Monthly Archives: May 2020

Maria’s Diaries – Chapter-13

The sky was mackerel. She began the Greek studies. The coach was bespectacled like a kindred she found in an Athenian jest yet brimming with perspicacity. She matched the numbers. She was the last to turn out of the course. The halls were faintly illumined and there were rich shoots outside the cross divider and the unkempt edges in addition to sloppy others alert patches. She was crouching slightly because of the long duration at the craft zone with hardly three espressos the morning. In any case, that was functionally nice with that cereals breakfast when she began from home. mummy was debilitated. So she needed to do the dishes alone. Brother was sleeping after the late movie at the drive-in. Father had just gone for office. She wore her ikat salwar and sped to the interurban terminal.

Soon she leaves. She reviews once more…alpha (Α, α), beta (Β, β), gamma (Γ, γ), delta ,deltathe fourth (Δ, δ)……….nu ,13th (Ν, ν), a consonant, transliterated as n………..

Maria partakes in a battle in a bistro. Maria was insubordinate and didn’t stand any affront. She restricted male oppressive words signals and scoffs, that made her lesser throughout everyday life. right now, was helped by her companion, and relative, Joanna. Theirs is a fascinating gemütlichkeit scholarly, perhaps. The intriguing piece of the scene is that both were dreamers, attempting to locate the everlasting merger in a momentary world…

Maria was die-hard in multiple senses and she abhorred many friendships with guys around her. Especially chaps who examined her bearing and one such person was her supervisor at the work. He took her hands and she punched him in the belly. Furthermore, it was a season of mirth and she could dispatch the chronicles of that pursuit to some other dear self in another time… Here the character welcomed her to the java house and she left with him. He was in a way in front of the power mill and Maria was excited of that character yet the person was not totally fervent on her association and he asked Maria something that she was not equipped to dispense and look, Maria blows up. Moreover, hits him on his belly, you may recall not in the least. Also, her eyes flickered all through the time of these vindictive events. After the discharge of excitement, Maria was eased. Maria herself was not cognizant and she discarded that part. In her fifth class, while studying she will visit her grandad who sojourned close to river Tisa and there was that vicinity invaded by the satinettes and her colleague will bounce at the hopping bank. The reason was something not discussed. Further, Maria knocked him firm on his cast and his frontal teeth rolled out and the kid’s parent arrived at their residence and her daddy needed to proffer coverage for the crazy exercise of his little daughter.


– (From ‘Maria’s Story’, Long fiction)

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My teachers. It is with high reverence that I think of my teachers, notably those who taught me at school before I entered college. Some were like family . My mother who took good care of my education knew all of them on personal levels and also many of my friends and classmates.My cousin also studied in the same school, several years senior to me and our family kept those connections even when the school days were over. One teacher’s wife came for the selection of bridal dresses for my cousin’s espousal. Since it was a small town this type of lifestyle was possible .Unlike big cities where one seldom knows who is who. When I remember my boyhood days,I have sweet memories of having had tea or snacks at the houses of my teachers where my mother and their family with wife and kids were present. My father had a job in a faraway town, and we will see him only during recesses. After twenty or thirty years of the good-bye from school, when I met some of my teachers at their dwellings, they retrieved these bygone happy times… When I was three, my mother put me in a small school where there was only singing and serenadings and dancing and midday nap and it was a delightful beginning for rigorous studies ahead. Here, in this academy, learning happened through music and playful ventures. The headteacher was kind and caring. My first formal teacher was a young lady called Saras–y. She was a home tutor and when I was about 4 years old, she taught me readings, based on a handbook prescribed for the 5th class. And it had such a marvellous outcome that when sat for an entrance examination for the beginning level, I could easily get through. Reverent thoughts of her remained in my psyche throughout life, though I could never meet her even while living close to those pelagic areas again for a couple of years and wished to see the great lady. She was bespectacled and was in her early twenties. She might have just passed out of school, and looking for a regular job. My mother got a transfer and we moved to another part of the state. Then I got the teachers whom I cherished throughout my life. I was put in the school founded by German missionaries and the school had excellent standards. And these masters were great in their job and friendly. I adore the grand memories of those teachers like.SID, M. Thampi, N.K.and K.Paul, and U -. The last two great souls met with an untimely death. Whenever I address a meeting, (rarely happens) I remember these teachers before the event. Whenever I do so, a very special feeling passes through me. Some of these teachers are still living, and to preserve their privacy in their old age, I am using only their initials and not the full names.

At that point, it happened that she wound up downcast, meandering in Venice, taking the gondolas and going to Santa Marco frequently and to the business sectors, Grand Canal and Libraria aqua Alta, boats and bathtubs and again those alleyways…He was the right hand of a virtuoso and after this, he had a fathomless enthusiasm for film and connected as the collaborator of a director and capitulated to the risk of living between two worlds, real and dreamy… The balls began with a mere goblet of wine, but towards wee hours, feet floundered, the mind was hazy. The countless frocks for new roles, tread through huge mansions devoid of music, she loathed herself for failing her original dream. It was after living with him for a decade. In the living room, he carved the stone bust male and female figure, with his and her faces on the reverse side and kept in the showcase. His frowzy associates never took care of her privacy, which she held as very grave and constantly matched each of them with her dad, and it drove her from teacher to teacher to unravel the puzzle of identity, this strange art of living holy in a hustling creation of make-belief and speedy turn of passions. Meanwhile, he made seven movies with her. She was additionally the heroine of the three movies and these were incredible hit. They did copious trials in innovation and measure and shot the flick in diverse ranges of the mainland and he was expressly gifted and he showed up in two international celebrations, and won accolades, particularly for photography, Altering and the job of the hero which his better half played. and eventually, went through a mixed saga of acting and affliction and when the seventh film was released, he was no more. Furthermore, she was associated with his fourth film, which she apprehended that…Meanwhile, another baby was born, a sweet girl. Then they had those minor disparities, and petty jealousies and the said-We should talk it along, she said. He felt that it was a useful thing. Talking it along. Who said that her progenitor was a thing and a comic, and such stuff. He ignored it. Regardless during that summer, around eventide when it was lovely with its breeze hitting the byway at random splits, they chatted strolling beside rice fields of unfamiliar estates to sort it out and they lost many days of quiet and tried to gain the other by a simper or a bright statement. Then chatted about her beginning and end and that stuff he had been catching on in his psyche. Unlimited things no uncertainty, for if there is a gathering of individuals, he would have related to that story over and over. After specific occurrences he had landed in such humour of verbose explanations and talking finally without a lot to pass on, then again, actually feeling of addressing and expressing. The gale was blowing hard. He was walking and now accomplished the stroll of the compass from the forking of the trail, a confectionary store was pointing towards the highway. It is continually pressed and new things… Her teacher asked simple questions but the answers were not simple though…For her, kindness is the only religion…Then spring came. Another frontier. The idea of that Spring season- eat drink, take a walk by the B.terrace, and here was where he went to a coma. Every time she viewed a burgeoning tract and a crystal sky her heart went soaring…
-[To continue]