrapped my jeans around it. During the whole time in the flight, I kept thinking of the box and the magic mirror.

    I am feeling a bit sleepy. I promise I will finish the story when I am up, don’t panic. Ok?

    Meanwhile, if you hear the whispers from the stairways, or the loud calls of my name, ignore and ignore, while I try to lie down a little.

     

    Oopsie-daisy. Did I keep you for long? Are you still with me? At any rate, I hope you didn’t pay attention to the voices. I am telling you the story. Stay with me.

    As I was saying, when the customs lady asked us why we didn’t tick the box for wooden articles, I worried about my little wooden box – the one with the mirror inside. I told her, I had brought this box as a gift from my grandma. I didn’t tell her about the magical mirror. Not telling the truth – is that a lie or half-a-truth? You decide. The best part? The lady believed it! I was nervous. What if she spotted the mirror inside, especially with my parents watching. I saw her open the box right in front of me. She acted as if she didn’t see anything inside. Wow! She does not have a good soul. As soon as she placed the box at the counter, I grabbed it open to check. There it was. Our precious mirror. I saw my grandma’s face blinking and smiling as I blinked and smiled.

    I feel embarrassed. Tell me the truth. No half-truths or lies. While I was asleep, did you hear anything? Did you hear my dad repeat those big words I heard at the hospital? What’s going on? They are not telling me anything.

    As I was saying…

  • Short Story: Double Rainbow

    Monday finally arrived and Vikalp reviewed the events of the last week: the school gate closed on him, the new cycle deserted him, and the exams defeated him. The most upsetting thing was his parents blamed him for the bad turn of events. It was as if he agreed to be transferred to this all-boys school for the eleventh standard, to be in this non-descript place all day with these unknowns who write unmentionables on the wooden beams under which the bald and bespectacled chief of staff Charles Rangaraj sir announced last week of a new Physics teacher replacing Ms. Sheetal.

    Ms. Sheetal, this graceful lady amongst a gang of pot-bellied sirs. Who famously began her very first class with a greeting, “The future doctors and engineers of Coimbatore!”, as if she was certain of their destiny. Suddenly, Vikalp’s world was newborn. The way she described Young’s double-slit experiment was like watching a mystery movie. The day she explained Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle he went home dazzled. He swam along with variables of equations flying narrowly through the slits of a panel in a dark room and emerged as a rainbow on a wide screen. A double rainbow. He whispered things in his sleep. His grandmother recited her prayers. 

    Mostly, it all went over and around his tiny head. He would nag Mugil to explain what Ms. Sheetal taught. He stepped into the school library for the first time. “I don’t want to do engineering. I want to be teacher”, he promised Mugil. He was mesmerised by the wild trips Ms. Sheetal took the class, from the quantum to the infinite. How could she suddenly vanish?

    The school assembly had started when he entered. Shooed away by the watchman again, he climbed the gate to peep into the parking area. No sign of Ms. Sheetal’s lady-bird. A large cycle with a red seat resembling his own leaned against the wall. The assembly went into a hush and the choir boys sang their blues celebrating Hope and Grace and the Love of the Lord. Vikalp turned around and walked home.

    He went to Mugil’s house in the evening. “How’s the new teacher?”. Mugil peered into his eyes, smiled.

    The next day he arrived at school early and went to the toilet. Adjusting his hair, tucking in his shirt, he asked himself, “Teaching Physics, eh?” Charles Sir entered the mirror. “Come and see me in my office”.

    Vikalp knew he was in trouble. He took a detour via the staff room to see if there is a new face. The physics teacher’s desk was empty. On the book shelf across, he spotted a photo of an old woman’s face. Is that…?

    He ran towards the staff parking lane. The red-seated cycle stood straight.

    Vikalp hated standing outside Charles sir’s room. The peon scanned him face to bottom. My shoes dirty? My shirt tucked out? He scorned the rules and rituals of the school and its men.

    Vikalp hated standing inside even more. “So, you like Physics all of a sudden? Your father tells me. Your marks don’t tell me. Take Commerce. Easier for you”.

    “No sir. I will study harder, sir”. He evaded further questions, except for the probing words on a blue banner behind Charles sir: “Are You Smart?” 

    He returned to the staff corridor, browsing the shelves with a quick glance, and still catching the red-seated cycle in the corner of his eyes. The bell rang. He saw the Maths sir walking past, staring at him.

    Late. The class was silent, which meant the new Physics teacher should be in. He imagined all possible excuses. Or he could go home. Something urged him to try.

    “Sir, may I come in?”, he threw his request at the back of the new teacher’s head.

    “Yes, you may”, the man turned around. “Sit down”.

    Adjusting his hair, tucking in his already well-tucked-in shirt, the new sir addressed the class proper. “The future doctors and engineers of Coimbatore! My name is Vikalp. I too studied in his school, in this very room. The carvings are still up there.” The class giggled. “We had this wonderful teacher, Ms…”

    Vikalp sat gazing at the man, the blackboard behind him blurring into a dark room with equations dancing along and getting sucked into a narrow slit and emerging as a double-arch rainbow.