Enthralling Trails

  “Nothing in this world is impossible to a willing heart.”― Abraham Lincoln I am a vial of multiple doses of Covishield AstraZeneca, I was created in the Serum Institute of India, in Pune. After great research and initial trial, we were manufactured with the codename AZD1222. Weakened germs and other ingredients were pumped together to change me into a vaccine. I was then bottled in an elegant glass bottle that measured 10 ml in all. Weakened germs and other ingredients were pumped together to change me into a vaccine. I was then bottled in an elegant glass bottle that was 10 ml in all. The world was getting vaccinated but Indians were waiting for their turns. While a few fostered a fear towards the Vaccine, there were many others who were heedless towards the pandemic as they felt they could manage the new mutant of Coronavirus with their newfound immunity. The vials manufactured that January was sent to other countries, I was waiting eagerly to be shipped. The rise in the C...

  “Life’s most precious moments are not all loud or uproarious. Silence and stillness has its own virtues.”― Kilroy J. Oldster A little boy’s toys were visible on the window sill when the soft brown velvety curtain was drawn. I looked out for the boy this morning, in the afternoon and the evening. I awaited his presence as I cooked dinner for the family but the curtains remained drawn.  The boy had appeared on the window sill every morning since the first wave of Pandemic. He was thin and fair with a charming smile. His little tuft of hair had grown into long locks of curls during the first wave of the pandemic making him look like a maestro. He not very tall when the Pandemic began but now he was taller. He wasn’t very fluent in his speech then but he would hang out on the window sill speaking loudly the whole day. He would call out for his friends. The boy lived in the opposite building that was hardly twenty feet away from ours. The window is visible from our living room an...

  When educating the minds of our youth, we must not forget to educate their hearts. –Dalai Lama The posh reception area in Pratibha College of Management was crowded with more than a hundred people, the crowd was segregated into tiny groups. Clad in a sari, I was there for an interview. The interviewees were for assorted subjects, they were well-qualified professionals. I had enrolled for a PhD then, I was on the lookout for a few hours of teaching for undergraduates and graduates to complement my research. The interviews were for the MSC, MCA, BCA, B.Com, BSc, BBA, MBA and many others. The venue was the same for all. It was here that I met Dr Janardhan Takalkar for the first time. He was a board member of the Dept of Commerce and Management at Pune university and the Principal of Pratibha College of Commerce and Computer Studies in Pune. He asked me at the end of the interview, “Are you NET, SET or PhD qualified?” I said, “I have none of these, I am enrolled for a PhD and have no...

  That which does not kill us makes us stronger.― Friedrich Nietzsche It was an online Google Meeting to discuss the updates, after addressing a few of the issues, the Head of the Department called out for Santosh. He had been unwell for the past ten days yet he switched on the camera. The image that was screened showed a frail, weak and mentally disturbed man, depressed with the Covid Pandemic. Everyone wanted to greet Santosh and wish him a speedy recovery but he said nonchalantly, ‘I have been advised to take Remedivir and the injection isn’t available anywhere. It is ten days now and I feel hot, feverish and unwell, the Pandemic has spread to my wife and child’. He also added, ‘I need to get admitted to a hospital for cure but there are no beds available for patients'. The Head added some words of advice and spread the message about the requirement to everyone. The word spread like fire within no time, the whole family of colleagues came together and by the end of the day, Sant...

“Time is an illusion that passes way too fast!”― Ana Claudia Antunes  My in-laws belonged to Thiruvalla, a small town in the Pathanamthitta district of Kerala in India. The town has remained just the same for three decades, perhaps, it has remained unchanged for ages. It lies on the banks of the rivers Pampa and Manimala and is known for its characteristic narrow roads and rickety bridges on irrigating streams and rivers. It has beautiful paddy fields lined across the rivers and lakes and a highly-populated central area called Thiruvalla town that bustles with activities. The long road near my in-laws’ house leads to Mepral that leads to Azhiyidathuchira which has a century-old Government High School. My mother in law had worked here as a teacher for more than 35 years. She had joined the school as a primary teacher after her Teacher training and a Visharad in Hindi at the young age of 18. I had never heard her speak in Hindi at home, she and my father in law would often speak in M...

  A mother gives you a life, a mother-in-law gives you her life Recently we lost my mother in law due to multiple organ failure. The loss was a quick one, but we are sure she is surrounded by lots of love, healing and peace. My husband and his family members were with her during her last moments, we flew to attend the last rites. We were received cordially but I missed seeing my mother in law who would always come out into the green spaces of the house to welcome us. After we settled down, we went to her room. The room was a cosy one and had been rearranged. I stared at the empty wooden framed cot carved with a strongly raised headboard, she would often rest and sleep here. Close to the cot was the old wooden table that we had used for ironing our clothes. Today it was covered with a pale white tablecloth with printed green and yellow flowers. At the end of the table were two photographs mounted in maroon and gold lacquered frames. One was my father in law’s and the other was of my...

  “It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being.”― John Joseph Powell, Swami is a trash picker who joined our housing society last year. The name Swami, ‘master’ is paradoxical to Swami’s actual personality. Swami is lean, feeble, boyish statured and sports grey hair on his head, he wets and slaps his hair to cover a part of his forehead. He has a warm smile that is hidden by his apprehensive, shy demeanour. He has a characteristic bend that makes him look much older than his age. Swami had superseded Ranjit the trash picker. Ranjit was brawny but sluggish in his behaviour. He followed erratic timings of work. We could sometimes hear him sweeping the housing complex at 5 in the morning with his long noisy broom, and on many other days, he wouldn’t begin even at noon. He would take a couple of days off a week, and his usual answer ...