Ginger Tea

Another story up on Oot-Pataang
Ginger Tea

The Tree Ghost

The wandering spirit took a quick dip in the river and emerged refreshed. It had no where to go. It decided to go and live in a tree. A nice, big, safe tree.

There was one by the road. "What luck", he thought and snuggled inside the hollow of the giant tree.

There was a lone traveler resting under it in deep sleep.

"How wonderful it would be to live in this tree and shower tired passers by with some delicious fruits", exclaimed the ghost. 

There was an overwhelming deluge of juicy ripe mangoes when the traveler woke up.

He picked them all. Tied them tight in a sac and went away singing.

This made the tree ghost very happy. He had done something good. He was a little sad too as the man didn't look up to acknowledge the Ghost's magnanimous gesture.

"Never mind", thought the contented spirit.

The next traveler came along shortly. He was going to rest for a little while but as he sat down, the ghost shook the tree and flooded the poor man's mat with a downpour of mangoes. Some were ripe, some not.

The man was taken aback but happy. He collected them all and rushed home to tell his family about it.

This broke the tree-ghost's heart. No one acknowledged his deeds.

He decided that the next time someone came along, he was going to do something different.

A group of young maidens were returning from the river. They decided to rest a bit.

This was his chance. He shook the tree and made a lot of noise.

Nothing happened.

He made more noise and shook the tree with all his might.

There were no mangoes left on the tree. None fell.

But the girls were swamped with broken branches and leaves.

This scared them and they ran away cursing the wicked tree.

This angered the tree and its inhabitants.

Not only had the ghost done away with the fruits but had also brought the tree a bad name and destroyed many a nests. The tree asked the ghost to leave at once.

The spirit departed with a heavy heart.

He couldn't understand what had gone wrong. He was just trying to be nice to the travelers.

Spirits are meant to wander, trees are meant to be unmoved, fruits are supposed ripen and fall on their own and the travelers are meant to earn their rest. This was the simple law of nature which it had failed to realise.

Oblivious to all this, the tree ghost drifted away across the mountains in search of another tree that would house him willingly. Such is the bitter-sweet bond of ignorance and hope.

I miss you

When I hugged her, I would close my eyes and hold her still. I could hear her breath and claws digging into my tee shirt. Tiny ears brushing my chin and a perfect round face looking in all directions. She would try to get away for a few second. After some time she would just rest her head on my shoulder and surrender to the captivity.

She would be looking at me with big round eyes when I opened mine.

I would smile at this little interaction knowing that the smallest activity would make her restless and she would want to free herself. I would slowly put her on the sofa and look at her speed away to another room where she would stand near the door, expecting me to run after her. I wouldn't.

She would walk back to me rubbing her fluffy belly and fluffier tail around my legs.

This was a ritual.

I miss that ritual. I miss holding her.
I miss her head on my shoulders.
Her whiskers on my cheek.
Her gentle meow.
I miss you Jojo.

In the name of God

10th February, 2011
11:30 am

A tall man in a red turban and tweed suit rang the bell. I could see him from the corridor. As I walked upto the iron grilled safety door, I saw another person with a rifle standing behind him. He was a policeman.

This isn't an everyday occurrence so I decided to open the door myself.

The tall man had an imposing stature. He folded his hands in namaskar.

I knew this had to do something about some kind of a donation. Living in these parts of the city had drilled that much sense in us. As expected it was about the langar at the nearby Gurudwara. He asked how much I was willing to shell out.

Willing...u say willing??? I wanted to say 'zero' as the recent Andaman trip had already burnt a big black hole in our pockets but then a tiny conscientious thought gnawed my poor soul. "You can spend thousands on a pleasure trip and nothing for God". I decided to part with a 100 rupee note.

I said,"A hundred." They started writing that on the receipt as I turned to get the money. I locked the iron grill door behind me. It was rude but I felt safe that way.

By the time I came back, the man had a few questions waiting for me.

He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it over. It wasn't the receipt.

He asked me to choose a number between 3 and 7. 

I said 3.  

He asked me to choose another number.

I said 5.

He asked me to choose a flower.

I said rose.

Why am I being questioned like this. Worse still, why am I answering them???

He asked me to open the piece of paper he had given me. It had Rose and number 5 written on it. Big deal I thought. Rose is such a common flower. 

Then he said,"On 16th of May you will hear three good news".

I said ok. I wanted these men to leave.

The policeman said,"This man here is a big Swamiji, it is rare that one gets to meet him.". "He knocked on my door to ask for donation. Of course he is going to talk to me." I thought.

As I was about to lock the door he asked me,"Are you married?".

Yes, I said.

"Will you write your anniversary date, your bothers name and 2 of your wishes on this paper?"

I wrote. Silly, stupid and totally idiotic thing to do but I did it.

He asked me if any of my family members name started with an 'S'.
'S' is such a common letter. Families are bound to have at least one member with that letter. This made me look at them with a hooked brow.

He wrote a number '2' on a paper and asked,"Would you say you knew at least these many men before your marriage. And the one that you married....is he one of these 2??"

He didn't realise what he had done. He had sparked off the cat in me. I clawed at them with a hair-raising "What rubbish!!! I am doing nothing of that sort. I do not wish to entertain you guys any further. Please leave!!!!" I fumed. I have no clue why I was bearing with it for so long. They had crossed their limits, pointing fingers at something which has more sanctity than any Langar or God in the world.

The policeman intervened,"Madam, this Swamiji here is a very respected man. A lot of ministers seek his blessings. On this cue, the turbaned man took out laminated letters from his folder which had flowery words from various ministers.

My upbringing forbids me from slamming the door shut on anyones face. To hell with my upbringing I thought.

"You will have to leave now." I said and bolted the iron grill.

"At least make a rs. 500/- donation madam," pleaded the policeman. I was alone at home and didn't want any trouble so I said," I have rationed monies, this is it. Take it or leave it."

"Madam ji is not interested in knowing about her future, let it be," the supposed Swamiji sighed.

I had taken my paper back on which I had written my anniversary date, brothers name and two wishes. How gullible of me!!! We know it's silly to do this but still we do it. Why are we so afraid/shy of shutting the door on someone?? Why do we have to behave courteously with people we don't want to interact with??

As they were leaving, the Swamiji asked a parting question,"which ministry do you work in....you mentioned some election monies."

"No election monies, rationed monies and that's what you will get from this house," I told him as I banged the door.

I latched everything behind me. I saw the receipt in my hand.

The langar isn't even in Delhi. It is from "Pravhin Langar Shri Guru Nanak Annakshetra Bhandar - Haridwar".

I felt bad. I sent a Godman away. I sent a person who was going to tell me good things about my future away.  I sent a man who is feeding people in a langar away. 

I sent them away coz I didn't want to get hurt. This is Delhi where crimes are committed everyday. Houses are burgled, women are raped, innocents are killed at the drop of a hat.

I can risk being called an atheist but I don't want to get hurt in the name of God.
Yet I wait eagerly for the 16th of May. Mind games I tell you!

(Similar incidents have happened at Hindon, Motibagh, Pandhara road at different intervals of time with donation seekers of varied religious affiliations. In another friend's case there were two Pandit Jis who talked her into removing her gold bangles. She was in a trance as they spoke with her until the maid interrupted them. I think of myself as an aware person but if you ask me now, I will not be able to recognise those two people. This is strange, scary and uncanny. All I want to say is please steer clear of such people and don't look into their eyes as they speak.)

Ads released on Independence Day - 15th Aug 1947

I recently visited the Cellular Jail in Port Blair, Andaman & Nicobar Islands (India). It was an early British Penal settlement. Criminal as well as political prisoners from mainland India were deported there for rigorous imprisonment which ranged from 10 to 50 years. Known as the dreaded 'Kala-Pani' then, it houses spine chilling details of British atrocities and torture.

Along with other things, there were a few newspapers on the wall. I will be writing about the 'Cellular Jail' in the travelogues separately. But for my advertising friends, here are a few ads that were published in 'The Statesman' on 15th August 1947, our Independence Day. 

(Double click and zoom into the photographs to read the body copy. If you wish to use these pictures for reference purposes, kindly inform me. Will give you hi-res ones. Please do not use them commercially as I have no royalty rights on them)