The suffering beneath the silence

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 35; the thirty-fifth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "...and the world was silent again"

Guru climbed the steps of the railway station with a little hope. A little more left out of the much he had. He lost his belief in things he had once thought would be for him always. He moved reluctantly to the ticket counter. There was no queue. He went near the counter and bent down to see the lady working. She appeared beautiful and simple to him which are the qualities he adored in a girl. He moved away from the counter to avoid conversation with someone; known or unknown.

He descended the steps to the platform. He stood at the edge of the platform to check if any train was arriving.

"Hey, don't stand near the track. Stand away from it."

Guru heard the voice but didn't respond. He didn't like to.

"Excuse me, sir!"

His eyes remained pinned to the track.

"Are you deaf?"

The peevish police gently pushed the man to face him. He turned around to find a railway police personnel. He starred at the police for a long time only stopped by the same question.

"Are you deaf?"

"I was but I am not."

Saying this he moved away from the platform to sit on the bench. "Are you deaf?" This question echoed in his mind. He didn't wish to recapture those events. But the question reverberated in his mind flooding it with obnoxious thoughts.

*** 

He had spent more than 3 decades of his life in mere silence. He was born healthy, all fit and in a perfect condition. Disaster entered his life in the shape of Rubella, a type of measles, at the age of 10 and it cost his hearing. He became hearing impaired. He felt that the world was silent. The world had been silent for him since then. 

He was found by the panchayat workers near a garbage bin on a bright summer morning in a not-so-famous village. He was around 5 years and wasn't deaf then. Since then, he ate whatever he got, lived where ever he could gain access, did whatever work he could do. Everyone around him made the best out of him for free and life was not easy for him. But he moved on happily.

Circumstances changed when a work broker came in a truck to the village advertising about the works in the city on a daily pay basis. Previously, people had gone in the similar way and came back with a good fortune. They didn't amass a luxury yet the price for that city work was more than they could ever imagine in that village. A lot of people boarded the truck with dreams for their future. Guru had always aimed of working in a city. The word 'city' made him eager to join the party. He expressed his wish to the broker but the broker hesitated for a second. He hesitated because of his impairment but his assistant said otherwise. He later motioned him to the truck after a few words with his assistant.

He, like everyone else, landed on the city with a great hope. Contractors from various sites handpicked the people and after a few hours everybody vanished except for Guru. None of those contractors chose him. Guru scanned the entrance of that land of rubble in the hope of a contractor. The broker left the boy alone with his assistant and left the place. That assistant ensured the broker that the boy would be taken care of. He took the boy to a bully.

"Dei, who is this boy?"

"Sahib, An orphan. Perfectly suitable for the job!"

"But his characteristics tell us otherwise!"

"Sahib, none will come searching this boy!"

"But his physical form doesn't suit our requirements!"

"We will make him look like one sahib!" Both giggled. Sadly, Guru was admiring the sight of a squirrel and didn't look at them to understand their conversation. He knew lip reading and was on his way in mastering it. The sun wasn't on the side of the boy. It was dark; the sun hid behind the clouds in fear of what he was about to witness.

Guru gave a loud cry. Unexpected, the assistant and the bully gave deathly blows to Guru. They twisted his ankle and elbow. He cried in agony and became unconscious unable to bear the pain. When he woke, he found him wrapped with bandages and lying on the steps in a railway station. What made him cry was an aluminum plate which lay in front of him. He was given a job! He was given the job in a city! He was given the job of a beggar! Of a beggar! A beggar!

Though he didn't do the job of begging initially, he eventually gave in. He motioned his hands and begged for money. But what he got was scornful looks, curses, spits, slaps, beatings and very rarely money.

“Sir, please help me. Help me to get a meal.” Guru begged.

People passing by his side used to criticize him.

“Sir, these people are wealthy and they even have a good bank balance.” and they will giggle.

“I am not assured of even a single meal per day!” Guru would reply.

He accepted all for a single meal for he was helpless. Everyday two or three came with the bully around mid night to collect all the money and provide him the meal. He had never touched the food without crying. He learnt to hide a small amount for himself and he had never used it. The only gain was that he mastered lip reading. Yet the world had always been silent for him.

Years rolled by. His ankle and elbow injuries got better. He didn't stay on these steps but did his job in the train, the platforms and sometimes other places but every night he would return to the railway. A few weeks later, he spotted a small boy sneaking around the station and stealing things from people. Guru knew it yet he waited to be catch him red-handed and the day came. Guru caught the boy when he was trying to break open his (illegal) savings. 

"Who are you?"

"Vasan. Leave me! I will never touch yours again."

"I am not going to leave you. Why are you into this?"

"I thought that you were deaf. Are you cheating people?"

"I am deaf. I know lip reading and I am not a mean person like you! I did not choose this job but was forced to do this! Are you? Are you forced kid? You aren't."

"I too am not. I am not mean. None gives me a job because of my father's death sentence. I had no other relation except my dad and he too was hanged to death a few months back and here I am stealing to console my stomach."

"I will offer you food. I will provide you money. Will you be honest? Will you be straight-forward?"

"I don't know who you are, old man but this is too much generosity! You need not offer me anything but I shall take myself! Goodbye!" 

Vasan left but with a little change in his heart. He was abashed by his act and the man's offer. He could not return to him but he wanted to. His pride didn't allow him to return. But later he often visited that station to see the old man secretly and would return. Soon these visits lead to conversations between them. They became friends and a little more than that. A father and a son. He always waited for his arrival like a child waiting for its father. He wanted him to be his son. Guru badly wanted Vasan to drop his egregious job and go to a school. But Vasan didn't like being helped by him who was already in a bad situation.

"I am not accepting any help from you my dear old fellow. You already have enough troubles."

"So are you going to pursue your little special work?" 

"No, I will stop this soon. Wait for a big fortune I'm going to make. And together we’ll leave our jobs." 

"That's what I am at. Don't attempt what you are going to! I don't know what it is about. But I am pretty sure that you are risking it."

"I am not going to risk myself. I am not gonna take any help from you and I have no other go!"

"Tell me about the fortune you are going to make."

"Wait and see for yourself! Tomorrow morning, you will know." 

Guru didn't sleep the entire night in fear of the fortune Vasan is at. He prayed to God sincerely for the first time to save him for he was the only person he ever liked. He started to live his life with a meaning after the introductory chapter of Vasan. His life changed after his arrival. He moved away from the railway station to a hut where Vasan lived. The next day arrived with a bright sun shining on his face and he woke with a jerk. He noticed the absence of Vasan next to him on the floor. He searched for him in the surroundings. 

Guru chided Vasan for leaving unannounced and he went to the railway station; his usual place. He looked deeply anxious about Vasan and his fortune. He opened his bag which was stitched several times to take out the aluminum plate. Suddenly a guy called his name. Guru looked around to see Sara approaching him. Sara too was a beggar; a turned beggar. 

"Guru, I saw Vasan today morning." 

"Oh Thank God, I have been searching him from morning." 

"Oh, don’t thank God! Curse him!" 

A wave of shock passed on Guru's face. He became anxious. 

"What happened to Vasan, Sara? What's the matter?"

"I saw him with the bully in the morning! Sara told me that he was leaving the place for a job the bully was offering and requested me not to inform you about this. I advised him not to go with bully but before that..."

"Sara, tell me!"

"But before I could finish my sentence bully slapped me and ordered me to shut my mouth and they left."

"When was it? What time?" 

"It was 5 hours before! I could not reach you for my disability! Do something about this!" 

Tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't know what to do. When Guru asked bully about Vasan, he just grinned. Guru didn't look at him but the words reached his ear. Shock. Jolt. Tremor.

"You can never find him, Guru. Give up your search."

"What did you do to him? You didn't give him a job! Did you?"

"Did I give you a job? Same for everyone." 

He had a little hope that the bully would have sent him to work. But he proved him otherwise. He had never believed his ears for they had not helped him anytime. So he looked at the bully again and he found him telling the statement. "Same for everyone."

*** 

The blaring horn of the train brought him back to his senses. He moved slowly to the train. He would never rest at any place before finding him. He heard the horn so easily and was surprised about his hearing sense. But the only grip of his life was lost and the world was silent again.

P.S: My school mate Sarguruvasan died recently in a bike accident. Stay safe with your bikes. May his soul rest in peace. I used his name in parts in this story in his memory; Guru, Vasan, Sara. We all will miss you our friend. 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Muthu Kumar, Participation Count: 02

The clown and the cry!

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 34; the thirty-fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is "Of-Course, I'm insane"

Haahahhahahahahah....

The echo of his laughter was very ominous which must have threatened even the frightful ravens. The bats hovered above him with a gleam in their eyes. He felt that he should have been so close with the bats somehow for there were several similarities between them. Both the bats and he was nocturnal. They loved to come out at the dusk and finish their work off and leave before the dawn. But he had not had any relations with those bats in this birth. He thought that he might come across such a relation in future. He shooed the bats away. They hurried towards the opposite park with fear in their eyes. He again laughed out loud. Thankfully, no one else was there for they would not have left the place alive. That laughter was not a heroic or a comic one. It was a horrifying one projecting the nature of the person, his attitude and his current state of mind. He seemed so much pleased for what he had decided to do.

He wanted to admire his beauty, the way he had dressed and the way he had got ready for what he was about to do. He looked around the place he was standing. He could not find any piece of mirror to appreciate his beauty. He glared at the door which lay directly in front of him. Still, somewhere in the corner of his heart, there was a soft part. It urged him to leave the place. It persuaded him to drop the job he was about to do. But that small part of the heart could not compete with his remaining part which had become cold-blooded a few years ago.

A pup of that colony of bats which drifted away a few moments back entered the lawn again. It maneuvered back and forth in front of him blocking his view of the door. He suddenly leaped forward and grabbed the poor tiny being with his rough hands. He sat down on the dry grass and opened his hands carefully so that it couldn't escape.

He looked in the eyes of that mammal and asked, "Do you want to know what I am about to do? This will be the first one and there will be many more. I must leave my message to someone. I have an instinct; A feeling that there is a bond between us." 

He hesitated for a few seconds and later after a few deep breaths he told the creature, "Let me first tell you why I am about to do what I am about to! It must have been some fifteen years back. Wait first tell me! How do I look?"

The alarmed little bat tried to shake his hand off and dodge away. But he was far too strong for its body.

"Okay let me continue. Tell me about my looks later! Yes, fifteen years back, I was fifteen years old. And fifteen years back from then, I was born. I might sound crap or funny or even stupid. I was born in a big hospital with the tenderly care of my parents and the doctors around. My birth was celebrated in the entire city for my father was a hot-shot in the city."

There was a little hum coming from the far end of the lawn inside the door that lay opposite to him. His speech was hindered by that constant sound which left him a little peevish. He turned his gaze back to the struggling one in his rock hands.

"I too wish to brag about my birth that way but sadly that was not the way in which it happened. It was too far from the normal cry. My mother always used to tell me that I was a nocturnal being and sadly she isn't here on this holy earth to feed me. I put her out of her misery. With the very same hands I am holding you now; I injected her a high dosage of some kind of drug she gave me. And that was fifteen years ago. That was my first one but it was not something to be proud of because it was her request to do it for she had a disease. An incurable one. Don't know how she got it. Her last few words were, "You are crazy and remain crazy and persist your dream continuously till your end. You should never turn back from your path whoever it might be against." Coming to my birth, I was born in a truck I guess. Wait, it might be a lorry or a bus!? Okay, it's a heavy vehicle and let me leave that detail for now. There were some 15 people in the same truck and I was born in the corner of that bus with a long cloth hiding us from the rest. The men were giggling at me because it was not the right period for the blacks to arrive to this earth. Or they thought so. I don’t have a name and so I think I could name myself after you fellows, the Batter? We resemble a lot except for that echoing stuff and flying. I too am a mammal."

That constant hum rose to a distinct sound. It was a shrill voice making some sounds. For anyone outside would have recognized it as a cry from a human being. He listened keenly and he made out a few words from that sound. “Leave”, “Kill”, “Mercy”, “Black”, “Son” and a few more. He started laughing again now at the top of his voice. The intimidated creature startled and pushed against his hand flipping its wings. Its struggle to break out was so obvious and its teeth made a cut in his hands. The blood started oozing out at a slow pace for it was a minor cut. His laughter turned into enthusiasm. To tell perfectly; It was a beast's one when it sees its prey immobile and helpless.

"Oh you struggle against me! You hapless tiny one! Wait let me show you something." 

He took a small blade from his pocket in his pants.

"No, I want someone to listen to my story. So this would wait. I have no name and so I have random names. They call me the name whichever strikes their mind at that moment. Freak, Stupid, Useless, Cold-blooded and many more. But the most common term was the uncommon word ‘Bastard’ for I was one. My mother used to be the black servant of a famous white guy of the town. That famous guy had a famous lady as her wife and a famous boy as their son. He wasn't the Indian epic Rama guy and so he fooled around his wife but he took safety measures every time. But my mother was unlucky and she had me because of him. The whole family came to know the matter and they made her leave the city after a few months of incessant threats. And on the way out, I was born. Hurray! Hurray! Shit! Shit! Hurray! Hurray! I went with her to a new city and we started living. She fed me by enacting funny things on the road side. Our home was an unused water tank. As I grew up, she taught me to beg for food. Act like a freak and they will give you money. This was all she told. I did, I begged, I did, I begged. There were cops and they always shooed us away. Our fellow street people gave them money and continued to stay. But we didn't have money for we didn't even have enough food for the day. I always wondered how my mother persuaded them to allow us to stay. The policemen used to go inside the tank and I was pushed away and after an hour they would leave. Each time they left, my mother would become sick. I just knew they had hurt my mother and I had to take revenge on all those authorities."

Silence…

"This was happening till my mom’s request to kill her. I killed her. Ooohahaha Ooohahhahahah! I went to her husband’s place and asked for a livelihood. Hmmm, he is my father too! My dad told me that I did not resemble him a bit and I was ugly with a black face and a face full of scars. My brother told me that there was no use of me as I was a boy and he chuckled. I told them that I can make pranks and entertain them. I can do any sort of work they would assign me. I begged them and I fell at their feet. They accepted me as their servant. I silently grew there for fifteen more years till I was strong enough for this."

The words grouped to make sentence and they always do. He could hear complete sentences. He stood, walked slowly and busted the door open. The room was dimly lit by a small lamp at the far corner on the top of a shelf. It was empty except for a few rodents and cockroaches. He watched at a rodent but decided against it seeing the bat in his hands. And slowly he walked towards the only other door present there. He knocked the door. 

"Gentlemen, May I come in?" 

Saying this, he opened the door slowly and peeked in as if he were a cop searching for a terrorist. There lay a man with his hands tied to his back and a cloth stuffed in his mouth. Wait! No there was one more at his back. Two people were tied to each other. The front one was not making any sound and he lied there with his head hung down as if he were in a shame. He didn't make any struggle and he was immobile. It must be the back one. He went around the figure and saw the other one with a grin on his face. The man tied down at the back was struggling.

"So, is your son dead sir? Let me check." He turned around to the front and checked him.

"Yes, he is dead sir. Your son is dead. Excellent!"

"He is your brother, you freak!" the man bawled. 

"Haha! No! Not brother but Step brother!"

"But I am your father. Please have mercy!" 

"Oh! Yeah! You are my father! A father who abhorred his son!" 

He went near him and whispered in his ears. "An Illegal Son! A harami! A bastard!" 

He moved towards the bed next to them. 

"But you are my father. What could I do possibly? Okay! well! yeah! Have this as my present first and then let me finish you!" 

Telling this, he cut the bat’s throat and gave it to him. He shuddered.

"Have you lost your nerves?"

"Of Course, I am insane!"

He looked at his figure in a mirror above those figures. He had painted his face so that his ugliness isn't visible and extended his lips on both sides which he tried to make like he was smiling always. But it was not looking like a smile. It wasn't anymore than a scar. A colorful green coat over a full hand shirt! He took out a small blade from his pocket.

"You Joker, freak, disgusting fellow with scars!!"

"Joker! That is a good suggestion. I might consider it. Scars? Speaking of which, do you know how I got these scars?" 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: Muthu Kumar, Participation Count: 01