The Painter - A Short Story

The Painter tiptoed into the living room, carefully avoiding the mahogany coffee table and yet another china vase. He was as quiet as a church mouse as he moved over the carpeted floor, searching for the painting in the dim light of a handheld flashlight.

The baseball bat swung at him out of nowhere, and missed him by a hairline. He grabbed the bat and forced it off the wielder - the middle-aged owner of the house. The two men struggled, delivering punches while knocking off framed photographs from the mantelpiece. The heavier, bulkier house owner got the better of the Painter and shoved him to the floor. He got him in a choke-hold and the Painter struggled to get free.

The Painter strained his head and looked up. The painting he was looking for was hanging right there on the wall - an original painting of a dinner table from 1659, oil on canvas. The Painter was starting to feel light-headed.

He reached out his hand towards the painting, and immediately, a knife in the painting started to twitch. It flew out of the painting, materialized and came to a stop within his palm, just as he gripped tight the strong, steel cutlery. He jabbed the knife backwards into the house-owner's torso, and immediately felt the grip around his neck loosening. He forced his hand over the owner's mouth and slit his throat.

Fresh, warm blood spilled all over the Painter as the man spluttered violently. Soon, he was dead. The dark pool of blood around him grew quietly. The Painter stood up, wiped the blood off the knife using the nearest table cloth and pressed it back into the painting, where it resumed its former position as a part of it, without showing any signs of ever having been removed.

The Painter was about to take the painting off the wall when he heard noises upstairs. "Walter? Walter, are you all right? You told me to call the police, I - " The woman walked into the living room and found her husband's bloodied corpse. She let out a horrifying scream as she fell to the floor, right beside him.

The Painter watched this from outside, through the window. His object of interest was still hanging there on the wall. He could hear the sirens in the distance now. He will just have to try another night.

The investigators were clueless. There were no witnesses, no fingerprints, no DNA evidence and no murder weapon that they could find. The murder seemed almost... supernatural.

In the midst of the search for the killer, hardly anyone noticed the small specks of blood that had been newly added to the 1659 original painting.

Whose great idea was it to compare a woman to a flower?

"A woman is precious and delicate, like a flower. But once you pluck the petals, the flower is worthless."

I am sure that we've all heard some variation of this comparison more times than we'd like to admit. As revolting as it is, it took me too long to understand why this is one of the most sexist and idiotic comparisons out there.

Biologically, a flower is the reproductive organ of the plant.

Let me repeat that louder for  the people in the back.

A flower is the freaking Reproductive Organ of the plant!

So when you compare a woman to a flower, you are reducing her to merely her reproductive organs. That is probably the most moronic thing I've ever heard.

A woman is so much more than that. She is an entire person. She is the whole package. Why is that such a hard concept for society to grasp? She is her own person, with her own dreams, desires and ambitions. She is a human being.

Ladies, you are not an object. You are not a flower or a piece of tape that becomes worthless when someone touches you. You are so much more than that. You are a beautiful individual and you should be proud of that. Lady, you are not a flower, you're the whole damn plant. You are a human being. Don't let anyone treat you any less. Let us end this silence now. Let us stand up and fight - against sexism, misogyny and assholery. Let us fight for our human rights.

Dogs of Sikkim: Travellogue Part 7

As an avid animal lover, I feel the uncontrollable urge to pet any animal that passes even remotely close to me. Such was the case at Tashi View Point.

While everyone else was busy shopping and taking photographs, I had my eyes set on the little brown puppy walking around the place. He was simple adorable. And when I got close enough to him, I crouched down and beckoned him to me. The energetic little puppy came running to me and I was overjoyed. It came to me like I was his long lost owner. He started licking my hand as I tried to pet him, and was jumping around, wagging his tail. Getting this reaction from an animal has to be one of the happiest things in the world.

Our embrace was broken up when my parents told me off for touching a dirty street dog. I stood around for a while, watching the puppy. He seated himself in front of a bench, where two men were eating popcorn. It was quite obvious that he was hungry. But he made no noise. He just sat there, hoping to get a bite to eat. I desperately wished I had kept some food with me.

When the men left the bench, so did the puppy. I noticed a piece of popcorn lying on the seat. I discreetly grabbed it and took it to the puppy a few feet away. He started jumping when he saw me, and when I offered the popcorn, he immediately took it and started playing with it, while trying to eat it.

I was enjoying watching this adorable ball of fur before me when I saw him approach. He was a big dog with yellow fur, and he was coming straight at me. For a second I was scared. I didn't have any food to give the new comer. I was crouching on the floor and so this dog was as tall as me. What if he attacks me? It was too late to get away.

But he just stood there benignly. He motioned with his head that he wanted me to pet him, and so I did. And he looked extremely satisfied. I was relieved. He didn't want food; he just wanted someone to pet him.

That's the thing about cats and dogs. Just like humans have three basic needs (food, shelter and clothing), they too have their own basic needs - food, shelter and petting.

I rubbed the dogs head, and I felt there was bond forming between us -  like we've known each other all our lives and we were now being reunited. I wanted nothing more than to take him home with me.

Just then, they called me; to leave the stray dog alone and to come take some pictures with them. I reluctantly left the dog behind and approached them, only for them to look behind me and let out gasps. The big dog was following me around. Apparently, he was not having enough of me petting him.

Even as I sat down on the bench to take a photo, he wouldn't leave me alone. While everyone else saw this as a menace, it warmed my heart to see him following me around. So we ended up taking the pictures together - me with the dog that refused to go away.

All this makes me think, how much the dogs would have been craving attention to follow me around like this. How much they crave to be loved.

Saying goodbye was the hard part. It was like leaving behind a long lost lover, never to see him again. He watched me descend the steps after I kissed him goodbye. I swear, if he had followed me down the steps, I would have cried.

One think I noticed about the dogs of Sikkim was that every single one of them was incredibly handsome. They all had thick fur (I suppose they would need to, considering the climate) and looked well fed. I assume people took care of them, despite them being street dogs. Just like the people, even the dogs here are decent and friendly (unlike the hostile dogs in my hometown). Man, I love this place!

I think I'll move to Gangtok and adopt a couple of dogs. Yep, seems like a good idea.

Then again, why stop at a couple?

Sightseeing in Gangtok: Travellogue Part 6

Day 3 (1-5-17/ Monday)
Gangtok

We arrived in the city of Gangtok by around 6 pm and we went straight to the hotel. It was almost dusk when we reached our rooms, which was on the top-most floor.

Just one more step, I kept telling myself as I staggered up the seemingly never-ending flight of stairs. And with one massive surge of will, I reached the summit. And what I saw amazed me.

We saw the city below us, touched by the orange rays of the setting sun, and the mountains beyond it, in shades of blue and green. We felt like we were on top of the world, with the valley far beneath us.

We went into our rooms and settled in, only to come out a few minutes later, when it was dark outside.  It did not matter that we had spend half the night at a railway station and the other half on a slow, freezing train compartment. It did not matter that we had spend the better part of the day on a long and tiring car journey. It did not matter that we had just climbed, or rather, crawled, 10 floors to reach our rooms. It did not matter how exhausted we were, because the view made it all worth while.

The hillside was alight with numerous flickering lights in gold and silver. It looked like someone carelessly scattered glitter over a black canvas; like stars over an inky black sky. And we were watching all of this from up above. If only you could have been where I was, seen what I had seen - for what I saw was beyond mere words and pictures.

Gangtok: night view

Day 4 (2-5-17/ Tuesday)

Our ride arrived early in the morning. Our plans for the day ahead included visiting seven different tourist points in and around Gangtok.

The first stop was a handicrafts museum quite near to our hotel, where we saw the arts of weaving, painting and sculpting. With plenty of other locations on our itinerary, we did not linger around much longer.

The second stop was a flower show. In the warm and humid room, there were numerous different types of flowers and  plants, all in full bloom. It was the perfect place for photo shoots, and we didn't hold back. Outside, we stumbled upon some people who lent out traditional Sikkimese dresses - long silk gowns with fancy hats and loud jewelry - at a low price, just to take photographs. Needless to say, one look at the pretty clothes and we spend almost an hour taking photos in different poses. Looking back, the fun we had was one of the major highlights of the entire trip.


Stop #3 was Hanuman tok, a temple on top of a mountain dedicated to The Monkey God. We spend time taking photographs and enjoying the view.

We skipped a couple of stops in between and head for the next point where we could get a decent lunch. Tashi View Point was a nice little place, and we went straight into a restaurant as "some of us" were more than a little hungry.

The restaurant we got into was little more than a crowded, noisy, cramped up room. But we had to make do with what we had. We pulled together a couple of tables and feasted like there was no tomorrow.

Despite the clamorous and restricted ambience of the restaurant, the food was excellent. We ordered thali meals (rice with accompaniments), chowmein (a type of noodles), thukpa (soupy noodles), rotis with curry and a couple of plates of momos (a type of dumpling). The dishes had a strong Chinese and Tibetan influence. The little hotel gave delicious food at reasonable prices and fine service. If you're in Gangtok someday, I suggest you check this place out.




We went up to the view point where did some more shopping and took some photographs. Our next stop was a Buddhist monastery. It was a very calm and peaceful place, and the inside of the temple was adorned with exquisite designs.

By late afternoon, we reached the last spot on the list. The rope way ran between two points in the city. We had to wait a while to get tickets, but the ride was totally worth it.

Gangtok is an incredible city, nothing like anything I'd seen before. The people are friendly, the drivers are decent and the city is beautiful. In just a day, I was in love. The places I grew up in was nothing compared to Sikkim.

It' s decided then. First chance I get, I'm moving to Gangtok.

Local Delicacies: West Bengal: Travelogue Part 5

I did say that the food in West Bengal deserves its own blog post and so here it is...

Perhaps nothing in this entire journey contradicted our expectations like the food. I must admit, we went in there having very wrong assumptions about what their food tastes like. And what we experienced truly left us in awe.

Right from the first cup of tea (the milk came from the cow in the shed behind the house), we knew we were in for a treat (literally). We ate lunch with other family members in the house in Debipur. They served us rice, followed by dal curry. There were many vegetable accompaniments, each one tastier than the last. But the one dish that stood out was the fish. Two large pieces per person was hardly enough. It's soft, white, juicy flesh was simply delicious.

The main course had us stuffed, and when they came to us with desert, how could we turn them away? Our mouths said yes while our stomachs pleaded no. Slowly we had the mango chutney they poured into our plate. It was the perfect combination of sweet and sour. Desert #2 was rice pudding with sugar balls. My mother attempted to say no, owing to lack of space in our tummies but they would have none of it. With the first taste of the pudding, we realized that we had just avoided a big mistake. It was truly scrumptious.

Dinner at the reception was a grand feast. A few snacks like pani puris and a dish of chicken were available before the main course. I tried to count the number of items that were served but, honestly, I lost count. Roti and rice items were accompanied by many vegetable and meat side dishes. Dessert included gulab jamuns and rasagullas, among others.

It was with these tastes lingering in our mouths that we boarded the train to Sikkim, the next part of our journey, where another adventure awaited us. 

Back in Debipur: Travelogue Part 4

Two hours in the cramped up train carriage that took us from Kolkata to Debipur was a fun and exciting journey, and the beautiful view of the fields outside was a good enough reason to not fall asleep in an awkward position.

The sun was beginning to set when we got off at Debipur station, although it was hardly after 5 pm. It was considerably easy to find our next mode of transport; or rather, they found us. In that little town, we stood out like a sore thumb.

A blue toto was waiting for us. These battery-powered three wheelers were a better alternative to auto-rickshaws, considering their efficiency, low cost and the fact that they are environment-friendly. All six of us (with our baggage, mind you) managed to squeeze in and not fall off, all throughout the bumpy and thrilling ride.

The toto came to a stop outside the house where the wedding reception was going to be, and while everyone else went in to get ready for the party, my dad and I headed out to do something before we missed the opportunity - explore the fields.

The sun was setting and it was getting dark. We walked through the mango garden and got to the other side. This time, we stepped down and walked into the fields. And there it was.

Paddy fields: up close and personal

I don't think a lot of people from my generation has seen paddy fields, at least not where I come from. It's a rare sight in Kerala these days; I doubt it even exists. I had to come all the way to West Bengal to see something that was an all too common sight in my parents' childhood.

By then, a man from the house and a couple of boys (from the neighborhood, I assume) joined us, and graciously showed us around the paddy fields, and the adjoining land, where they grew all sorts of fruits and vegetables.

It was getting dark, and the festivities were starting. We came out of the fields and our guide suggested that we take the long way back, just so we can see more of the village. We walked down the little streets, taking in the sights, sounds and smells I knew I would hate to leave behind. The air, unpolluted and unconstrained, the chatter of the chickens, dogs, goats and cows, and fields as far as the eye can see, into which the sun so untimely sunk; all of this carried breathtaking beauty.

It was night time, when we got back to the house. We had seen almost a dozen ponds on our little hike and the heat had made us seriously consider jumping in. And we would have, if we weren't late for a party. We could have stayed here for a week and still not have seen enough or done enough. That's what this village did to me. It showed me what I was missing, living in the city.

We came back to the house and I remembered, to my disappointment, that we would have to leave Debipur in a few hours. After a quick shower and dressing up, we went down to the party.

Later that night, we got into the car with our packed bags and headed for Barddaman Railway Station, but not before bidding adieu to our delightful hosts and all the wonderful people we met in Debipur. These people gave us a home miles away from our own. And we are eternally grateful. As the car pulled out, I made a silent promise -  I would do everything in my power to come back.

A Day in Kolkata: Travelogue Part 3

After lunch with the family in Debipur, our party of six got into a car and rode two hours to the city of Kolkata. Everything was different by day. The city was gorgeous.

Our first stop was The Victoria Memorial, an exquisite work of architecture, built dedicated to Queen Victoria. Unfortunately, we were unable to visit the museum, but we did take a walk around the building, through the lush, green park.

After a lot of walking and quite a few photographs, we were ready to leave. As we set off to our next destination, it was already dusk, and Kolkata was even more beautiful at night.

In this part of the city, there were numerous fly-overs; all of them decorated by the signature white-and-blue lights. It was quite a sight indeed. I only wish I had gotten better photographs.

Kolkata's famous New Market is a bustling street, and the entire day's tiredness left us at the prospect of a whole evening of shopping. We spend a good couple of hours there, strolling from shop to shop in that crowded street, stopping only occasionally to buy something. What's interesting about the shops here, is that any price is negotiable, and, given the right shop and with a neat set of bargaining skills (something I, regretfully, lack), the products are an absolute steal.

We had a light dinner at one of the small restaurants within the market. And when the shopping bags got too heavy and too many in number, we decided to call it a day and head to the hotel we had booked to spend the night.

Originally, we had planned to spend the night at the house in Debipur, but given the long journey between Debipur and Kolkata, we thought it would be better to just stay in the city and see the sights before going back for the wedding reception. Our hotel was a nice little place hidden between apartment buildings in the suburbs outside the city. There, we got air-conditioned rooms, hot showers and complimentary breakfast in bed. Sweet!

Day 2 (30-4-17 / Sunday)
Kolkata

We got up bright and early and stuffed ourselves heartily with hot puris and potato curry delivered right to our doors. Having checked out, we took a cab all the way to Mother House, the Headquarters of The Missionaries of Charity and the final resting place of St. Theresa Of Calcutta.

Sunday Mass was almost over when we got there. The chapel was where the tomb was. The room right next to it had been modified to be a museum, where many articles used by Mother Theresa were on display. We were also allowed a glimpse into her room. It was quite interesting, seeing how modest and humble everything about her was.

 

Another thing we noticed about Mother House was that there were hardly any donation boxes in sight, unlike in most churches and chapels where there is a box kept before every idol. The place was quiet and peaceful, always emanating a positive energy.

Stepping back outside into the busy streets on Kolkata, we got on one of those local yellow cabs in an attempt to find the last few trams that were still running. The cabbie dropped us off at a tram depot, which, on closer examination, revealed nothing more than a run-down place behind locked gates with a couple of old, out-of-service trams inside sheds. Well, we did see tram tracks and, technically, we saw trams (even though it was through the small crack between gates), so, thinking that's all we were going to get, we were about to leave when a local told us that the actual depot was on the other side, and any working tram would be coming out of there.

Not the kind of people to give up, we walked about half a kilometre in the blazing afternoon sun to find a tram. We got all the way to the next junction before calling it quits.

We were both hungry and exhausted. We were convinced that only one tram was still operating, considering the fact that we had not seen a single tram the whole time we were here, and this one tram could be anywhere in the city. Not really wanting to run after it, we got in the nearest air-conditioned restaurant and had a heavy and delicious lunch.

Our bellies full and heads now clear, we stepped out, planning our next move. We had to get back to Debipur in time for the reception and the sooner we got there, the better. We had to get to Howrah Railway Station, to take the train to the little town.

Not wanting to get into another hot and stuffy yellow cab, we called an Uber and waited for the car. Still in disappointment about not being able to board a tram, we stood there on the lookout for our cab.

Just then, we saw it, right before our eyes; a big, blue and white tram riding along on the other side of the road. We could only watch with open mouths at the missed opportunity, as our Uber pulled up before us, and the Tram-that-got-away swept out of sight. Damn. 

Howrah Railway Station was busy and bustling with people. We got our tickets and took the first train out to Debipur. And after a day in this big city, I was glad to be going back to the village.