Alvirah's Blunder

This story was written for WaterfallMist (because he was complaining that i didn't write "happy" stuff) but mostly it was written in 1999 for the Christ College intercollegiate writing competition held in honour of their new library. It always amuses me to see how my style of writing has changed over the years.

In a distant land far away , the only building that stood in my way was an old library. As I entered, I tripped over something and fell flat on my face. I gingerly picked myself up and sought the culprit of my fall. It was a book! Of course! What else would you expect to find in a library?

I picked up the book and read its title. “Witches and Warlocks,” it said. I looked around the tiny foyer. It was deserted. I carried the book through the foyer and into the main library…and stopped, shocked.

The whole library was in a complete state of disarray. None of the books were on the shelves. They were all lying on the floor or falling off the tables and chairs that lined the bare walls. Books were scattered everywhere. There were actually piles of books that reached up to the ceiling! The place was a total mess!

Suddenly, I heard a noise. No, it was more like a sob. I surveyed the whole room but could not find the source of the noise. Then I heard it again. It seemed to be coming from behind a pile of books on the far corner.

I waded through the numerous books that blocked my passage. On the way, I read a few more titles – “Curses and Spells” read one, “Cults and Groups” read another, “Salem” read yet another title. I realized that all these books had something to do with the supernatural!

I heard the sob again and made my way to the corner. There, I saw a real sight for sore eyes. For, there in the corner, surrounded by a pile of books, was a pretty, young girl of maybe sixteen or seventeen. She had long, golden tresses and wore a long flowing gown. She looked like she’d just stepped out of the Elizabethan Age. Her head was buried in a book and her whole body was racked with sobs.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, stepping up to her.

She immediately jumped out of her chair and whimpered down in the corner like a frightened kitten. “Oh! I-i th-thought it w-was h-her,” she stammered, relief obvious on her pixie face.

“Who?” I asked.

“Y-you know…..her.”

“No, I don’t know. But you’re obviously frightened of her, whoever she is. I mean no harm.”

“Y-yes. She might k-kill me or throw me into the Bottomless Pit or the Hell of No Return if I don’t finish reading all these books by tonight,” she said, gesturing to the whole library.

“You have to read all these books by tonight?” I expostulated. “How many have you finished?”

“Oh, about three,” she replied. And then she burst into tears again.

“Maybe I can help you. Do you mind telling me why you have to read all these books by tonight?”

She sniffed and dabbed at her face with the hem of her petticoat. “Well, it’s like this. See, tonight is the Night of a Thousand Moons.” She looked at me expectantly. When she saw my blank expression, she continued. “One night in a thousand full moons is set aside by us witches and warlocks to wreak havoc upon the world. Tonight is that night and I have to find a spell to stop it or else…or else….” She broke down in sobs again.

“Okay…” I said, hesitantly, if a little dubious.

“You don’t believe me?” she shreaked hysterically. “Your whole future depends on tonight and you don’t believe me?”

“Okay, calm down.” I said in a soothing voice. “I’ll help you. Just tell me what to look for.’

“Shhh…she’s coming!” she said, eyes round with fear.

“Who? Who’s coming?” I asked, starting to panic. I could actually feel her, whoever she was. The hairs on my neck were standing on end.

“M-my Aunt Al-alvirah,” she stuttered. If she finds me here, she’ll definitely kill me or…or…worse….she’ll throw me into the World of Dry Oceans and Wet Air.”

Before I could make sense of this last piece of information, I heard a crack of thunder and the pile of books nearest to me began to smolder.

“Sssooo…” a voice, nastier than rat’s feet on dry paper thundered. “My little niece defiesss me, eh?”

I didn’t want to turn around. Couldn’t. The girl was cowering in the corner like a petrified rat. I didn’t want to turn around, but was compelled to.

There she stood, between a pile of books, a manic look in her eyes. Hair flying in the whirlwind that circled her. Bolts of lightening flashing around her head. Or were those just the evil sparks in her eyes? Her teeth were bared like a hungry wolf about to feast on its prey.

“You certainly should be punished for thissss, ssssilly girl,” she hissed, as the whirlwind around her swirled even faster. “Hmm…let’s see…I think the Hell of Burning Water would do just fine. Assss for you,” she said, turning to me, “You will also be punished for helping this….thisss…..wench.”

The whirlwind around her began to swirl in larger circles until it engulfed both the girl and me. Suddenly, the back wall of the library disappeared into nothingness. Books began to be sucked into the gaping hole. I grabbed the nearest bookshelf that seemed to be attached to the wall.

“Hold onto something!” I cried as I felt myself being lifted off the ground and being pulled inexonerably towards the vortex. I twisted around but could not see the girl.

Suddenly, the shelf I was clinging to, heaved – and then disappeared. I was flung feet first into the vortex, still trying to grab onto something solid.

Then I blacked out.

I woke up yelling. In my own room. In my own bed. I looked around at my room and smiled. “Just a dream,” I thought, lying down again. Phew! It had been such a vivid dream that I could still see the lightening cracking as I was sucked through the vortex.

Something wasn’t right though. I looked around my room again. Funny, I thought. I had just thrown away this blanket. And hadn’t I changed the wallpaper a few months ago?

Just then, the doorbell rang. I noticed slight changes in my living room as I walked through it to answer the door. I was sure that I had changed those curtains and didn’t I pull down that wall to make the living room larger?

My jaw dropped when I opened the door. The girl. In my dream. Was standing on my front porch. Holding a pile of newspapers. She smiled, handed me one, and rode away on her bicycle.

If I was shocked to see her, I was even more flabbergasted to see the headlines in the paper. “Kuwait Oil Rigs Bombed.” was the main headline. The sub-head was what caught my eye. “Thousands of Sea Animals Die As Water Ignites.”

Water ignites? I thought. Burning water? Of course! The oil rigs were at sea! I checked the date of the newspaper. 1996? Boy, things were really beginning to fall into place now. My house, for one. 1996 is three years ago. Well, from today, that is. No wonder things in my house were different. I’d recently renovated it. Well, recently as in 1999.

I glanced at the headlines and burst out laughing. Aunt Alvirah, the witch had mistaken Earth for the Hell of Burning Water and had sent us back, without even knowing it. “Well,” I thought with some remorse, “this is as close to hell as we’ll ever get in this lifetime.”

Taking a deep breath, I went back inside my house. Sure, I’d have to live the three years all over again but then, these three years were a gift and I was going to enjoy it every darn minute possible. Besides, I’d have three years to help the girl find the right spell. Thank you, Alvirah!

Beware!

Half of you look at me with pity. Yeah sure. But pity isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it? You might pity me, but you still roll up your windows and look the other way. At least some of you have the decency to pretend to do something else. Like play with your fancy cell phones or feign interest in the mundane billboards and so-called scenery. Yeah, it's only when you see me at your window that the trees on the other side of the pavement suddenly look interesting, don’t they?

Sure, some of you even deign to throw a few coins at me, making sure not to touch my grubby hands. Who knows what kind of deadly diseases I might have. Not that I’m not grateful or anything, but how's a few coins going to help me? Seriously. Does it make you feel better? Like you've fulfilled your service to society? Like you've done your good deed for the day?

Some of you pretend not to see me at all. Why would you? After all, I just might ruin your appetite. Or worse, make you feel guilty about the nice food you're going to eat. Or the nice clothes you have. Or the secure world you seem to live in. What? Do I threaten you in some way? Make you feel insecure?

Well it should. Wanna know why? I'll tell you. I used to be like you once. Oh yes. It was years ago but I still remember. I used to have a wonderful family. A roof over my head. Clothes to wear. Food to eat. I even used to go to school! That is until a stranger offered me a ride home. Yeah, I used to be gullible, but not anymore. I never did reach my home. He made me get into an auto and then he blind-folded me. Said it was a surprise. Yeah, it was a surprise alright. Specially when he took me to some warehouse and broke my knees and blinded me in one eye. After that I remember a long train journey but I was in too much pain to notice anything else.

When we reached our destination, he took me to another warehouse where there were other kids like me. All handicapped in some way or the other. Talking in different languages. Wearing rags. I was also given rags in lieu of my school uniform. And there I was, just another face in a multitude of faces. We weren’t given much to eat. Just some stale bread and something that could have been water.

Life became routine after that. If you can call it life. Every morning, the man would come and pick us up in his car and drop us on some street corner with a dire warning that if we didn’t bring back a certain amount of money by the end of the day, he’d do worse to us than break our knees. We were left there to beg for our keep and were picked up every evening. All our money went to the man and in return, we got a place to stay and something that resembled food.

At first, I tried to escape but it was tough because of the language problem. Besides, nobody even spared a glance my way when I tried talking to them. I didn’t realize that I was being watched and every time I tried talking to someone, I was severely beaten at the end of the day. Once, I even tried talking to a policeman but that just earned me a box on my ears. Apparently cops don’t like helping us either. I think that was the worst day because that evening I was not only beaten, I was also molested. God, that was the worst punishment ever and I’d make damn sure I did not offend my captors again.

I’d like to think my parents tried to find me. Well, if they tried, they didn’t succeed. It’s been six years and I’m now twelve years old. They probably won’t recognize me even if they saw me. Oh heck, there’s nothing wrong with hoping. After all, hope is all I have.

So, the next time you see me at your car window, it would be nice if you didn’t treat me like a non-entity. It would be nice if you really would do your service to society and maybe throw some food my way instead of a few measly coins. And before you roll up your window or pretend to not notice me, just remember:

I used to be like you once.

If something like this could happen to me, it could happen to you as well.

I’m still being watched.

Act too smug and you just might become a target too. It’s not that difficult to follow you home or to your work place.

Above all, remember: You’d feel justified in feeling insecure when you look at me.

After all, anything can happen.

Anywhere.

Even to you.

Travel Rant

I used to love traveling. A lot. I thought it gave me the time I needed to catch up on my thoughts as well as reading my novels. Plus it provided the perfect escape from the monotony and stresses of college and home. I used to absolutely love traveling......until I started noticing a certain pattern. Either someone would already be in my seat and I'd have to haggle for it, or there'd be an utterly noisy baby in close proximity to me or there's be an extremely fat woman sitting next to me, squashing me half to death.

As far as the haggling for the seat on the train went, the popular response would be, "You're thin na? Why don't you adjust?" And the perpetrator would smugly move an inch and expect me to squeeze my skinny ass onto the seat. At first I used to comply but then I thought, why the hell should I? I have a reserved ticket and you don't. So you either get completely off the seat or I’m calling the ticket conductor.

I think the same principal applied to the obese people I always land up sitting next to. "You're thin na? Adjust." Ya well, I’m tired of adjusting, and I’m tired of being squashed up against the window and I’m tired of having the wind knocked out of me every time you shift in your seat. Besides, if you're going to overflow into other people's seats, you might as well buy an extra ticket! I know I sound rude but I’ve seriously had it with people who think it’s their sole right to sit on you just because they can.

And don't even get me started on kids yelling their lungs out somewhere in my vicinity during journeys. Seriously, these howling kids seem to follow me where ever I go. Whether it’s in a movie theatre or a bus or a train or even in a nice serene park, these little bawling cretins seems to be everywhere. Don't get me wrong. As a child psychologist, I have extreme tolerance for young children and most of my patients are generally well-behaved. And I do love children. It's just the uncontrollable ones that are the problem. But then again, if the children are uncontrollable, I think the parents are to blame.

Like a couple of days ago, I was traveling back to Bangalore in an Air Deccan flight. As we all know, Air Deccan has very small aircrafts that seat only 50 passengers and have only one flight attendant. I of course, had the misfortune of sitting just behind a French couple with three young children. The girl who was at the window was no trouble at all. She kept gawking at the passing clouds and was totally oblivious to everything around her. Her little brother was in the centre seat and the mother was in the aisle. Every time the little boy so much as burped, the mother would lean over and spank him. When he began to howl, she'd yell even louder for him to shut up. See, this is where punishing the parents would come in handy. I'm sure if someone had told the badly-behaving mother to shut up, the kids would have behaved themselves as well.

Oh heck, I’m just ranting. I believe that if you can't control your kids, don't bring them out in public. They only land up being a nuisance to others as well as you. And for the love of God, don't bloody bring your ill-behaved kids into confined spaces such as aircrafts and trains where their screams are just amplified even more. Who knows, maybe one of these days I just might turn around and smack you first and then throw you and your noisy brats over board.

Just for the heck of it.

As for the "Swalpa adjust madi" syndrome that other people seem to have, I've solved that problem by putting on weight. Now I'd probably have to ask them to adjust. Muahahaaa.

Scum

I'm watching you. Watching your every move.

And I know you're watching me. No, staring at me. I see speculation in your eyes. I look a bit like her, don't I?

You look surprised. I wonder why. You know. You know that I know. You know that I remember.

I remember. It may have been years ago, when I was a little girl, but I remember. The terrace party. I came downstairs for some juice and there you were. Feeling her up. Someone else's wife.

You begged me not to tell.You realised that I could have broken up two marriages. Just like that. Yours and hers.

You begged my not to tell. Made me swear. You said you'd never do it again. I shrugged and kept quiet. I was only eleven years old.What was I to do?

But you lied. I caught you with her again two years later. You had your tongue down her throat and your hands up her blouse.

You promised me the moon. Whatever I wanted. If only I'd keep my mouth shut. I didn't want anything from you. I avoided you as much as I possibly could. But you were always around. In my face. When you got transferred to a different city, i was the happiest.

You asked my to keep my mouth shut. I did. And I have. For thirteen years. But now you're testing my patience. Really. You're taunting me. Playing mind games with me. And you're watching me to see if I'll snap.

Oh, I'll snap, honey. But not right now. Not here. I'll snap when the time is right. And when I do, don't worry. I'll make your life a living hell.

You can taunt me how much ever you want. Now. Just know that you're time is coming. Soon.

I'm waiting.

I'm watching.

I know you're number.

And I know where you live.