Stories

Sher-O-Shayari

Jokes

Thoughts

Home >> Fun & Info. >> Stories

Login

Register Now

All Things Possible

By : Tanay Kumar Das ( Posted on :08 Apr, 2006 )

Total Views : 563 | Previous | Next

Ameh sat outside, silhouetted on an old fruit crate against a fading tropical sun. She dried her long, gray, oiled hair, the heavy scent of jasmine in the air. Our thatched hut behind her was dark except for the flicker of an oil lamp in the doorway. Achen stood in the doorway, lighting the lamp. He was a muscular, serious man whose appearance was made more ferocious by a traditional handlebar moustache and ebony complexion.

On the floor of the hut, our fireplace was visible through the open door. Old saris made partitions for rooms separating us children from our parents. A store for what valuables we held was bundled into an old pillow in a corner of the hut, hung from the roof by a saffron rope.
Dinner cooked on the fireplace. Each time the broth boiled over, flames leapt into the air, brighter, threatening to engulf the whole place, but for the watchful eye of my sister Mariama. At the ripe old age of fourteen, she tended the fire and prepared our evening meal .

Ameh chewed on a betel nut mixture she secreted away in the knot at her waist, which held her sari together. The blood red saliva she would not consume, she spat out into the small vegetable patch in front of her. Gently, she called out to me to bring out my father's bicycle to perform my daily ritual before supper.

A tough workhorse of British vintage design, the �Hercules� would carry us to school the next morning as it did every day, come rain hail or shine. Four of us, Achen (father) on the saddle, Ameh (mother) on the carrier tray at the rear clutching rice sacks or our school bags. Mariama sat on the middle bar, whilst I was small enough to fit on the handlebar.

I placed the bicycle on its stand, suspending the rear wheel to allow free cyclical motion without any actual movement of the bicycle itself. Nelson dragged out his "treasures": law books, borrowed, tattered and carefully wrapped in brown paper to prevent further deterioration. Now he read questions and answers editions: How to pass exams with little effort, for Criminal Law, Contracts, the English Legal System and Constitutional Law.

"Turn the wheel faster!" he yelled at me in a voice resembling Achen�s. "The light�s dimming, you lazy mutt! Turn! Turn!" he growled.

"I�m trying! I�m trying!" I squealed breathlessly, pushing the pedals of Achen's Hercules as fast as I could with small, already callused hands.

I was too short to perform the act from the saddle. The wheel turned a dynamo attached to the bicycle frame, which in turn produced a light from the regulatory headlights attached to the bicycle. It produced better than the oil lamp.

"Three chapters today," Nelson warned me. "The exam's next month. It�ll be your fault if I fail".

"Now, now Mahen (son)" Ameh interrupted, "He�s doing his best, and you won�t fail." Then she sighed, "Deva May." Mother of God. She looked upward at a darkening, star lit tropical sky, then pressed her palms together, ended her prayer, and returning to the hut.

Malay Muslims had vandalized the streetlights. They would later become our rulers and tormentors. One day, our generation would rally against the imported caste system of the Brahmins who lorded over us, fight the organized, well-oiled machine of Hwa Chao business domination, and resist the organized, often violent programs and exclusion from public life by the Malay Muslims.

On the June day the exams were held, the heavens tore loose. A torrent of insults of the gods tore our roof and hearts apart and added to our miseries, if that was at all possible. Nelson's clothes were soaked, as were his reference materials, books borrowed from the Church library. There were tears in Achen's eyes, visible even in the rain.

In a reversal of tradition and ritual, Achen had been preparing a strong brew of black coffee for Nelson. Father serving Son. There was now no fire for cooking, nothing but the determination and suppressed anger of this near broken man. My Achen. His patience had worn thin.

"I want nothing for myself. It's for my children," he yelled as he winced skyward. "Have we not suffered enough, my God?" This was Job no more.

Nelson was the first born to our low caste family of converts to Christianity, who, through an accident of fate, were now migrant settlers in an increasingly hostile, post-independent Malaya. The Muslim majority of Malays had vowed to level the scores of partitions in the Indian sub-continent on behalf of their fallen Islamic brethren in Pakistan.

Nelson was our Horatio. He was named after an English hero of the battle of Waterloo, who was nurtured and trained in Wellington (the town was named after him), in Madras, South India.

"Nothing foreign about his name," Achen would respond defensively. "It is Indian. And so is Wellington!" He would bark when questioned, referring to the town.

Nelson was only 18, and had the weight of the family on his shoulders. Achen would have to retire soon. He had done his lifetime of caring, as did Ameh. It was our turn now, and Nelson was an Achen in the making. Sometimes, he was just as stern and unforgiving.

The fire lit up in Nelson. He had reached manhood in a storm. Born in a crossfire hurricane, as a song would bleat years later. Nelson was gripped by the determination not to be defeated. He assumed control. He had become Achen. Or, perhaps Achen�s tears fuelled my brother's passion that day.

Nelson ordered me into battle.

"Kochan." Little one. He commanded me like a drill sergeant. "Hold this over my head and follow." He handed me a tablecloth of linoleum. We rode away from our leaking sorry abode, and took on the rain alone. Nelson clutched his treasures: a Schaeffer fountain pen and a bottle of Quick Ink tucked in his pocket. Both were prizes for literary excellence in school.

Nelson and I attended a Catholic mission school for the rich, and yes, sometimes also begrudgingly for wretches like us. But, only because we were Catholic and not for the love of Christ. Nelson carried Achen�s cold black coffee in an old soft drink bottle, as well as his identity papers, tucked away in his satchel strung across his shoulders. The rain beat down mercilessly on us as Nelson peddled away on Achen's Hercules. I had one corner of the tablecloth over his head in a vain attempt to shield him from God and Nature.

We finally peddled through the town hall gates where the exams were being held. A black Mercedes limousine swung around the corner and splashed us both with mud. Thick red mud. It was the local doctor, whose son would be in the same exams. This was their contempt for us, for daring to free ourselves of our karmic life sentence. It was a final act of defiance of the Brahmin. And we were determined to endure.

They were polite at the exam hall. Mr. Chew, the Chinese math teacher from the local Anglo-Chinese Community School, was immediately recognizable from his firm gestures and warm eyes. Nelson approached him, covered in mud and with me in tow. Chew�s response was very Chinese-- practical, bereft of emotion, and brief. Much like the Chinese proverb, "Respect for the burdened."

Also a Catholic, Chew understood our problems. He knew the struggle, the politics of race and religion. On that day, he was neither Chinese nor Catholic. He was just human. None were friends that day, it was each man for himself. Independence was two months away, and the Chinese did not have anywhere to return, unlike like us, as we could return to India if things got rough. There was no more new frontier for the Chinese, they simply had to make it here.

Chew ordered dry clothes from the caretaker, which he dutifully provided with a place for us to wash and change. Chew was Head Invigilator. It was his job to watch over Nelson and his schoolmates while they took their tests.

Exams were delayed by an hour, whilst we awaited late comers and other stragglers, courtesy of the elements.

I waited outside the hall, like a loyal dog awaiting its master, thinking of what school would have been like today. What a day. The rain had stopped for awhile. A chorus of toads sang us praises. The heavens had succumbed to our earthly, human and humble resistance. The sky remained threatening like a repulsed army regrouping for a counterattack. I wondered what Achen and Ameh would be doing. The sun peeped for a brief moment to congratulate us.

When the Union Jack was lowered for the last time, we celebrated as if it were us who became independent that day. Indeed we had: Nelson's results had been published for all to see, in the Straits Times national newspaper. Honors, it read, in small print against his name. "Nelson Fernandez, University of London, External Law, Intermediate Stage". Achen bought four copies of the paper.

Mr. Chew came to see Achen about an offer from the Chinese Community for a scholarship, for Nelson to complete his degree in London, all expenses paid. Upon his return, he would be guaranteed a job as an advisor with the Hokkien Business Association. They would assume any the risk. Achen would be freed of his yoke. His karma had come to rest. The debt would be paid, and he too would be free.

This was a tradeoff for a post-colonial shuffle of the three main communities, the Indians, Chinese and Malays. We were more articulate and skilled in the use of language, while the Chinese were consummate businessmen. Chew urged my father to sign.

Achen died from a heart attack whilst Nelson was barely a month away from graduating. I turned sixteen and had to perform the ritual of washing his body for burial.

Nelson was bitter. He wrote to Ameh from his London flat, "There is no God. There is no justice�. You are my God today, Ameh. May Achen rest in Peace."

Ameh paid for the funeral with the jewelry from her wedding: a ring, a bracelet, earrings, and a chain with a crucifix. She wouldn�t need these anymore. She was a widow, discarding even her blouse.

"God is on our side," Achen had always said before the lights went out at night. It had sounded to me like a prayer of the dying. It wasn�t. It nourished our souls and breathed fire into our hearts.

Ameh broke into tears upon reading Nelson�s letter, then turned and fixed her gaze at me. "You too will turn out like him," she warned. "After all God has done for us." She snarled and went back into her room, a sari away from where I stood motionless, frozen by what had become of us.

Written By : Tanay Kumar Das

Visit personal website of Tanay Kumar Das

Rate

Excellent

Very Good

Good

Average

Poor

Contribute | Email to Friend | Post Comments | Contact Author

Rating :

Previous Entry : The White Crow Miracle
Next Entry : Unplayed Melodies

Articles Categories

• Adventure	• Animals	• Battles and Wars
• Biographical	• Children	• Crime
• Fiction	• Friendship	• General
• History	• Horror	• Humour
• Inspirational	• Love and Romance	• Miscellaneous
• Moral based	• Mystery	• Patriotic
• Religious	• Sci Fi	• Spiritual
• Sports	• Tragical	• True Happenings

More on WhereInCity.com
Fun & Info.	:	Jokes \| Shayari \| Articles \| Poems \| Stories \| Tongue Twisters \| SMS \| Quotations \| Lyrics \| Recipes \| Personal Pages
City Pages	:	Ahmedabad \| Bangalore \| Chandigarh \| Delhi \| Hyderabad \| Kolkatta \| Mumbai \| Lucknow \| Ludhiana \| Pune \| More
India	:	History \| Pincodes \| STD Codes \| ISD Codes \| Lok Sabha \| Indian Railways \| Culture \| \| Freedom Fighters \| Great Indians
Medical	:	Doctors \| Hospitals \| Articles \| Contraception \| Diseases \| Vitamins \| Minerals \| Proteins \| Fats \| Carbohydrates
Astrology	:	Horoscopes \| Vedic Astrology \| Gem Therapy \| Palmistry \| Match Making \| Life Predictions \| Horoscope 2008
Kids	:	Kids Album \| Rhymes \| Baby Names \| Articles \| Learning Centre \| Animals Gallery
Education	:	Study Abroad \| GMAT \| Standardized Tests \| Schools \| Universities
Photos	:	City Photos \| Celebrity Special \| Misc. Photos
Business	:	Yellow Pages \| Classifieds \| Business Pages
Movies	:	Bollywood \| Hollywood \| Tamil \| Telugu \| List
Immigration	:	Canada \| Australia \| New Zealand
Products	:	Cars \| Bikes \| Mobile Phones \| Cameras \| Televisions
New!	:	Stardust Awards 2008 \| IIFA Awards 2008

True Happenings