THE NOBLEST OF NOBLES

Everyone called him a great healer but he merely wished to be known as a servant of God. His name was Doctor Dharma and he was not a quack but a qualified MBBS doctor. Dharma had lived in the Town of Arokiapet all his life except when he had gone to Madras to pursue his interest in Medicine and study M.B.B.S. at the Government Medical College there.

Even during his childhood Dharma had been a very quiet boy and had not given any trouble either to his poor parents who were barely able to provide for him or his simple small town teachers who taught him during his formative years. Even when Dharma was in Medical College he continued to remain quiet and barely spoke to anyone unless he was spoken to. He passed Medical College and everyone expected Dharma to go abroad for his professional pursuits as was the practice of his peers but Dharma surprised everyone by wishing to return to his Home town and serve the poor of his town.

Dharma was a different kind of a doctor. In this day and age when doctors charge thousands and lakhs of rupees to heal patients, Dharma would hardly charge a hundred rupees to heal a patient. Even the worst illness would be healed within a thousand rupees. Dharma believed that the medical profession was founded on the premise of service and was not a business as was being practiced by most doctors of his time.

Dharma’s treatment methods too varied from that of others. Whenever a patient came to him for treatment he would spend a lot of time listening to the patient explain what he was suffering from and how he felt. Dharma would ask probing questions about the patient’s family, his background and other things which any other doctor would consider irrelevant to the case. Within half an hour of talking to the patient, Dharma would make the patient feel so comfortable so much so that the patient felt fifty percent cured by unburdening himself to the doctor.

Dharma never prescribed any diagnostic testing. He did not believe in any form of testing and a simple examination with his stethoscope, thermometer and torchlight would be enough for him to diagnose the illness of the patient. He would make the patient breathe deeply and listen to his breathing with his stethoscope. He would then stick the thermometer under the tongue of the patient while opening wide the eyelids of the patient and shining his torch into the pupils of the patient after which he would finally prescribe the medicines for the patient.

Moreover, Dharma never prescribed the medicines sold in the drug stores and pharmacies. He procured his own medicines and handed them to the patient at the clinic. Dharma’s first line of treatment would be a muscular injection followed by oral intake of medicines.

The capsules and pills which Dharma prescribed never had any name or markings on it. Whether it was an ordinary cold and fever or the most chronic of cases Dharma’s regimen of drugs was always the same. The most surprising part of it was that almost ninety nine point nine percent of the cases treated by him where cured and even the point zero one percent of the cases which were not cured would invariably be because the patients did not have faith in the kind of medication prescribed by him and therefore went to some other doctor.

Dharma’s name and fame soon spread in the town where he lived. Very soon people from other nearby towns and cities started bringing sick people to Dharma’s clinic. However the case which pushed Dharma into the limelight was the treatment of the Mayor’s wife by Dharma. The lady had been diagnosed with cancer and the doctors who treated her had claimed that she only had one more year to live. The Mayor who was really shocked wanted to have a second opinion and having heard of Dharma from his watchman had taken his wife to his clinic. Within a week of treatment the lady’s cancer cells went into remission and a month later she was completely free of the dreaded disease. The Mayor was overjoyed and wanted to give Dharma a huge fee but Dharma only accepted five hundred rupees as his fee which further more impressed the Mayor.

The Mayor was also the head of the rotary international in his town and decided to honour and felicitate Dharma with the title of ‘The Noblest of Noble Doctors’. Dharma was initially hesitant to accept the title but due to the persistence of the Mayor agreed to attend the function and accept the title.  The ceremony was held in the best five star hotel of the town and Dharma felt completely out of place amidst the opulence when he attended the function in his bush shirt, ill fitting trousers and rubber flip flops. The assembled dignitaries were indeed impressed by the simplicity and humility of the noble doctor. The media which was covering the event in full strength was also impressed by him and a local television news channel interviewed Dharma immediately after the ceremony.

During the interview, the interviewer asked if Dharma was happy to be called The ‘Noblest of Noble Doctors’ to which Dharma replied that he never considered himself noble or worthy of such a title. The persistent interviewer wanted to know if there was any secret medicine which Dharma was using, since all medication prescribed by him was issued at his own clinic and not available in other drug stores and pharmacies. Dharma replied negatively and the interviewer therefore asked Dharma what it was that he was giving the patients. Dharma replied that he merely gave the patients a pro-biotic injection and also some tablets which contained vitamins, minerals or other necessary salts.

Dharma further expounded that the human body was the most perfect of God’s creations and illnesses to such a perfect body arose mainly in the minds of the individuals. When the mind was assured that the body was being treated by a competent doctor it automatically healed itself. The interviewer looked at Dharma with disbelief and Dharma had to swear that he was telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

is H

The day after the interview was aired on television Dharma came to his clinic at the usual time. However, not a single patient came that day or ever after.

ONE’S SORROW DOTH BENEFIT ANOTHER

Sunny hated school and considered it a waste of time but his parents like other parents of the time insisted he must go to school and therefore he would act like he was going to school though he actually bunked classes and spent his days with friends loafing the streets or watching a matinee in one of the innumerable theatres that dotted the city. Sunny was fifteen years old and in the crucial tenth grade at an eminent school in the city of Madras.

Sunny’s parents were too busy with their own professions and never bothered to check on his scholastic activities. He was therefore gradually emboldened and used to tell his parents that he had special classes in the evenings and would go to the movies in the evening as well.

Since he needed money for all this he began dipping his fingers into his parents’ wallet and handbag. One thing led to another for all bad habits are a vicious cycle like the swirling waters which suck everything into its vortex and soon Sunny was smoking more than ten cigarettes a day and an occasional stick of Mary Jane too.

His name was Kinky Mixmoney and he was Sunny’s class teacher. He had been asked by the Head Master to raise funds by selling tickets for the school play and procuring advertisements for the school Souvenir. The Head Master had also said that the class teacher who raised the maximum funds will be given a fee trip to Singapore and this had set the adrenaline rushing up to Kinky’s head. He had fifty nine students in his class and he decided to target each of them and their parents to contribute the maximum.

While systematically working his way through the roll list he found that a pupil named Sunny had not been attending classes for more than three months now. When he inquired from the other boys in his class he was told that Sunny had been ill for over three months and had not been seen. Kinky therefore decided to visit Sunny’s home that evening to show his concern for the sick boy and also exhort Sunny’s Father who was a government servant in regular touch with big businessmen to obtain advertisements for the school souvenir.

That evening Sunny had gone for an evening show of a World War II movie with a couple of his friends, smoked a couple of cigarettes and returned home at nine p.m. to find a scooter parked outside his house. As he parked his cycle in the compound, Sunny’s Mom came out and he asked her whose scooter it was to which she mumbled about some uncle who had come to visit and then went back inside.

When Sunny entered the house he was horrified to see his class teacher grinning smugly at him. Needless to say Sunny got his butt kicked black and blue while his class teacher obtained his free trip to Singapore…

One’s sorrow doth benefit another…

PUPPY LOVE: THE SUMMER OF 1972

Sunny was just a playful twelve year old studying in the sixth grade of a reputed school in Madras. Even as a young boy Sunny was passionate about arts and spent more time with books and music while neglecting his textbooks.

His interest in music had made his parents put Sunny in a classical choir at their neighbourhood church which the entire family attended and Sunny would go there regularly for practice and also to the actual Church Services on Sundays. Practice sessions were between six to eight in the evenings on Tuesdays and Fridays while actual Church services were from seven thirty to ten in the mornings and six to seven thirty in the evenings on Sundays.

Sunny was very diligent and would attend practice sessions without fail. Whenever he left for practice and returned Sunny could feel the gaze of hidden eyes from the window of the corner house at the end of his street. Though he could not find out who was watching him he knew for sure that someone was gazing upon him. Soon his neighbour's children informed him that there lived a girl of his age named Sunanda in that house.

One day while playing with his neighbour's kids, Sunanda dropped by since his neighbour's daughter was Sunanda’s classmate and Sunny set his eyes on her for the first time when they were formally introduced to each other by his neighbour’s daughter. Sunny was too young to understand the significance of love at first sight but he found himself strangely attracted to Sunanda. I can tell you that certainly sparks did fly and Sunny could not avert his eyes from her.

Sunanda too seemed to find a kindred spirit in Sunny and soon they  became the best of friends and whenever Sunny went past her house on his way to choir practice or Church service, Sunanda would look out the window and wave to him. On his return from practice he would find Sunanda waiting near the gate of her house and he would stop and talk for awhile before going home. This became a regular ritual and on days when Sunny did not have practice or did not have to go to church Sunanda would drop by at Sunny’s neighbour's house and they would meet up there as they played the games that kids of their age used to play in those days.

Sunny and Sunanda remained best of friends for over two years and hid nothing from each other. Sometimes Sunny’s choir would sing at weddings and would be gifted money by the bridal family. Sunny would use the money to buy Sunanda gifts but the best gift that Sunanda always treasured was the few flowers that Sunny would pick up from those used for the marriage decorations and bring for her.

That summer Sunny appeared for his eighth grade exams in April of 1972 and Sunny’s Mom forced Sunny to study hard. She did not allow him to even go to his choir practice. This frustrated Sunanda and unable to be without seeing Sunny she picked up a few hard boiled candies and went upto Sunny’s door and rang the bell. Sunny’s Mom who opened the door was surprised by the young girl who wanted to meet Sunny.

You must remember that this happened in the early nineteen seventies and in those days a boy and girl being friendly was frowned upon by the elders. Sunanda glibly said, “Aunty, it is my Birthday and I want to give Sunny some sweets”. Sunny’s Mom called Sunny. Sunny knowing that Sunanda was lying for her Birthday was only in July went to meet her and in the pretext of wishing her spent a few minutes with her.

That summer of 1972 was the best that Sunny ever spent and he and Sunanda were together for most of the time. She began to visit Sunny’s house regularly on some pretext or the other and Sunny’s Mom didn’t know what to do. Whenever, Sunny crossed Sunanda’s house they would stand near the gate and talk for long hours. It was during one such meeting that Sunanda told Sunny that she wanted to tell him something but hesitated and told him that she would tell him the next evening.

Sunny was excited for he felt that Sunanda was about to proclaim her love for him. The next evening Sunny rushed to Sunanda’s house but found the gate locked. His neighbours later told him that Sunanda’s father had incurred a loss in his business and had declared insolvency in a court of law for non-repayment of loans. His father had fled the town leaving behind his wife and daughter. Nobody knew where poor Sunanda and her mother went.

Sunny searched and searched far and wide but could never find Sunanda ever again.

ONLINE ENCOUNTERS WITH A BLACK WIDOW

It was during circa 2007 that it all began. I was then living in Delhi where I was employed and had left my home and family behind in an attempt to eke out a better life. Being an erstwhile communication & development professional, I had all along been employed in either community development or the development of media and mass communication. My experience in these two diverse sectors also gave me insights into the socio economic fabric of our country which were valued by a few employers.

I was therefore employed by a Public Relations agency to execute online and secondary research so as to provide ‘Business Intelligence’ for their clients. While I was initially happy with my work, I soon got to have a taste of the condition to which corporate India had degenerated. I have never got along well with female bosses since they tend to put up a shrill, strident and arrogant attitude of hot air with added bluster; which they normally use to mask their inadequacies in my presence.

Unfortunately, I found myself stuck with a female boss this time around who was more engrossed in cutting down to size all her colleagues rather than utilizing their potential and drawing out the best in them. After having gleaned twenty five years of experience, I did not wish to be treated as a junior by a woman who was herself junior to me in age and experience. I therefore put in my papers some time in October 2007 and decided to strike out on my own as a communication and development consultant. I then obtained a PC for myself since I had left behind my old PC in Chennai. Armed with a computer, I set about attempting to gather some new biz.

While the routine of going to office had kept me occupied from seven in the morning to nine at night, my new found freedom left me lot of free time which made me begin to experience the throes of loneliness. Though living in a vast metropolis I knew very few and had no friends to keep me company. I would invariably spend my day in front of the television while a maid who came over for a couple of hours would cook, sweep and clean for me. With my three meals taken care of  I had nothing much to do and soon realised that idle hands are devils tools since I began to take to smoking and drinking; two habits that I had quit a few years ago.

Nursing a drink or puffing away on a stick while surfing the net soon became my favourite past time. It was during this period that I happened to chance upon a few social networking sites and enrolled therein. Unfortunately my encounters with a couple of such sites were not positive and soon my password would be changed without my knowledge or I would be blocked from accessing the network. It was then that I stumbled upon fritolo. Somehow, fritolo seemed a better option though the characters who inhabited all the sites were a same diverse cross section of people with diverse character and mentality.

There have been many interesting encounters on fritolo since then. I would like to share one such incident that was as interesting as revealing of human nature. Initially I was a bit hesitant about interacting with people on fritolo and would restrict myself to posting the odd blog or two. The responses to my blog were very interesting leading to mutual dialogue.

It was then that I chanced upon the heroine of my story here. Her name was Daphne (name changed to protect the identity of the subject; lol……….) and the picture on her profile suggested that she was a Greek Goddess. She started frequenting my posts and commenting upon them to which I would occasionally give my responses.

My initial impression of Daphne was that of a black widow though I don’t know why I used to connect her to a black widow. She then started sending me messages to which I politely replied. She would comment upon similarities in our respective natures and suggest that she had similar vibes as myself. She then started suggesting that she would prefer to interact outside fritolo. I therefore provided her with my email ID and then we started communicating via Yahoo. One thing led to another and we were soon chatting on Yahoo messenger whenever we found the other online.

She told me that she was a divorcee and that she had been subject to great turmoil during her marriage. She also told me of her children as well as her interest in serving the cause of differently abled children and their integration into the main stream of society. Being a NGO professional myself, I used to discuss the problems that we faced in the implementation of development programmes and the answers to the same. She appeared to be single, footloose and fancy free while appearing to be enjoying herself thoroughly. On the face of it she appeared to be a mere popularity seeker attempting as it were to win a popularity contest.

Daphne had many friends within fritolo but notable among them were two ladies whom I used to call Chief Justice and Tweety Bird. They had a special bonding amongst themselves and used to address themselves with a synonym used for siblings. While Chief Justice was a big yap who considered herself to be a senior amongst fritoloites – a rather childish notion – the other lady, named Tweety Bird was a decent type and a good friend of mine. She was a bit naïve in a girlish sort of way though she was the mother of two children and was charmed by the attention of so many people for she did not realize how cheap and vicious people could be on the internet.

Chief Justice was merely an agony aunt who would reach out to people as if she were concerned but was more of a gossip monger than a strong dependable shoulder to cry upon. She enjoyed probing into the lives of others on fritolo and tried to extract dark secrets from them even when there were none. I suspect she got an orgasmic kick out of washing other people’s dirty linen in the webosphere. Together the three made a veritable team and they kept mocking or playing the fool with the men on fritolo who went running behind these women like cattle that had not tasted fodder for weeks on end.

It was during one of our chat sessions when we were talking about ourselves and our dreams and ambitions that Daphne suddenly popped the question, “Shall we run away to the Kumbh Mela and vanish?” I was astounded by her question for in spite of all my bluster and big talk I am basically a very old-fashioned guy who is rather formal with women. I was quite taken aback by her question and tried to cover up my embarrassment by replying that the Kumbh Mela occurred only once in twelve years and that she could not do so even if she wanted to; for it was not yet time for the Mela. Not knowing what to do and still feeling the discomfiture resulting from her making such a bold pass at me, I mumbled my excuses and wound up the chat session.

I did not chance upon her online for the next couple of days since I was a bit preoccupied with a small freelancing assignment that I was bidding for. It was on the third day that I happened to open my yahoo mail account to check the backlog of mail that I found her online. She pinged me with a Hi and we got talking again.

During the course of the chat session in response to something that I said she replied that, she and her husband were planning to do something or other. I was taken aback for just three days ago she had said she was single and had also suggested running away to the Kumbh Mela. I was unable to digest this information and immediately asked her to clarify what she meant by her husband. I could sense the hesitation on her part for she had rather unwittingly and inadvertently blurted out something that she had not intended to.

On further probing she told me that she had recently re-married someone whom she had met on fritolo and that they had been keeping the marriage under wraps for the past month since the guy she had married this time was also married and was having some problems in getting rid of his first wife. She also told me that she and her newly married second husband had been on a honeymoon to a city in South India famous for its Silicon Valley connections and had stayed there in the house of the Chief Justice.

I felt terribly let down and betrayed. I had not had even the slightest intention of flirting with her but had simply enjoyed her friendship and jokes which served to drive away my loneliness in Delhi. It did not matter to me that she was a married woman but what mattered was her lying to me after having behaved like a friend and as if she had no secrets to hide from me. Being a stickler for honesty and truth I abruptly cut the line and sat there brooding over the kind of people who existed of fritolo and the lack of even a single genuine friend whom I could interact with.

That night being rather depressed, I hit the bottle with great gusto while trying to post blogs as well as read posts of other friends and commenting upon them. That night I happened to come across a post by another friend who was a ‘male bovine’ from Chennai and had posted a piece on the nature of contemporary women. In my inebriated state I felt a rush of blood to my head as I commented on his post and asked him to check with Daphne about women who though married posed as unmarried on fritolo.

I then went to bed and completely forgot about the incident until I opened fritolo later the next day to be greeted by a stinker from Daphne about my betraying her trust and having spoken ill of her. I did not know whether to laugh or cry for here was the person who had lied to me: had betrayed the very bond of friendship and was now accusing me of betraying the very trust that she had betrayed.

I guess most people in today’s world behave this way. They do not realize their own mistakes and lies but accuse the person who has been lied to of betraying their trust. I do not know what trust these liars are talking about.

Coming back to our story Daphne became hostile to me and did not even message me for the next couple of months. It was quite some time later that she happened to comment on one of my posts and also apologized for her having misled me. In response I too apologized for my having responded to her lie with a sort of knee jerk reaction in the form of a sarky comment on ‘male bovine’s’ post.

Daphne then told me that her second marriage had been a big disappointment and her second husband had cheated her by claiming to be divorced from his first wife while in reality he had not divorced her at all. The thought that came to me at that moment was of a Black Widow weaving its dangerous web.

As I stayed longer on fritolo I developed friendships with many men and women who later brought me more gossip about the Black Widow and her flirtatious behaviour with many unsuspecting men. The Black Widow’s existence on fritolo continued for more than a year as she drew many more gullible men into her web. She was known for the games that she created and played exclusively on fritolo exclusively for the benefit of fritoloites until one fine day she went out of her depth and the very people who had claimed to be her closest friends felt victimized by her and disassociated themselves from her.

A couple of months later, I discovered a new profile on fritolo which seemed similar to Daphne’s and shortly thereafter I came to know that it was the same lady who was continuing to lure fresh victims into her web using a new profile.

I am sure the Black Widow continues to hunt for unsuspecting victims in some corner of the virtual world even today. All that I can do is ask the men to beware and not fall for the wiles of the Black Widow of fritolo.

TINSEL TOWN TALES - II: A WAGER

The Director was very excited. He was happy since he had managed to obtain call sheets for his next project from the leading lady of South Indian, nay, Indian cinema. He gushed profusely, thanking the female superstar and her personal secretary before leaving to make all the necessary preparatory arrangements for the upcoming shooting with Reshma, the current prima donna of the Indian celluloid world. 

As he wended his way to his car Reshma smiled gently at her companion who also happened to be her personal assistant, Kanchana. Actually Kanchana was really not an employee of Reshma. They had studied together since primary school and had been friends for almost sixteen years now. While Reshma had been naturally endowed with divine beauty, Kanchana was the perfect counterfoil to highlight the beauty of Reshma. An ugly duckling by birth, Kanchana had grown in the shadow of Reshma’s beauty and had become popular with her peers through her proximity with Reshma.  

Reshma smiled at her friend Kanchana as she said, “Getting booked for director Gurucharan’s upcoming film is indeed a great opportunity to showcase my acting talent to the whole of India. The role too is different from the ones I have done earlier and I see a great opportunity and scope in this role to display my talent”.  

Kanchana smiled back at her, “Yes it is indeed a mega project and the role will get you greater acclaim; but do you really think the director wanted you for the role for your acting abilities or for your physical beauty?” she demanded.  

“What rubbish are you talking Kanchana?” Reshma raised her voice. Do you think that I have become such a famous and popular actress only because of my glamorous body?”  “Let’s face it, Reshma”, Kanchana continued to tease Reshma, “Your popularity is because of your beauty and not because of any spectacular talent that you have. You just do what the director tells you to do and most directors knowing what pulls crowd to their movies make you flash parts of your body which will attract attention and thereby produce blockbusters.”  

Reshma was really infuriated by Kanchana’s statement. “Come on Kanchana you are exceeding your limits. Just because we have been friends from our school days does not mean you have the right to speak ill of me. I guess it is because you are jealous of me that you speak this way”.  

Kanchana was really upset to hear Reshma say this. “Reshma my dear friend, I only wish to make you aware of the ways of the world and it was not to insult you or belittle your success. I felt as your friend it was my duty to ensure that you don’t fall for this illusion of popularity. This illusion will only make you popular as long as you are young and beautiful. The moment you become old and ugly nobody will bother about you and I just wanted to make you understand this” she said.  

“Do you think the world will forget my face when I become old and ugly?” Reshma demanded. “My fans will always adore me even if I look ugly and old. Why don’t I prove this to you and let us have a small wager to prove that you are wrong. I shall dress myself as a dirty and ugly looking beggar woman and beg on the most popular main road of the city for three hours. I’ am sure that I will be noticed even though I may look ugly and at least five fans will identify me as Reshma within these three hours. Not only that, my acting will be so natural that those who really don’t know me will think I’ am a real beggar woman and I’ am sure that I will collect more than a hundred rupees as arms by the end of those three hours.”  

Kanchana looked upset on hearing this. “What stupidity is this Reshma? My intention was not to get into a wager with you. It was only to mention the ways of the world in a frank manner. I didn’t think it would upset you this way. Kindly forgive me and take rest for a while as you have an important shoot this evening at the studios” She said.  

However Reshma was not deterred. Reshma went about purposefully planning the wager. She even formulated precise guidelines and set the ground rules. She told Kanchana, ”I will commence begging on Mount Road which is the biggest arterial road in Madras for three hours and I wager at least five of my fans will identify me as the heartthrob of Indian cinema. Not only would a minimum of five fans identify me, I’m sure that I will act exactly like a beggar so much so that I will be able to collect a minimum of hundred and fifty rupees in those three hours as alms from the passerbys.”  

Kanchana was rather disturbed that her words had affected her friend this badly. “What stupidity is this Reshma?” she said. “I merely wanted to make you understand the temporary nature of beauty and you have now misunderstood my words and planning for some stupid wager in which I do not want to participate. I fear that this will create a rift between us and I do not want that to happen. In fact I would prefer to take back my words back or rather eat my words if you would just call all this off.”  

However Reshma had become completely fixated on the idea and even called her lawyer to draw up the terms of the wager. She instructed the lawyer to prepare a document which mentioned that if she should win Kanchana would have to leave her position in Reshma’s household and go away for good. If God forbid, Kanchana should win Reshma would hand over all her material assets including the money she had earned in her acting career to Kanchana. Kanchana cried and begged Reshma not do this as she did not want to leave Reshma’s side. But Reshma forced Kanchana to sign the document.  

Reshma then called up her beautician and makeup artist as well as wardrobe manager and asked them to prepare her for the role of a beggar woman. Within a few hours they completely transformed Reshma from the gorgeous beauty that she was to a trashy beggar woman.  

Reshma wanted to fulfill the wager the same day and therefore at six that evening she entered Mount Road from one of the by lanes where her car had dropped her. It was peak hour in the busiest stretch of Madras city. Commuters pushed and jostled as they hurried their way home after a hectic day in the office. Nobody cared for the other and each one had to look out for their own safety or be trampled by the flowing mass of humanity on the sidewalks.  

The automobiles on the road were worse than the pedestrians on the sidewalk. They slowly inched their way bumper to bumper accompanied by shouts and screeching horns that created a cacophony worse than hell. In the middle of all this Reshma found a fairly quiet an unpopulated spot where she sat down and began the task of begging. It was exactly six fifteen that evening as observable from the clock tower at the junction as Reshma earnestly started begging.  

For dramatic effect Reshma kept wheezing and coughing like a beggar woman suffering from consumption. “Amma, Ayah, Brothers, Sisters.” She called out every conceivable relationship as she asked them to spare a few pennies for her. Reshma had come prepared and she kept waving a tin can which she had brought along with her but nobody seemed bothered. In fact the more Reshma wheezed and coughed the more the people veered away from her for they were scared of catching some bug or the other from her.  

Reshma became oblivious to time as she kept focused on her acting and continued to plead with the passersby. After about fifteen minutes she found that her can had only collected two fifty Paisa coins. “Humph! People today don’t want to give unto other.” She thought to herself. “Every day when I enter the studios on my way to shoot, I throw ten rupee notes to the beggars at the entrance. But nobody is willing to spare a few coins for me” she fumed.

  
It was at that moment that a huge whack landed to the left side of Reshma’s face leaving her literally shell shocked, while a huge leprous woman peered into her face. “You fucking moth eaten dummy” said the woman who appeared worse than moth eaten. “How dare you sit on my fucking spot? Did you know that I give monthly bribes to the fucking policeman on this beat to retain this fucking spot and you fucking bitch think you can take away this fucking spot from me?” she screamed.  

Reshma was shocked at the number of times the f word could be used in one sentence but recovered quickly and screamed back, “How dare you hit me. Do you know who I am?” she screamed as she raised her hand to hit the other woman and then desisted from doing so as the very thought of touching a leper was revolting to her.  

It was at this moment that a fat policeman with handle-bar mustache entered the scene. “Hey you there, what are you two doing?” he demanded. The big sized leprous woman immediately turned to him and said, “Aiyah (Sir), you know this is my spot and I pay my mamool (bribe) regularly but this woman is now trying to take over my place.” she complained as if it was a throne that she was being asked to abdicate.  

The policeman scowled at Reshma and said, “You are new around here, aren’t you? Don’t you know that you have to pay me five hundred rupees per month to beg on this stretch of the road? Go find yourself another spot and give me five hundred rupees at the end of every month or I shall book you as a vagrant and lock you up in some beggars home” he threatened as he pocketed the two coins which had accumulated in Reshma’s tin can.  Reshma not wanting to delay her ordeal with the policeman who appeared oblivious to the fact that he was talking to one of the leading, leading ladies of his time. She hurriedly moved away and found another spot about a hundred metres further down the road next to where a roadside cobbler was seated busily polishing shoes and mending slippers of passersby. 

The surroundings were filthy and Reshma who had lived a life of luxury and comfort was not used to the same. She wrinkled her nose in disgust but realized she would have to act her part.   

Meanwhile, more than an hour had passed and Reshma had hardly collected two rupees in her tin can. She wondered if the tin can she had brought along was unlucky or if her acting abilities were not making that much of an impact. She decided to raise the bar on her histrionic abilities and started wailing and flailing her arms at the passersby who just moved on unimpressed. 

Only an old Man paused for a few minutes to regain his breath before walking on towards his destination.  By the end of the second hour Reshma had only managed to collect seven rupees. Even a one hour ad shoot would have fetched her anywhere between seven to ten lakhs of rupees and would not have been so tedious. The seven rupees she had earned in the past two hours were indeed the most hard earned in her entire career.  

It was then than Reshma noticed the cobbler eyeing her. He was just not looking at her but his eyes were ridden with lust. “Hey, I guess, I’ve seen you somewhere’, he exclaimed. “Yes, you may have” replied Reshma who was by now desperate for attention. “You seem tired” the cobbler responded. “Here have a glass of water to drink” he said and poured out water that appeared cold from a plastic bottle onto a plastic tumbler which he then handed over to her. 

Reshma was glad that someone was finally being kind to her and gladly accepted the glass of cold water from the cobbler.  Drinking the water was all that that Reshma ever knew that evening. 

When she woke up Reshma found herself shivering on the cold pavement of a dingy bye lane. Her loins ached, she knew not why but out of the corner of her eye she espied the cobbler lighting up a beedi (a locally made Indian smoke). He seemed joyous as he spoke “My God, that was the best fuck I've ever had and hope you guys too had a good time’. As he said that Reshma could make out five figures in the dim light standing around the cobbler and realized she had been raped by all these guys. One of the five figures also resembled the policeman she had encountered that fateful evening.  

The time was exactly six fifteen in the morning as observable from the clock tower at the junction.

WHEN THE CAUSE BLAMES THE EFFECT

Amos Ammarkallam was a very perplexed man. You may feel that with such a name he obviously would be perplexed, but the cause of his perplexion was not his name, but his only beloved son, Sunny. Amos and his dear wife had showered all their love on Sunny, but somehow nothing seemed to suffice.

Sunny was a complex character and one that both Amos and his beloved wife, Maggie could never ever comprehend. Sunny had been a shy, quiet and obedient boy until the age of ten when he was put into a big school with hundreds of other children.

The complex character that Sunny was, he required constant attention and guidance from his teachers and elders, but unfortunately he never received them from his elders nor his teachers. Both his parents were dedicated to their jobs and hence could not devote as much attention to Sunny as Sunny required of them. His school teachers too could not provide the individual attention that Sunny required since they had to teach classes with total strengths of sixty to seventy mischievous boys on the rolls and it was just impossible for these teachers to provide specialized attention for each of the student’s needs.

As a result only the strong willed and independent minds which studied in the school could grow and rise up in life while the soft, but creative students found their talent being neglected and not being nurtured by the teachers. It is said that many a creative genius had been destroyed for having been enrolled in the school and quite a few of these children grew up  despising school and entering into a warped world during their adolescence, thereby turning into perverts, freaks and addicts who are considered misfits of this unfit society.

Sunny too was one such character who due to a childhood of loneliness and lack of attention had been led astray. In his search for attention, Sunny had gotten into evil company and learned their evil ways. By the time he was fifteen, Sunny was hooked on tobacco, drugs and alcohol; not to forget his forays in the dark.

Usually, Sunny used to obtain money for his vagrant ways from his unsuspecting parents. Once his parents realized that their innocent child had been bewitched by the forbidden fruits of desire, they tightened up their purse strings, forcing Sunny to seek alternate ways of funding his habits, including thievery within his own house.

Things came to such a pass that nothing valuable in any form was safe in his house and even the waste paper which his father meticulously collected would vanish to end up with the khabadi wallah or the wastepaper man and provide enough resources for Sunny to smoke a joint or pop a few psychotropic pills.

It is the nature of such substances which Sunny abused, to enthrall their users and then gradually wreck the mind of such subjects. As a result, Sunny soon started behaving weirdly at home. He would vanish for long periods of time; sometimes even days together and return late at night after everyone had gone to sleep. The reason why Sunny never stayed at home was that he could not enjoy his habits and was scared that his parents would find his behavior under the influence, rather weird and distressing.

It was this behavior of his son which perplexed Amos and coming from a generation which was not used to all these kinds of substance abuse, he really did not know what to do and how to go about helping his son to get back on track. The crowning or should we say defining moment of Sunny’s substance abuse came about when Sunny returned home at two o clock in the morning after having spent two days and two nights on the streets literally painting the town red.

Having entered the house at such an odd hour, Sunny did not wish to disturb his parents and reveal his inebriated condition. He therefore quietly went to the dining room where he found the previous evening’s supper laid out on the dining table for his consumption. Sunny quietly helped himself to a bit of rice and curry which he gobbled down hurriedly since he hadn’t eaten for two days when his Mom woke up on hearing the sound in the dining room and came to witness a shocking sight.

In his inebriated condition, Sunny had helped himself to rice and curry without making the effort to help himself to a plate. He had put the rice on the table with curry on top and was helping himself to it, right off the table top. Sunny was unaware of the anguish of his mother or the very fact that he was eating food direct off the table and not from a plate.

His mother woke up Amos and he rushed to the dining room to witness this horrid scene while Sunny continued to eat his meal oblivious of the fact that he was eating without a plate. After somehow having managed to put Sunny to sleep, his poor parents conferred until dawn to decide what to do with Sunny. They finally decided to seek external help to help Sunny and therefore decided to take him to a psychiatrist known to them.

When Sunny woke up that morning, his parents requested him to be prepared to go with them to an Uncle’s house as they put it, in the evening. Sunny couldn’t care less. He was only bothered about his next fix and only pestered Amos to part with hundred rupees which Amos reluctantly did under the condition that Sunny come with them to the said Uncle’s house that evening.

Sunny agreed to it for he would have gladly agreed to do anything to get those hundred rupees. However, once he obtained the hundred rupees, he sped away to the local peddler for his much needed fix; just like a bee attracted to the nectar of a flower.

Once the nectar had been ingested, Sunny completely forgot himself and his promise to his parents to accompany them to this so called Uncle’s house. When he returned home the next morning after a night out on the town, he found his father very furious while his mother did not even talk to him.

Sunny was ashamed of him-self while his father shouted at him and forced him to accompany him immediately to the Uncle’s house. Sunny had no other alternative, but to go along with his Dad and realized that the Uncle was a psychiatrist Doc only upon arriving at the clinic.

The psychiatrist tried to coax Sunny to communicate with him and promised Sunny that he would let him go after Sunny had answered a few questions. However, this was not the deal and the psychiatrist ensured that Sunny was immediately put into a hospice for the mentally challenged.

It was Sunny’s shame and his desire to please his mother that made Sunny accept being locked up in a facility where the inmates were different from the rest of the world. Once inside he could not even dream of leaving the place without the knowledge of the authorities who ran the place.

He was then kept sedated for a few days until the physical urge and craving for the psychotropic substances diminished and he became more his natural self. The psychiatrist who had brought Sunny to this facility was very pleased with the progress that Sunny made and soon Sunny became a role model for all the inmates of the facility.

Amos and his wife were relieved that their son was doing much better. In fact life without their son at home seemed to be bliss for them since they did not have the pressure of having to be constantly on guard with a son whose behavior they could not predict.

After about forty days of being incarcerated in this facility, the Doctor called Sunny’s parents and asked them to take Sunny back home since he was no more addicted to his vices and could now be let into the real world as a free man who hopefully had learned from his past mistakes.

However, Sunny’s parents were hesitant to take Sunny back home and requested the Doc to keep Sunny locked up for another three months. The Doc was surprised and tried to explain to Amos and his wife that there was nothing wrong with Sunny now and that he could not therefore justify retaining Sunny in the facility anymore. Moreover, the bed occupied by Sunny was required to treat much more critical cases and therefore he could do nothing else, but release Sunny.

On hearing this, Amos was furious and shouted at the doctor for not listening to his request and trying to release his son without his having agreed to it. The Doctor then looked pitifully at Amos and said, “Dear Mr. Amos, I am sorry to say that it is you and your wife who are mentally challenged and who are the prime cause of a normal child’s addiction. Frankly speaking, it is you who require psychiatric help, not Sunny.”

With these words, the doctor left them and signed the papers to release Sunny from the facility. 

BEHOLD; THE PROMISED LAND

The entire gang was in a bad mood; they all had problems at home. They really wondered if the ones whom they loved so much really loved them too. If they really did love them, was anger and hate the manner in which they would reciprocate and reveal their love? 

Whether it was parents, siblings, or uncles and aunts under whose wings they were sheltered, the gang wondered if they really loved those whom they sheltered or was it just because they felt it was their duty and because they wanted to look good in the eyes of society that they took care of them and behaved as if they love them? 

I too had problems at home; being an only child of rather domineering parents, but I shrugged of my worries rather philosophically while my friends were unable to do so. By the way, for those who don't know me, my name is Sunny and I have made several appearances as a protagonist in Suri Ben Noah's yarns.

All these were questions that prevailed in the minds of the entire gang who were my closest friends when they congregated that evening at our usual haunt. I tried explaining to them that love did not mean allowing the loved ones to always do as they pleased and it was the duty of the one who loved to take care that the loved one did not go astray. 

However, my gang of friends were in no mood to listen. They were already high on grass and downers or barbiturates which were the technical word for such psychotropic substances. In their intoxicated state they felt that they should seek their own paths and carve out their own lives the way they wanted to; far away from their home town and far away from the domineering control of their loved ones.

I tried my best to explain to them that what they had thought of was wrong and that they should return home that night but in their intoxicated and inebriated state of mind they were in no mood to listen. They decided to leave Madras and go to Bangalore; for in those days Bangalore was considered to be a hep and happening town with the right climate and the right kind of girls for guys like us to mingle with. 

I laughed at the absurdity of their suggestion and said they would require money to go to Bangalore and fend for themselves until they found a job but my friends were in no mood to listen. They scorned me for being such a wimp and a spoil sport and decided to proceed to Bangalore that very night to seek their fortune as it were in a new world which appeared to be their promised land.

They then took an inventory of their possessions to see how much resources they had to reach Bangalore. They discovered that all that they possessed was only fifty eight rupees which was not even enough to buy a train ticket for a single person to travel to Bangalore. It was then that one of the wise guys in the group suggested that they start walking to Bangalore and that once they hit the outskirts of Madras they could find an accommodating lorry driver who could take them all to Bangalore as a part of their cargo for a mere fifty rupees.

At this juncture, I felt it was my bounden duty to prevail upon them to see common sense and understand their folly. But my friends were too far gone to see reason or listen to it. Feeling pity for these friends of mine and also feeling guilty that I was not being supportive of them, I impulsively decided to join my friends in their hike to Bangalore for I believed that I was a very resourceful guy and could help them in their quest for independence by being an active participant in raising resources rather than a mere spectator who kept pointing out their follies. Therefore, at eleven that night eight of us set out on foot toward the promised land, Bangalore.

Even before we had finished walking a couple of kilometers, the gang started wearying and slowing down. It was yours most truly who then suggested we take a city transport bus which was in those days called “Pallavan” bus by commuters. For just two rupees per head we would be able to reach Poonamalle; a small suburb from which lifts could be bummed of truck drivers to reach Bangalore. The Gang agreed unanimously to my proposal and we then boarded a city bus to Poonamallee. After obtaining eight tickets for sixteen rupees we were now left with a budget of forty two rupees for us to carve out a fortune in an unknown land.

We reached Poonamalle at about one in the morning. We then strolled over to the road side eateries which were normally haunted by truck drivers at night. However, there were no truck drivers to be found there for it was well past the time when these guys would have a late supper before leaving for their far away destinations.

My poor gang members had no other alternative but to trek down for there was no option of trucks to be had. While the boys continue to trek, I would like to introduce my companions to you since I feel it is my bounden duty to brief you on the seven characters who accompanied me on this journey in search of the Promised Land.

The first one was Dilli Babu who was the senior most and therefore, deserved to be introduced at the beginning. Dilli had just completed his Masters in Public Administration. He was a hard core communist who believed in the equality of all men. He also believed in getting all men drunk for Dilli believed in the power of alcohol in bringing about equality amongst all men.

The second character in this story of mine is Venu Shastri who had recently completed his B.Sc., in Physics. Whose sole ambition was to become a sailor in the Indian navy. His father had been a sailor before him and in spite of all the drinking and hard blows that his father had delivered upon him, Venu felt his future lay in becoming a Naval officer in the Indian Navy. He had therefore written his entrance exams for the Naval Officers Training Academy and was awaiting results when he decided to literally walk out of home.

The next character in this whole incident was Bharathan who was being raised by the children of his father’s second wife. His father had been a cinematographer of yore who had fallen in love with a woman of European descent who had been an artiste in one of the movies on which he had worked. However, the artiste had given birth to two children, an elder brother and Bharathan before she passed away from this world. His father had married again and had four children from his second marriage. It was with the eldest of these four children that Bharathan was currently living and from whose unsavory remarks and behavior that he was running away.

The next character in this entire episode was Satya Babu who was the younger brother of Dilli Babu and who would follow wherever his brother led him. Satya had dropped out of a Pre University Course and had led a vacant life until the gang decided to leave home that fateful night.

The next character in this episode was Chandran who was actually the reason for my being part of this gang. Chandran hailed from a village near Madurai but had come to the city since his father as a Government servant had been posted there. Actually his father worked in the same Government department as my own father and we were therefore really very close since our parents and our families knew each other. It was under Chandran’s suggestion that I had become close with the rest of the gang and it was only because I wanted to protect him that I became part of this group which left home in search of the Promised Land.

The next member of the gang whom I would like to introduce here is Raja who was in no respect a king at all. The Raja being mentioned here was a transvestite who liked to dress up as a woman due to his homosexual inclinations. He was the only guy whom I have seen till date who wore a brassiere and not a vest under his shirt.

The last and final character whom I would like to introduce to you is Mohan; a rather dumb but violent kind of guy. Mohan had been unable to go beyond the sixth grade in school for more than five years and had therefore dropped out of school. He made up for what he lacked in the brains department with his brawns. Though thin and puny in appearance he could unleash such power with his fists so as to knock out any one who dared antagonize him. He was feared by even the deadliest of professional thugs in Madras and was considering turning Pro himself when fate brought him to us on this escapade of ours.

While I was introducing them to you, my gang had meanwhile traveled along in a steady march and had almost reached Sripermbudur. In those days Sripermbudur was still a sleepy village for Rajiv Gandhi had not yet set foot on its ground and had not yet been blown to pieces there. 

It was almost daybreak by the time we reached there and a couple of trucks as well as their drivers were found there outside a Chai shop on the outskirts of the so called town. We approached both of them and offered the forty two rupees that we had left with us to both of them, asking them to take us to Bangalore along with their cargo but both of them refused.

We had marched more than twenty five kilometres that night and we now had blisters the size of cat’s paws on our feet for our footwear was not suitable for trekking. We were already hungry and the effect of our intoxication of the previous night was already wearing off. We were desperate for we somehow wanted to reach Bangalore but the only two truck drivers in sight were unobliging.

Meanwhile, I noticed that Raja was behaving rather effimately and casting side long glances at one of the truck drivers there. A few minutes later I found that Raja had vanished form the scene. We were all tired and none of us were in the mood to walk any further. For about half an hour we lounged outside a chai shop and also lost seven rupees in the process of having seven chais (Raja was not to be found). We now only had thirty five rupees and were nowhere insight of our destination.

The boys were busy tending to their hurting feet and not at all bothered that Raja was missing. I was rather worried when finally Raja emerged from behind one of the trucks with a cocky smile and a rather subservient truck driver behind him. Raja proudly informed us that the truck driver had agreed to take us to Bangalore. We were greatly relieved and did not bother much about how Raja had convinced the truck driver to take us along with him.

We happily boarded the truck and after eight uneventful hours we reached Bangalore at seven that night. Meanwhile we had spent the remaining thirty five rupees on a sparing lunch or rather snack for all eight of us at noon that day and we were totally out of money when we landed in Bangalore that night. Bangalore was cold and we were rather unprepared for it with our flimsy t-shirts and trousers. We had no woolens or warm clothing for we were Madrasis to the core.

It was Diwali’s eve that night and we were out in the cold, shivering, hungry and shelter less.

We walked around Brigade road and then went into MG road just to keep the cold away from us. It was at a corner of MG Road that we came across an old sign that read “Madras Cafe”. We were hungry and desperate but did not have the money or the guts to go in. We looked on hungrily at the entrance to the restaurant as people walked in and out; entering with hunger and then returning with satiated and gratified expressions on their faces.

Dilli who was the boldest of the lot even suggested that we walk in, eat to our hearts' content and run away without paying the bill. However, being the sanest of the lot, I told them clearly that this kind of behavior would only land all of us in jail. It was only at that moment that we espied a middle aged gentleman, observing us from a distance. He appeared all white and holy for indeed the man was dressed from head to toe in pure white. He had on a milky white shirt and the whitest of dhotis to match as much as the white colored chappals did. His forehead was filled with whitish grey sacred ash and he appeared as divine as the divinest of them all.

Noticing that we were observing him he came towards us and introduced himself. He claimed that he was Shivalingam a building contractor in Bangalore and that he was a native of Tamil Nadu with roots in Madras. We were really glad to meet up with a native from our own town; so much so that we then confided all our woes to him and told him how hungry we were. On hearing of our hunger Shivalingam was shocked that people from his native town should suffer such hunger on the eve of Diwali while the whole of Bangalore was rejoicing and celebrating Diwali. He therefore requested us to come with him to his house where his wife would feed us and treat us to the best Diwali of our lives.

Having no other alternative and being hungry, we followed Shivalingam to his residence in Uolsouor which was a small suburb of Bangalore those days. His wife was a pleasant faced woman who appeared to be scared of her husband and obeyed all that he ordered her to do. As soon as we reached his house in Uolsouor he called upon his wife to prepare a hearty feast for us; the gang of eight from Madras. He told us that he would get us all jobs the day after Diwali and that we would all rise like the phoenix from the ashes of our lives in Madras.

His wife was an ever smiling woman whose face had a perpetual smile which looked as if it were a mask but our hunger refused to question her smile and we devoured what ever she dished out to us that night. Soon we became weary for we had had a rather tiring day and we therefore decided to go to sleep early so that we could wake up early in the morning and join the Shivalingam family in the Diwali celebrations of circa 1986.

The next morning, when I woke up I found myself in a hospital bed with a bottle of saline dripping into my vein and no one beside me to share my pain. It was indeed not the Diwali that I expected for I felt weak, drowsy and tired. I tried to move my limbs but they refused to obey my command as if they had a will of their own. My eyes were unable to focus and I could not see clearly and my ears could only snatch pieces of conversation though I was unable to listen clearly.

I heard that they were planning to harvest our organs. Harvest our kidneys which they could then deliver to clients so far away that they could not know anything about us and how our organs had been procured. As these words fell on my ears, though faint and sedated, my mind could understand that we had fallen into a trap, a trap which had been set so that my friends and myself would be the victims.

I knew I had to do something desperate to get us out of this situation we were in. I tried getting out of bed but I felt very weak and faint. The movement of my hand was restricted by the needle taped to it through which saline was dripping into my veins. The sight of the saline bottle really made me afraid and in desperation I felt my abdomen with my left hand to check if I had already been operated upon while under sedation. Fortunately my abdomen was smooth and unscarred and I heaved a sigh of relief.

As I lay on the bed I could hear a couple of doctors whispering to a blue suited bald headed guy who seemed to be the king pin of the organization that our kidneys would be harvested at midnight and shipped in special containers to a far away place. By this time, I was high on panic and looked around widely to see if I could get any sense of the time of day. I managed to have a glimpse of the window near by through which I could make out the fading light of sunset and I realized that I had very little time to save us all.

I quietly closed my eyes and waited for the sun to set so that I could make a break from the hospital where I was held. Soon the sun had set and I could hear the wailing call for prayers from a mosque near by. My room had remained lit with electric tube lights even during the day and the fall of dusk did not affect the lighting in my room. However, the passage of time had strengthened me and I knew that now was the time to make a dash for it.

I slowly managed to raise my self out of the bed, pull out the needle with the attached tube from my forearm and gently stand up. I teetered at the brink of a dark abyss but managed to force myself to stay upright without falling. I then realized that I was not dressed in my customary clothes but was devoid of all clothing and had just been covered by a sheet. I realized I was stark nude but did not have the time to feel ashamed.

I desperately staggered out of the door and made a dash through the desolate corridors while a couple of startled nurses looked at me with shock and mouths wide agape. Before they could react or scream I had staggered out of the corridor and into the dimly lit lobby. It was then that I realized that this was no ordinary hospital but more of a slaughter house kept primarily for the purpose of harvesting human organs. The only person in the lobby was a rough looking male with a mustache curled at both ends. He was more startled at the sight of me than I was of him and before he could attempt to catch me I fled out of the building on to a dark street with no one passing by except for a few cars that whizzed by with a blur of lights.

Bangalore at that time of the year was pretty cold and I had nothing on to cover myself. As the cold hit me I began to run fast to warm myself. Seeing me a couple of stray dogs began barking and chasing behind me. 

Far away in the distance I could see a group of people walking and I rushed towards them to obtain their help. It was only when I reached them that I realized that they were a group of Hijiras. Seeing a young male like me in complete naked splendour they became pretty excited and one of them who was bolder than the others seemed to fancy me and even tried to fondle my privates while offering to give me a blow job. However, the eldest of them all who appeared to be the leader of the group rebuked the bold Hijira and prevented any further mishaps.

The leader of the group was also conversant in Tamil and when I narrated my tale of woe, offered a rough shawl to drape around my waist and gave me the directions to the nearest police station. Following the directions which the leader of the Hijiras gave me, I walked down a market street and the late evening shoppers on the street stared at me in amazement. I was oblivious to them all and walked down the market street which I later came to know was the Uolsouor market road. My thoughts were only on saving my friends.

It was around eight that night when I finally reached Uolsouor police station. I rushed in to explain my tale of woe but the policemen in the station were apparently waiting for me and pounced upon me as soon as I entered the station. As blows from their lathis rained upon me, I lifted my arms to protect my face and realized that I had made a mistake in seeking the help of the local police station.

Apparently the local police station was hand in glove with the organ stealing gang and had been tipped off by them over the phone about my escape. They knew that I would come to them to complain about the gang and had waited patiently for my arrival. I realized I had been very naïve in expecting justice from the police and fell down as the blows continued. It did not seem like my lucky day at all or rather my lucky night and I wondered how I was going to save myself and my friends from the fire into which I had fallen from the frying pan.

It was then that dame fortune smiled upon me for at that moment the local Superintendent of Police happened to come on a surprise visit to the station to check on things and found me being brutally attacked by the local policemen. On seeing their Superintendent of Police the policemen of the station became nervous, stopped their third degree treatment to turn around and salute the newly arrived superior. 

Relieved of the recurring blows, I rushed to the Superintendent to plead with him for the life of my friends. Fortunately the Superintendent was a native of Tamil Nadu and upon hearing that we had come from Madras and had fallen into the trap of the organ smugglers, he was furious with the Inspector of the Uolsouor station. He ordered that I be given proper clothes to wear.

All that happened after that, happened as if in a dream. The superintendent realizing that the local policemen would warn the shady hospital of the raid on the hospital, ripped out and tore away the wires of the telephones in the station; for those were the days before the mobile phones came into existence. 

He then ordered all the cops in the station to board a van while he took me along with him in his jeep from which I showed him the way. The police swooped into the hospital and not a single individual inside the building was spared. All my friends were still groggy but happy that they had been saved. We were all taken to a government hospital where we were given a general check up and made to sleep for the night.

The next morning the kindly superintendent was at our bedside and after a hearty breakfast we were taken back to Madras, escorted by two policemen to ensure that we reached home safely. 

We then realized that for us the Promised Land was Madras and all of us lived there happily ever after until we grew in our professions and migrated to distant lands; each one going in their own direction.