The Symbiotic Relationship

     

        Mr. Malhotra rang the office bell, with one flailing arm and the office-boy appeared instantly, as if he’d just been peeping through the slits in the vertical blinds of the cabin’s door.

        “Yes Boss.”

      

The copyright of this story is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.

Twice bitten, thrice shy!

                                                             

        “Mangalamma, you’re getting old these days.  See that dust under the sofa.  It hasn’t been cleaned since ages.  Why don’t you leave the job if you can’t do it properly?”  Rachana asked her maid-servant in an irritated voice.  Everyday, she located new places where the broom hadn’t shown its face!

     

The copyright of this story is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.

The Match

                                                            

         Usually Medha would walk with downcast eyes or be so engrossed in her thoughts, that she wouldn’t even notice Nalini.  On the days that she did, she’d waive out to her or cross the road and shop-talk with her for some time, before proceeding home.

        
         She was a very sincere and punctual girl, well-mannered and attractive too!  With her waist-length hair, luminous, large, dark eyes, olive skin and slender figure, she often got interested glances from the boys passing by, and envious glances from the girls who set their sights on her.  She genuinely didn’t think that she was beautiful at all! 

         
         Hence she was unaffected by all that unwarranted attention.  She just concentrated on her work and her hobbies, of which she had many.  She was adept at fabric painting, ceramic painting and embroidery.  Whenever she had the spare time, she would indulge in her hobbies and happily spend her time.  She was contented even when she was all alone.  She enjoyed her company!

       

The copyright of this story is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan. 

The Wrong Number

                                             

        Shirish Gondhale racked his brains hard.  Since when had he started shopping in malls?  He couldn’t afford to shop in one, even in his wildest of dreams!  He shopped only at the local ‘kirana’ stores that opened at 6.30 a.m. and closed only at 12 midnight!  Helpful salesmen and reasonable prices, convenient and homely; what more could he possibly want?  He had never even had the urge to splurge his hard-earned money on the fancy packaged goods, highly priced to boot; sold by snooty salesmen at all those glass and steel excesses!

         

The copyright of this story is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.

The Legacy of Hansabai

She was everybody’s lifeline. Nobody could do without her. It was always, “Hansabai, my son has indigestion. He is vomiting continuously, what should I give him to eat?” “Hansabai, I’ve some urgent work tomorrow, will you look after Krishna, till I come back?” “Hansabai, quick, tell me what I should apply on this wound, it is hurting terribly?” and so on.

Throughout the day, and indeed, throughout her life, all she had ever done and with lots of interest and patience, had been attending to the needs and concerns of her tenants; whom she considered as her family.

Hansabai was the owner of a huge, ancient ‘wada’ which was situated right in the middle of the city, a crowded area where traffic never stood still and where hawkers noisily vended their wares.

But as one stepped into the ‘wada’ with a sprawling courtyard where all kinds of exotic trees grew in earnest togetherness and numerous potted plants vied for one’s attention; with the rambling house in all its stone and wooden structure; it seemed as if time stood still. It was eerily calm. A far cry from the din outside!

The copyright of this story is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.

The Successor

        
          Disha sat on the broad window ledge of the drawing room of her 6th storey house in Powai, a posh and well-developed suburb of Mumbai.  She could clearly see the yellow-stone buildings all around hers, the low hills surrounding them, the trees in clusters, broad-leafed ones and feathery-leafed ones; the huge boulders at the base of the hills and the small urchins playing in the rubble.  It had just stopped raining.  She wished that she could see a rainbow.  The sun was shining brightly at 4 in the afternoon.  She was embroidering a cushion cover for her settee. 
                        

The copyright of this story is with Mrs. Priya Ramesh Swaminathan.