My entire family rejoiced my birth. Our family is one big united with all uncles, aunts, grandparents living together. We are a simple living group. We do what is needed for bare survival. We are not greedy and do not have a luxurious lifestyle. We are a colony now going about lives.

We are what others call a Eusocial group.This means that we are a very social group.We are not individualists or selfish ones.We believe in helping each other with specific members of our community doing what suits the group best.We are not taught team work.We are born team members and die team members.It is in our DNA, trust me!!. Our team or colony is usually in hundreds at a minimum if not more. We also have colonies with several million individuals.

We also have a natural talent for science and engineering.I would not be boasting if I said we build some coolest architectures without any training the world has seen.In fact when we make our structures to ensure there is proper air-conditioning to all parts without use of any energy. We also sometimes have gardens in which we grow food for our consumption inside our structures.We have some natural mechanisms built to protect ours selves from predators with some smart techniques to cover our tracks.We could definitely take a class or two to the espionage agencies all over the world.As I said above some classify our society as casteist with many being assigned to do only those jobs.But let me tell we have our benefits and reasons for doing the same.

For such a big colony with many members we are mostly vegetarian.We are also very conscious in our preferences of food.There is hardly any living plant that we eat.Most of the time we eat and live off dead plants.There hardly has been a case of we cutting trees for our survival or comfort.The plants that we eat are only for hunger they are neither for comfort or taste.We do this just for our basic survival.I repeat again it mostly dead plants.We do not kill living plants also for our food.

We were leading our lives in a peaceful manner when the fateful dark day arrived.It was a day as usual we were going about our work them suddenly we hear a big hissing sound from the skies above

us.We looked up to see a shower or rain to descend on us.This was with a cloud forming fast.We were bracing our selves for rain when the rain drops started hitting our skins.There was a distinct smell which began to cause irritation to our eyes and ears.It started burning our skins.It dawned on us that the chemical war was declared on us.We realized that the aliens had started this attack.We do not know why they are doing this to us.They are attacking us unprovoked.But we are not strong enough to fight them.I see my family choking and dying in front of me.Everybody is running all over the place trying o cover.But the gases are so powerful that they are sneaking into our underground tunnels.Alas!! we have no defense against the aliens.My eyes are beginning to darken and am losing consciousness.

The only thought running in my mind as I breathe my last breadth -”Why us, my family what harm have we done to others other than living our life the way we were supposed too…………”

“OK, maam the job is done.Those termites are gone you don’t have to worry about your leather TV couch anymore”-the terminator said with a big smile on his victorious face to his customer as he walked away from the couch towards the main door.

Please do see this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xGaT0B__2DM by Sir David Attenborough.

Updated on August 6th, 2009 – Please see the “Epilog” at the very end.

This was my 1st work of fiction. I was probably 8 years old. Even though I wrote many later, this particular story is seared in my memory. I’ve been meaning to publish this for quiet some time. I’ve translated it, since the original was in Tamil – and added a little finesse & refinement to it. The story’s framework and flow of events are more or less intact.

Father came home in his scooter, whistling “Saare Jahan Se Achcha” tunelessly as usual. Mother was watering the roses & sprinkling crushed egg shells near their roots. “Are the children back from school?” he asked Mother. “Its only 4:30 PM, you’re back early” she said.

Chari from next door appeared in his trade-mark V-neck banian. “Sir, have you heard the news? The bus drivers are on a strike. There are no buses – none at all – connecting the suburbs with the town”. Mother looked alarmed. “How will the children come back home now?” Father said lightly “Have you forgotten, Alamelu? Mani goes to school in a bicycle. Surely Kasturi will ride “doubles” with him. Don’t worry”.

Somewhat comforted, Mother went in to make coffee for Father. It was 5 PM. The aroma of the 1st decoction was filling the kitchen. Mani came home, limping & sporting an injury in his knees as usual. Kasturi did not come with him. “Mani, where’s Kasturi?” asked Father. “Isn’t the runt home already?” asked Mani, picking his nose. “No, she isn’t. There’s a bus strike. We were hoping she would hitch a ride with you” said Mother, emerging from the kitchen.

“A lot of girls from her school are walking back home. I’m sure you’ll find Kasturi with them” said Mani, helping himself to a slice of plum cake. “I’ve told you a million times to wash your hands first. And – why, you’ve scraped your knee again! What have you done this time?” shouted Father. Mani continued chewing, but maintained a tactical silence.

“Walking? Its 7 Km from here to the school!” said Mother & looked helplessly at Father. “Her legs will be swollen when she gets home”. Father patted Mother’s shoulder. “Ask her to take a day off tomorrow, then” he said, to appease her.

“I’ll make her something she likes. She’ll be very hungry when she gets home” said Mother, to no one in particular. She busied herself in the kitchen. Father moved his easy-chair to the verandah, to keep an eye on passers-by & resumed reading the paper.

Around 5:30 PM, Father spied groups of school girls inching their way back home. Their shoes were dusty & they all looked tired. Slowly the girls trickled in, in small groups, talking desultorily. Father opened the gate expecting Kasturi. But, Kasturi did not come with them. “Subha, did Kasturi walk home with you?” he asked one of the girls. “No uncle. In fact, I did not see her at all this evening” said Subha.

Mother came out, wiping her hands in a dish towel. “Did Kasturi come with the other girls?” she asked. Father hesitated. “No, not yet Alamelu” he said. “What day is it today? Perhaps there’s a special class & she’s attending it” said Mother. Father brightened a little. “Yes, that must be it. That must be it. And do you remember? She wanted to join the basketball team. She’s such a tall girl! Maybe she has basketball practice” he said.

“She’s an idiot” muttered Mani. “I bet she’s in a field somewhere, playing hop-scotch with her friends” he said. Father resumed his vigil near the gate. He remained there at 6 PM, when Mother turned the lights on. “Its getting dark, please come in” she said. “Where could that blasted girl be?” appealed Father to the gate.

That was when Father’s friend Bhatt came in, in his ancient motor bike. “Shankaran, why so glum?” he asked. “Kasturi is not back yet” Father said hesitantly. Bhatt considered the situation. “Right. Have you checked with all her class-mates? Her friends?” “No, Ganesh. I don’t know what to think” said Father. “Then, let’s make a list of her friends & visit their houses”. He dragged Father out of the house.

“Mother, why don’t we call the school?” asked Mani. “That’s an excellent idea” said Mother. She wanted to do something to keep herself busy. Mother dialed the school’s number. She had neatly written down all the important numbers in a phone book, next to the phone. She caught her breath as the phone started ringing. But no one picked up the phone.

“Let’s try again” she said to Mani. He nodded his head solemnly. At the 4th attempt, the peon picked up the phone. “Madam, there’s no one in the school. Only me & the Watchman” he said. “What about the children?” asked Mother, fighting to keep her voice even. “The students, the teachers – they all left long time back, Madam” said the peon. “When exactly?” asked Mother. “Long time back, Madam. I told you already. Shall I cut the call now, Madam?” said the peon irritably & hung up the phone.

The door bell rang. Mani & Mother raced to the front door. But it was not Kasturi. It was their next-door neighbors, the Charis, with some mangoes in a basket. “My brother-in-law from Salem brought these mangoes, Alamelu. We brought some for your kids. Why – whatever’s the matter?”. For Mother had started sobbing. “Kasturi is not back from school yet” she managed to say. “Where is Shankaran?” asked Chari. “I’m right here” said Father, coming in with Bhatt. It was 7 PM.

“What did her class-mates say?” asked Mother. Father crashed to the sofa. Ever efficient, Bhatt took over. “Why don’t you two have a glass of water?” he offered. “Where is my daughter?” asked Mother, shrilly. Bhatt wiped his face with his hand-kerchief. “She was with some of them initially, when they started walking from the school. They were in a large group. Somewhere along the way, they lost track of her. Kasturi did not arrive with them” he finished reluctantly.

No one spoke for a while. “Perhaps we should go to the school?” offered Mrs Chari. “The peon is a lazy bum, he could be lying without checking all the class-rooms & play-grounds” she added. “Yes, yes, we should check the school” said Mother fervently. So, it was arranged. Mother rode with Chari in his scooter to the school. The school wore a deserted look. “Maybe we should call her name loudly?” asked Chari, averting his eyes from Mother. “KASTURI! KASTURI!” they yelled, as they moved from room to room, floor to floor.

But there was no one in the school. Near the playground, they found a man, stacking Cosco balls in a bin. “How can I help you?” he asked them. “I’m the basketball coach” he clarified. “We are looking for our girl – Kasturi. From VI B” said Mother hesitantly. “Kasturi? I know no girl by that name” said the coach. “You see, Sir. The situation is like this. The child hasn’t returned home yet” said Chari. “My God. Shouldn’t you have checked the school earlier?” asked the coach. “The athletes -” began Mother. “They all left 45 minutes back, Madam. And I assure you, Kasturi did not leave with them” said the coach, not unsympathetically.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me” he said, starting his bike. “Where is the child?” asked Chari, bewildered.

It was 8 PM when they came home. The temple bells were chiming in. Father was still lying in the sofa when they came in. “Any news of Kasturi?” he asked. Mother sighed. “Shankaran, why don’t we call on her Class Teacher & the Headmistress? I’m sure they’ll know about special classes” said Bhatt. “For lack of anything better to do” said Father, getting into the pillion of Bhatt’s bike.

Mrs Bhatt came in with her son Madhav, looking worried. “Alamelu, my husband relayed the news to me. Is there any update?” she asked. Mother started sobbing. “Please don’t worry. God is great” said Mrs Bhatt, hugging Mother. “Shall I make us all some tea?” she volunteered. Madhav & Mani started a desultory game of Carroms. “Yes, we should pray to Lord Balaji in Tirupati” said Chari. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten to pay your respects to the Gods. And the Lord works in mysterious ways” he added.

It was 8:30 PM when Father & Bhatt came back. “We spoke to the Headmistress. She was angry that we were bothering her at an untimely hour. But she says that special classes are held only for the 10th grade” said Bhatt. “And anyway, no special classes were held today” added Father, flinging himself onto the easy-chair.

Mani & Madhav stood near the gate & scanned the road. “You know, sometimes if you want to see someone & you meditate their name for a few minutes – Bingo, they’ll arrive” said Madhav confidently. “Really?” asked Mani. “Oh yes, it has worked for me many, many times” said Madhav. Kasturi, Kasturi, Kasturi. They meditated. But Kasturi did not come.

It was almost 9 PM. “Isn’t it dinner-time? Why don’t we all eat?” asked Mrs Chari. But, no one felt like eating. “Mani, Madhav – why don’t you have some food with my daughters?” asked the tactful Mrs Chari & led the children to her kitchen. There was still no sign of Kasturi.

“Perhaps we should retrace the path the child would have taken. The most likely path” said Mrs Bhatt. “Shankaran, Alamelu – both of you are tired. Why don’t I look for the child?” asked Bhatt. Mother’s face was pale. “No, I’ll come with you” she said resolutely. “I’m also coming with you” said Father. He looked suddenly older.

And so they went. Calling her name, “KASTURI! KASTURI! KASTURI!” once every few minutes. Stopping along the way. Peering at intersections. But, Kasturi did not come.

It was 10 PM when they came back home, exhausted. “What happened?” asked Chari. But, he knew the answer already. “Perhaps we should inform the police tomorrow?” he asked. His voice was hoarse. “I’m leaving the entrance lights on” said Mother. “Please, all of you, have something to eat & go to bed. I’m waiting for Kasturi” she said.

But Kasturi did not come.

Please remember that this story was written when there were no cell phones. The story takes place in a small town, like Mysore or Thanjavur. There are not many people on the streets, traffic is non-existent and the streets wear a deserted look after 7 PM. Unless you are in the market area, which passed as the “down-town”. Even there, most activity ceased after 9 PM.

Many of us took the city bus to travel from the suburbs to the school. Bus strikes were not uncommon. We would trudge along, taking the long commute back home on foot, school bags, water bottle and lunch box in tow.

“So, what happened to Kasturi?” asked my mom after reading the story, back when I wrote it. “I don’t know” I said. “You don’t know? What do you mean? You must have had at least the germ of an idea when you wrote it” – she said. “Nope, sorry mom” I said.

Mom looked at the story again. Presently she said “I feel bad for Kasturi”. I shrugged. My job ended with creating the story.

Epilog - If you want to know more about the ending, read the comments section. If you’re still not satisfied, click here.

Egged on by peers and one’s own curiosity or hunger as Priya Raju calls it, most men (and some women) undergo this experience in their early twenties or late teens as the case may be. Read on for Priya Raju’s latest story.

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“Are you tense” – asked Mani. He was only 2 years older than others, but he already behaved like a man of 30. Self assured, calm.

“Mani: Have you been to such places before?” – Vipin asked. Damn voice – kept shaking so much, just nerves, that’s all. God, if only there was some wind. it was stifling.

“No he hasn’t – he just wants us to feel inadequate” – Joe mumbled in a barely audible voice to Amar. Amar cackled nervously – his throat was so dry that it came as a hiss. All of them burst out laughing. The pressure came down a little.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. This is sort of like a rite of passage” – Mani said calmly & paraded them inside the Strip Club. “My father took me to one when I turned 18”. Vipin followed unsteadily on his feet, pondering this unusual father-son relationship.

This was their 1^st field trip to this strange town. For Vipin, Joe & Amar, it was their 1^st field trip ever. They had worked thru the week, setting up the new application. Friday evening saw them with nothing to do. That’s when Mani nonchalantly asked them out on a field trip of a different kind.

It was pitch dark inside the club. Slowly their eyes adjusted & they saw a large, cavernous room with muted lights. There was a bar, doing brisk business. There was a lighted stage. “Oh, here is where the girls…” – Joe stammered. “Yes”, said Mani tersely.

Tables & chairs were arranged around the stage, lighted discretely. They moved towards the chairs, in a daze. Vipin felt numbed. Strangely, all feeling had left him.

A smartly dressed usher received them & politely took their drink orders. “Do you think he’s a pimp?” – Joe wondered aloud to Amar. Amar cackled again. This was his safety valve, his mechanism to release pent-up pressure. Mani gave a piercing stare – if looks could kill, Joe & Amar would be lying in a heap.

Some drink was thrust in Vipin’s hands. He nursed it mutely, wondering what he was doing here. Joe & Mani were downing their drinks. Amar was shaking in his socks. “Can I drink this, uh, later?” “Suit yourself, you wuss” – said Joe.

The lights came on at the stage. A skimpily dressed young girl, not much older than Vipin’s sister, came on the stage. She had something on her hands. Vipin stared stupidly at it. It took him some time to realize it was a mike. She was belting out a Hindi film song. She was attractive in a cheap sort of way. She slowly danced around the tables, singing in a nasal voice.

When she came close to them – “Khapde Nikaal, Khapde Nikaal” – shouted a big, burly man in the next table. A vein in his temple was throbbing. “Yea, take off your clothes” – shouted Amar, frenzied. He was standing on his chair – the burly man laughed at him. The girl looked at Amar coldly & said – “I’m a singer, not a stripper. Get it?” Amar fell on his seat like a deflated balloon.

When the girl finished, 2 women entered the stage. “Aren’t they over-dressed” – asked Joe. “It all comes off” – replied Mani smugly. So this was IT. The air around was stifling. The stage lights turned a fiery amber. For some reason it bothered Vipin. If only it would turn a normal color. “Mani, the lights” – “Sshh”.

The women were not too young. They must be above 30, thought Vipin. He couldn’t fathom the expression on their faces. It looked strangely familiar though. What was it?

The music – was it a Samba? Vipin wasn’t sure. On his right, Amar was gulping one drink after another. The crescendo of the music increased steadily. The women started by removing their scarves in unison. The crescendo increased steadily, little by little. Vipin eyed the folks around him. Joe’s eyes had a glazed look. The big, burly man’s face resembled some animal’s. Jackal, perhaps.

An hour later, the friends emerged from the club. Nobody spoke. “I – need – to – stop” – blurted Amar. And he vomited copiously on Mani’s feet. “You Jackass!” howled Mani, losing his cool. Amar fell like a log. He then wetted his pants. “Its my mistake, buying drinks for mamma’s boys like you” – Mani gave him a kick.

Vipin noticed that Joe still had that glazed look. “What cute….” – Joe started, then stopped. His eyes flickered open. “Oh, God – why did I come to a place like this!” – Joe started sobbing hysterically. “What will my f-f-father think if he knew!”

“Vipin – Its left to you & me to drag these slobs back to the hotel” – grunted Mani. He looked disgustedly at his fallen friends. Joe kept sobbing – it sounded like a hacking, labored cough.

After reaching the hotel, Mani lit a cigarette. “I know now” – said Vipin. “What” – asked Mani languidly. He looked satiated. Joe had stopped sobbing, but the glazed look had returned. “They looked tired” – said Vipin. “Who did?” – Mani. “The, what do you call them, dancers”. “What? Look Vipin – you are the only one that hasn’t gone weird on me today. Don’t start now”.

Amar mumbled something in his sleep. Mani switched on the fan. A stiff breeze started.

For the first time on this blog, a piece of fiction – a short story written by Priya Raju. Read on.

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The students of Grade 2 were clearing out when Mr. Mansur entered the class room. “Boys & Girls – I’m taking you on Friday night to the Planetarium. Get these permission slips signed by your parents tomorrow”.

A general hubbub ensued. We are going to the Planetarium, We are going to the Planetarium! We are going to the Planetarium!! We are going to the Planetarium!!! Nobody was really sure what a Planetarium was, but it had an interesting name – it sort of rolled on your tongue.

Mr. Mansur raised a hand & the kids became quiet. Cindy raised a plaintive hand & asked him, “Sir, please Sir. Are there any monsters in this Planetarium?” Arun loudly sniggered – Girls were such scaredy cats. Aloud he said, “Cindy, you are stupid. Sir, please Sir. Can we get Cotton Candy there?”

Mr. Mansur laughed aloud & said, “No children. We’ll watch stars & planets in the Planetarium”. Oh. That didn’t sound too exciting. “We’ll get a special telescope. You can see the stars & planets real close”. Ok, this sounded better – definitely, some possibilities. “I’ll even let you operate the telescopes”. Hoo-ha, hoo-ha, hoo-ha, hoo-ha!! This was very, very thrilling.

Arun couldn’t think of anything else that evening. Why, there were only 2 more days. He went to the apartment complex where he lived with his parents & elder brother.

His elder brother, a 7^th grader, looked smug as usual & Arun decided that he won’t tell him anything about the trip. Nothing at all & wild horses couldn’t drag it from him. “Brother, do you know Mr. Mansur is taking us to the Planetarium on Friday?” John looked at Arun condescendingly & said, “That’s nice. Do you know that stars are made of big balls of hot gas?” Arun became indignant – gas indeed! Why, he must think I’m a fool. “John – the only gas here is the one you make after eating beans”. John returned with crushing dignity to his books.

After dinner that day, Arun looked at the sky. What the – there were no stars. They had gone somewhere. Clearly, this was bad. The next day, he told Mr. Mansur, “Sir, there are no stars left in the sky”. Bad, bad, bad – Gee, they had probably fallen down from the sky. They fell right into the gutters. The one-eyed cat in the school ate them. Binu started sobbing & a few others followed suit. Mr. Mansur told them, “We live in the city. Because of light pollution we can’t see the stars. You can see them from the Planetarium.” At this reassurance, they cheered up.

Friday evening & the kids couldn’t control themselves. Some of the boys danced on the table & chanted the refrain, “Innikku[1] – Planetarium, Innikku – Planetarium”. Ms. Singh, the Principal, walked in & looked shocked. She was easily shocked. The kids piped down, afraid that THE plan might be scrapped.

The Planetarium was on a hill & it was pitch-dark when they arrived. They silently made for the telescopes. Binu squeaked suddenly, “I can hear the stars!” There was a buzz of agreement – the stars were indeed making some sound. Must be the noise made by their incessant twinkling. Mr. Mansur told them, “Those are just crickets in the woods. And now, the telescope is pointing to the Venus.”

Soon, a mug of hot chocolate was served. They covered themselves with thick blankets & listened to Mr. Mansur saying cool stuff about various stars & planets. Mars was Red. Saturn had a ring. The Great Bear was not really a bear.

A very dreamy Arun walked into the living room that night. “I love star gazing & telescopes”, he announced to his parents solemnly. Immediately, a-meaningful-glance passed between his parents.

“I’m glad you are taking an interest in your plans, Arun”, said his dad happily. “Perhaps you’d like to take up Astronomy, son”, said his mom. “But really, you need to improve your scores in Math. They are abysmal & you certainly can’t get into a good institute if you don’t improve. Perhaps I can enroll you into some special classes & I’ll take you the Math Olympiad”. Arun looked perplexed.

“That’s silly, Rosie”, said his dad. “My son will become an astronaut. I won’t permit him to become a geek like your father. Arun – we have to work on your stamina & physique. You need to focus on energy building. Now, I know an excellent after-school tennis program”. His mother looked miffed. “Really, Ravi – why do you have to drag my dad into this? After all, it is for Arun to decide”

Both his parents looked expectantly at him. He thought that he had to say something – they wanted him to. But his mind had gone blank.

“I want to go to the bathroom”, he said. His mother sighed & said, “Wash your hands after use”.

[1] Tamil word meaning “Today”.

Decaffeinated has an interesting write-up on Google Star Search – a new social bookmarking service to be introduced shortly. Considering that Yahoo’s My Web 2.0 is a bit slow, Google may have an upper hand, if it does deliver a speedy one.