SILENCED

In a time unknown and in a city unheard Soumen and Souwomen lived together. They had the brightest lives, excellent bonding and the most harmonious relations between each other. However they were what one could call as Two in one. Because the Soumen & Souwomen had a different way with their innerself, their soul. They could talk to their souls. Their souls were their teachers and guides. Whenever a decision needed to be taken, they asked their souls and acted accordingly.
Life moved on happilly in that city unheard.
Then came famine. There wasn’t enough food. Children were dying and so were Soumen and Souwomen. Life looked tougher day by day.
One night when the dark hounded the city, a Souman lingered out of his little home. He didn’t know where he was going, what he was going to do. All he knew was hunger and pain. And that he couldn’t take it any longer.
As he continued his walk he saw some light in the nearby hut. The door looked slightly open. He slowly entered the hut, tempted by a smell he well recognized. A loaf of bread awaited his eyes there. His senses evoked his actions and he was about to grab the loaf when suddenly he heard a voice. His soul's voice.
'No u cant do this. This isnt your bread. Wait, you shall get your fill. It wont be as bad as it is. This isnt yours.' His soul was trying to stop him, guide him.
But then hunger was a strong temptation getting stronger each minute. And at this point the soul's voice sounded more like noise. The Souman's soul didn’t feel like a friend any longer. It sounded like an enemy. And enemies need to be done away with.
Half an hour passed. The hut door was still open. But the loaf was missing. And so was the Souman. He was lying in his empty bed. Without an empty stomach after two long days. But Souman wasn’t himself anymore. The enemy had been silenced. And so had his Soul. The Souman was a man now.
When the true owner of the loaf realised the theft, he blamed his neighbour for it. The next night the neighbour was killed and so was another soul.
As time passed more and more Soumen & Souwomen became men and women. They were still happy, sumptous and healthy, but they were also sad, greedy and weak now. Some of them continued to be Soumen and Souwomen still but then, they couldn’t do much because of the increasing army on the other side.
Life continued and still continues in that unheard city. Just that times have changed. And that city is your city, everyone's city. We gave it a name. The World.

Question is who are you? Souman/ Souwoman or Man/Woman ?

BAHADUR HAD A BRIDE

'Ho! Ho! Ho! Bahadur Ho! Ho!'

As the azan of Jama Masjid echoed across the gallis of Old Delhi, it was time for little Ali Hassan to direct Bahadur back to his shed.

Bahadur- the pride of Hassan family, the talk of the mohallah, Ali’s partner in crime and not to mention, Chand Khaala’s true source of income. After all Rs 4000 that Salim Hassan earned wasn’t enough to support a family of four kids, one begum and his Abba. So as the winters sent across the chills in the city, Bahadur’s yearly woolen fur offering added to the income in a big way. That’s the way the Hassan family survived, progressed and saw some happy sumptuous Eids.

Bahadur was munching his fresh green diet in the evening when a thought crossed Chand Khaala’s head and formulated a strange calculation. She was thinking about a family. A sheep family and the income it would generate from the wooly kids. Yes, she finally decided. Bahadur needs a bride. The family discussed and debated. And little Ali proclaimed himself as the Bride finder. The search started.

It was a Sunday when the sweet smell of Jalebis, pulled Ali and his clan to Ramcharan’s kadhai which he carefully halted by the roadside everyday. Ramcharan’s jalebis, although overtly glazed with cheap ghee, did tempt quite a few peddlers. As the jalebis were served in leafy bowls, Ali took the first bite and burned his tongue. Then came the scream and finally a splash of water. In between all the chaos, Ali’s little ears caught a bleat. She stood there. Eyeing Ali, not directly though. She was demure, shy and playful. Yes, she was perfect. And whenever she moved, the little tinker bell around her neck created soundful music. She was Lajjo, Ramcharan’s sheep, a female sheep. And Ali was already hearing the shehnaai.

The matter was discussed. It was going to be a grand marriage. A marriage that went beyond the walls of caste. The sturdy male Bahadur was marrying the tender female Lajjo. Two weeks later. Ali was laughing and hugging Lajjo. He had another pet in the family now. Bahadur would have his companion now. It was a joyous event for both the families.A week passed. Things progressed slowly. Free Jalebis made way to Hassan’s family. Greetings were exchanged. The names of the next off springs were decided. The trade would happen on a 60- 40 basis from what the next generation would bring through. Ali found a new friend in Ramcharan’s daughter Radha.

All seemed well, till the night of Thursday.Trouble came from a neighbouring city. The Babri Masjid was demolished and fire broke out in the city of hearts.

The mohallah decided to stay unaware and unaffected, but the flame had already made way through the once colorful gallis. They became cautious. Then they started bitching. Then petty fights came in. Finally, one struck the other. And after two days of hatred, revenge and bloodshed, Ram’s devotee Ramcharan decided to break ties with Rahim’s followers.

Bad news spreads faster. The call off became the talk of the Mohallah. And it brought home shame to Hassan’s little shack. Chand khaala cursed Ramcharan’s family. Hassan’s silence spelt anger. And swore revenge.

The days passed. Bahadur was not allowed to get out of his shed anymore. It was unsafe to allow such a money churning machine to roam in free. Atleast that’s what Ali felt. After all hadn’t he found the tinker bell lying in Abba’s wallet one day when he was trying to rob some money for a few ice candies? And hadn’t Lajjo gone missing three days after the marriage was called off?

Finally came a day when Bahadur was found dead. There was a little blood oozing out of his mouth.And while they were taking him to the burial ground,amidst his tear, Ali saw a glazed fragment of orange sweet near Bahadur’s grass.

And life went on in the Mohallah, without Bahadur and Lajjo.