Fiction
It
was years since I had left Kochi. Sitting
on the shore of the Vembanad backwaters sipping beer with an old classmate, I
remembered those days of my life as a college student.
Professor
Leela Menon wafted into our conversation as naturally as the breeze from the
lake set the coconut leaves nodding gently.
“She retired more than ten years back,” said Mohan. “She now lives all alone in a villa facing
the Vembanad.”
I
decided to visit her. I was one of her
favourite students. I adored her poems
as well as her lectures on literature. I
participated in every essay competition to which the college was invited; I
participated more to please her than anything else. Professor Leela Menon was a poet and a social
activist. She did not marry; her life
was dedicated to social causes. She was
bitterly opposed to the kind of development and that was overtaking the
city. She hated people cutting down
trees in order to widen the roads. She
deplored the roar of the traffic, the rush of insanity, and the illusion called
progress.
“People
say that she bought a villa that was known to be haunted by ghosts,” said
Mohan.
I
was amused. “All the more reason I
should visit her,” I said.
The
auto rickshaw stopped at the gate bearing the Professor’s name beneath the name
of the villa: Valmikam.
To
my surprise, Professor Leela Menon recognised me instantly. We discussed the same old issues that were
her passions: environment, human greed, meaning of development and
progress... “The planet is dying,” she
said. “We are killing it. We are blood-sucking ghosts fattening
ourselves on the vital sap sucked from the planet’s veins.”
She
went on talking and reciting poems. About the market forces that had converted
parts of the Vembanad Lake into resorts and commercial centres. About the imminent death of the Lake. About the endlessness of human greed.
As
the sun began to set beyond the horizon, I said, “Somebody said you had a
bought a villa that was haunted.”
She
laughed gently. “Stories people
make. I didn’t try to suppress
them. They kept people away. I’m doing tapas
in my valmikam. I’d prefer not to be disturbed.”
When
the rainclouds gather the peacock dances with all the brilliant colours of his
plumes spread out. The hen is
attracted. They mate. Dancing, mating. Eggs are the consequence. More peacocks and hens. More dances, more mating. One day the peacock was tired of dancing and
mating. He said, O, God, let my plumes
vanish. I don’t want hens anymore. The plumes lost their sheen. But the hens continued to come. Let me become an egg, prayed the peacock. I want to do tapas.
I
remembered one of her poems.
“Why
don’t you spend the night here and experience the ghosts yourself?” she asked
when I got up to leave.
“I
have booked a room in the hotel,” I said.
“Never
mind. You can go there in the morning.”
When
the light was switched off and I was in bed, I realised what Professor Leela
Menon meant by the ghosts. The light from
the traffic that flowed relentlessly outside cast bizarre shadows on the
walls. The sound roared like
ghosts. Every now and then a train
passed – too often, in fact, roaring monstrously, shaking up the very
ground... Ghosts, too many ghosts, I
mumbled as I turned over in bed restlessly.
Being at peace... that's what this story inspires me to be.
ReplyDeleteGhosts are all in our mind, aren't they???
Yes, Nimi, we create the ghosts.
DeleteWow lovely to read
ReplyDeleteRetirement thoughts are overpowering me, Chaitali. But my wife is scared that I might only sit and sip beer instead of doing the real tapas :)
DeleteA Real Ghost story.:)
ReplyDeleteReal, yes, Goutami. About Real ghosts.
DeleteHi Tomichan, I remember of reading your piece long ago... you write so simple, so realistic, nothing surreal in it, yet so interesting :-)
ReplyDeleteI wish to own a farmhouse someday and rhyme of Lucy :))
My dream is not much different from yours, Anunoy... Let nature inspire me... May our dreams come true!
DeleteNice one Tomichan Sir. You are very brave indeed. I am but very scared of ghosts. I can't even gather courage to read such a book or watch a ghost movie. I will die from fear. :P
ReplyDeleteIf you live in Delhi for a few years, you will learn to fear men more than the devils :)
DeleteWow what a brilliant post. I've never seen industrialisation and urbanisation being explained in such an innovative way. Fabulous.. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Siddharth. We cannot save ourselves from these ghosts, however.
DeleteBut we can learn to accept and adapt...
DeleteOf course. That's what we are doing. But some changes out there will also be needed. Our future generations may not even exist otherwise.
DeleteGhosts indeed! :)
ReplyDeleteYou know I lived in a hotel that haunted by an Englishman's ghost. Really. I even blogged on it. Though of course I was ignorant of the fact it was haunted. I came to know about it much later.
That's interesting, Indrani. Give me the link, please.
DeleteGhost of the industrialized present....what better ghosts than human greed for more
ReplyDeleteWe can also be sure of one thing: these ghosts will never die.
DeleteGhosts of technology and civilization... we are perishing the melody of nature with this malady of urbanization...
ReplyDeleteI always find solace in Nature..it gives me an inexplicable peace of mind...
SEZs, development mantra, globalisation... there's a whole range of ghosts and ghost-manufacturing industry waiting in queue, Maniparna.
DeleteNooo...you took away my inspiration for my posts... (just kidding)
DeleteSimply loved this one. We need people like professor Leela else as you have said we are killing the planet. And we all including Me are responsible for the mayhem..
ReplyDeleteThere are a lot of people like Prof Leela in India today, Roohi. But hardly anyone bothers about them.
DeleteThese are ghosts who work 24*7 as well as overtime and are making this beautiful earth ghastly ghost world.
ReplyDeleteVery enterprising ghosts, yes, Kokila.
DeleteMissed your posts for sometime now. Making it up . Wish there was "like" option on the pages.
ReplyDeleteliked :-)