ONE DAY LESS 

#2

PHOTOGRAPHY: KEVIN SREENATH

For the first time after trying to remember things, I was excited to see the sunrise; for it announced the call of the day, the day where I’d finally get to go out of the street. Appu had been to the city many times for Abba’s job. His adventures were reborn as a bed time story for me after my birth. Ammi would join us too to hear them, but she could never imagine to go out to witness the wilderness people created for each other. 

Ammi stared at me as I joyfully brushed my teeth and jumped around the house. Appu had gone out to check the air in the cycle and would return any minute. 

“Jaaneman,” Ammi’s voice spoke with fear. “Out there in the world is a circus. People do nasty things there, do you want to see them?” 

“But Ammi, Appu said there are flowers and trees there. And buildings too! And buildings with big roofs!” I yelled excitedly, raising my arms. 

“There are people who hate…” 

“Ammi? Shall I bring you flowers as I return?” She replied with a warm tight hug, and I could hear her heart thumping hard. I had felt my heartbeats too, but it was never as fast as Ammi’s. She was scared. 

“Pick out the yellow ones, like the colour of your dress.”

Appu’s cycle bell rang out of nowhere, with him wearing a weirdly green shirt. “Shall we?” He asked, as he got onto the cycle again, making me comfortable on them again. ‘Trring’ the bell rang as I pushed a little knob on it. Ammi spoke to Appu, commanding him to never let me out of the sight. It felt nice to know that she cared. And even nicer to know I would see the city soon. 

The wind felt chilly as Appu stepped on the pedal. He whistled an old song he sang to me a few days back. 

“That tree is one of the oldest. Banyan tree. Have you seen it before?” he asked as he pointed at a huge tree with brown threads hanging down from it. 

“No,” I giggled. “Can I climb on it?”

“Maybe next time, we have a lot to see in the city.” 

“Ammi said people hate each other there.” 

“There are some people. Then there are other who love each other a lot. I’ll show them to you.” 

The trees started disappearing slowly. Small buildings popped out from the sand with little children like me running in front of them, wearing bright clothes. More buildings and lesser trees. The chill of the wind had disappeared, and I was welcomed by the warm sun. “Appu? Is this the city?”

“Yes baba, this is the city.” A whole new world laid in front of me with people that seemed to be snoozing; not at all looking at each other. I had toys like this before, where I’d set a key and they’d walk for a while without any life. I used to laugh at them as I saw them clap till it stopped. The people weren’t any different, but the words of Appu were true. There were bright flowers in some places. Bright yellow ones, the ones I’d pluck for Ammi once we get there. And there were people who looked alive, laughing and walking. Appu pointed at a few of them and I knew instantly, those were the ones that loved each other. Few chased each other laughing, few gifted each other something. As I bit onto my nails, a habit that Ammi hated, I saw the whole world dance in front of me. And it felt good to see the love that remained. 

A good friend once told me that a writer should write what is happening around, not just pure fiction. As an amateur who gets intrigued by the words from a friend like him, it got me thinking. But to write reality means to socialise a bit, which I am awful at. Thanks to Kevin Sreenath's photographs, I am happy to tell you all that I am launching a new photo-series-story 'ONE DAY LESS', and a new part will be posted every friday. The photos will be taken by Kevin and the story will be written by myself. All the photos are scenes from our own city; and they will all be candid, i.e no actors or models are used for creating this series. Thanks to Achyuth C. Sekhar, Kevin Sreenath, Sanjana Sarma and many others for their immense support in this.

ONE DAY LESS

Takun, a little less known street that lied in the heart of the city held the key to many stories. There were either no roof, or broken ones. If you lived in a broken one, you were rich. And that’s what they called me; but no one knew the only reason we had a roof was that Abba was a construction worker. I rarely see Abba now a days, he comes home way past midnight and leave way before sunrise. Abba had always kept our tummy full, especially mine and Appu’s. Appu is what I call my Abba’s Abba. His pride was an old cycle, and having a cycle meant having a huge car. Then again, no one knew the struggle that existed every day so that it’d be one less day of survival. 

“Miriam Yousuf, don’t go outside after seven!” Ammi yelled as I silently stepped out to take my toy. I must have been three or four then. “We don't go after seven in the night. It is the rule of the street.” But I never knew what would happen after seven at night. Out street was filled with many mysteries. Unresolved unwanted mysteries. 

The house I lived in was old, made by Appu himself when he moved away from his home after a fight. The only thing that faced from my room were three grills that separated the window from the outside world. It used to be Appu’s, but now he says it is my chance to face the world. I’d look through the window everyday, dreaming to go out and explore someday. Ammi would barge in and yell “Don’t stare out there too much. You know you are bound to live here Miriam!” Ammi always believed in her old cultures and though, so did Abba. But Appu was running behind technology. Run with the world was his favourite motto, and he did run, nay chase the world with his bicycle. 

“Miriam!” Appu had called me one day when I was four years old, staring out the window looking at the broken roofs. They needed to be fixed, I told myself. “Come here, I’ve got a treat for you.” Those were the only words that I needed to hear to get excited. It was either another story book or another dairy milk. 

“What is it Appu?” I asked as he fixed his little white cap on his head just before his prayer. As expected, it was a new story book. 

With the best smile he could put forward, he asked her: “I am going to the city tomorrow to buy some materials for your Abba to work on. And I am going by cycle. Do you want to come with me?” 

As Ammi’s eyes dawned on her with a death stare, and Appu’s smile encouraged her to say yes; all I did was stare at the book and processing the thought of seeing the world. “Yes!” I said excitedly. Ammi’s eyes were now directed to Appu, but Appu’s smile was all that needed to melt her heat. 

THE LONGEST CALL 

The brightly lit room where they all studied for years together, scribbling their names on the desk and using the correction pen illegally to draw the borders, the room where cheer and laughter rose as the unexpected teacher walked in declaring the free period and even more cheer when they got to know they’ll be taken to the ground for Physical Education period; the room where it all began was now filled with silence. It was the same place they gave three cheers to that one sir who they all feared, yet loved. That day, being free from their uniforms now wearing bright dresses and tuxes, they never knew the farewell day would bring them so close yet so far. 

The janitor shut off the lights as everyone left the room, hand in hand. Yet, few stayed back on the ground where they began their sports life. 

“Promise that you’ll call at least once a month,” he said, and they all agreed. The stone cold lady with no emotions broke down in front of everyone as her dearest one hugged her unexpectedly with the welled up eyes, reminding her that the fun times shall be memories from that moment. 

Now she sat before the monitor where statistical datas crawled in every second. Huge sequence of numbers appeared every now and then, reminding her that math would always follow her everywhere she went. In the air conditioned room, she spoke to the clients without much fear, without much care. The same robotic person sat before them everyday for the eleven’o clock meeting. And the robot smiled the day she saw the face that broke down the poker face. 

“So you work here?” 

“Yes, and I see you’ve made it big as well in the industry.” 

“The power of numbers. So, how’ve you been?” 

“I’m good, work keeps me busy. So nothing happens except for the weekends. It’s a long haul.” 

“Same life here as well. The only exciting part is that I get to see the cities during the meetings.” 

Silence filled between them like the tumor that spread quick. 

“Have you heard from any of them?” 

“Not really, last time we saw; it must have been few years back for the reunion, which you failed to make,” she complained. 

“It was my training period, I never got a chance to get out of the camp.”

“I can understand that. I think you should call them. At least call your best friend.” 

“Maybe I will,” she smiled. 

“The singer one made it big in the industry. I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Of course, we meet once in two months. Her schedule is busy, so is mine.”

“I’m happy that you maintain contact with at least one from the gang. Time sure is a villain.”

“Sure is.”

“I should leave now, I have a meeting in an hour. It is busy this time of the day.”

“I’ll see you soon then,” they both smiled and exchanged the business handshake. 

The black cordless phone on the cradle stared at her. She had learnt that broken promises were hard to meant. Then again, why fear the broken pieces when there is a chance for mending. She picked up the phone and dialled the number they all used to dial at school for a fun evening. 

“Hello, this is…” his voice rose from the speaker. 

“Hey, this is…” her voice interrupted the feed. 

“Is that you?” 

“Yes it is. Long time huh?” 

“Indeed it is, I thought you had forgotten about those days.” 

“It is hard to erase them. It’s the only fuel that lights up my day.” 

“Glad to know that they’re still alive. So what you’ve been upto?” 

“Really? Eight years has passed and this is the one thing you ask me?” 

He laughed. “I was building up a relationship. It’s what I was taught during training days.”

“You should know I am not a client, and am specifically not interested in the things your company make. We are rivals.” 

“Same old, same old. I can’t believe I am talking to you after so long.” 

“Me neither. It’s like we all have drifted apart. Remember the promise we all made at the night of farewell day?” 

“How can I forget that? It still bothers me. I barely make promises, and I rarely break them.” 

“Ah, this must be hard for you then,” she smiled. “How’s the family?” 

“Good,” he spoke. “The little one started walking, failed miserably. I think she has my genes. How about yours?” 

“Working every hour to save up money. Forgot about building a family in the middle. So, still waiting for the day I can quit and climb those hills.” 

“We thought you’d be the first one to put a ring on it. Expectations do fail.” 

“So, you’ve been travelling?” 

“Travelling at the very moment. The bus rides are the best to be honest.” 

“Where are you off to?”

“I don’t know. Wherever the wind takes me to,” he recited the word he had read somewhere before.  

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” 

“I enjoy the weird roughish charm that I’ve maintained since day one. I have swept her off the feet with it.” 

“Yes, that you have done. She being a good wife?” 

“Everyday. She’s the sunshine to my… I don’t know how that sentence ends.” 

“Me neither. Shouldn’t we all get together some day?” 

“Really?” His voice started cracking. He was getting off the route. “It’s been eight years, and now you want to see us.” 

“It’s been eight years for you as well. You could’ve called. You could’ve visited.” 

“You could’ve done all these things as well. We all could’ve. We didn’t. You didn’t.” His voice was breaking even more. 

“At least I had the courage to call you after all these years!” 

“Are you sure about that?”

“Sure about what?” 

“You calling me? Come on, you know that your ego is holding you back from picking up that phone.” 

“Stop messing with my head.” 

“Think about it. You’ve reached for that phone many times, not just today, for the past eight years. Yet, you never made the call. None of us made the call. Why are we keeping such distance when we know we all are close one way or another?” 

“You are joking. I am talking to you right now over the phone.” 

“Don’t hold back. I’ll pick up the call at any odd hour. Let go of what’s holding you back.” The line went dead. 

“Hello?” she spoke again. This time, it was the end tone that replied. 

Third part of the trilogy: ‘An Explorer’s Paradise’

A PLACE CALLED HOME

Waves, like stories. It all ends when somewhere else it all begins just to end again. And with each beginning and ending, they mark an impression; some faded by the others, some forever.

Karthik has always wanted to paint these words somewhere, but he never had the chance. Of all the lands he has visited after his retirement, he had never found an empty wall, and even when he found one, he never did write on them; unlike the dozen phone numbers and caricatures on the historical monuments. As he cycled on the road near the coast, Dhruv was stopping now and then, trying to catch his breath.

“You never mentioned about a visit to the beach,” Dhruv yelled out, as he braked again. 

“I never mentioned about us getting lost in the woods either.”

“Well, that was a probability.”

“So is this,” Karthik stopped as well. “I am sensing that you don’t like beaches.”

“Your senses are right. This place is pointless. Just waves and wind.”

Karthik said nothing, but smiled as he stepped on the pedals again, making his way to the next curve. Dhruv raced to him. 

“Ever been in love?” Karthik asked. 

“No, why?” 

“Beaches provide the best place for a hangout, you know?” 

“I hangout with my friends in places like these,” Dhruv said with hand gestures. 

“You like those hangouts?” 

“Of course, I do.”

“So many memories, huh?” 

“Yeah, one time we were chasing each other on the sand, and a crab crawled on one of the guy’s toes. It was lame!” 

Karthik laughed. “That’s a good memory. Even I have memories at the beaches.”

“Oh!” Dhruv exclaimed. “What kind of memories?” 

“Mostly volleyball games. My friends and I used to cut classes at the university and play volleyball by the coast. We would get fried under the sun, and then we’d sink each other in the waves, letting the heat escape.” 

“You sound like a fun kind of guy back in the days.”

“Indeed, I was.” Karthik chained his bicycle to a pole, chaining his shoes along with it. “Let’s explore.”

Photography: F.S.

As the many fishermen sang along, pushing the canoe towards the coast, the fishes in them stopped their struggle. The base of the canoe carried the sand, tracing a path. Some of them stuck to the strong legs of the pushers, but they didn’t seem to mind it either. It was their land, and they respected the land. 

It was almost seven in the morning, and Karthik realised that he had shaped the lazy teenager to a bit more responsible one. He was breathing with his eyes open at seven, snapping pictures on his phone for instagram and the followers. All the photo Karthik needed now was the persistence of vision. It left a mark somewhere in his brain. 

“So, Dhruv,” Karthik said as he made himself comfortable on the sand. “Did your dad ever take you to the beach?” 

“No,” Dhruv accompanied him. “My mom used to take me. The only water my dad has seen is the melted ice in the Indian borders.” 

“Not a fan of him, are you?”

“No, he was always strict with his discipline.”

“That sounds like a good father figure lacking the fun side.”

“Exactly, and the one time he took me to the beach, he pointed at one of the wave and said that is wave, and gave me lectures on how he never had the chance to see them when he was of my age.”

“That sounds like a fun trip,” Karthik grinned. Out of the corner of the eye, he spotted a father and a son playing with the waves. For each approaching wave, the father would let the wave flow through his son’s legs and would pick him up again, making him excited. “I don’t blame you for not being fond of the beach. Memories like those never fade.” Dhruv nodded as well.

“I wish my father was like you,” Dhruv sighed. 

“Why is that?”

“You seem to be fun, you know about many things, you even cycle at fifty years old which is pretty badass.” 

Karthik laughed. “I was never like this ten years back. I was working day and night for a job I hated, working shifts not seeing daylight. I lived with a dog in my apartment most of my life, and all these were my choice. And the things I know today? They came from seeing things I have seen in the past years. Maybe your dad never did, he was more concerned about protecting our borders, protecting a whole country so that people like you could sleep at night peacefully and enjoy the day happily. I never did any of those.” 

Dhruv remained silent, counting the waves. It seemed to relax him. Karthik put his arms around his shoulder. “It isn’t your fault though,” he said. “What you wished and what you got are the extremes of a line. But that will make you a great father someday, if you wish to be one.”

“I want to travel like you with no boundaries attached.” 

“Well, my problem was that I had commitment issues. You can still travel with another person, it adds more spirit to it,” Karthik smiled.

“Hopefully.” 

As each wave washed away a piece of shore like a monster stealing the soul, a beautiful soul that wanted to live, the day was starting to get brighter. A group of young men with laughter walked past them with a volleyball and a net. The shore would soon get crowded with the morning walkers, the beachball players, the fishermen and even the occasional roamers. Karthik knew he had passed through each of the stage, and now he was walking through that tight rope soon to reach it’s deadline. 

“How do you feel about going back home today?” Karthik asked Dhruv. 

“Today? That’s too soon.”

“Well, you should know that it’s been two weeks of you roaming with me. And you told your Dad you’d be home in two weeks. I expect you to keep your word.”

“But this is much more beautiful than working day and night.”

“True, and for all of this to happen you need to have a bit more experience. You need to get a bit more wiser. I’m sure you’ll make it big someday.” 

“When should I leave?” Dhruv sighed. 

“Now.” 

Karthik stood up and walked to the waves, keeping a safe distance. It was a ritual to write something on the sand so that the waves could wash them away, so that the waves could take the message to someone far away. As a child, he remembered how he used to write on the sand that the Mother of waves failed so that he could see the next wave a bit larger than the last ones. Today, he wrote the words he had wanted to paint somewhere. Soon, the waves would wash them away to some distant land. 

Photography : Kevin Sreenath

The two gentlemen walked away from the approaching crowd, from the approaching waves which ended to begin again somewhere else, just to end again, leaving impressions somewhere. They’d realised that those words were true. 

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“You should know that your Dad is going to raise at you for leaving without his permission. You might even get beaten up,” Karthik spoke. “But you should know he is doing all this because he care. Don’t raise back, just listen to him and if he give you a chance, explain what you saw. And ace that interview you are going to face.” 

“I don’t know how to pay you back,” Dhruv began. 

“Save it. Maybe twenty years from now you will see a clueless boy such as you running away from home. Help him, and maybe find him his way back home. And remember, the explorer’s paradise is always there for you.”

Dhruv walked past the gate to his home. The thunder would begin and the storm would begin. And they shall pass. He knew he had set his foot on a path he’d explore for a long time. A long time until the home calls him back. A long time until he longs for that call.