Shanti Nilaya: Abode of Peace

The South Africa based writers group of which I'm a part, conducts a short story competition towards the end of every year. Writers from across the world participate. This year, I decided to try my hand, too. Aaannddd...guess what? Somehow, I ended up as one of the runners-up!!!



And, please, no, the prize is not for my 'Guddi' story, that so many readers found unpalatable. 

This is a different one, and the prompt was "The Cottage". So, here's the story I wrote. As usual, I'm waiting to hear how you found it!

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I smoothed out the notes and arranged the coins and counted them yet again. Fifty rupees only. Definitely not enough to get back home as early as my mother demanded. I walked out of the hostel room, and found myself knocking Ranga’s door.

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Ranga at once.

“My grandfather is seriously ill. Amma wants me to come immediately. But you know, my financial situation…”

“Hey, don’t worry, Sunil. Just tell me how much you need.”

“I don’t know. Of course, I need money to travel, but once I reach home, if Tatha’s condition is very bad, and he needs medical care…who knows how much it may cost?”

Ranga proposed a solution that lifted my spirits and gave me hope.

“I’ll come with you, and we’ll see what needs to be done, ok?”

Within the hour, we were off in Ranga’s car, stopping only briefly for coffee on the way.

As we rounded the curve and my home came into full view, I heard Ranga whistle. His eyes had grown wide, and with awe in his voice, he said, “Wow!” giving me a long look.

Set at the end of a lush green farm, the contrast of the dark red tiled roof against the whitewashed walls gave my home an imposing appearance. A sheltered porch ran the length of the cottage’s front, welcoming one to rest a while on the cool, polished cement floor. The smell of a wood fire came from the house, and mingled with the aroma of the jasmine flowers on a vine curling around the pillars supporting the porch.

How ludicrous it must have seemed to him that someone with such a house should be in such dire straits.

With a touch of diffidence, I said to him, “This belongs to Tatha. It’s all we have left now.”

“Shanti Nilaya,” said Ranga, reading the name of the cottage aloud, while I mused over the irony of the words, which meant ‘Abode of Peace’.

Amma was waiting for me and with a wan look, she nodded when I introduced Ranga as my friend. She brightened up a bit when I mentioned he was a final year medical student.

“Maybe he can find out what’s wrong?” she asked.

We went in to see Tatha, who was lying on a cot in the corner of an austere room, mumbling something to himself. The windows were closed, and the shades were drawn, and only light from a tiny skylight filtered into the room, leaving the place in semi-darkness. The air was filled with the cloying smell of frankincense that burnt at a small altar set up near the cot.

I looked questioningly at Amma, and she shook her head, whispering, “It’s all his doing – wants the gods near him, he says, and refuses to open the window.”

The very next moment, Tatha began whimpering. “Go away, Venu…get away from me. Don’t trouble me like this. I’ll do whatever you want … just tell me what it is …let me die in peace!”

I was shocked. What a come-down for my bossy grandfather. We’d never been able to have anyone to help around the house and garden because of his dictatorial ways. His sharp tongue hadn’t spared Amma and me either, and now, here he was, reduced to an incoherent, bumbling mass.

Amma led us out of the room and over a simple meal, told us how this peculiar behavior had started from the past two days.

“Who’s Venu?” asked Ranga.

Amma’s face fell. “I wish we’d never set eyes on the man,” she rued.

“Don’t blame him, Amma, for what was your father’s fault,” I said. Turning to Ranga, I explained, “Venu was a rich businessman, and the original owner of this cottage. My grandfather was the Police Inspector of this area. Venu had some business disputes, and his opponents sought the support of some corrupt government officials and Tatha helped them, too. He managed to frame some trumped up charges against Venu who then lost everything. Tatha was gifted this house as a reward for his help.”

“I won’t ever forget how Venu cursed us while leaving this village with his family,” said Amma. “He screamed, saying we’d never be happy living in this ill-gotten house. For the past twenty years, no one heard anything of him. Just last month, though, we got news of his demise.”

Ranga murmured almost to himself, “The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly fine.” I stared blankly at him, wondering what he meant.

Ranga turned to Amma. Although he looked pale, his voice was strangely reassuring. “I’ll go and take a look at him again, and see if I can help with some medicines.”

When I stood up to accompany him, Ranga shook his head, and laid a restraining hand on my arm. “I’d rather see him alone, Sunil. Why don’t you rest for a while and then we could walk around the farm?”

I spread a mat out on the porch and lay down, and the cool breeze wafting across soothed me enough to fall into a deep sleep, in which I had visions of Venu’s ghost peering at me in the gathering twilight.

When I woke, it was dark. I went inside and saw Amma sitting watch over Tatha. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, and his face bore a faint smile even in deep sleep. Whatever agony had been torturing him for the past few days seemed to have melted away.

“I don’t know what magic Ranga worked on him. He’s finally fallen asleep, and Ranga says the worst is over,” whispered Amma.

I found Ranga sitting at a corner of the porch, leaning against the wall, as if seeking support from it. All was silent except for the chirping of crickets. The tiny lamp burning beside the Tulsi plant in the courtyard cast an eerie glow over the porch.

I was surprised to see that Ranga who had been dressed in trousers and a shirt, was now in a black overcoat over the traditional dhoti.

“I’ve laid your Tatha’s demons to rest, Sunil.”

“Amma told me just now. How did you do it, Ranga?”

“I dressed up like Venu, and went into your Tatha’s room. In Venu’s voice, I told Tatha that I held no grudge against him
, and that I had forgiven all the wrongs he’d done to me. He cried out loud once, and fell into deep slumber. Don’t worry; he’ll recover in a few hours.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Ranga. I’ll always remain in your debt!”

“You’re too kind, Sunil.”

But something still bothered me. “How did you manage to imitate Venu?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t you know how to dress and talk like your Tatha, Sunil?”

I stared at Ranga as realization dawned on me.

“Venu was my grandfather. He had a picture of your Tatha and often, he’d show it to us grandchildren, claiming this was the man who destroyed his life. Today, when Fate handed me a choice, I chose forgiveness, for, hatred is too heavy a burden to carry.”

Finally, after all these years, the words ‘Shanti Nilaya’ seemed to glow with new-found peace.

Image source http://nomadicdecorator.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Osur-Village-Colors-500x375.png




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