FOUR SEASONS OF THE YEAR
The Spring and the Cheer
The Summer and the Delight
The Fall and the Foliage
The Winter and the snow

ART by P.Krishnamoorthy

(Courtesy: CLIPART LIBRARY )

THE COFFIN MAKER

              (P.Krishnamoorthy)

The day dawned in the customary way except for a heavy fog all over that  small town. John Isaac  got up early and after his daily morning prayers to the Lord ,  stood before the framed portrait of his wife and ten year old son for observing  few minutes silence on  their loss. Two decades had passed since  Xavier, his only son, did not return from the school one day. He was declared as ‘missing’ by school and other authorities. All  efforts by John  thru his friends and police in tracing him were in vain.  The police finally closed his file with remarks that Xavier had been kidnapped and killed after the assignment by the ‘organ stealing’ group of another  state.  John’s wife developed a mental illness since then and suffered for two years. On her final  day, she whispered to John “Please call Xavier. I want to see him” and then died.  John’s  emotional outburst  on her end was beyond description as she was bearing the cross all these years. for him.  Even his strong mental forte, that had infused courage in him several times on such tragedies, had a severe setback at that time. John relied y on divinity to come out of depression.

 “Grieving could be the most difficult time for people. In trying to balance the feelings of pain and loss while going forward with everyday life, one can turn to God's word for ease and comfort to overcome grief”. Also recollecting his old happy and blissful memories with his wife and son,  had  often  relieved  him from  melancholy moments. With implicit faith in the sermons  of  his religion, John also found  solace in them and gradually began concentrating on  his family business of coffin making. Backed by long reputation and with his local contacts, he was making only both ends meet. Unlike other businesses,  in selling coffins one cannot solicit or offer any promotional incentives of any kind. Constant contacts with  local hospitals and police department would lead to locate the takers. In his absence,there were no enquiries for coffins for weeks together. John was too concerned about his future business. The latest option of cremation instead of burial for lesser cost benefit, had become prevalent even against religious mandate.  John   looked   thru the living room  window and checked  the finished units in the open yard for any damages due to celestial conditions. He was feeling frustrated at the sight of the work shed of joinery looked idle and deserted all this time. 

On the flip side, with all these setbacks, John was also optimistic and aspired to become a big company  in coffin-making using latest technologies in carpentary especially for ornamental coffins. Also he was interested in other  allied businesses like funeral homes, embalming assignments etc. He thought corporate identity would help to tap the mass potential in  natural disasters - earthquakes, wild fire, inundation and also  bombed  areas, etc. Historical evidences provide instances of mass production of coffins required to transport the dead during civil war in many  countries.  He was even  dreaming  his only son Xavier would take over at the helm of  affairs in that ‘dream company’.. But destiny’s directive was different and John was totally disappointed.

  

He had read in foreign magazines that the coffin makers in western countries often get orders for ‘crazy coffins’ meaning the deceased  in their last will, insist their bodies  be buried in  ‘crazy coffins’ .They were made as per their wish in the shape of  giant guitars, plane models, etc. There was an instance that a man who couldn't afford to buy a boat  in his life-time, wanted to be buried in a model one.  Another instance reported was  building a coffin in the shape of an old Rolls-Royce model car with wheels to enable pall-bearers push it. The sentimental side  on these ‘crazy coffins’ was their satisfaction of getting it at least in their death of what they missed in their life time. 

John was also curious to know about the developments on coffin making business in other countries. He had seen in a media news item of  “The coffin club: Elderly New Zealanders building their own caskets. -  Scores of retirees across the country have formed clubs so they can get together and build their own coffins. They say the activity is cost-saving and helps to combat loneliness”. It was also fascinating to read “Our motto is; it’s a box until there is someone in it. And while it’s just a box, it brings us together.” In the words of one member Jeanette Higgins,  “it is stored in a cupboard at home, waiting for me.”

After his wishful imaginary vision, the thought of no takers for coffin for days together was quite disturbing  him.  All his efforts including repeated personal meetings of various contacts in the local hospitals had not made any break through.. John was never in such unprecedented situation of not able to sell even a single coffin for days together.   He was aware of the present decline in demand.  Finally John wanted to try with the mortuary section of a hospital located in the outskirts of the town. Though it was late evening,  his intuition  forced him to try his chances there. He walked the distance and reached the hospital. There were people waiting outside the mortuary for the person-in-charge to come. When that person arrived,  John got a surprise that was his personal friend whom he called by the first name Mathew.  John was confident as he could ask Mathew even informally for help in his predicament.  He initiated the conversation with an enquiry on his welfares and moved on to his request whether a coffin was required as there were  people waiting to receive their deceased from the morgue. Mathew responded negative to John as they belonged to a different religion that believed in cremation process. Instead Mathew wanted to know whether he would be interested to undertake a burial for an  unclaimed body. He also offered an incentive that the total cost of coffin and burial expenses would be paid by  the hospital. The death was due to a road accident of hitting a cyclist by a truck on a highway in the night. The victim was dead on the spot . There were no personal details to contact anybody and  nobody claimed the body so far. After their formalities, the police also had given clearance for disposal.  He seemed to be a Christian as he had a cross pendant tied to his arm. John was very happy at the offer  and incentive that involved Government hospital prompt payment.  As it was getting dark, he informed Mathew that he would undertake the body  the next morning. Mathew agreed for this arrangement and  gave  him a letter  confirming the terms. 

John was jubilant on his success  mainly due to hospital payment  that meant more cost could be billed for the job. The whole night John was thinking about his extra efforts on that day to sell just one unit and the difficult trend was an indicator of  gloomy future for  his business.  He was even contemplating an alternate line of carpentary for him  in building constructions.

After his routine morning domestic tasks, he reached the mortuary section. Mathew was already there and greeted John with a ‘good morning’. He took John inside the mortuary and showed him the body that was covered with a cloth from head to foot except for the hands that were left open. After an inspection of the torso of the body, John  checked the right hand. As Mathew said he found the cross pendant tied to his right bicep.  When he checked the left hand, something was there that stunned his attention. At the very sight of it, he felt the whole world was falling apart before him and he was shattered to pieces. He wished what he saw was not real but a fantasy.  To make sure, again he  looked  at it and instantly became very emotional. The cross  tattoo in the left forearm of the body made him to react drastically.  To clear his apprehension and  be certain of what he saw, John checked his own left forearm; he also had a similar cross tattoo  in his left forearm.  He recollected and remembered  their family custom to have a cross tattoo from his fore-father’s time that was carried on to his son Xavier also in his fifth year.  He was just cursing the irony of fate that after twenty years he saw his own son lying dead unclaimed  in mortuary.  Mathew entered the room and  wanted John to send the bill to him as he  was the one to authorize immediate payment. Carrying the remains of Xavier in his hands and  with tears in his eyes that blurred  his vision, John said in a coarse and sore voice: ‘Thanks my dear friend for the offer; but I do not require any payment for the services in this instance". Mathew was surprised at what he said. After a pause in a choking tone, he continued. "The deceased  was my  own son, Xavier who was missing for two decades”. When he finished his words he became very emotional. Mathew was stunned at his emotive response. As John was leaving the room with the body, his daily prayer in the words of  Reinhold Niebuhr -

           

           “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.                        Courage to change things I can; and  wisdom to know the difference”   

 

were echoing in his ears. 

தேவதை

(Courtesy: Essenceofarts.blogspot.com)

                                    மழலையில் தவழ்ந்து

                                       மாணவியாய் துள்ளி

                                       மங்கையென மலர்ந்து

                                       மஞ்சளில் நீராடி

                                                        

                                       மருதாணியில் சிவந்து

                                       மல்லிகையில் மணந்து

                                       மணமகளான தேவதையே!

                                       தவணை முறையில்

                                       தவமிருந்தேன்

                                       தாலி கட்டும் நேரத்திற்கு

                                       மங்கள வாத்தியம்

                                       மோகனத்தில் சஞ்சரிக்க

                                       கல்யாண மேடையில்

                                       காத்து நின்றேன்

                                       பட்டுபுடவை சலசலக்க

                                       தங்க கொலுசுகளுடன்

                                       பரதமும் ஆட

                                       மணமேடை வந்தவளே!

                                       வலிப்பு நோய் என்

                                       வாழ்க்கை பரிசு என்பதை

                                       மறைத்த என் ரகசியமும்

                                       மறுத்த உண்மையும்

                                       மயக்கத்தில் உன் மேல் சாய்ந்தபோது

                                       மண மேடையில் வெளிச்சமானது

                                       நிராகரிப்பின் நிழல்கள்

                                       நிஜமாக தாண்டவமாட

                                       ஆண்டவனின் தண்டனை இது

                                       அணைந்த விளக்கானேன் 

                                        -     பி.கிருஷ்ணமூர்த்தி

ART BY  P.Krishnamoorthy

"Flowers facinate the entire world
 Creating deep intense affection!
Makes the lout love; And cools the ire.
Gifting the foe; Drains the irate ember 
And creates a smile In the midst of miseries!"

- Christina Raphael

HAPPY NEW YEAR

"A  brand new year

A clean slate on which to write

our hopes and dreams.

This year:

Less time and energy on things;

More time and energy on people.

All of life's best rewards,

deepest and finest feelings

greatest satisfactions,

come from people -- like you"

- Joanna Fuchs 

Dear Viewers/Readers

Thank you all for your immense support all along to continue 

my contributions to my '

Collection of My Creations

Krishnamoorthy

Painting by P, Krishnamoorthy

          THE FALL AND THE                                   FOLIAGE

"THE ONE RED LEAF, THE LAST

 OF ITS CLAN, THAT 

DANCES AS OFTEN AS DANCE 

IT CAN, HANGING SO LIGHT

AND HANGING SO HIGH, ON 

THE TOPMOST TWIG THAT 

LOOKS UP AT THE SKY "

- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

                                                                                  -                                                                                                  

         ஒரு ஊமையின் ராகம்                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                         பி.  கிருஷ்ணமூர்த்தி

ஊர் எல்லாம் அவன் பெயர்                           

ஊமை தம்பி என்பது

அண்ணன் இல்லா தம்பி அவன்    
அண்ணனாக கைகொடுப்பான்                              

ஊர்கோடியில் அவன் குடிசை

ஊமைக்கோ இசையில் ஆசை

வாய் பேசா வரம் பெற்றும்

காது கேளா நிலையிருந்தும்

மானசீக மேடையில்

ராகங்களை ரசித்தவன்                                                              

சத்தங்கள் அவனுக்கு சங்கீதம்

 ராகங்கள் அவனுக்கு  சொந்தங்கள்

பொழுது விடியல் வேளைகளில்

பூபாளம் அவனுக்கு காத்திருக்கும்

காட்டுக் கருங்குயில் கூவுதலில்

காம்போதி அவனுக்கு எதிரொலிக்கும்

மேகம் சிந்தும் மழைச்சாரலில்

மோகனத்தை அவன் ரசித்தான்

ஓர் இரவு

  

காட்டுத் தீ குடிசையை எறிக்க

கருகி விழுந்தான் ஊமை தம்பி

முடிவுரை அவனுக்கு அறிமுகமானது

 முகாரி  ராகத்தில்

விலை மாது

விலை மாது என்ற பெயரில்

Courtesy:  Android Apps on Google Play

விலைக்கு எங்களை வாங்க முடியாது

வாடகைக்கு எங்களை தருகிறோம்

வாழ்க்கையில் சிதறிய முத்துக்கள்

காமதேவன் ஆளும் வரை

கட்டாயம் தேவை எங்களது சேவை

பத்தினி பட்டத்தை இழந்திருந்தாலும்

பாசத்திற்கு ஏங்கும் பாவ ஜன்மங்கள்

உலகம் தூங்கும் நேரம்

உல்லாசத்திற்கு உதவிகின்றோம்

வாடிக்கையாளர்கள் பலவிதம்

வழக்கமான கதைகளும் பலவிதம்

கூண்டில் துவளும் குயில்கள் நாங்கள்

கூவமுடியா ஊமைகள் ஆனோம்

குத்து விளக்காய் இருந்த நாங்கள்

சிவப்பு விளக்கில் அடிமைகள் ஆனோம்

ஆண்டவனை நாங்கள் வேண்டுவதெல்லாம்

அழியட்டும் எங்களுடன் இந்த தொழில்   

அணையட்டும் சிவப்பு விளக்கின் ஜோதி

எரியட்டும் குத்து விளக்கின் திரிகள் 

               - பி. கிருஷ்ணமூர்த்தி

                                                                                                

By P. Krishnamoorthy

'Realization of Truth is higher than all else. Higher still is truthful  living" 

         - GURU NANAK

By  P. Krishnamoorthy

Courtesy:  123Freevector.com

                           THE FROZEN                                           TRUTH

                                                 P.Krishnamoorthy     

                                                                 

 The air was filled with cold moisture from the intermittent drizzle. The flash of the lightning illuminated the dark clouds for a split second every time. Ranjit had least expected a celestial intervention on that night. Still he was happy as the lightning helped him to focus his target well. He pulled the trigger. The marksmanship of the murderer was accurate and the deed was done. The next flash helped him to view the victim.  Kishore’s final remains were in the form of mass of flesh and pieces of human parts splattered all over, through the hole created by his Magnum .5 rifle. It was gruesome and repulsive.  He bowed his head as a mark of respect and prayed to the departed soul to rest in peace. He believed in benediction as a form of confession of sins towards repentance; but he cherished this until a new challenge was thrown in.
            Ranjit was satisfied with his accomplishment.   Kishore, the target, had a high price -tag, as he was a powerful politician with muscle and money power.   It was a test and trial to Ranjit’s talent.  Even a trivial mistake or miscalculation would have caused his personal disaster, as Kishore was a terror to many, including the underworld dons. Kishore’s assassination strangely coincided with Ranjit’s twenty-fifth assignment, which obviously meant that Ranjit had so far successfully evaded the long arm of the law  that followed even his shadows. His silver jubilee list also included some killings undertaken with ‘philanthropic flavor’ on behalf of poor whose victims were denied even access to justice system due to political clout of the offenders.
          When Ranjit returned home, it was few hours for the dawn. He decanted a large peg of ‘ Chivas’ into a crystal and swigged it on the rocks.  The impact of the scotch was instant in his system, stimulating him for a smoke.  He lighted a Marlborough and puffed the first smoke as he gazed at the old pink-stripped shirt, hanging on the wall. It was more than a memento or a memoir to him, which he adored, as it was the last gift from his mother on his eleventh birthday.  He disdained it in moments of despair, since it was responsible for their separation; yet he valued it as the only available remembrance of his mother since their parting.
           The chemical combination of the inhaled nicotine and the intoxication by the scotch led him to stroll down his memory lane.  First, he could visualize  Bagalpur, his birthplace, a small sandy village located at 200  miles from Bombay on the Bombay-Ahmedabad sector inhabited by a thin population. The half dilapidated stonewalled Hindu temple and a semi-finished community hall were the only strong structures acted as the landmarks in the village.  The numerous thatched huts of that hamlet evidenced its impoverished economic state. Ranjit’s world was confined only within the four peripheries of the village marked by drylands and deadwood.   As the only child to his mother, Madhuri, he enjoyed comprehensive freedom and protection from all responsibilities. She compromised and condoned even his numerous serious mischiefs and lapses of discipline since she had an inherent fear that he would just leave her even at the slightest rebuke irrespective of its reason.  She took strides in every adversity to ensure Ranjit’s happiness. She worked hard labor to guarantee this even at a high price of her failing health. She worked from dawn to dusk as a housemaid in the landlord’s home for paltry wages, that were also settled in kind.  The village, so backward in facilities, had nothing much to offer to Ranjit in terms of education, employment or entertainment.  The small rail station, through which only two trains to and from Bombay passed everyday, was the hangout for Ranjit and his friend Shashi to enjoy clandestine smoking with left over cigarette bits.
          It was his eleventh birthday.  His mother woke him up early in the morning to take bath and wear new clothes.  She also got him some of his favorite sweets.  “Mom! Why so early in the morning?”  “Yes my son!  I have to go to work early today as I have to compensate for the money I borrowed from the landlord to buy you the new clothes and sweets”.
          These words moved Ranjit very strongly and he was brooding over them. He was longing to relieve her from her tribulations; but he could do it only by working and earning for which there was never an opportunity in the village. “Ranjit! It is getting late for me. Have the new dress and let me see how you look in it”.  After wearing the new clothes, Ranjit touched his mother’s feet to invoke her blessings.  “Ranjit!  I pray  ‘God to give you the serenity to change things you can, to accept things which you cannot change and the wisdom to know the difference’.  You should grow up to a respected man, revered by the society for integrity, honesty and character. You should be the vanguard and upholder of the principles of truth.  God will certainly bless you with all prosperity.  Promise me that whatever be the circumstances in life, you will not leave me”.
          Ranjit could see her blurred eyes full of tears. They were tears of hope amidst fear.  As she was holding his hands for the pledge, there was a knock on the door.  A messenger from the landlord’s place to take her for an urgent errand waited at the entrance.  Ranjit felt disappointed at his failure to promise her as she desired. He came to the rail station and looked for Shashi.  He wanted to show his birthday gift to him; but he was not there.  The train to Bombay had just entered the station. One of the alighted passengers looked desperately for help to unload his heavy luggage from the compartment. Ranjit instantly offered his services even for a meager amount. He thought at least this would be a beginning in his quest to relieve his mother from her toil.  Before he carried the load, he removed the ‘gift’ shirt and left it in the compartment.  After unloading the baggage on the platform, he realized that he had left his new shirt in the train.  He jumped into the compartment to pick that. By that time, the train moved at a good speed. He was bewildered at the momentum of the train and scarred to jump from the compartment.  He looked at the few passengers in the compartment in a hope for help; but they only evinced their sympathy to him without any solution to his problem. His punctuated sobbing turned out to an outburst, as the train, in its speed, passed quite a distance from his village. He was perplexed at the sudden turn of events on his birthday.  He realized how the destiny’s directive had not allowed him to promise his mother against his desertion. Even in broad daylight, he saw pervasive darkness regarding his future and rejoining his mother became  an  oblivion. Haunted by isolation agony,  he became panicky. Continued crying and sobbing turned his eyes red and swollen.  By then, it was evening and the setting sun had already disappeared on the western skies, leaving the golden horizon for the dusk to set in. The long hours of starvation since morning, made him weak and finally dozed him to sleep.
          When he woke up, he found it was next day morning and the train was in its final destination; the great city of Bombay extended its hearty welcome to him, as it did for any such visitors by first ushering them to its customary avenues for livelihood. Iinitially they started with begging on the streets, followed by stealing the people, indulging in drug trafficking for cortels and finally turning them as  hit men before anointing  to the throne of the underworld boss.  Though Ranjit hated each phase of these transformations, he had to go through them as there was no other option for his survival. He could have easily become an underworld don in a short time with his success in each phase; yet he preferred to be a ‘top gun’’ that paid him reasonably well. It also allowed him to escape from the surveillance eye of the law, whose focus was always on the leaders.  In moments of introspection, he was very eager to see his mother by visiting the village; but with the number of years passed by, he was almost certain that she would have been dead by that time due to her ill-health. 
          The stroll down the memory lane was interrupted by the surfeit of booze and smoke which finally knocked him down to bed.  The next morning when he opened the newspapers, he saw Kishore’s murder splashed on the headlines along with a photograph of the murder scene.  He was non-chalant and unperturbed, as he had seen many such on his earlier assassinations.  As he flipped the pages of the newspaper, his attention was sharply drawn to a small advertisement with a photograph of an old lady and words reading “I am sinking. I would like to see you before I die. Please come home” issued by the villagers.  From the address and the photograph, he recognized that she was none but his mother.   Ranjit erupted into spurts of joy at the information that his mother was still alive.  But he was at the crossroads of eagerness to see her alive as well as an instinctive premonition of getting caught by the authorities.  However, his strong sentiments to see his mother prevailed, and he decided to travel by car overnight which would dissemble him to escape the police net.
           When he reached the village it was three in the morning. He parked the car at a distance from his home and walked the distance. The early morning breeze was soothing and the half-hidden moon was mellowing with its soft light.  The stray dogs skulked the narrow lanes here and there. Even after an efflux of two decades, he found no major change in the village and it had its old impoverished rural existence.  He entered his old home. As he stepped on the threshold, the nostalgic memories of his childhood crossed his mind. He could not believe that he spent eleven years of his early life there. A solitary oil lamp in a corner lighted the small room.   He saw his mother lying in the middle of the room, groaning under pain.  Even the silhouetted outline of her body displayed distinctly the shrunken stature of her figure. With calibrated and silent steps he reached the bedside to see her closely.  She was merely a skeleton with minimal flesh. Her thin wrinkled brown skin concealed the color of the protruded bones.  The close wrinkles on the cheeks and the deep furrows on her brows with sunken eyes reflected the extensive sufferings she had gone through for her survival.  At the sight of her devastated health, he felt like screaming.  He controlled his emotional outburst to ensure no disturbance to her. Ranjit held her hands and instantly felt the familiar warmth in it.  He whispered into her ears, “Mom! I have come!”
          After a wait of two decades, she finally heard his voice and also felt his physical warmth, for which, all along, she desperately longed for.   Despite her struggle, she slowly opened her eyes with a faint smile. They peered at each other for few moments. She recognized him even through her blurred vision.  Her face bloomed like a fresh flower. A glimmer of light radiated from her eyes, which were stung with tears of joy that were seized from her since their separation.  The tears that welled up pulsed in her throat and finally burst into uncontrolled sobs.  Ranjit became lost in the torrent of feelings that rushed over him at her emotional reaction.   The sobs were finally silenced with an infusion of strength in her at the joy of seeing him.  She held his hands firmly and quivered warmly; “Ranjit! At last you have come.  While I am pleased to see you so prosperous and grown into a smart and handsome young man, I believe you had followed my guidelines of ethical means for your prosperity”.   An awkward shame suddenly engulfed Ranjit as the words “ethical means” kept ringing in his ears while the semi-darkness cleverly covered his guilty reflections. “All these days, I was fighting a battle with death and refused to die as I was carrying a burden in my heart.  I was withholding an important personal detail from you all long, and I did not like to die until I revealed that to you”.                   “I had been telling you that your father died in a traffic accident. That was not true. Forgive me, I had been a sinner all these years for lying to you. Before your birth, I was working as a housemaid in the next village and staying with that family. One night, when the family was away for a wedding, the landlord, in his drunken mood, raped me against all my resistance; out of that unfortunate incident, you were created. He promised to marry me as his second wife; but he did not keep that promise. Instead, with his money and muscle power, he made me to leave that village”.     As she completed her narration, she pulled out a photograph under the pillow and identified the man in the picture, as his father.  Ranjit could observe her placid face relieved and relaxed; for, after all, she was bearing the cross all these years.  She felt she had unloaded a heavy burden from her heart.  “If you ever find your father, show this picture to him; your paternity would not be anymore obscure”.
           Following these words, her sudden silence confirmed that she breathed her last.  It was a strange coincidence that the flame of the oil lamp also became extinct denying him to have a glimpse of the picture.   He got up from the bed and flicked his cigarette lighter and lighted the lamp again.  As the glow of the lamp gradually illuminated the area, Ranjit hurriedly peeked at the picture.  Even at a cursory glance, he felt a tremor under his feet and a heavy blow on his head.  He carefully looked at the picture again.  The whole world was falling apart before him and he was shattered to pieces. He even wished that he had not visited his mother and known his paternity.  Even his strong mental forte, that had infused courage in him several times in critical assassination scenarios, had a severe setback at that time. The man in the photograph was none but Kishore, his last victim.
          It took some time for Ranjit to get over from the impact of the shock, as the turn of events was so sudden and least anticipated. He felt extremely sorry and sad for his father to be killed by his own son. For the first time, he regretted his profession as a hitman and wanted to give it up.  He consoled himself on the bereavement. Ironically, on the flip side, he strongly believed that his father’s assassination was totally justified; he even asserted that his father deserved such an end and paid the right price for the desertion of his mother  Because of him, she had to bear a stigma  and consequent life-long struggle and suffering. He was also instrumental for her life- long struggle and suffering. He was ashamed and embarrassed at his paternity, which he preferred to be obscure as it was.  In short he wanted it to be a frozen truth for the rest of his life.
          It was already dawn in the village and the normal life was getting into gradual momentum.  He  stepped out of the hut and was surprised to see the whole area surrounded by police to take him. He was astounded as to how the police contingent came to the village. The police officer, who was assigned to arrest him, said,  “you must be wondering as to how we came here to take you.  We had been monitoring all your family details and movements. When we knew that your mother was in a dying stage, we only gave the ad in the papers; we were sure that you would come down to see her.  Finally we got you this time with a good evidence who witnessed Kishore’s murder”. Ranjit shrugged his shoulders and looked back at the hut.  The triumphed truth winked at him and whispered that he too had to pay the right price of punishment for all his killings including his father.

ECSTASY IN MUSIC

      

     

           By P. Krishnamoorthy

The sky is streaked with shades of pinks and reds signalling that, tomorrow, there’s a fine day ahead.

In the late noon sky, there’s a spectacular show; 

A myriad of colours, before the daylight goes.'

- Angela Wybrow

Paintings By P. Krishnamoorthy

(Courtesy: Vector Clip Art)

  THE

                    DIVINE

                                DECISION



   - P. Krishnamoorthy 

The midday sun was little harsh in the blue skies on that day. The N0.7 train between Manhattan and Flushing, Queens in New York had just  arrived in Queensboro Plaza. I was one of the passengers travelling from Manhattan.  Along with other commuters, a damsel entered into my compartment. She was  blind, and obviously her movements were guided by the  white cane she was holding. . She had a fair complexion and a beautiful face in a scintilating figure.  I could assess her age from her  fine features, that she would be  around twenty.  The only negativeness in  her features was  her blindness. My focus was shifted towards her from the book I was reading as she  mesmerized me even at the first sight. My eyes were riveted on her sublime beauty. It was conflicting  that  in that attractive  creation,  she was  ‘imperfect  permanently  and inevitably flawed’  with  blindness.  

She was ensuring that there were no obstacles on her way into the compartment before she found a seat.   She was just tapping on the ground with the cane  and  made her  move to find out any vacant seat. Probably she should have been a regular commuter of  No.7, as she knew on her right side of the entrance, there were always three seats. She was finding out whether any one of them was  vacant.  Again the cane  helped  in her pursuit. She gently tapped and found the middle seat was not occupied. She was happy on this success and sat on it. She made her next move to see whether anybody sitting on either side of the seats. She stretched her hand in her investigative venture and found  that they were also vacant.  She folded her cane into four parts and secured it in her lap. Finally, as she was comfortable in her seat, she outwardly reacted with a cute smile on her  face. I was amazed at the  meticulous way with which she handled all these successfully without any external help.  However, her face was reflecting a kind of dismal sadness with her  blindness. 

The contrast of her outwardly positive attitude in handling mundane  matters with utmost care even in  public domains against her negativness, was thought provoking to  me,   leading me to imagine what would be her  personal life. If she was blind right from birth, she would  not have had the luxury of seeing all varieties of nature’s splendor and other living things in and around her. On the contrary, if she had the blindness in the middle of her life, she was missing the best yester years including her kith and kin around her.  From  her gloomy face I could presume she had the deformity only in the middle of her life, as her sad face was reflective of what she was missing now.    

I am a devoted believer in divinity and not an atheist. I respect the traditions and connected conservatives who safeguard them..   I remember the saying that ‘all creations are by the grace of divinity’. If that was true, the question arises as to why this kind of  unfairness and  partiality  on the part of  divinity  in creating some  human beings  totally blind in birth or in the middle of  life. Yet I  do not  smear Him with such clear bigotry.  Any amount of justification given for such negative  act  either  thru philosophy or science  were not convincing to me.  I am also not inclined to apply the theological explanation that sins committed by the human beings in previous or present  birth do get  such drastic punishment.   Out of  twenty years of her life, barring  her childhood of ten years, one wonders what major sin she might have committed to  get this punishment of blindness. The dogmatic explanation of some traditionalists that the offsprings were victimized with such deformaties  for the grave  sins committed by their ancestors. According to modern thinkers,  such explanations  are simply superstitious and  puerile.

 My thoughts  were suddenly distracted  when she took out  the  cell phone from her hand bag and spoke to some one in her lingo. Her conversation was brief and  lasted  only for minutes.  I heard  her  melodious voice  in that short  duration . The train was just entering the next station - Woodside-61 street. 

I  went back to my thoughts of her life. On the contrary even though her eye sight was deprived, the mother nature had not penalized and deprived of her inner  adolescent changes at the appropriate age that would include a longing for a love affair. If on the premise that she had one such  in her life,  how she could fall in love with somebody whom she could not see? Why not?   When  she could have invisible  instinctual ways to know her people and other surroundings  thru her subliminal imaginative mind,  she  equally could have somebody selected as her lover. In fact most of us with normal vision, imaginatively or thru ‘day-dreaming’ achieve their unaccomplished ambitions and aspirations in real life. In her instance even she would get or already got a lover in real life, she could mentally visualize him in her own way. Also, as any normal person would like and expect to have a partner without any impediment, she would also be doubly careful in her limited choice. Unfortunately in this mundane and materlistic world, how many would have compassion and good intentions to come forward and accept a blind girl as life partner and be sincere to her.

By the time the train reached Junction Blvd. station. Some got down and after few minutes, the train resumed its journey towards Flushing. She was very keenly following the announcements and anxiously awaiting a call in her cell phone. Little later, the much-awaited call was ringing in her cell phone. This time she was very careful not to interrupt the speaker at the other end, so that  she  wanted to enjoy the caller’s talk.  Even as a silent listener she blushed and her reactions undoubtedly revealed that the caller was specially very dear to her. Her reflective facial expressions were an evidence to disclose that it was from her lover and not from kith and kin. As the call ended, she got up from her seat and stood at the entrance to alight in the next  station. Obviously she was eagerly expecting to meet her dear one.  To her surprise,  the cell phone again rang. After the call, she became very depressed and returned to her seat totally disappointed. She felt even embarrassed on her outwardly emotional expressions.  I was just recollecting  the saying  that ‘even minutes of separation between lovers appear like ages for them’. The train made a intermediary stop in Junction Blvd.

The conflicting issue was,  that while others around her were able to appreciate and review her captivating  beauty and smartness,  it was irony of fate, she was not able  to see  all that of her own  because of blindness.  It was gross injustice on the part of divinity. 

As the train was proceeding, the much awaited call came again  in her cell. With her face expressed her happiness and she was anxiously awaiting for the next station. At Met-Wilets Point the train made its scheduled stop. She got down at this station as per the last call.  

To my amazement the puzzle in my mind as to who could be her lover, was finally solved. There was a young man waiting to receive her. He appeared very jubilant on her arrival; but regrettably he was also blind and holding a white cane with him. With the guidance of the cane he moved towards the train to welcome her. They recognized instinctively and both embraced each other. It was interesting to watch  their initial conversation in silent language. They clasped their hands and in that grip, one could visualize their confidence on each other. She was radiant in joy as both walked together to adore their sublime love. The divine decision of another creation with blindness compatible to her would make their life happy. 

The inspiration for my above imaginative narration was “The short story of a  blind girl” by Mr Stephen in ‘Motivation’ (AcademicTips.com), reproduced below:

“ THE STORY OF A BLIND GIRL

There was a blind girl who hated herself just because she was blind. She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend. He was always there for her. She said that if she could only see the world, she would marry her boyfriend.One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her and then she could see everything, including her boyfriend. Her boyfriend asked her, “Now that you can see the world, will you marry me? The girl was shocked when she saw that her boyfriend was blind too, and refused to marry him. Her boyfriend walked away in tears, and later wrote a letter to her saying:    “Just take care of my eyes dear.”