There goes a nice fantasy!

Long ago, in a land far away, lived a young shepherd who went by the name of Sylvester. He preferred that his friends, all of thirty two sheep, a sheepdog and a rooster, call him Syl. He'd been insistent on this point multiple times, but his friends never seemed to heed his words. The dog, beleaguered by the incessant cries of the rooster every morning, bullied the sheep at every opportunity presented. The sheep directed much of their displeasure at the rooster with a pile of droppings at his doorstep every night, only to make the rooster cry even louder at sunrise. Amidst all the crowing, bullying and sullying, Silly Ol' Syl, as the village boys often referred to him, would sit and dream. He dreamt of a day when he would fall in love with a beautiful princess, a day when he'd rule the entire countryside as their King. And have as many children as the number of sheep in his flock. Every time though, his dream would be broken by an intrusive bleat from the sheep. "Darn it! There goes a nice fantasy!" he would think. The day would end in Syl unleashing the dog to herd them home.

Not too far away from the grasslands was a brook, where a princess enjoyed the occasional splash with her maids. On one such morning, a young prince walked into the grounds and found himself enamored by the fair maiden's beauty. "What a work of nature you are, Princess!" exclaimed the Prince, as the flower of the royal gardens looked up. "You, with eyes as dark as a moonless night, and a face radiant as a moon, shining bright! My throne hence shall be your right! Marry me, Princess and we shall live a happy life!" said the Prince, charm oozing out of every pore. "Charmed, Prince. But I can offer nothing you seek. The best I can do is a peck on your cheek. For my life belongs to a Dragon now, so tall and mighty, even mountains bow!" saying so, she turned away. "Aha! So a dragon it is that hounds you Princess? Fear not, for I shall slay him for you!" said the Prince. "No! That is.." she began but he butted in, cutting her short. "I shall punch him in the nose, leave him bloody as a rose, grab him by the tail and cast him away, without fail!" he went on. "Oh shut up Prince! You're so daft!" saying so, the Princess left. And her maids followed.

"So Sheldon, tell me more about this Dragon" the Prince continued, consulting his aide, after the Princess took leave. "I hear he's the most despicable creature these lands have seen, Sire" said Sheldon, "with a vile breath and a grisly face, one blow from his misshapen nostrils can set anyone on fire, or so they say!". "Hmm, that doesn't sound very encouraging!" the prince thought aloud, when he heard a rustle. "Baa" interrupted a voice. "Sheldon look, someone's hiding behind the bush!". Sheldon and the guards acted quickly and withdrew Syl and a ewe from the shrub. He had been hiding there all along, listening to the fascinating conversation that had come to pass. "Eavesdropping on our Prince, are ye? Pay for it you shall!" said Sheldon, drawing a whip. "Wait!" said the Prince, with a twinkle in his eye. "I know how to make this one pay. Wretched shepherd, you shall fight the dragon today for me! Here, wear my cape and take my horse! Anyone watching from below the hills should think that it is me fighting the foul creature! If you win, I shall take the glory and win the Princess! And if you lose, well, never mind, for I will not end up as the dragon's dinner. March on, slave!".  As he stood there in horror, Syl hardly felt the guards draping him in the Prince's attire and seating him on the horse. They took him up the hill, to where the dragon lived. "Go on now, and win me my treasure!" said the Prince, "I shall wait a few miles from here, ready to ride down the hill victorious!"

Syl walked into the den of the beast, trembling with fear. The place was reeking with the foul odor of rotten meat. As he approached another chamber, he saw something scraped on the wall. It looked like a picture, with a frame carved in. He could make out what appeared to be two large, ugly looking creatures, one with a bow around his neck and another wearing a bridal maid. 'Emily and Ross, Forever' it said, at the bottom of the frame. "Looks like this family might have a guest for dinner tonight, except the guest might be the dinner!" thought Syl, gloomily. As he entered the chamber and caught first sight of what was in store, Syl stood aghast. In front of him lay Ross the dragon, stretched out on the floor, on his giant belly. He could see whiffs of smoke emerging from those horrid nostrils, as the dragon exhaled and drew long breaths in his sleep. The clumsy oaf still had his wedding bowtie around his neck, except it had been turned the wrong way over his back. He seemed to be drooling onto a letter lying next to his hand. Syl picked up the letter and started reading it. However wrong it may be to read another's mail, no respect need be reserved for the harbinger of death, he thought. "Ross my love, leave that wretched fool of a wife and come take me away! We shall live happily together high up in the mountains, as we've always fantasized! Love, P". "Aha, a love affair outside wedlock!" thought Syl. "For all the unsightly features that he beheld, Ross the dragon must be quite a playboy to have enchanted a concubine to his court!" Syl wondered. Suddenly, Ross moved. A swing of his humongous arm left Syl sprawling on the floor, with the letter stuck below the dragon's giant fist. If he awoke now, he would go wild on learning that a puny shepherd had learned of his illicit pleasures, thought Syl. He tried to force the letter out only to have it tear into half. Instantly, Ross awoke with a sweeping motion of his hand, which threw Syl into the air but landed him safe on the bow around the dragon's neck. Syl sat still, clutching on to the bow, hoping Ross would not notice his puny form. A few tense moments passed.

Ross the dragon was a fun loving chap. Except that he loved having fun a bit too much and had to keep his fiancée in the dark about most of his doings. Now that he was married, it was time to try and set his life straight, he thought. He still loved his mistress but knew that he would never survive a day if Emily ever found out. Emily was no ordinary creature of his tribe. She'd blown away, with her flaring nostrils, many a dragon who had tried to court her in younger days. That was until she fell for Ross. He could never understand what she saw in him. But hey, love is blind, he thought. He also knew that he would end up blind, with a few limbs missing if she ever got to know about his affair. And it was this fear that first struck home, when he discovered the letter from his lover, lying in shreds next to him. "Had she found out?" he wondered anxiously. "Is she away, plotting how to rip me into pieces? Oh God! Why am I choking? Has she poisoned me in my sleep?" cried aloud Ross, as the bowtie sagged under Syl's weight, tightening around Ross' neck. Syl, who had so far been counting his lucky stars for not being spotted, was struck by a scheme so devious, he almost let go of the bow to pat himself on the back. He decided to play a little trick on the dragon and planned his escape.

"Ross, Oh Ross!" called out Syl in a slow, low voice, adding more than one 's' needed in Ross' name.

"Who's that? Is someone in here?" cried out Ross, looking around in a state of panic, unaware of tiny Syl riding on his neck.

"This is your conscience Ross!" cried out Syl.

"My what? What are you doing here?"

"You're choking Ross! And we will die here tonight if you let the guilt kill you!"

"Oh no, please! I don't want to die! I know I'm guilty but I can't take this stranglehold any longer!" Ross cried aloud.

"There is only one way out of guilt Ross - Confess!" proclaimed Syl.

"To Emily? She'll kill me!" declared Ross.

"And if you don't, the guilt will get you. And ours shall be a slow and painful death, Ross. Think about it. We know our girl Emily. If you confess and fall at her feet, she might just forgive you! Maybe a week or two on the couch and soon you'll be back in bed, happy as ever!"

As Ross weighed the odds, the noose tightened around his neck making it easy for him to decide.

"Confess Ross, you must confess!" Syl continued the haunting.

"Yes, I shall do it, yes!"

"Go now Ross, before it is too late!"

"Yes, Emily dear, where are you? I can explain everything! Please.." Ross headed out, dragging along Syl around his neck.

Emily the dragon had risen earlier that day with a nasty headache. Ross' incessant snoring had hardly allowed her a good night's sleep, leaving her in a foul mood for any conversation. She'd tried flying up to the mountain peak looking for some dragonroot to help ease her pain but a storm up there had forced a retreat. And it was in this annoyed state that she was met by an agitated Ross.

"Emily dear, before you say or do anything drastic, please let me explain!" pleaded Ross.

"Explain what?" snapped Emily, with hardly a mind to attend to Ross.

"I must confess, my love! I've been engaging in a dreadful affair with a mistress for some time now! I .." Ross began when Emily interrupted - "What? You've had an affair? All these days?" burst out Emily.

Ross slowly nodded his head, trying to plead with his wife. “Please forgive.." - Wham! The next thing he knew, Ross was seeing stars and his nose had turned into a bright red ball of blood. As Emily withdrew her fist preparing for a second blow, Syl held on to the bow. Ross staggered like a drunk. She landed a hard right hand on his chin, forcing Ross high up into the air. Syl managed to let go at the right time, sliding on the dragon's back and down its tail. Meanwhile, a small crowd had gathered at the bottom of the hills. All they could see was a figure in a cape, holding on to the tail of a giant monster that seemed to have been knocked straight into the air. "Bravo, young Prince!" cried someone down there.

The real Prince, meanwhile, watched all the action from a neighboring peak behind the dragon hill, wearing a smug smile. It had all gone according to plan, he thought. The shepherd had managed to defeat the beast and one of his stooges had ensured that it was all watched by a crowd, including the Princess, from the grasslands below. "Ha! Time to ride down and proclaim victory! Time to sweep my darling Princess off her feet and ride home with her! Time for wedding bells to..."

As the pompous Prince busied himself in self-glory, he neither heard Sheldon shriek in horror, nor noticed the giant shadow growing quickly on the ground beneath his feet. The last sight he ever caught was a large pair of dragon wings and a rock hard spine lodged between them, headed straight for him from the skies. Such had been the grand wallop that Emily had inflicted on Ross, sending him bouncing from hill to hill.

Syl, who'd managed to land into a prickly shrub, busied himself picking out the thorns from his back, when he heard the cheer from down below. He stood up and took stock of the situation. Emily the dragon had taken off to sob on her dear father's shoulder, high up in the mountains. The evil Prince had been quashed into ketchup by Ross on the hill behind, leaving him the only figure standing tall in a cape that the crowd below celebrated. "Well, this is more than I'd hoped for!" thought a delighted Syl. He quickly mounted his horse and headed down the hill, his arm raised in victory.

As Syl rode into cheers of 'Hail, brave Prince!', the young Princess came running to him. Syl alighted from his steed and began in a spirited voice- "Fear not Princess, for I have slain the beast that has tormented you for long! 'Tis only right that a brave young man like me walk the aisle, hand in hand, with your graceful form. Marry me, love!".

"You idiot!" shrieked the Princess, to everyone's shock. "What have you done with him?" she cried in disgust.

Suddenly, a dark cloud gathered over the crowd. A large creature descended from the skies, looking bruised all over. Ross huffed and puffed as he made his way down and grabbed the Princess by her waist.

"Princess! come away with me...Emily's gone...not anymore..we both together, forever!" Ross wheezed.

"Oh Ross, my love!" exclaimed the Princess, as the stupefied crowd watched on. "Are you hurt? Is it true? Can we fly away to the mountains? But what if she comes back?" she cried out, hurling multiple anxious queries at Ross, while he gathered his breath.

"Fear not love, for I shall promptly obtain a restraining order against her from the Court of the Dragons! I shall even register a plaint for domestic violence! Now come, we must hurry before that witch sets her father on my trail!" saying which, Ross lodged the Princess gently on his back and flew high up into the skies.

Syl stood traumatized by what he had just witnessed. "What just happened?" he wondered. His mind went back to Ross' letter. "'...Love,P'. P? Was P the P in Princess? the Princess and Ross, the dragon?". Who on earth would have dreamt of it? But is love really that blind? Syl stood there lost in thought.

"Baa" interrupted someone. The sheep were back, as always bringing silly Ol' Syl back to reality. "Darn it! There goes a nice fantasy!" thought Syl, looking up at the skies.

Tryst with Destiny

"Hello Louis", the Pandit greeted with his arm held out.

"Pandit" replied Louis, in a formal tone, not shaking his hand.

Something is amiss, thought the Pandit. Louis was an intimate friend. They were two gentlemen on sides that never saw eye to eye on anything at all. But they were closer than most people knew. Louis and his wife had shared many warm Delhi evenings on the Pandit's lawn as guests. But today seemed different. Something has changed, thought the Pandit.

"Jeremy, would you mind putting those papers on the Pandit's desk please? And Jeremy, the Pandit and I have some very important matters to discuss. You can leave us for an hour and I shall ring for you later."

"Certainly, Sir" replied Jeremy, placing the files on the Pandit's desk and closing the door behind him.

"What are these files for, Louis?" enquired the Pandit, curious about his friend's visit.

Louis walked up to the Pandit's desk and drew a letter from his waistcoat. He did not utter a word. Only handed the letter to the Pandit and headed to look out of the window opposite the desk.

The Pandit was puzzled at Louis' behaviour today. He took the letter and opened it. It was addressed to him. The Pandit took his time with the letter. Slowly, his eyes widened as he read more. Louis briefly looked back at the Pandit from the window. Clearly, there was a hint of joy in his eyes. It's true, thought Louis. He too loves her. Louis looked out of the window again. He thought of the ramifications if this became public. What a scandal this would break out to be! He could imagine the Press having a field day with this - The wife of a Senior Officer of the Crown having an affair with someone the Empire is at war with! His Aunt would surely not approve of this. She would not think twice to end his glorious military career. After all, she ultimately bore the heavy crown. It would be a quick fall from Viceroy to a retired military drunk in a lonely Manor. No, I shall not let it happen, thought Louis. He looked back at the Pandit.

The Pandit read again that one line that stopped his heartbeat for a second. "..from the bottom of my heart I tell you, that I belong to you. I know, as sure as a woman can be in matters of the heart, that you too love me, my Dear..."

It is true, thought the Pandit. And then, he looked up at Louis. Their eyes met. A small bubble of rage burst in the Pandit's mind.

"A woman's personal correspondence is a private matter and no one should abuse their power to intercept them. Not even her own..."

"What I do in matters regarding my wife is of no interest to you, Pandit!" interrupted Louis harshly.

The Pandit went back to the letter and read the last line again. "..I shall speak with Louis. He's a kind man and I'm sure he will understand us.."

The Pandit thought otherwise. It was clear from the way Louis had conducted himself today that a confrontation would ensue. I shall be firm on this front, decided the Pandit. If he cannot love her the same as I do, it is time for him to move on, he thought.

Louis took a deep breath. He spoke in a calm, almost cold tone. "Now that we have full knowledge of the circumstances, it is time for business."

The Pandit wondered what business he would discuss at this juncture, when he stood before the man who had whisked away his wife.

"Within this rests a letter with the Seal of the Empire, Pandit. That should give you a summary of what this folder holds for you and your country."

The Pandit slowly perused the letter. Soon he was consumed with rage. "This is unacceptable Louis!" he reacted. "My fellow countrymen and I have worked too hard to allow the Crown to defeat our purpose this way! I shall stand by my Leader and we stand as one nation against this. You shall never see my signature underneath these words!"

"Then I shall bring out the matter in the earlier letter from your lady love to your country. Let us see what they think about their leader, who, at a time when they need him to guide them into a bright future, spent his time in the arms of a woman directly related in blood to British royalty! Let us see how you, the one man this nation will look up to lead them tomorrow, manage to convince them that you need to share the throne with a woman adorning the mark of a Crown the whole country despises! Tell me Pandit, do you wish to go down that road?"

The Pandit was stunned. What he had expected to have been a confrontation of illegitimate love had soon changed to a dark blackmail. Louis finally said it - "You will have to choose Pandit - between what your heart says and what a million hearts say. You need to let go of her! Once you do, I shall take this secret to my grave."

But how could he? The memories of all those evenings he spent with her were etched deep in his mind. This will leave him scarred forever. He looked down at the document. With one wield of the pen, he would put an end to the Old man's dream of weaving together a glorious nation. He thought of the Old man. How could the Pandit face him if the news of this scandal broke out! He was the heir to the Old man's throne, the one in line to pick up the stick and lead when the Old man rests in peace. Would his people heed his words in the face of such adversity?

"This state will end up divided whether you approve of it or not, Pandit!" thundered Louis, as he brought down his fist hard on the desk. "You have a day to decide. I expect the signed document in my mail tomorrow before the sun sets. Failing which, I'm sure the sun shall rise to see a nation thrown into turmoil by a leader who made the wrong choice!". Louis left the room, with the Pandit distraught at his desk.

It is time to swallow the bitter pill, decided the Pandit. He would talk to the Old man, try to convince him. But he knew that things will never be the same again.

The Pandit picked up the document. He began reading it again but his mind wandered. "...all British Officers shall resign and withdraw from...Oh God! Why is love this painful?....full autonomy shall be granted on condition that the two parties accept a partition of the State...Oh Edwina, my love! My life shall never be the same again!.."

His ever defiant eyes now glistened. He picked up a pen and drew his signature upon the cursed letter, every stroke drawing a fresh scar upon his heart. As he sealed the envelope, a tear drop escaped his eyes and lodged itself onto a map of his nation on the desk. It was over.

A few weeks later, the Pandit's voice echoed nationwide on the radio - "Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny, and now the time comes when we shall redeem our pledge, not wholly or in full measure, but very substantially. At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, ... "

A month later, a few hundred miles west of Delhi, a poor farmer carried his daughter, a withered mass of skin and bones, in his arms, walking alongside thousands on an earth baked hard by an unforgiving Sun. As the girl's body went limp on her father's shoulder, a cry of anguish echoed. A few curses followed. Soon, rage took over. In the riots that ensued, over half a million lives were lost. So began another 'tryst with destiny' as two nations rose out of blood, a destiny with a bedrock that lay in broken love.

Welcome to India

"Yes, Amma. I have a flight to catch in a few minutes. I'll get to London and email you. I’ll be here for a couple of days but I will not be reachable on my phone."

"I'll be waiting for your email!" said Mum.

"Also, there's something important I need to tell you and Pa. There's a friend of mine who ..."

"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me son? Kumar?" tried Mum, as the call ended up dropped. What was that last thing he said, Mum wondered. And she wouldn't be able to speak with him for two more days, until he's home. She would have to wait.

Later that evening, Kusuma came over from the neighbouring building. Time for the usual evening gossip the women engaged in. The conversation slowly drifted towards Kumar and his life abroad.

"You must be proud of your son. He's finished his education in the United States. He's built a good fortune for himself there. All that is left is to bring home a good daughter-in-law." said Kusuma.

"I have someone in mind" said Mum smiling.

"Who would that be?"

"You know Kanchana from your building. Ganapati's daughter."

"Good choice Sarala! She's a fine girl. Has Kumar met her earlier?"

"I think they had met briefly at Ganapati's nephew's wedding. I don't think they know each other very well yet. I've already spoken to Ganapati's wife about this. She said she'll talk to Kanchana once Kumar is back home. My husband is happy with my choice as well. I might need to push my son a bit to talk to her, though. My son's a slow starter when it comes to girls!"

"Ah! Careful Sarala. It'll have to be a subtle move. Boys of Kumar's age do not take it in easily. It's difficult for them to accept their mother as, what do those boys call it these days? Ah, Yes! as a Wingman!"

"Wingman? What does that mean?"

"It's something I picked up from my son's internet soap. Refers to someone who'd introduce him to 'prospective partners' " said Kusuma with a cheeky smile.

"Really? I've never observed if Kumar has tried anything of this sort. I'm thinking of a plan of my own to get started."

"And that is?"

"Kanchana's mother and I go shopping on Friday evenings generally. Kanchana drives us to the Mall. I plan to ask her to drive us to the airport instead to pick up my son this Friday. That should be a good start." said Mum, with a sense of hope.

"Sounds like a good start. But do you know if your son has any plans of his own?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Boys aren't the same once they leave home, you know. And with their mother not around to show them the way, you know..." said Kusuma, rolling her eyes and trailing off with a sigh.

"Well I don't think Kumar has a girlfriend! At least, he's never mentioned anything whenever I try to bring up his wedding in the conversation!" wondered Mum thoughtfully.

"Fine, but have you noticed anything weird in the way he responds to the topic of marriage?"

"Well, he seemed to be trying to throw me off track a few times recently....and he did mention something when I spoke to him last."

"What was it?"

"I couldn't clearly understand because the call got disconnected but he started saying he has something important to tell me...something about a friend.."

"Aha! Sarala, watch out. Be subtle next time you ask him about wedding plans. He seems to want to get something across but hesitates."

"Well he said he'll email me. Let me check my email. Come and help me open up that website for email. I've never felt comfortable with this internet thing."

"Sure."

Mum clicked on the new email from Kumar, with Kusuma watching over her shoulder.

'Hello Amma and Pa, I didn't have too much time to speak to you before I boarded the flight. And the call was disconnected abruptly. There's something important we need to talk about which I shall tell you folks once I get home. For now, I want to let you know that my friends Jessica and Nikhil will be staying with us at home for a week. You remember Nikhil, my room-mate from college. Hope we can make arrangements for their stay. See you soon.

Love,

Kumar'

"Jessica..hmm" said Kusuma, slowly.

"What about it?" asked a pensive Mum.

"Well...from the email, it looks like something is fishy Sarala."

"Fishy? what?" replied Mum concerned.

"I don't intend to scare you, but one of my cousins had a daughter who came home from the US after her studies, married to a white man! Another friend of mine came crying to me one day saying her son had called her up from the US to tell her that he likes men! And that he doesn't plan on returning home because he can never be accepted here! Kids these days, I tell you!" said Kusuma, in a tone grave enough to deepen the creases on Mum's forehead.

"I don't expect my son to give me any such troubles!" said Mum quickly, with a half confused look on her face.

"Well, watch out dear. Take it easy when Kumar lands here. Anyway, it's time for my evening walk. I think I'll head back. See you soon, Sarala."

Mum sat there, staring at the email, wondering what secret her son was holding back from her. It had been a perfect day until this little conversation with Kusuma had her lost deep in thought. The sound of the whistle blowing atop the pressure cooker brought Mum back to reality. She turned down the stove and stood there, wondering how she could learn more about what her son was hinting at. Suddenly, she remembered Kumar mention about this website on the internet that held photos of his friends. The boy had even put something up for his mother on it. She went back to the machine, opened up the website and typed in her son's name. She clicked on the 'Friends' button and a list appeared. There she was - Jessica! She clicked on the name and saw a few pictures of the girl. Golden hair, short skirt and a thin waist line. And there was Kumar, in one of the pictures with his arm around her! She sat still. Oh God, no! Mum shuddered at just the thought. Could it be possible? Is that why he's bringing her home? Her heart sank. How could Kumar do this, thought Mum. She said a quick prayer to Lord Krishna, the playboy Deity who'd enchanted over a thousand young women, to save her son from this blonde seductress. Then, realizing her folly, she quickly made amends and chanted to Lord Rama, the epitome of ideal male character. Her eyes rested on another picture on the website. Her son was riding pillion, holding on, in a very unusual way, to a friend on a bike. She looked closely and identified the young man riding the bike as Nikhil. She knew that boy. He's a strange one, thought Mum. He has a weird way of walking, very, how would one say it...unmanly? What was Kumar doing in this picture, she wondered. And then came the blow! Could it be so, thought mum. It was unthinkable but she couldn't help it! The idea had made its way into her mind somehow! Does my son prefer men over women, mum asked herself, as her eyebrows rose to the clouds! A quick prayer now to Lord Hanuman - Almighty! Please keep my son away from any impure thoughts about men and women! No wait, women were fine! No, only the ones that she approved of! No, only the one! Oh God, why do you put such thoughts into my head, cried out Mum! The doorbell rang. Papa was home.

"So I guess I'll get started on cleaning up the guest rooms. We might need to rent some mattresses though" said Papa, after Mum showed him the email.

Mum stood silently watching him for a minute, concern visible in her eyes.

"What is it?" asked Papa.

"What is our son hiding from us? He says he has something important to tell us and the next thing we know, there's some American girl coming to stay with us?"

"What are you getting at Sarala?" asked Papa.

Mum shared the train of thoughts that had put her at unease.

"Oh shut up! Don't be silly! They're just his friends. You should stop listening to all those American sitcom stories from your friend Kusuma! Don't trouble yourself or me with such crazy ideas!" said Papa, half amused.

"Or what if it is worse? What if our son has decided to renounce the world and become a sanyasi?" cried Mum.

"Shut up, crazy old woman! Now go and set the dinner table. I'm starving!" yelled Papa. That put an end to the conversation. But not to Mum's fears. She kept saying to herself, whatever it may be, he's my son and I'll always love him!

The day was finally here.

"Hello Aunty!"

Mum's dreary mood was lightened by a cheerful voice. "Shall we leave for the airport?" asked Kanchana. Looking at her beautiful face, the thin line of mascara around her eyes and the bindi on her forehead, Mum thought, Goddess Lakshmi, I hope you're here in the form of this young maiden to bring my son a better life!

They waited at the gate - Mum, Papa and Kanchana.

"There he is. I can see him." said a beaming Papa.

Mum, who was lost in thought, looked up. Kumar was slowly walking towards them. A lady, clearly not of Indian origin, was beside him, pulling at his cheeks affectionately. A man with an effeminate gait walked beside Kumar.

"Hello Aunty!" said Nikhil, with a smile, pulling the 'ty' in the word unusually long.

"Namaste!" said a voice with an American accent. Kumar introduced his parents to Jessica.

"Hi Kumar!" said Kanchana, smiling.

Kumar replied with a nervous 'Hi'. Mum didn't miss the slight agitation in her son's voice.

When all had settled into their seats in the car, Mum began - "Son, you had said that you have something very important to talk to us about?"

Kumar was taken aback! "Yes Ma but let us get home first..."

"Kumar, no matter what it is, you should know that I will always love you the same!" said Mum. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

"It doesn't matter what we think. You will get whatever you please from us. What makes you happy will keep us happy as well..." said Mum, drawing a breath and continuing, "whether it is marrying Mary here.."

"AMMA??!!" shot back Kumar.

"..or even if it is living with Nikhil for the rest of your life!" continued Mum.

"What?! Hold your horses Ma!" yelled Kumar.

"Are you crazy Sarala?" reacted an angry Papa. Kanchana shifted gears nervously and changed lanes.

"But.." started Mum.

"Ok, Amma. Hold on now! Firstly, her name is Jessica! And secondly..." he paused. Then, heaving a sigh, he went on "Well, I thought I'll tell you folks once we get home, but seeing how anxious you are, here it is! Nikhil and Jessica are in India to get married. Their parents are not yet onboard for the wedding, so they need some time. And I was hoping we could help them! There it is! Happy mother??"

The sarcasm in his tone was unmistakable. But he quieted as Mum's tears receded.

"Sorry son. I was just so worried and..." said Mum, as the tears returned.

"It's fine, Ma" said Kumar, seeming more pacified, putting his arm around Mum.

Awkward silence ensued. Nikhil slowly pulled out a mobile phone, branded with the logo of a popular Indian Company and powered it on.

"Come to think of it.." started Kumar, "I should probably have told you and Papa earlier!".

Mum looked up at her son's pensive face.

"I have been seeing a girl for some time now. And we both like each other very much."

The car braked to a halt. Papa turned to look at his son. Kanchana caught a glimpse of a nervous twitch on Kumar's face, from the corner of her eye. Mum asked - "Who is it?"

"It's her" said Kumar, pointing a finger at the person behind the wheel. A shy smile graced Kanchana's face. Papa burst out with a hearty guffaw. Nikhil and Jessica were giggling like a couple of backbenchers in a classroom. Mum sat there, staring at her son, eyes wide open.

Suddenly, Nikhil's mobile phone buzzed with a text message - "Welcome to India!"

Just a fresh start

He awoke to find that nothing had changed. He was in the same well where he had spent enough time to forget how long it had been. In the same viscous liquid, engulfed in the slithery walls of the well. He failed to understand anything that was happening around him. Firstly, why was he here? Who were his captors and why did they need him? Clearly they wanted him alive. A slimy, fibrous, straw-like pipe hung from the endless heights of the well. Often his captors would send down food through the contraption. Enough nutrition to keep him healthy, keep him sane and keep him wondering - why?! He had tried countless times to break free. Fighting the walls, climbing up the pipe - everything that he could think of. But nothing came to his aid. In return, the well sometimes shook vigorously whenever he tried to escape, almost as if the walls were conscious of his attempt. Often he heard noises through the walls. Sometimes voices, sometimes light music. One voice was much more frequent. Someone clearly not in the pink of health. Maybe his captors have someone else as well. Maybe in a well, not too far away from his. The voice could be often heard retching or crying in pain. Oh, how the thought of someone sharing your suffering soothes the soul sometimes!

Time passed and the walls seemed to be closing in on him. He had once heard a conversation through the walls. A voice talking about something called the Stockholm syndrome. The voice had explained that prolonged imprisonment could result in the hostage empathizing with the captors and his cell. He looked around at the walls, at the liquid surrounding him, at the pipe and slowly a thought crept in. He seemed to be feeling at home. He thought to himself - "Well, this is disturbing! I had dreamed once of a new life, of starting it all with a clean slate. Is this how it is going to be? Is this really home?"
The thought scared him. He went back to sleep.

He awoke soon to a tremor at home. He could not understand what was happening but everything around him was shaking. Suddenly, the sticky liquid started receding towards the dark depths of the well. The walls started closing in faster. He was terrified. Was this it? Was this how it all ends? Was he going to sink to the bottom of the well and drown? He decided on a fight to the death. He tried holding the walls back but that did not help. He tried holding on to the pipe but that gave way and came down with him. Soon he accepted his fate. This was it. It appeared there would be no light at the end of the tunnel for him. He went down, quietly. Suddenly, there was light everywhere. So much that he could hardly open his eyes. For a moment, he was scared he would go blind. Something was now pulling him into the light. Something grabbed at his feet. And then, he felt it - a spanking. "A spanking? Really?" he thought. Life had just decided to rub salt over his wounds. A final joke! Just before the grand exit, a parting gift - a sore backside! He cried. Cried his heart out!

When the sound of his own cry subsided, he heard a voice from somewhere. He did not dare to open his eyes, but he listened. "It's a Boy! A boy! God Bless!"

Then, he saw her. Her eyes were filled with tears. It was a strange feeling, almost a sense of gratitude towards her. As if she had saved him from eternal damnation. She kept whispering something to him - "My baby...my darling.."
He did not know what to say. He felt like it was a new beginning. Of something. Not the end, just a fresh start. He was confused. All he did was utter the first words that came to him. "Ma..."
And he went back to sleep.

An Act of Kindness

Malach sat at a distance, gazing beyond the carpenter working with his tools. He had been slyly visiting the workshop for the past three days, each day sitting and planning how he would use it. It was the perfect tool to bring down the fruit and the ideal weapon he could wield to win against the dogs. The carpenter knew his workshop was being visited by the boy but paid no attention to him. His set of orders for this month kept him busy. But today, he was curious. What was the young lad frequenting a dusty old workshop for? He looked at Malach, whose gaze was fixed on a piece of wood hung on the workshop wall. It was a simple catapult. The carpenter thought of the farmer down the road. The poor soul was always fighting to keep the local kids off his orchard. He looked at Malach and smiled. Malach felt the carpenter's gaze on him.
The carpenter called out - "I'm sure a smart boy like you would not waste his time in a workshop unless he needs something?"
Malach turned towards the carpenter. "I want the catapult you've hung on the wall"
"Why would a young boy need a catapult? You do realize that your Headmaster will have you whipped if you hurt the other boys at school, right?"
Malach just stared at the catapult. Then, he replied - "I don't have any gold to pay for it."
The carpenter waited.
"But I will bring you a crate of apples if you give me that catapult."
The carpenter smiled. Malach knew that he knew.
"Stealing from someone, what is not yours, is wrong you know."
Malach did not reply. The carpenter walked up to the wall and pulled the catapult off the hook.
"Come here, young man."
Malach ran up to the carpenter in excitement. The carpenter offered the catapult to him. Before Malach could grab it from his hand, the carpenter pulled away. Malach waited.
"For every apple that you fell to the ground with this, you owe an act of kindness" said the carpenter.
The boy was puzzled for a bit. And then he smiled. This was an easy deal, thought Malach to himself.
"Sure. I'll walk to the temple every day and help the old priest fetch water from the well. I'll even help my neighbor carry water home. Sure. Anything."
The carpenter smiled and offered the catapult to Malach. The boy quickly grabbed it and made his way out of the workshop gate. He would loot the orchard, cook up a story and convince this fool of a carpenter what a kind boy he had been.
As he headed out, he heard the carpenter's voice trail off - "You owe me one now..."

Malach was hurrying down the road. Barak would rendezvous with him at the entrance to the temple this evening. Malach was already late. He would have to be home before sunset as well. The holy hour was not far away and his mother would not think twice about giving him a red backside if he turned up late for the festive dinner. Malach encountered a huge crowd gathered on the street leading up to the market. He managed to squeeze through the crowd and reached the other side. He looked back and saw a man lying on the ground with his head split and blood spilling forth. The womenfolk standing around him were hurling curses at the soldiers whipping the man fallen on the ground. Malach could not make much sense out of what was happening there. He left the scene in a hurry, eager to plan for tonight's visit to the orchard.

The plan seemed perfect. Malach would shoot down the apples, Barak would collect them and if it came to it, Malach had a few pebbles in his pocket to take aim at the dogs. Malach was glad that the peaceful night had set in. It had been a chaotic day, with a huge crowd following the soldiers whipping and dragging the man at the market up to the rocks on the hilltop. Now the expert could go to work with no one disturbing him. He signaled to Barak and his friend jumped over the wall. Malach stood on the wall and took aim at an apple. A single shot brought down the fruit upon a metal plate left unnoticed on the ground. As the clang of the apple on the metal resounded in the orchard, Malach cursed his luck. At the sight of the dogs running in, Barak took to his feet, jumped over the gate at the other end and fled. Malach knew that he should be doing the same. But the sight of the lone apple on the ground would not let him leave in peace. All that planning had to bear him at least one fruit. He made up his mind. He jumped off the wall and ran towards the apple. The dogs were not far away now. He quickly picked up the apple and turned at the dogs in the distance, only to realize that his catapult was missing. Only one way out now - run! He jumped over the gate but the dogs followed him over it. He heard the farmer's voice in the distance. He ran across the street, into the bushes, through the fields and up the hill. The vicious mongrels managed to follow him all the way up the hill. The boy decided to hide behind a rock, while the dogs were being called off by the farmer. Malach was scared. This was not what he had planned for. He waited for the dogs to leave and then slowly emerged from behind the rock. Suddenly, there was a grinding noise from behind him. One of the rocks on the ledge was moving. Malach hid behind the nearest bush and watched. A figure crept out from behind a cave that was covered by the rock. Malach stood still. The man emerging from the cave rested himself on the ground. He seemed to be gasping for breath. Malach slowly approached him.
The man kept muttering something. "Mahyeem...Mahyeem.."
Malach looked at his face. Somehow it seemed very familiar. He recognized the carpenter who gave him the catapult. His body was smeared with mud and blood oozing out of every pore.
"Mahyeem.."
Malach was not sure what he should do. He looked down at the lone apple in his hand. He was not sure he wanted to do what he was going to do. All that hard work, he thought.
"Mahyeem..."
He looked again at the carpenter. Malach remembered his words. An act of kindness for every apple felled.
Malach gave the apple to the carpenter. The man chewed on the juicy fruit with what was left of his broken teeth. Malach sat there and stared at the skies for a while. The carpenter sat up on a rock nearby.
"Please do not tell anyone that you saw me."
Malach did not reply. He just sat there and stared at the carpenter's weary face. Soon he heard the farmer calling out to his dogs again. Malach knew it was time to leave. He was sure of a sore backside before bedtime tonight. Maybe he would be spared a little bit of pain if he got home early enough for dessert. He took to his feet and headed down the hill. Before he crossed the field, he looked back, up at the rocks on the hill. The man had disappeared from his seat near the cave. Malach made his way back home.

On a sunny day, Malach followed his mother and her friends up to the rock cave. The women huddled together near the empty cave and cried their hearts out. Malach could not understand why. He tugged at his mother's hand.
His mother pulled Malach to herself, hugged him and said "He's back from the dead! Truly, the son of..." and trailed off into a wail.
Malach stared at the distant streets of Jerusalem from the hill, thinking about the carpenter he had met two days ago at the cave.
He thought to himself and smiled "Whoever you are carpenter, now you owe me one!"

Time to Play

He had been hiding, all evening, behind the large banyan tree. Watching the cowherd gather the cattle into the shed. It was getting dark. The night would be a perfect partner to his plan, thought the thief. When no one was around, he would slip into the store. It would not take long for him to figure out where the treasure was hidden. He'd seen many a store like this one and he knew exactly where every little thing the place could hold would be. The Sun had set and it was time to make his move. Slyly, he ran across the field and jumped over the wall unnoticed. A small hairpin was good to unlock the backdoor to the store and break in. The moon played accomplice that night, shining just enough light through the window for him to recce the crime scene. He slowly tiptoed around a huge, inverted cauldron and looked up at the ceiling. There it was. Hanging down, like a cherry from a tree, enticing the eyes of a hungry little fox. But this fox was a smart one. He silently moved the cauldron closer to his target. Then, using the walls for support, he rose atop the metal and undid the knots holding his treasure troves. Slowly he brought them down. He was tempted to open it all up. Just as he began to, he heard a noise. Somewhere a door opened. A few muffled voices were heard. Suddenly, the front door to the store shook. Someone was coming. He had to hide and do it quickly. He ran, with the loot in his hands, behind the cauldron and hid in the small gap between the wall and the large piece of metal.
And then, a conversation followed. An old man talking to his wife.
"Bless the King. I had never dreamt that our problems would be solved so easily. We're blessed to be living in the time of such a benevolent ruler." said the old man.
"What are you saying? What are we going to do about the wedding?" asked his wife.
"Did you not hear about the King's new proclamation? Henceforth, every wedding in our town shall be arranged in the palace temple. All expenses shall be borne by the King. And the groom shall take home a dowry nothing less than a pot of gold along with ten cows, five buffaloes and if needed, an opportunity to work at the town dairy!"
"Bless that generous heart! Our daughter is most gifted to be blessed with such riches by the King." said the wife.
"Ready my meal, old lady. I shall place today's purchase in the store and then attend to it. Tonight, I shall sleep in peace." said the old man, as he placed his goods in the store and locked the door, noticing neither the missing pots nor the shadow of a figure hiding behind the cauldron.
The next few minutes saw utter silence in the store. He had been listening to the old man's words. And they had left him stunned. The King's proclamation had brought an idea into the thief's mind. He was too impressed with himself. Oh, what a cunning little fox he was! Wait till my friends see the endgame that I bring home when my plan works out, he thought. He sat there and slowly plotted it all. He knew he had the charm. Few in his group of friends attracted the weaker sex like he did, with his smooth hair, innocent smile, playful words and enchanting music. He had so often talked the girls at the dairy into letting him into the store there. He could pull off this act easily, he thought. He would make them go weak in their knees, make them fall for him. Then he would propose marriage, with the grand ceremony bringing him the source of a lifetime of happiness as dowry. He planned to make every fair maiden in town fall for him, promising her a fabulous wedding and him his share of the booty. And then he would put all of them to work. They would spend the days milking the cows and churning away in his private dairy and the nights feeding him his favorite treat of gold - butter!
He would show the men at the dairy, who had shooed him away many a time, what a nine year old could do. Gone will be the days when his mother would tie him up or give him a sore bottom for stealing.
As he sat there, young Krishna looked at the flute he had stowed away in his pocket and thought to himself - "It's time to play, my friend!"

The Perfect Plan

It was the perfect plan. He looked far into the horizon and thought, so far so good. All pawns in this game of chess were in the right place. Now, all that lay between him and victory was the sea. The mighty ocean. Looking into the dark waters, he reflected on his journey so far.

He had always been an ambitious young man. A smart one as well. Meticulous some might say. He had "friends" in the right places. It was through one such friend that he had learned about the King's weakness. It did not take him too long to plan for his adversary. He had seen the King at the event just before his wedding. When he was exchanging vows with his bride, he could see the fire burn bright in the King's eyes. Excellent, he had thought. Now he had something the King needed and the King had something he needed. Needed? Craved would be more apt. He knew the King would be willing to bear any burden to attain what he wanted. And so was he. At any expense. He had proved this to himself when he convinced the Queen to do what she did. Women are easily persuaded, he thought. His new bride came to mind. Certainly, there would be a tantrum raised when his fair maiden found out. But by then, they would be long past anything that could possibly stand in his way. He would talk to her. Convince her. He would shower her with all the riches in the world. She would eventually find her place in his world. Just the way he would find his place in history.

The Queen had done her part in convincing his Father. It was his Father that worried him. He must be kept in the dark. Heavy lies the head that wears the crown, he thought. He would not want his plans to add to the woes of his Father. The day shall come when he shall bring glory to his Father's name. He would make him proud.

When he set his plans in motion, he had subtly let the King know - that which his heart craved for lay unprotected now. The bait was set. All he had to do was pick the right day and lay the trap. He knew that the King would fall. The forest was a maze. A hunt would take a long while. No sane maiden would venture deep into the woods from a safe haven. And he could always rely on his brother to play his part. It had all fallen in place. The king came, seeking what he pined for and took home his treasure. This was all he needed. It was time to plan the attack. It was time to disillusion his men into believing how the King had dishonored them and their Emperor. It was time to unleash his army of savages on the Island. The Island! That one piece of land under the Sun that had not yet bowed to the glory of his clan. It was time to take reins as the Emperor of the world. He would take the King's crown, head home and lay it at his Father's feet.

As he looked out at the sea, he saw lightning strikes on the horizon. His return home would be glorious, he thought. With trumpets and drumrolls. With fireworks. With chants of victory. With the people of his Kingdom toasting their Emperor and the Prince who brought them glory - "All hail the Destroyer of Evil! All hail the Slayer of King Raavan! All hail Rama, the Prince of Ayodhya and the new Lord of Lanka! All hail the Master of the Universe! Jai Shree Rama!"