Saturday, March 10, 2007
Friday, March 9, 2007
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Monday, March 5, 2007
Tragedy in a Foreign Land (3)
He threw the letter down after reading it.
“Money! Money!” He muttered under his breath as he gulped down his beer in frustration. He opened his suitcase and took out another bottle. He took a few gulps, feeling it go right to his head, making him feel hot all over. What a miserable life! Here he was working hard in a foreign country to make his fortune, so that he could go home one day and provide his family a better life, and that was his wife’s way of showing her appreciation and encouragement! Send money! Send more money! Rajoo gulped down more of the beer as he thought of his youngest son lying in bed, waiting for death - or treatment – if Rajoo could send some money home.
Rajoo flung the empty beer bottle down onto his mattress. It rolled over to Siva’s mattress. Rajoo reached over for it, and saw something sticking out from under Siva’s mattress. He looked around to make sure nobody was in the room, and reached underneath the mattress and pulled out an envelope. Sitting with his back to the bedroom door so as to shield his actions, Rajoo opened the envelope slowly. Money! The envelope contained money!
“Hey! Give that back!” Rajoo felt a wet towel whacked across his back, and a naked Siva leaning over his shoulders to reach for the envelope in his hand.
“I need the money. Lend me the money!” Rajoo held the envelope out of Siva’s reach.
“No! My hard-earned money! No cigarettes, no beer! All for my family!” Siva reached for the envelope desperately.
Rajoo held the envelop in his fist in a tight grip, as he turned to face Siva.
“My youngest boy is dying! I NEED the money!”
“No! You lazy bone! You would have money if you didn't spend it all on cigarettes and beer!” Siva was desperate and pounced on Rajoo.
Rajoo lost his balance and both men fell onto Rajoo’s mattress, with Siva on top of Rajoo. Siva tried to pin Rajoo down while one arm reached for the envelope in Rajoo’s hand. Siva was a big man. Rajoo felt out of breath, with Siva’s weight upon him. He tried to push Siva off with his free arm, while still extending the other arm above his head so that the envelope was out of Siva’s reach. Siva kept his weight on Rajoo, while at the same time frantically extending both arms towards the envelope. Rajoo felt himself gasping for breath. He waved his arms wildly, trying to push Siva off. His hand touched something! It was his beer bottle. He grabbed it by the neck, and brought it down on Siva’s head.
“Crash!” Fragments of the glass flew everywhere. Thick blood trickled slowly down from Siva’s head. It reached his eyes, which were opened wide with shock and disbelief. Rajoo pushed Siva off. Siva’s lifeless body fell onto his own mattress. Rajoo watched in horror as the circle of blood beneath Siva’s head grew larger and larger, slowing dyeing the dirty mattress red. Siva’s eyes remained open, staring vacantly at Rajoo. The air in the room hung thick with the odors of blood and sweat intermingled.
“Money! Money!” He muttered under his breath as he gulped down his beer in frustration. He opened his suitcase and took out another bottle. He took a few gulps, feeling it go right to his head, making him feel hot all over. What a miserable life! Here he was working hard in a foreign country to make his fortune, so that he could go home one day and provide his family a better life, and that was his wife’s way of showing her appreciation and encouragement! Send money! Send more money! Rajoo gulped down more of the beer as he thought of his youngest son lying in bed, waiting for death - or treatment – if Rajoo could send some money home.
Rajoo flung the empty beer bottle down onto his mattress. It rolled over to Siva’s mattress. Rajoo reached over for it, and saw something sticking out from under Siva’s mattress. He looked around to make sure nobody was in the room, and reached underneath the mattress and pulled out an envelope. Sitting with his back to the bedroom door so as to shield his actions, Rajoo opened the envelope slowly. Money! The envelope contained money!
“Hey! Give that back!” Rajoo felt a wet towel whacked across his back, and a naked Siva leaning over his shoulders to reach for the envelope in his hand.
“I need the money. Lend me the money!” Rajoo held the envelope out of Siva’s reach.
“No! My hard-earned money! No cigarettes, no beer! All for my family!” Siva reached for the envelope desperately.
Rajoo held the envelop in his fist in a tight grip, as he turned to face Siva.
“My youngest boy is dying! I NEED the money!”
“No! You lazy bone! You would have money if you didn't spend it all on cigarettes and beer!” Siva was desperate and pounced on Rajoo.
Rajoo lost his balance and both men fell onto Rajoo’s mattress, with Siva on top of Rajoo. Siva tried to pin Rajoo down while one arm reached for the envelope in Rajoo’s hand. Siva was a big man. Rajoo felt out of breath, with Siva’s weight upon him. He tried to push Siva off with his free arm, while still extending the other arm above his head so that the envelope was out of Siva’s reach. Siva kept his weight on Rajoo, while at the same time frantically extending both arms towards the envelope. Rajoo felt himself gasping for breath. He waved his arms wildly, trying to push Siva off. His hand touched something! It was his beer bottle. He grabbed it by the neck, and brought it down on Siva’s head.
“Crash!” Fragments of the glass flew everywhere. Thick blood trickled slowly down from Siva’s head. It reached his eyes, which were opened wide with shock and disbelief. Rajoo pushed Siva off. Siva’s lifeless body fell onto his own mattress. Rajoo watched in horror as the circle of blood beneath Siva’s head grew larger and larger, slowing dyeing the dirty mattress red. Siva’s eyes remained open, staring vacantly at Rajoo. The air in the room hung thick with the odors of blood and sweat intermingled.
For the Love of Writing
Shooby and Bao-er were sitting at Macdonalds. Bao-er had just finished giving Chinese lessons to two of her Japanese students. In between bites of her cheeseburger, Shooby was telling Bao-er how she was SERIOUSLY experimenting with poetry writing.
Bao-er knew Shooby could write very well. She also knew how shy Shooby was about letting her work go under public scrutiny. She said, “You should earn some money with your writing!” Bao-er continued, “You shouldn’t deprive the world of the fruits of your talent!”
Shooby took a sip of her iced green tea and said, “Guess it wouldn’t hurt for me to earn some extra cash to feed my other passion – books!”
Bao-er smiled, and jammed some fries into her mouth.
Bao-er knew Shooby could write very well. She also knew how shy Shooby was about letting her work go under public scrutiny. She said, “You should earn some money with your writing!” Bao-er continued, “You shouldn’t deprive the world of the fruits of your talent!”
Shooby took a sip of her iced green tea and said, “Guess it wouldn’t hurt for me to earn some extra cash to feed my other passion – books!”
Bao-er smiled, and jammed some fries into her mouth.
Escape
Linda walked into her office. She was posted to this London office a few weeks ago, and was heading the advertising department here. She had wanted to get away for a while anyway. Her relationship with her boyfriend was not going anywhere, and she was tired of putting her life on hold for a man she was not sure would ever grow up!
Her secretary walked in, and read Linda what she had to deal with for the day. Linda took a sip of her coffee, hoping the caffeine would perk her up a little.
Her 8 o’clock appointment showed up. The advertising department had just lost one of their copywriters. Linda had to get a replacement for the team. Candidate number one was all right. Good looking, but a little immature. Candidate number 2 was older, more mature, and seemed to be a good addition to the team. Candidate number 3 was weird! He was out!
Linda decided to pick candidate number 2. She felt relieved to have made a decision. She looked out the window and stretched herself. The thick London fog was making her depressed. She closed the blinds, and walked out of her office.
She had a meeting with her team before lunch. Great! Linda could not wait to see how the new photos had turned out. The last batch was disappointing! She wondered if the new jingle had been recorded. There was some delay due to power failure at the recording studio the last time. The translator was also late getting to the studio, and the Italian recording artiste and the English producer were using sign language, which did not quite aid their rapport with each other.
Linda’s mind was a buzz before she even entered the conference room. She certainly did not spend much time moping around – at least, not in the office!
Her secretary walked in, and read Linda what she had to deal with for the day. Linda took a sip of her coffee, hoping the caffeine would perk her up a little.
Her 8 o’clock appointment showed up. The advertising department had just lost one of their copywriters. Linda had to get a replacement for the team. Candidate number one was all right. Good looking, but a little immature. Candidate number 2 was older, more mature, and seemed to be a good addition to the team. Candidate number 3 was weird! He was out!
Linda decided to pick candidate number 2. She felt relieved to have made a decision. She looked out the window and stretched herself. The thick London fog was making her depressed. She closed the blinds, and walked out of her office.
She had a meeting with her team before lunch. Great! Linda could not wait to see how the new photos had turned out. The last batch was disappointing! She wondered if the new jingle had been recorded. There was some delay due to power failure at the recording studio the last time. The translator was also late getting to the studio, and the Italian recording artiste and the English producer were using sign language, which did not quite aid their rapport with each other.
Linda’s mind was a buzz before she even entered the conference room. She certainly did not spend much time moping around – at least, not in the office!
Friday, March 2, 2007
Tragedy in a Foreign Land (2)
“Honk! Honk!”
“Ouch!” Rajoo squealed as his hammer fell from his hand and hit his left foot. His working boot was old and worn-out, providing little protection from the impact of the fallen hammer. Rajoo cursed himself for falling asleep. He also cursed the truck for startling him. Packing up his tools, he followed the others out of the almost-finished house, and limped towards the truck.
Rajoo lit a cigarette as the truck pulled out onto the road. He could feel the wind against his face, as he sat cramped at the back of the truck with the other workers.
“Hey! Spare me a cigarette!” Siva nudged him.
“Get your own!”
“Spare me a puff!” Siva pleaded.
“No!” Rajoo refused.
Siva’s face fell. Rajoo felt a little sorry for him. He decided to show Siva a little charity. When he exhaled the next time, he made sure to blow the smoke at Siva’s face. Siva closed his eyes, inhaling the smoke Rajoo had exhaled hungrily.
Pathetic! Rajoo thought. His friend was a fool. He would not spend a cent of what he earned. The fool sent his whole paycheck back to Bangladesh – to his wife and ten kids. Not Rajoo! He spent a large part of his pay on cigarettes and drinks. He felt pretty sacrificial for sending anything back at all to his wife and kids in Bangladesh. Anyway, his wife had a job and unlike Siva, he was not such a fool as to have ten kids. He had only five.
The truck finally reached the apartments where the workers lodged. Rajoo shared a two-bedroom apartment with five other guys, including Siva.
“Mail for you, Rajoo!”
Siva passed him a letter from Bangladesh. Rajoo’s wife was a good correspondent. She wrote regularly, updating him about all that was happening in Bangladesh. In almost every letter, she asked him to come home. Rajoo wrote whenever he felt he had not written in a long time. Whenever he did, he assured his wife he would come home once he had made his fortune. He chucked the letter, unopened onto his mattress. He wanted to get into the shower before the other guys.
Rajoo got out of the shower, with just a towel wrapped around his waist. With the smell of soap clinging to his freshly washed body, he felt stifled by the smell of sweat in the room. Siva was sitting on his mattress. When he saw Rajoo, he quickly hid something under his mattress, as if afraid Rajoo would see it. Pathetic fool! Rajoo thought as he sat down on his mattress, which was next to Siva’s. The workers slept on thin, old mattresses, which probably had been used by numerous “pioneers” before them. Brown stains covered all the mattresses. Rajoo unlocked his suitcase which he kept at the head of his mattress, and took out a bottle of beer. This was his favorite part of the day. He took a sip of the beer. Heavenly! A well deserved luxury after a hard day’s work. Slowly, he opened the letter from his wife.
“Ouch!” Rajoo squealed as his hammer fell from his hand and hit his left foot. His working boot was old and worn-out, providing little protection from the impact of the fallen hammer. Rajoo cursed himself for falling asleep. He also cursed the truck for startling him. Packing up his tools, he followed the others out of the almost-finished house, and limped towards the truck.
Rajoo lit a cigarette as the truck pulled out onto the road. He could feel the wind against his face, as he sat cramped at the back of the truck with the other workers.
“Hey! Spare me a cigarette!” Siva nudged him.
“Get your own!”
“Spare me a puff!” Siva pleaded.
“No!” Rajoo refused.
Siva’s face fell. Rajoo felt a little sorry for him. He decided to show Siva a little charity. When he exhaled the next time, he made sure to blow the smoke at Siva’s face. Siva closed his eyes, inhaling the smoke Rajoo had exhaled hungrily.
Pathetic! Rajoo thought. His friend was a fool. He would not spend a cent of what he earned. The fool sent his whole paycheck back to Bangladesh – to his wife and ten kids. Not Rajoo! He spent a large part of his pay on cigarettes and drinks. He felt pretty sacrificial for sending anything back at all to his wife and kids in Bangladesh. Anyway, his wife had a job and unlike Siva, he was not such a fool as to have ten kids. He had only five.
The truck finally reached the apartments where the workers lodged. Rajoo shared a two-bedroom apartment with five other guys, including Siva.
“Mail for you, Rajoo!”
Siva passed him a letter from Bangladesh. Rajoo’s wife was a good correspondent. She wrote regularly, updating him about all that was happening in Bangladesh. In almost every letter, she asked him to come home. Rajoo wrote whenever he felt he had not written in a long time. Whenever he did, he assured his wife he would come home once he had made his fortune. He chucked the letter, unopened onto his mattress. He wanted to get into the shower before the other guys.
Rajoo got out of the shower, with just a towel wrapped around his waist. With the smell of soap clinging to his freshly washed body, he felt stifled by the smell of sweat in the room. Siva was sitting on his mattress. When he saw Rajoo, he quickly hid something under his mattress, as if afraid Rajoo would see it. Pathetic fool! Rajoo thought as he sat down on his mattress, which was next to Siva’s. The workers slept on thin, old mattresses, which probably had been used by numerous “pioneers” before them. Brown stains covered all the mattresses. Rajoo unlocked his suitcase which he kept at the head of his mattress, and took out a bottle of beer. This was his favorite part of the day. He took a sip of the beer. Heavenly! A well deserved luxury after a hard day’s work. Slowly, he opened the letter from his wife.
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