Pride and Prejudice - A Short Story

Having nothing better to write tonight, I thought that I would post a short story that I'd written when I was sixteen years old, in tenth class. It is actually a spoof I wrote on one of the most painful short stories we had to study in Hindi. I think my version is much better! Hehe! The original, in short, deals with a peasant girl, Madhulika and a prince Arun, who falls in love with her. He wants to attack Madhulika's kingdom, and she agrees to help him, but at the last minute, her conscience pricks her and she surrenders herself and gives up Arun's hiding place to her king, who then asks her what she would like as a reward, and she says, "Death!" Very pointless story, if you ask me.

It's more or less the same as I'd written ages ago, with only minor adjustments I've made over the years.

Am going to post it in installations, one page everyday. So here goes!

With due apologies to the late Mr. Jayashankar Prasad, I present to you my version of his ‘inspiring’ short story, “Puraskar”.
I’d also like to apologize to the late Ms. Jane Austen, for ‘borrowing’ her title.

Wet constellation… that does not sound quite right! Maybe I should not attempt such an in-depth translation. Lets start again:
There was moisture in the atmosphere. In the sky, black clouds could be seen. Thunder could be heard, which sounded like the Gods were playing the drums. From a clear corner in the sky, the ‘Golden Man’ (the sun, you dud!) was peeping out, watching the retinue of the king. From the valley, beneath the chain of mountains, the aroma of the wet mud of the plains could be smelt.
From the gates of the town, people started to hail the king. In the crowd, the fanner on the elephant could be seen seated high above its trunk. The group, which permeated, of happiness and joy drifted forward like waves in an ocean.

(Whew! That’s it! I’m not going to translate anymore, from here onwards; it’s all my creation!)

A celebration was being held in Kaushal – the kingdom of King Gaja Raja Rajeshwar Randheer Raghuveer Raj. Every year a field of one of the peasants was chosen as the best. The king would then plough it (about a centimeter at the most!) and thereafter it would become his. The peasant would receive four times of what the field was worth in gold coins. The kings and princes of the neighbouring kingdom were also invited for this celebration.
This ritual may seem quite fair, but it was not. In this way the kings would snatch all the lands (which anyway belonged to them in principle, so I really see no point in this ritual) from the poor peasants, who had no choice whatsoever in this little transaction. They were led to believe instead that this was a matter of great honour for them.
Well anyway, that year the field of our heroine, Madhulika, was chosen.
Madhulika looked beautiful even in the garb of a peasant; and she had caught the eye of a prince, Tarun (young) Arun. He was absolutely mesmerized by Madhulika.
After ploughing the field, Gaj (doesn’t this sound much better than Gaja Raja whatever?) gave a tray of gold coins to Madhulika. He was as captivated by Mads as was Tarun Arun. He grinned at her goofily. Mads bowed her head and refused to accept the coins.
Gaj still smiled goofily at her and asked, “Why aren’t you taking this money, sweetheart?” Mads was annoyed, she replied, “My father, Sinhamitra, who kept your honour in the battle against Magadh, had taught me quite a few things in his life time. I cannot accept these coins (as much as I would like to) as I am too proud to do so. And by refusing them (however crazy it may sound), I would do my dead Dad proud… And oh yes! Dad taught me one more thing: ‘stay away from lecherous kings!’” Saying so, she looked disgustedly at the salivating Gaj.
Not having heard a word of what Mads had said, he nodded his head and said, “whatever you want sweetie!” and then he took her aside and whispered, “If you feel bored or lonely anytime, you know that the gates of my palace, to be more precise, the doors to my bedroom, are always open for you!” He then walked away with the help of a stick.

[Hooked yet? Want to know more? Well, you'll just have to wait for tomorrow's installment!]

Confessions

I’ve a confession to make. I started blogging with the sole purpose of getting compliments from my friends, all you guys. You people would read my funny anecdotes, have a quiet chuckle (maybe) and if you are not very lazy, post a comment saying how funny I am and how well I write!! That’s why I emailed all you guys each time I posted an entry, which are a grand total of two right now (ok this one makes it three)! This time I’ve made up my mind not to do so. Even to me, my efforts at getting people to read what I’d written reeked of desperation. Looking for approval, or just an ego boost? Maybe both. So, I feel sure that if people have liked what they read of my two entries, they will definitely visit my blog again and read this third.
I thought that I’d fill my blog with funny incidents that had occurred to me in my day-today life, and that’s it; no serious stuff, nothing about how sad I’m feeling, or any heavy stuff. But suddenly, right now at 2:49 am, I feel like changing my own rules. I don’t know why, maybe because of the beautiful poetry and prose I’ve just read, the work of a certain Lady M. :) Maybe I was inspired by her very earthy and sensuous words… I don’t know.
I’ve always prided myself for being able to express myself wonderfully through the written word; verbally I’m not able to be very expressive. I’ve always blamed this impediment on the junior college lecturers who taught me. All my schoolteachers spoke excellent English, especially all my English teachers, who taught me to appreciate the magic of the written word. I’ll be eternally grateful to them for encouraging my writing by praising my little essays and compositions.
The lecturers in my junior college were, well, just bad at English! And there was no freedom to form your own answers, even in the English subject! We were spoon fed, with all notes being dictated by bored lecturers (except our Economics sir, he was very dedicated to his subject, and was a sweetheart!). The teacher who taught us English in the first year thought that ‘baubles’ meant ‘soap bubbles’!! I’d looked around to see if anyone would contradict her, but nobody did. And all I did was whisper furiously to my friend A, that baubles certainly didn’t mean soap bubbles. She asked me to stand up and say so, but I was too shy to.
But I guess I can’t blame my estrangement with the English language on those poor misguided souls. I should have worked on the language myself. But ennui set in, and I became very lazy and came not to resent the spoon-feeding. Until one day I found that I was having great difficulty in forming a simple sentence, I kept on floundering, looking for the right words. I was deeply mortified, even though nobody noticed this new inability of mine. I was very proud of my command over the English language, and wasn’t afraid to show off when I was in school (much to my embarrassment now!). I’d be constantly correcting the pronunciations and grammar of my classmates, who soon came to the conclusion that I had an attitude problem, and that I thought no end of myself. That wasn’t very far from the truth! (Cringe! Cringe!) It is really a wonder that I didn’t manage to alienate all my friends!
So anyway, when I noticed my inability to string words together to form a simple sentence, I was horrified. And the worst part was, even my pronunciations were failing me. I then decided to take matters into my own hands and tried consciously to improve on the language; always a voracious reader (I could never pass a billboard without reading it), I began to read more and more. I also paid close attention to all the English serials I watched, especially sitcoms like “Friends”, from which I could pick up witticisms. My verbal communication has definitely improved, though I still have trouble finding the right words now and then (ok, far many more times than ‘now and then’!). But, I think that am still pretty good at the written word! Ha!

And I've also realized that it doesn't really make all that much of a difference when I cannot form a sentence properly when i'm with my friends. They are always there to fill in the blanks! :)
I’d started out by talking about something, and landed up talking about something else altogether. The meanderings of a beautiful mind, what say?! :D

DOGGONE IT!!

It was one of those lazy Sunday afternoons. I’d woken up at about 1:30 in the afternoon, having spent most of the night and early morning wide-awake, as I’ve some trouble sleeping early.
So anyway, after finishing my bath I was combing my hair quickly, waiting to eat lunch, when I heard my aunt’s dog yelp and growl. I didn’t react much as he growls and barks at nothing in particular all the time. Then the maid came into the room shivering and twitching in a funny manner. At first I thought she was having some kind of fits. Then I saw the horrified look on her face. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, “the dog bit madam!” For a heart-stopping moment, I thought that that vicious little dog had bitten my Grans. But my maid said that he had bitten his own mistress, my aunt! I rushed out to see and stopped in my tracks as soon as I saw my aunt. She was bent over the basin in the dining room and her face was covered with blood, the basin was covered with blood, and there were a number of rags soaked in blood lying on the table. My appetite vanished at once, as I would have thrown up at once if I’d even attempted to eat anything.
I just stood there gawking. I didn’t know how to help (or maybe I just didn’t want to!). The maid and my aunt’s house help were helping her clean up her face. But the blood just did not let up. It was pouring down her face in thick rivulets. I had a crazy flashback of the movie ‘Kill Bill, vol. 1’, where in every second scene blood spurted in a fountain from decapitated heads (I’d actually enjoyed the movie, apart from all the blood-shed, it was quite fascinating). The scene before me was the most horrific thing I’d ever seen, and I’m a regular viewer of shows like ‘Fear Factor’, ‘Ripley’s Believe it or not’, ‘CSI’ (not the crappy Miami one), which contain scenes that could make your stomach absolutely queasy, but I was never all that affected with whatever they dished out. But this was happening right in front of my eyes!
And then Grans came into the dining room to check out what all the commotion was about. When she learnt that her niece was bitten by her own dog (who is called ‘Rambo’, by the way), she asked how it had actually happened. In between trying to stem the flow if blood, my aunt explained that she’d just come back from the gym and had walked into the room to find Rambo asleep, and he looked so adorable (I’m rolling my eyes at this point!!) that she couldn’t help but bend down and kiss him on his nose! Hearing this, as is her wont, Grans started yelling, “How could you do something so stupid? You know how ferocious your dog can be, what was the need to kiss it? It is your Anand (the house help) who has made it this way! He goes on teasing the dog and now you have to pay for it! I’ve always told you that it is not safe to keep this mongrel, but does anyone ever listen to me?! Just the day before it had growled at some guests of mine and looked all set to pounce on the little girl who had come, but your Anand came and jerked it away!”
Here Grans had to pause for a breather. She then ordered my aunt to visit a doctor at once. Rambo had left two deep gashes each, on both of her cheeks.
While Grans’ tirade was going on, I was secretly hoping that the vicious Rambo would now be sent away. That dog has a split personality, I tell you! Sometimes he’s so happy to see me, and sometimes he growls and barks at me as if he’s never seen me before! For instance, one day I’d come home and Rambo was there to receive me at the door, wagging his tail and looking quite pleased to see me. I was also happy at this reception, as I miss my cousin’s Labrador a lot, back in Hyderabad, who’s the friendliest dog in the world.
But, back to Rambo now. I bent down to pet him and he seemed to like it for sometime, then suddenly he started growling deep in his throat and furrowed his forehead and started barking loudly at me! I was utterly shocked at this change. He seemed ready to lunge at me, when the afore said house help came and took him away. From that day onwards I’ve never gone anywhere near the dog, but that doesn’t stop the vicious thing from barking at me, my brother, the other maids when he’s in one of his terrible moods, which is quite often. I never thought that I would ever hate an animal, let alone a dog! But this one I do! Each time I look at him, I want to pick him up and throw him off the balcony!! He induces such nasty images in my mind! Now I think he looks absolutely evil with his furrowed brow and yellow eyes!
Because of all the above reasons, I was hoping that my aunt or at least her husband, seeing how badly his wife was hurt, would get rid of the mangy mutt. But no such luck! My aunt blamed herself or the entire mess! I guess it was silly of her to bend down and kiss her unstable dog while he was sleeping, but he did assault her so very brutally. But then, I guess all dog owners cannot see beyond how adorable their pet is, no matter if they have unstable personalities. My mother had also suggested taking him to a pet psychologist. But my aunt sees nothing wrong with her dog.
So as of now, I don’t think that damn dog is going anywhere in the near future. I’ll just have to be careful and be aware of where the annoying thing is all the time! I so did not think life in Bombay would be like this!!