short stories Archives

The February Reading List: Short Stories for a Shorter Month

February 5, 2021February 6, 2021 TheSeer TeamLeave a comment

With the hope that you were able to pick a few books from our January reading list, we bring you a set of recommendations for the month of February. As this month is always a day or two short when it comes to a calendar year, we have dedicated the month to short stories. We are sure you will enjoy all these books and get to know more about Indian people, our habits, and our culture through these stories.

Boats on Land: A Collection of Short Stories – Janice Pariat

This book brings the northeastern part of India closer to us through stories that touch historical contexts as well as the folklores of the region. Janice Pariat weaves tales that paint pictures from different time periods in this book published by RHI. You can purchase a copy here.

In a Forest, a Deer: Stories by Ambai (English & Tamil)

Originally written in Tamil by Ambai and translated into English by Lakshmi Holmstrom, the book tells many tales with female protagonists and touches several social subjects of Indian life. Published by Oxford University Press, you will read great prose written in the inimitable style that has come to characterise Ambai’s writing. Get a copy here.

Teresa’s Man and other stories from Goa: Damodar Mauzo (English translation from Konkani)

Damodar Mauzo is one of the most effulgent signatures of contemporary Konkani literature. His collection of Konkani stories boasts of stories that manifest the not so known facets of Goa. The stories are relatable and yet very essentially local. The book has been translated by Xavier Cota and published by Rupa Publications. Buy the book here.

Meri Priya Kahaniyaan – Amrita Pritam

This book is in Hindi and has a collection of legendary writer Amrita Pritam’s favourite stories from her own writings. These stories sketch the love, desire, emotions, and pain in a woman’s life. Published by Rajpal & Sons, pick this book up to read some heartening stories by the author. Get a copy here.

Usha Kiran Khan Ki Lokpriya Kahaniyan – Usha Kiran Khan

Padma Shri Usha Kiran Khan is a prolific writer in Maithili and Hindi and is also a Sahitya Akademi award winner for her book – Bhamati: Ek Avismarniya Premkatha in Maithili. This book has 24 Hindi stories from the author that deal with questions of female identity, dignity, and the difficult realities of their lives. Published by Prabhat Prakashan, this book consists some of the most loved stories by Usha Kiran Khan. Buy your copy here.

Syed Muhammad Ashraf’s ‘The Silence of the Hyena’ Is a Commentary on the Wild Side of Human Behaviour

January 3, 2021January 3, 2021 JeevaNayagiLeave a comment

Animal fiction is an intriguing genre in literature especially the ones that are written for adults. Be it Orwell’s Animal Farm or Perumal Murugan’s Poonachi, these works do not merely stay as works of fiction. They, instead, go on to serve as a commentary on society and its ironies. Syed Muhammad Ashraf’s ‘The Silence of the Hyena’ is one such commentary on human behaviour. Written originally in Urdu, the book is a collection of short stories and a novella translated by M.Asaduddin and Musharaff Ali Farooqi.

Syed is one of the most prolific contemporary Urdu writers and also a Sahitya Akademi award winner. His works are known to be a poignant portrayal of the marginalized. ‘The Silence of the Hyena’ is no different and bears testimony to the pathos and deep sensitivity that his works carry. Interestingly all the animals in these stories are ‘wild’ and therefore, a sense of impending danger prevails over most of the stories. For instance, in the story title ‘Rogue’, where three men go out to hunt a rogue elephant on a winter night, you can almost feel a chill in your spine.

Happening at the edge of a forest, these stories, on one hand, depicts a day in the lives of people and their encounter with the wild beings. However, the symbolism in most of the stories is too hard to miss, especially the ones with the Hyena. Real horror begins when the difference between man and animal blurs and you can’t say who is who. In the story, ‘ And then laughed The Hyena’ when everyone in the family walks with a ‘chat-chat’ just like the hyenas, you are thrown into a world of eerie surprise and you end up reading it again to ensure you are not delusional.

‘Death of an Antelope’ and ‘The Vulture’ sound more like fables. While the plots of these stories are quite obvious and they lack the usual layers that exist in all the other ones, they are still enjoyable. They give you a break from all allegories and metaphors. Nevertheless, these too keep you brooding. The stories, ‘The Silence of the Hyena’ and ‘The Last Turn’ are intricately layered in their narration and divulge the hypocrisies in human behaviour. However, my favourite one among the short stories is ‘Separated from the Flock’. A heart-wrenching tale based on the Indo-Pakistan partition in 1947, it talks about the trauma of separation, the grief of the migrated, their broken wings and homelessness.

The last part of the book is the Novella ‘Beast’ – the story of village administrator Thakur Udal Singh and his wild bull Neela. A critique of the oppression of the marginalized and organized crime, this feels a little too stretched in places. The similarities between Thakur and Neela are anything but uncanny and their end seems befitting. But too much is lost before the end arrives, thanks to the terrorizing duo.

While the animals and more so the humans from the stories instil fear in you, Syed offers you some respite in the form of nature. Since all the stories are based on a rural setup, Syed makes sure you walk through the sugarcane fields, watch the sunset, and wake up to a frozen lake. While I will never know how the original work in Urdu sounds, the translated prose certainly reads beautifully. If you are ready for some pondering and re-reading until you find all the answers, this is the book for you. And did I mention that I loved the cover of the book too?

BLF2020 | Grandparents’ Bag of Stories – Sudha Murty with Andaleeb Wajid

December 15, 2020December 15, 2020 TheSeer TeamLeave a comment

“I don’t write to please somebody. I write because I enjoy it” says Sudha Murty, an engineer, social worker, and one of the most prominent writers of India.

The first session of the Bangalore Literature Festival 2020 witnessed an interesting conversation between Sudha Murty and Andaleeb Wajid. Andaleeb Wajid is a Bangalore-based writer whose famous works include The Tamanna Trilogy, The Crunch Factor, My Brother’s Wedding, and More Than Just Biryani.

The session circled around Sudha Murty’s latest book, Grandparents’ bag of stories. Andaleeb started the discussion by asking about the inspiration behind writing this book. Sudha Murty said, when the covid lockdown began in March, she was wondering what she would have done during this pandemic if she was a kid. Because she grew up in a village, she thought of her grandparents and how they would have told her a lot of stories. “I remembered I wrote a book ‘Grandma’s Bag of Stories’, and thought why don’t I write a sequel to it!” she recollected.

She pointed out that it took just 2-3 weeks to finish the book. While expressing her love towards the book, she compared its stories with pearls in a necklace and grandparents to the thread that holds the pearls together. She also added that she cherishes writing for children and young adults and recalled the sweetest comments she received from children.

When Andaleeb asked Sudha about her favourite choice between writing fiction and writing non-fiction, Sudha replied “When I was young, I used to enjoy fiction. Now, I don’t. For children, it has to be fiction. But for young adults, I prefer non-fiction as I always feel that life is stranger than fiction. In fiction, you imagine certain things, and it is directly proportional to the capacity of your imagination. When it comes to non-fiction, there are so many things that you cannot even imagine. There are no limits. Also, one can learn a lot from non-fiction and real life.”

Sudha threw some light on the kind of books she read in her childhood. She said she did not have much choice as there was no electricity or television in her village. Reading was the only entertainment in those times. She said she was more into epics like Ramayana and Mahabharata, further acknowledging that it helped her in writing mythology in later years.

Speaking about current generation kids, Sudha said, making their reading sessions more interactive is the best advice she could give to make them enjoy literature.

When she was asked about the closest book to her, Sudha mentioned that “House of cards” could be the closest one as she spent 15 years thinking about it and was not easily convinced with the output. “I write until I convince myself with my work” she added.

The session ended with Sudha Murty announcing her upcoming work which is going to be the second book of The Gopi Diaries Series. She plans to release it in January 2021.

About the Author: Sai Pradeep is an aspiring writer from Visakhapatnam who recently published his first collection of poetry, All the lights within us. He is working as a content writer in Bangalore. He currently writes for TheSeer.

Creator’s Image by Shwetha H S Looks for the Interesting in the Mundanities of Life

August 10, 2020August 10, 2020 Abhishek JhaLeave a comment

The difference between a full-blown novel and a short story is perhaps similar to that of a long term relationship and a one-night stand. A reader reads a short story without the expectation of a long term commitment but this very aspect of a short story compounds the pressure on the writer. The margin for error is nil. The author cannot make mistakes in the first page to compensate for them in the subsequent pages. What comes about in those few thousand words lasts as the first and the final impression of the encounter on the reader’s mind.

Shwetha H S begins her short stories collection with the title-story Creator’s Image which is a deeply reflective metaphorical tale about the human civilization. With multi-layers of deliberation presented with intelligent twists and turns, this story holds the book together. There are ten other stories which tell us the tales of extraordinary moments of our ordinary lives. In fact, the selection of subjects and plot betray Shwetha’s love for the fleeting moments of life, her attempts to hold them for a little longer in her gaze and pluck a story out from those moments.

Most of the stories are relatable and you will find parts of yourself in one or the other tale. The stage is most often a snapshot of the routine life. Through the course of the story, her pen closes in on one character who can be considered the protagonist. She deals with the character in greater details and the suspense hangs around this character’s action or inaction. While this method works for a few of the stories, it also makes a few of them predictable. As a result, they end up short of making a lasting impact. The stories that hit the mark linger with you for sometime and keep you invested in the plot even after they have ended.

The book also deals with moments of dilemma humans face while making decisions in life, no matter how significant or insignificant. This pits the reader’s choices against those of the characters time and again and makes for a very fluid vantage point which does not distance itself too much away from the characters and the stories. You will find yourself in situations where your vantage point gets flooded away with helplessness and there remains hardly any difference between you as a reader and the characters sketched in the stories.

The language is lucid and mature. The author has constructed her stories with not a word extra or unnecessary. There is no needless rhetoric or the microscopic background details. She balances the ‘told’ and the ‘untold’ deftly in all her stories and the reader is neither dumbed down nor is left to stray too far in the dark at any point.

My favourite stories in the book are Tears of the Goddess, To Each His Own, and Creator’s Image. The book is available on Amazon Kindle and if you are looking for a quick-read without having to commit to the rigours of reading a big fat novel in the already ominous season of lockdowns and unlocks, Creator’s Image is the one night stand you are looking for.

You can buy the book here.

Thirty Dates in Thirty Days

April 29, 2020May 10, 2020 Himali KothariLeave a comment

Wake up. Wash hands. Cook food. Wash hands. Finish editing the article. Wash hands. Eat. Wash hands. Webstream and chill. Wash hands. Eat. Wash hands. Scroll down the news feed. Read. Wash hands. Off to bed. Wake up. Repeat. One day was rolling into another, an endless loop with nothing except sundown and sunrise to mark the fact that the date had changed. The day I picked up my phone to check whether the day was Sunday or Monday, I realized something had to give. I had to break this infinite loop before it started feeling like a noose tightening around me.

I needed help, and so I turned to my oldest and most trusted friends – stories. Stories have always been my portal to different times, different spaces. They’ve been the most stress-free way to make new acquaintances, some who became lifelong friends with permanent spots on my bookshelves and some from whom I grew apart, and they moved on. Continuing with the next one on my 2020 reading list did not feel right. Nothing in 2020 was going as per plan, so why should my reading plan be spared!

The thing with the lockdown and this pandemic is that there is no missing endpoint. No one, not scientists, doctors, experts… no one can do anything more than shrug when asked – when will this end? What we are hoping for is a single word answer, what we get is a thesis filled with data, ifs and buts, and before they get into the appendices, we have tuned off. This lack of an end in sight is unnerving. That’s what my loopy routine needed – a way to mark the end of the day and something new to look forward to the next day. Stories in long-form would not fall in line with this plan. Maybe, short stories? Novellas? And then it struck me – a new acquaintance every day and perhaps to reacquaint with a few who have been sitting around gaining wrinkles.

Thirty Dates in Thirty Days Illustration

I start at a happy place – a childhood favourite, Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince. Rereading it after almost three decades, I realize that this time around I catch the parable that the writer has whispered between the lines. I sleep happy that night. Next on the cards are short stories by Philip Roth who had left quite an impression on me last year with his Goodbye, Columbus. The short stories I pick focus on the theme of religion and tolerance without being overbearing. Another childhood favourite Astrid Lindgreen’s Pippi Longstocking sweeps me up in nostalgia. Next, I mix things up with reading a play script, something which I usually do with a group of friends. But, hey friends have dehydrated into pings on the phone and boxes on the computer screen! I pick a long overdue read Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll House, a play layered with social and individual tension.

Ibsen’s comment on society nudges me in the direction of Saadat Manto’s short stories. Manto once defended the theme in his writing with these words – “If you cannot bear these stories, then the society is unbearable. Who am I to remove the clothes of this society which itself is naked.” After a quick hey-ho to Herman Melville in the 19^th century, a ping on the phone pulls me back to the present. It is India’s favourite cartoonist R K Laxman’s The Best of Laxman, one of the many freebies that are appearing in our realms to help make the lock-in bearable. Another play, this time British dramatist Willy Russell’s One For the Road drives home the point that tragedy when cloaked with comedy hits hard. As I ponder over my next day’s read, a thin spine catches my eye. The cover is a sage green that time has muted down – Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali. A gift, it has sat in the shadows of the tomes around it for half a decade. Yeats, in his introduction, says Tagore’s ‘songs brought out a world that he had always dreamed of.‘ As I read on, I echo this feeling. My tenth date on the tenth day is with British-Zimbabwean writer Doris Lessing. The author’s ability to spot stories in the ordinary through her observation of the vagaries of human behaviour strikes a chord. It’s the kind of writer I hope to become. Ten days of reading a different author each day has added a beat to the hum and drum.

Next, I pick a modern romance Edan Lepucki’s If You’re Not Yet Like Me. A far cry from the teeth-decaying sweet romances I grew up, the writer’s choice of backing a flawed protagonist makes it relatable. I follow it up with Punch Goes Abroad, a compilation of travel articles that initially featured in Punch Magazine. It is speed dating at its best as Miles Kington, Julian Barnes, and a few others do their best to woo me. Day 13 introduces me to a new name, Isaac Bashevis Singer, whose stories lead me to a world I know nothing of and hold me trapped there much after the stories end. From new introductions to the always-and-forever, Ernest Hemingway with A Big two Hearted River and The Snows of Kilimanjaro. The next day brings home The Rich Boy by F. Scott Fitsgerald, which carries some shades of Gatsby.

A tweet alerts me to a new author, Norwegian Joe Fosse. His novella And Then My Dog Will Come Back To Me starts with an innocuous event but soon takes hairpin bend twists and turns. Or does it? The doubts persist though the tale ends. The next few days are what become, by chance not decision, my classic phase. I read Ambrose Bierce, Mark Twain, William Faulkner and Jack London. The only interruption is Bernard Pomerance’s brilliantly conceived play The Elephant Man, which is read out loud over a Zoom call with a group of fellow readers and followed by a spirited discussion. The classic phase is followed by some contemporary geniuses Kazuo Ishiguro’s Nocturnes and another eternal love Haruki Murakami’s The Folklore of Our Times.

A week away from a month of reading a different author every day, and it occurs to me that I have neglected contemporary Indian writers. V S Naipaul‘s Indian origin gets him a foot through the door and his short stories in A Flag on the Island paint a vivid picture of life on the islands of Trinidad and Tobago. From the Caribbean, it is a quick flight back home to Mumbai. Rohinton Mistry’s Firozsha Baug acquaints the reader with life in the Parsi colonies that dot the city. Another Indian writer on my list is Satyajit Ray with his short story Bonku Babu’s Friend. True to his style, the writer uses a straightforward narrative to hold a mirror before us that compels us to examine ourselves, uncomfortable as it may be. Another neglected group on my list is women writers, and with month-end looming close, I turn to two celebrated women. Virginia Woolf’s short stories The Mark on the Wall and Kew Gardens are in her characteristic stream of consciousness style. Her ability to stretch and collapse moments is astounding. She is followed by Alice Munro with The Bear That Came Over The Mountain which redefines love when seen through a more pragmatic lens. It’s day 30, and the recommendation has come from the great Murakami, a name that made an appearance in his short story Kenzaburo Oe. His Aghwee, the Sky Monster delves into the theme of mental disorder with a subtlety that is befitting of the point of view character. I am enamoured, and I see the merit in exploring a longer relationship with Oe.

What next? Perhaps, a new reading goal. For now though I am revelling in the many moments that these stories created in the last thirty days. If it weren’t for them, the days would have connected together in a flatline, and that is no way to live.

Illustrations – Himali Kothari

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Tagore’s Classroom

October 12, 2017May 7, 2020 JeevaNayagiLeave a comment

BoiTHEK is a bookstore in Bangalore that caters exclusively to Bengali readers in the city. The place also transforms itself into a cultural cafe encouraging many forms of art like music, dance and theatre. When a friend approached Bookstalkist to conduct a Yard of the Bard event in BoiTHEK, the first thought that flashed across our minds was Tagore. I have three copies of Gitanjali with me. One of them, I bought for myself and the other two of were gifted by Bengali friends, indeed.Thanks to my interactions with friends from West Bengal, I did know how Tagore, Gitanjali, and Rabindra Sangeet were celebrated by the Bengali speaking lot. However, being someone who weeps over Tagore’s The Cabuliwallah, I had to discuss the other aspects of Tagore’s mastery as well. So, we decided to discuss Tagore beyond his much revered Gitanjali and ask all those questions that have been lingering in our heads for long.

We began with “How do you connect with Tagore? ” The answer was almost unanimous – Rabindra Sangeet, except probably one who connects through his paintings. But just as we had feared not many of them had experienced Tagore beyond his songs. Interestingly, some of them had hated Tagore and his songs as a child and some of them learnt Tagore’s verses only to impress a girlfriend or partner. However, as they grew up they have come to look up to his songs as a panacea for all sorts of troubles in their lives. An important observation while discussing why Tagore was not read as much was that although Tagore never created for the galleries, the custodians of Tagore’s art seemed to have continued an ‘elitist’ approach and denied the masses an easier access to his works for a long time. Only in recent times have they opened it up for the public at large. While the statement might need to be validated with a larger audience, it was intriguing nonetheless. The above scenario also seemed to have paved way for people to appreciate writers like Satyajit Ray who came after Tagore. However irrespective of how much they had read of Tagore everyone clearly revered Tagore because he was the pride of Bengal.

The session was split into two parts. During the first part of the session we discussed the short stories of Tagore. When we introduced some of the short stories, some faces lit up in recognition. They had read a couple of them as a part of their curriculum and the group had the opportunity to go down the memory lane with those stories. Not only did we discuss the stories but also the hidden metaphors and messages that Tagore was leaving for his readers.Some of the stories that were discussed include The Cabulliwallah, Subha, Homecoming, The Child’s return, The Postmaster, Master Mashai etc. The group also dwelled briefly upon Gora and Chokher Bali. The short stories set the platform to discuss Tagore’s take on a lot of societal issues including women’s role in the society.

The second part of the session was designed to introduce the audience to the non-fictions of Tagore. Since it is impossible to talk of his works in entirety in an hour, we decided to focus on his collection of essays and lectures titled Nationalism. If there is one work of Tagore which need to be read thoroughly at this juncture of heightened nationalism and anti-nationalism, it must be ‘Nationalism’. We quoted for the audience few gems from the book. Some those quotes did leave the audience unsettled despite their adulation for Tagore. Nevertheless, we did have a bunch of open minded audience and the ideas from Tagore did leave them with something to ponder over. We hope that this pondering will help build a better society.

While the audience thought that they had not read much of Tagore, in reality they did start their first lessons in Bengali from Tagore. Even as we talk, Tagore’s Sahaj Path continues to be the first classroom for any beginner in Bengali. As we walked out of the discussion that evening, we knew for sure that at least some of them would take home a little more of Tagore to keep them company.

The Indian Blogger Award 2017

August 25, 2017April 20, 2020 Abhishek JhaLeave a comment

Dear Readers of Bookstalkist

We are in the running for The Indian Blogger Award 2017 brought forth by IndiBlogger and VOW. We are running for the following categories –

Continue reading “The Indian Blogger Award 2017” →

उलझते बंधन – Rakshabandhan Special

August 7, 2017July 5, 2025 Abhishek JhaLeave a comment

करीब १२-१३ बरस का था। नए पड़ोसी आये थे उस दिन। माँ ने मुझे उनकी मदद करने के लिए भेजा। एक ट्रक भर कर सामान था। काफी चीज़ें थीं। घर में उनके बस सिन्हा अंकल खुद, उनकी पत्नी और उनकी बेटी थी। आंटी और बेटी तो अंदर बैठ गए, सो मैंने और अंकल ने मिलकर सारा सामान उतारा और अंदर रखा। थालियाँ, चम्मच, मिक्सर ग्राइंडर – मुझसे तो यही उठ रहे थे। करीब तीन से चार घंटों में ये काम पूरा हुआ। अंकल ने अंदर आकर बैठने को कहा। यही सोचकर कि कुछ खाने पीने को मिलेगा, मैं अंदर बैठ गया।

अंकल ने आवाज़ लगाई – “बेटा स्वीटी, ज़रा रुआफज़ा पिलाओ आकाश को, काफी मेहनत की है लड़के ने।”

अंदर के कमरे से ‘जी पापा‘ की आवाज़ आई। बेटी को फरमाईश देकर अंकल नहाने को चल दिए। मैं मेहमानखाने में अकेला बैठा रहा। शरबत के इंतज़ार में शायद आँख लग गई। दो से चार कब बज गए पता ही नहीं चला। जिस सोफे ने अंदर आने में इतना थकाया था उसी ने थोड़ा सुकून भी दिया। शायद ये उसका शुक्रिया अदा करने का तरीका था। अब वो तो शरबत नहीं बना सकता। जब मैं उठा तो सामने की कुर्सी पर स्वीटी बैठी थी और टेबल पर रुआफज़ा।

रुआफज़ा की उम्र करीब डेढ़ घंटे हुई थी और स्वीटी मेरी हमउम्र लग रही थी। उसे सामने देख कर मैं झेप गया। इतनी सुन्दर लड़की शायद मैंने अपनी ज़िन्दगी में पहली बार देखी थी। शायद वो समझ गयी थी कि मैं बात नहीं कर पाऊंगा सो उसने ही कहा –
“तुम तो सो गए थे, माँ ने बोला नहीं उठाने को। तुम कौन से स्कूल में पढ़ते हो? अभी तो मुझे भी एडमिशन लेना है।“

उसकी हिंदी बिल्कुल फिल्म वाली हिंदी थी। मैं तो तब बिहार के शाही कलाम में बात करता था – “हम आ जायेंगे, हम होमवर्क नहीं किये हैं…” इतनी मीठी बोली और ऐसी सुगठित हिंदी मैंने अपने उम्र के लोगों में कभी नहीं देखी थी। पता नहीं क्यों मैं थोड़ा सहम गया। कहते वक़्त ज़बान थोड़ी लड़खड़ाई। अपने स्कूल का नाम ऐसे ले रहा था जैसे जमना बाई के कोठे का नाम हो। एक बार एक दोस्त मंदिर मंदिर बताकर मुझे वहाँ ले गया था। मुझे तो कुछ समझ नहीं आया। जमना बाई ने कुछ खीर खिलाकर हमें चलता करना चाहा। मुझे तो खीर अच्छी लगी थी, सो खुश हो कर, उनको शुक्रिया अदा कर के जाने लगा था पर वो दोस्त वहाँ खीर खाने नहीं गया था। सो जमकर पिटाई हुई थी उसकी।

स्वीटी को मैंने अपने स्कूल का नाम बता दिया। उसने अपनी एक डायरी में लिख लिया। रुआफज़ा पीकर मैं घर को निकल गया। जाते वक़्त उसने ‘बाय’ कहा था – अंग्रेजी वाला बाय। मुझसे कुछ कहते नहीं बना था। किसी लड़की ने पहली बार बाय कहा था, मेरे पास कोई उत्तर तैयार नहीं था। सिलेबस से बाहर का सवाल था वो ‘बाय’।

घर पहुँचा तो माँ ने देर से आने की वजह पूछी। फिर मुझे याद आया कि मैं एक और बात भूल गया था। माँ ने कहा था कि उनको रात के खाने पर बुला रखना। उस दिन मुझे ये एहसास हुआ था कि दुनिया के हर सवाल के जवाब किताबों में नहीं मिलते। तजुर्बे से भी कुछ जवाब मिलते हैं। कोई लड़की जो मुझसे अब बाय कहे, मेरे पास तो जवाब तैयार था।

स्वीटी के यहाँ मैं फिर गया। ये कहने कि उन्हें रात का खाना हमारे यहाँ खाना है। दरवाज़े पर आंटी थीं। मैंने सोचा था कि स्वीटी आएगी तो उस बाय का जवाब दे दूंगा पर वो नहीं थी। आंटी को न्यौता देकर वापस आ गया। रात को स्वीटी और उसके माँ-पिताजी आये। मैं सारा वक़्त खाना ही परोसता रह गया। बड़ों ने बातचीत की। उनका खाना ख़त्म होने पर मैं अपनी थाली लेकर अपने कमरे में चला गया। करीब दो रोटियाँ खा लेने के बाद एक आवाज़ मेरे कानों में पड़ी – ‘रोटी लोगे?‘ सर ऊपर किया, स्वीटी खड़ी थी – हाथ में थाली, उसमें दो रोटियाँ।

भूख तो मर चुकी थी पर स्वीटी को मना करते न बना। सो दो रोटियाँ और खा लीं। अंकल, पापा, माँ और आंटी – अभी बात कर रहे थे। पर मैंने देखा कि स्वीटी ऊब चुकी थी। मेरा मन तो कह रहा था कि किसी तरह से वो ये समझ ले कि मैं उसे अपनी कवितायें सुनाना चाहता था। एक दो बार इशारे भी किये, पर जब वो मेरी तरफ देखती तब इशारे की हिम्मत न होती। इतने में पापा ने कहा – “अरे, आकाश बेटा, अंकल – आंटी को कुछ सुनाओगे नहीं ?”मुझे ये भी मंज़ूर था। ये सोच कर कि सबके बहाने स्वीटी भी सुन लेगी, मैं अपनी डायरी लेकर मेहमानखाने में आ गया।

मैं कवितायें तो सुना रहा था पर सुन सिर्फ स्वीटी रही थी। बाकी लोग बातें कर रहे थे। इस शोर में स्वीटी के साथ थोड़ी देर के लिए एक अपनापन सा हो गया। एक बार डायरी के पन्ने को देखता और फिर एक बार स्वीटी को। अपनी कविता की पंक्तियों को उसके चेहरे पर लहराते देखना कोई सपने जैसा था। शायद पहली बार किसी ने मुझे इतने गौर से सुना था।

शाम ख़त्म होने को आई और सिन्हा अंकल स्वीटी और आंटी को लेकर अपने घर चले गए। रात को सोते वक़्त मैं स्वीटी के बारे में सोचता रहा। उसके लिए मन में किस तरह के जज़्बात थे, कैसी भावनाएँ थीं, ये मुझे नहीं मालूम था।बस इतना याद है कि सब कुछ अच्छा लग रहा था। सुबह को उसको स्कूल में देखने के इंतज़ार में मैं सो गया।

उठा तो काफी दिन बीत गए थे। उसका दाखिला किसी और स्कूल में हुआ। शाम को बस बाहर खेलते वक़्त उससे मिलना हो पाता। उसके कई और दोस्त भी बन चुके थे। अब बातचीत ज़्यादा नहीं हो पाती थी। मैं भी क्लासवर्क – होमवर्क के जाल में खुशियाँ ढूंढने लगा। स्वीटी के बारे में ज़्यादा सोचने का वक़्त नहीं मिला। बस ये याद है कि पहले इम्तिहान के नतीजे आये थे तो आंटी ने मेरे नंबर पूछे थे। करीब पाँच प्रतिशत ज़्यादा मिले थे मुझे स्वीटी से। आंटी का चेहरा उतर गया था।

अगस्त का महीना था। रक्षाबंधन का दिन। मेरी कोई सगी बहन नहीं थी। सो माँ ही राखी बांधती थी हर साल। इस बार भी कुछ अलग होने के आसार नहीं थे। मैं नहाकर, पूजा कर के माँ का इंतज़ार कर रहा था। इतने में स्वीटी हाथ में एक थाली लेकर आ गयी। साथ में आंटी भी थीं। स्वीटी ने हरे रंग का लहंगा पहन रखा था और थाली में रोड़ी, चन्दन, लडडू के साथ एक राखी रखी थी। स्वीटी ने मुझे राखी बाँधी। मैंने उसे माँ के दिए १०१ रूपये दिए। ये सब ख़त्म हुआ और आंटी ने कहा – “अब दोनों भाई-बहन साथ पढ़ाई लिखाई करेंगे।” मेरी माँ ने भी हँसते हुए हामी भर दी।

मैं खुश था। स्वीटी भी खुश थी। राखी से ज़्यादा शायद इसलिए खुश थे हम दोनों क्यूंकि हमें एक दूसरे का साथ पसंद था।

पापा ने सिखाया था कि रात को सोने से पहले हमें दिन भर के बारे सोचना चाहिए। दिन भर क्या अच्छा किया, क्या बुरा किया और कल कैसे और अच्छा कर सकते हैं – इस पर मनन करने को कहा था। ये हर रोज़ का एक नियम बन गया था मेरे लिए। राखी की रात को भी मैं सोच रहा था। सोचते सोचते बात स्वीटी पर आई। मैं ये सोच रहा था कि स्वीटी तो मेरी बहन नहीं थी पर उसने मुझे राखी क्यों बाँधी ? यही सोच कर सो गया कि शायद आंटी उसके कम नम्बरों से दुखी थीं और चाहती थीं कि हम किसी तरह से साथ पढ़ाई करें। मुझे राखी से कोई दिक्कत नहीं थी। स्वीटी के लिए मेरे मन में जो भावनाएँ थीं, उसका नाम मुझे आज भी नहीं मालूम है। पर ये सम्बन्ध नया था जिसके मायने मेरी उम्र से ज़्यादा बड़े थे तब।

हम साथ में पढ़ने लगे। उसकी गणित अच्छी थी, मेरी अंग्रेजी – सो जोड़ी अच्छी जम रही थी। लेकिन एक हफ्ता ही बीता था कि माँ ने मुझसे ये पूछ लिया कि इतना क्या पढ़ाता था मैं उसे। ग्रुप स्टडी को जल्दी ख़त्म करने का आदेश आया था। ये बात मेरी समझ से परे थी। मैंने माँ से कारण पूछा – “तुम लोगों ने ही तो कहा था कि साथ में पढ़ाई करो, अब क्या हो गया?” माँ ने फटकारते हुए ज़्यादा सवाल न करने का हुक्म दिया – “जो कहती हूँ वो सुनो। ज़्यादा ही साथ पढ़ रहे हो तुम दोनों, खुद की भी पढ़ाई करो। स्वीटी भी तेज़ है, खुद पढ़ लेगी।” अगले दिन स्वीटी पढ़ने नहीं आई। शायद उसके घर पर भी वही हुआ।

एक महीने बाद इम्तिहान हुए। मेरे नंबर स्वीटी से कम थे इस बार। घर में सारा दोष स्वीटी और मेरे साथ पढ़ने को दिया गया। माँ कुछ ज़्यादा कठोर थी। स्वीटी को काफी भला बुरा कहा। मेरी समझ में कुछ नहीं आ रहा था। सोचता रहा। अब तक शायद भाई-बहन के रिश्ते के मायने कुछ कुछ समझ में आ रहे थे। तेरह साल के बच्चे के दिमाग की उथल पुथल शायद कोई नहीं समझता। सभी को लगता है कि गूंथा हुआ आटा होता है एक तेरह साल का लड़का – जैसे बेलना है – बेल लो। ये मैं खाते खाते सोच रहा था। गुस्से में रोटी थोड़ी आड़ी-टेढ़ी हो गई थी माँ की। उसी को देखकर ये ख्याल आ रहे थे। यही सब सोचते सोचते मैंने दिन का अखबार उठाया। पढ़ते पढ़ते एक कोने में एक खबर पर नज़र पड़ी जिसमें लिखा था कि एक पंद्रह साल के लड़के ने पड़ोस की लड़की का बलात्कार कर दिया। लड़की तेरह साल की थी। तब बलात्कार का मतलब मालूम नहीं था। समझता था कि बलात्कार का मतलब परेशान करना होता है।

तब मुझे यही लगा था कि मुझे मेरे सवाल का जवाब मिल गया। अगर स्वीटी को कोई कभी परेशान करता है तो मैं उसकी रक्षा करूँगा। अगर मोहल्ले के पंद्रह साल के लड़के स्वीटी को परेशान करते हैं तो मैं उनकी मरम्मत कर दूंगा।

इसके बाद काफी वक़्त निकल गया। मैं अब करीब बाइस बरस का हूँ। आज रक्षाबंधन है। स्वीटी के बारे में सोच रहा था। उसकी शादी जल्दी हो गई। जितने भी दिन मोहल्ले में रही, स्वीटी को कभी किसी ने परेशान नहीं किया। तब सोचता था कि क्यूंकि मैं उसका भाई हूँ, कोई उसे परेशान नहीं करता। पर अब हकीकत से सामना हो रहा है। मोहल्ले में कोई पंद्रह साल का लड़का नहीं था। बाकी सब बच्चे हम से छोटे थे। तो फिर स्वीटी ने राखी क्यों बाँधी? आज तो उस से बात भी नहीं होती। न ही वो कभी कोई राखी भेजती है।

भाई बहन का रिश्ता इतना कच्चा हो सकता है, ये बात मुझे धीरे धीरे मालूम हुई। अगले सात आठ सालों में जितने पड़ोसी आये, सबकी बेटियाँ मेरी बहन बन गयीं। ये एक रस्म सा हो गया। सभी राखियों का कोई न कोई मकसद था।

स्वीटी के लिए सबसे बड़ा खतरा मैं था। तेरह साल का पड़ोस का लड़का था मैं, जो एक साल में चौदह का होता… और दो साल में पंद्रह का हो जाता। वही पंद्रह साल का लड़का जिसने अपनी पड़ोस की लड़की को परेशान किया था। दरअसल, मैं स्वीटी को खुद से बचा रहा था। समाज ने मेरी कलाई पर उसकी राखी इसलिए बंधवाई थी ताकि वो मुझसे महफूज़ रहे।

-आकाश की डायरी से ।

Kandi Veeran – Unsaid Stories from Eelam

May 26, 2016August 9, 2017 JeevaNayagiLeave a comment

Burrows shall burn and Bulbuls shall die
A fire so wild they must but die
Their glories unsung and stories unsaid.
Upon their ashes will men sure tread.

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