I had mentioned that I would be posting the English version of my last Malayalam-story and goes it thus....Couldn't do it without delay as promised. Somehow I managed to present it in the blog now.
The lass named Cloud was meandering and dawdling her time in the sky. The master of the celestial home set off for his usual evening walk to the west, after instructing his maid cloud to serve his better half, the Earth with water. The Earth and her offspring were getting cooked in the hot summer weather. The lassie heeded attention nil to hear Him as if she knew he wouldn't return soon. She moved hither-thither cheerfully with rumbas in lips.
Vasanta teacher was reading news paper in her sitting. Without withstanding the heat, she went out to the open to get her sweat evaporated. The gentle wind fanned her with his hand-fan. ‘Ding-ding, ding-ding’ her phone started crying as if it was expecting some pampering from her.
“Hello! Miss, I am, Sharath here, …..”
Abruptly something intervened and the phone disconnected the conversation.
“ Um..Which…. Sharath…? I know a few Sharaths,” Vasanta was sinking in thoughts.
“Of course one Sharath clings to a soft corner of my mind. Might be he this,” Her thoughts were alighting at the shore of memories.”
Vasanta teacher once was moving to the class 9th.A boy who stood at the entrance of the class 8th, turned away to hide his visage. Vasanta stopped her gait for a while and asked, “What is your name, why are you standing here?”
“ I am Sharat, Miss, I didn't bring my homework book. So the class-miss has sent me out,” he bit his lips to stop tears.
“Shame to stand like this. Be punctual in works,” Though Vasanta was not taking class in 8th, the true teacher in her leaped out to softly advise him.
This exercise had its presence frequently and every time Sharat rendered some rationales like no text book, incomplete work, late coming and so on.
Vasantha enquired about him to Geeta, his class-miss.
“Sharat, ho! Such a boy, he never brings his book and doesn’t do any work, always late to the class and like that, like that,” Geeta’s words were full of ire and it irked her to correct him further.
“Yes, true, many students are not serious, even if we try our best. We feel dejected and tired of our effort.”
Vasanta took leave of Geeta to resume her routine. But her mind was around that boy’s expressions. She detected traces of gloom, not glory from his body language. And also she noticed signs of deep thoughts, not teen-like chat or cheek.
“Good evening miss,” a voice full of joy and incredulity greeted her on a day in *Chottanikkara Temple.
She looked at the source, “Sharat! You, who came with you, alone?”
“No, Miss, my parents also are there.”
He introduced his parents to the teacher.
“I am Balan Nair,” Sharat’s father, “And that his mother.”
A woman, age in forth decade, was shouting, shrieking, screaming and speaking something incoherent. She sometimes danced and sometimes jumped. After a while she lay down near the shrine as if she had exhausted all her energy.
“All sorts of treatment we tried, and then some people told me after observing ‘Bhajan’ insane people become sane here. So we came for a seven days’ devout stay in this temple.”
Father was unloading his sadness for a while. Vasanta lent him a patient listening.
“I am a sailor in Navy. Sometimes I have to be off-shore. Then my son, the dear, does everything including cooking, feeding his mother, cleaning the dwelling etc. An old aunt of the next door quarters keeps vigil, when he goes to school.”
“Any reason for her insanity?” Vasanta couldn't help prying.
“She was a member in a monthly chit-fund. The owner was a cheat. Towards the closure he absconded. She had to lose a substantial which she had dreamt for our son’s education. She dreamt a doctor in our only son. He studied well also.”
“I made you stand long. In haste only. Sorry Miss.”
“O! Why sorry, no need.”
Words pinched Vasanta’s heart somewhere and bled a little bit.She felt very sympathetic and melancholic on that little boy’s fate.
The teacher held the boy close and spelt some counsel mixed with motherly-affection. “Don’t worry Sharat, I shall also pray for you, study well and fulfill your mother’s wishes. Try to be a doctor. Everything will be alright.”
‘Ding-ding, ding-dong.’ Phone.
Vasanta embarked into the real situation.
“Which Sharat are you?”
“Miss, standing in front of 8th C, Chottanikkara temple…"
“O! Yes, I know, where are you now and what are you?”
“Miss, My mother’s dream, doctor, I am a psychiatrist now.Ms, you had helped me a lot. Filled confidence sufficient in me.”
“How is your mother, got well?”
“Yes,miss, she is happy, very happy now in the other world .No food at all she was taking. Health gone and one day she bade adieu.”
“Come some day.”
The dame, Cloud tilted her water pot and started pouring water for Earth. And yes, the Earth welcomed the summer rain and drove away the heat.
*. A well-known temple that is believed to be special for setting right the mental disorders.