Journey - Part 5 of the Short Story Series "Missing"

           It was the 18th day. There was a rally near the Sandhya theater. Some people were carrying big cameras. I figured out them to be media. Some people held the broomsticks with their hands. Then I looked at the posters and figured out that they were profiling local politician as part of Swach Bharat campaign. I was beaten up for picking up less plastic last week. They did not have an iota portion of my brain to understand what would have been the case behind the less plastic pickups.

            There was a girl looking at me with a suspicion. Her looks kind of straight and were daunting. I was looking pretty abused and torn. My clothes were very bad. There was mud all over me. I was the poor soul who either got sympathy or got ill-treated. But her looks were very different. As if she was hunting for someone. I ignored her out of avoidance. The sister with me dragged into the middle of the Swach Bharat mess and pinched me and started her extortion from the campaigners. She got her pockets filled. Good day for her I guess. I did not have any hard feelings for her. She was just doing what she was trained to do. She took up begging just to be alive. 

       She got more than she wanted.  So she spent that little extra money on a cool drink and a cigarette. Yes a cigarette!!  Most of them smoke irrespective of gender. This made me think. I came to the terms that we Indians just blow things out of proportion and we must let people live the way they want. While she was savoring on her drink and cigarette, that little girl who was staring at me, dragged me by my hand and kept running.

          For a moment, I was dumbstruck. I did not know what was happening and what would happen. She kept running through the gully which again diverged into more small streets. It was not a slum -  not the slum I knew. I saw small concrete houses.I saw autowalas cleaning their autos. She suddenly took me into a house. The hall was dark. There was a light from the kitchen. She pulled me there. A lady was cooking food. She was the girl's mother. 

         The girl told her mother to give some sweets to me and kept repeating did not he look like my brother. At the moment, I understood all those stares were to confirm that I was her brother. But I was not. Her mother with teary eyes told her that her brother was no more. We heard someone entering the house. My heart pounded fast. I was frightened at the chance of getting caught by that bleeds mafia. I started to scream and ran to hide behind the mother. It was the girl's father. All the three tried talking me to understand why I was so afraid of people. Her father understood that something is wrong with me He asked his wife to bathe me. I got a nice bath which was scarce till then. She put her son's clothes on me. I looked into the mirror. Though I was not close to what I used to look, the bath and clothes put a smile on me. 

          The little girl's father made me eat some food. I was vert happy though I had my fears. He took out the poster which I had in my previous dirty pants. He asked me whether I was the one on the poster?  Not speaking for these many days did hamper my voice. I did not know a way to tell them. But the girl was clever. She got me a book to write. I wrote 'Yes'. He took his mobile and called the number on the poster. My father picked up the phone. My father and the uncle talked at length and they finally decided that the uncle will take me to Hyderabad. The time was 5:30 PM. The uncle and I quickly rushed to the catch the train at 6:30 PM. It was sad that I did not get time to say a proper goodbye to the little girl who helped me. We sat in the general compartment as we did not have time to buy tickets.

       This brings me back to the first part of my story. I am sitting by the window and the uncle beside me clinging to my arm. I am anxious and observant. I do not want to be missed again.We reached Koduru Station. It is a small station. Something unique caught my eyes. I saw the tattoo. The same tattoo of the guy in the whites. He was wandering with the other 2 big guys. I saw his face this time. It is now the most hated face of my life!!! How will I ever reach Hyderabad?

Hope - Part 3 of the Short Story Series 'Missing'

          I kept shouting 'nanna'  'nanna'  on top of my voice.  No one heard me. My voice was dead. I kept running and running but did not find my family. Tears rolled down my cheeks. How could I find them when I am a small guy with a dead voice and small red eyes which can only see a small world. Suddenly, I was caught by my hand.  The little dying hope was fired. But to my disappointment, it was a constable!

       

        He repeatedly asked me who I was, What I was running for! I wanted to speak my heart out but can not spit the words out. I am in a trauma. A trauma which I never experienced. A trauma, so engulfing, that it took my voice. Literally,  the experience made me a dumb lifeless human.

        

       He took me to a place. He gave me some water and made me relax. I told him everything in the hope of meeting my family. But my fate had another twist. The constable changed his clothes and took me out. He was in a hurry. I was silent in the hope of meeting my parents and I kept looking for my parents. I saw many doppelgangers. We reached our destination. It was far from the main temple. This area looked backward. The men looked scary and the women were with scars on their faces. By now, I understood that I was in wrong hands and it is going to be Rollercoaster ride.

But "Hope is a good thing may be best of the things and no good thing ever dies"!

Run - Part 2 of the Short Story Series 'Missing'

                        I did not try to remember the names of the stations which have passed by as I am not concerned about them. My only goal is to reach Kachiguda railway station. Oh, I forgot to tell you how I got missed right. It starts right at Kachiguda station.

                        My father and my mother wanted to go to Tirumala for my sister's Thala Nelalu(offering of hair). My grandma,  grandpa, aunts and uncles joined us forming a big entourage. I was excited about the trip as I get to take leave and as well as I get to taste the Tirupathi Laddu. I wanted to take Kashvi with me to Tirupathi. Kashvi is my benchmate and is a very naughty girl. Sadly, her mother turned down my request to take her with me. I guess if she was with me in the train, she would be crying all the time and scaring the shit out of me. So,  we took Venkatadri express to Tirumala. The train started at 20 05 and reaches Tirupathi at 07 30. It was night and I was not getting sleep because of a pray group on the next compartment. They were reciting Keerthanas all night. I do not understand how the God understands them.

                         I have a Muslim friend who speaks Urdu. He prays to his God in Urdu. I pray to our gods in Telugu. I have a Marwadi friend who prays to the same gods I pray in his mother tongue. How does God understand all the languages?  Does each God has a designated language?  How about sign language? If he understands every language,  then he has to be the father of Google translator. But there was no Google search engine a decade ago or a century ago. Then what is God?

                          We will come back to it later after I complete my story. So I was not getting sleep and I did not sleep the entire night. As soon as we stepped in Tirumala, We went to Income Tax guest house -  one of pros of being part of Government services. Within no time, we were ready and were at Tirumala. We got a VIP pass because my father had contacts. So we were lucky to have everything arranged but everyone would not be that lucky right. So,  this is what I do not understand,  if you want to meet someone and that someone is the king of your religion. That king has to treat everyone the same and everyone should go through  the same ordeal right?  Who am I to comment!!

                                     We completed our Darshan. My sister is looking very beautiful with a tonsured head. I kept teasing her - calling her 'Gundu' - 'Gundu Boss' .  As part of our Darshan,  we got some laddus. My father wanted to buy some more laddus and me too. I just kept following my dad to laddu counter. He wanted to carry me so that I don't get missed in the flood of people. But I am adamant and I kept telling him I am a big kid and he need not worry about me. For some time, My dad kept looking back to confirm if I am following him. I was. Near laddu counter building, there were too many people. Suddenly, I lost sight of my dad. I got frightened. At the far end, I found dad walking. I ran towards him.

It was not my dad - a look alike!!!

Miss - Part 1 of the Short Story Series 'Missing'

                               It is a winter evening. The breeze from the feet of Lord Venkateswara is hitting my forehead, calming my nerves and pushing me into a deep sleep. But I should not sleep. Not now at least as I will be missed again. The general compartment in the Venkatadri express is so crampy. I see a lot of tonsured heads, a lot of smiling faces and kids savoring the world famous Tirupathi laddus. This reminds me of yesterday's morning. My mother treated me to the laddu with her loving hands. 

           
                              I miss resting my head on my mother's lap and slipping into sleep dreaming about being spiderman. Spiderman reminds current me. Just that he did not know that he had parents and I can not find my parents.

                             My name Y Veera Venkata Sai Balaji. I hate having a long name. Call me Balu, ABCDEFG. I am 6 years old. I am studying in the first standard at Johnson grammar school. We stay in Sweet Home apartments in Tanaka. Thank God for giving me teachers who make me by heart who I am and where I am from. Because these details come handy when I am missing.......

Part I of my new short story...Hope you like it and Encourage me to write more!