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!"