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Ink on the finger…A Short Story in a Wake of a Moment

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October 16th 2014  |  0  |  Category: Children , Fiction , Inspirational , Moral , Philosophical  |  Author: Satish  |  1734 views

Mahanvi… nine months old she was, just crawling and there are new toys invented for the 6- 2yrs old in the toys market. Chinese had somehow produced low cost swimming pool with ducks and swans floating on the waters, a mobile app is controlling this for parental guidance for kid to have semblance of joy while playing with the swimming toy set.

Got this product offering on the newly released mobile device in a tradeshow product launch.

The manufacturing company of mobile phones had, come up with the fathers love App for the kid to give her the best of childhood experiences, mapping to a natural and true course of life setting.

Kalyan is always willing to spend more than he can, to show the love and care for his daughter.

In a no time for thy self material world, he hardly had a little time to spare for her, he never wants anything less for those few minutes or hours with mahanvi to play with.

Swathi his wife is turned a house wife after the child’s birth, Like a mother who is never willing to give up the role of motherhood awaited, as she strongly feels life has childhood which is very precious and only once, that is everything for a kid to live, and live those years with love twinkling all over the home.

…and this phenomena of kids childhood is extended even to neighborhood, in case there are growing up kids or newlywed couples willing to have kids sooner.

Swathi’s neighbours are in a crèche business. So, it’s a bliss for her to get the neighboring flat tenants having crèche, she need not worry to bother them whenever she wants, rather its handy and available there to help her, to give her enough space for the shower and nap, after she can fulfill all the childcare needs, from the time mahanvi wakes up and she get her milk feeding and shower, till she again falls asleep.

Swathi’s parents are staying 15 kms away, almost in the out skirts of the urban city. That left them no help from her parents; the old couple cannot afford to rent a flat in the costly location, paying high rent.

While they can stay in their dream house, with garden and plantations of organic vegetables. There are neem trees in both the corners of the plot diagonally.

They are at peace in their own place. In fact they want their daughter stay nearby, but kalyan is interested to stay in the vicinity of railway station and bus facilities and at least, he has facilities of cabs available to reach the airport in time.

He likes to plan efficiently, to keep work life balance.

Creche owner sheela raghuraman, she was school teacher for kinder garden school, for nearly a decade. She endured a lot about kids and their simplest questionnaire, that come every time like never expected from a little genius.

She for now had habituated to have kids always around her; at least two women to help her handle the kids and maid who can put everything clean for the kids. If you have kids in the house, one needs to keep the premises extra cleanly…

Since sheela is doing the business she wants to put things professionally, as far as customer care is concerned. But at the cost that is reasonable.
Whenever any new client is visiting her flat to see, if they can take admission for their kid, she leaves the customer only with the contact details stamped with rubber stamp on piece of paper.

Maid seethamma is always busy in keeping things away from kids, though she is very alert. Somehow she even gets worked up with kids being unpredictable at times.

A kid is playing at the corner where there is shelf placed with toys for display and to keep them displayed for the customers to feel the house is full of toys.

As unpredictability occurred, this kid it’s time for her to spoil things, months of her kiddo days.

She is brainstorming what is that can give her sense of feeling of joy of thrill and adventure, if she enacts to spoil the things.

To her despair there are locks and chains for the glass slides to shelves anything bigger in size like broom stick left noticed by seethamma , screams had its peak, but somehow a thing that cannot get noticed is very much the need of hour. Absolutely not the regular toys.

She got a hint from her dad and mom walking in to a close cabin like place, where they did put the finger on the table and someone had put an ink mark.

While she was carried in the dad’s arms she could sense a variety of smell of the finger she could feel.

She even grabbed the finger twice to hold it in her little mouth with the deciduous teeth, which often leaves a pleasure of months old kid’s expression of love for any adult.

The entire episode began when she found the ink stamp pad that smelled similarly. Her brain recollects subconsciously processed information, reeling backwards to the day of election. Only a tender brain can illogically imagine or get in to those in depth zones of right brains.

She could observe that the people standing in a cue had no time to look at her. While everyone though disciplined to stand in line for their turn. They never looked at the kid usually they do otherwise in a park or shopping mall.

She felt being ignored totally on that day when elections voting is organized.

It’s nearly about 2 hours of waiting for her parents to get their turn. Mom got a milk bottle and wipers, any way diapers tied.

Most of the people who turned up for voting looked like they have so much to do before the day ends, like the one comes after long time waiting to cash most of them are myopic with short term ideas and few are with long term ideas. They are not looking through the eyes, even though, if they are looking at her. May be sense of guilt that holding them to look straight into the eyes.

A kid looking at them, to receive their love and smiles from all those adults had been deceived, that moment she felt like a moment of disparity of emotions, prolonged waiting that let her loose hopes.

What went wrong with this place how these people can behave so much unemotional, Spurted antagonisms hovered in the wake of moment and dreaded lofty greed shelved in the booths of power bazaar.

Goons, their men and women traded my future and their dignity of life, an inner voice provoked a little of aggression for an oligarchy that had donned this game. Mahanvi’s soul imagined with her wisdom how this mean wilderness colonized.

Numbers are the key word; cash is the incentive, currency is the killer.

Foul smell emitted of their synthesized biochemics in their anatomy. Coz no one ever gave more than the vote-note paid for the job of stamping and it earns money, without shedding out their sweat and strains their nerves through dawn to dusk.

A bottle of intoxicating spirit at no cost, for which they always had to pay their day’s wage, only to lose a moment of bliss smiling at this little cute face, had any tech geek invented the game of points for voting, only to increase the counter and bolster with ecstasy of highest score one can achieve.

The buyer of these wiggeries get all the power, the chair, the rubber stamp and the Right to Exploit, “RTE” the weaker society in the name of social service and development.

Rather now the game shall change over to the beholder of the points, put forth their numbers for the auction depending on the demand, one can ruthlessly cash them in the wake of time and the only time he can turn his fortune, for the rest of five years.

The game is “browse for booze”, “B4B” be browsed on line on the web and keep up scoring for all the five years to ensure one gets maximum value from the best bidder.

Seethamma turned up shouting like a usual maid teased the kid, maid can never understand the angst of that moment. The kid got panicked after being noticed by seethamma with the rubber stamp ink pad, which already had her fingers dipped.

Like every voter is being taunted, tricked and tormented all the five years for every scam or inconsistencies of the governing slaughterer, who chaired the big seat only to order the people, the class of losers to ride all of them through epiphany to triumph.

Swathi the little mahanvi’s “me-her-mom” came to the alarm raised by the maid seethamma, to take the notice of ink pad caricature of her daughter.


By the time she came, seethamma is trying to wipe the stains. But that’s not so easy to remove those stains.

It takes only another five years to come to remove the stains and bring the new school of thought in resurgence.

This took her for another baby shower bath, mahanvi, recapped the thwarting life scenes of human society during when ink stains being washed off her fingers, as well she realized how an ink blot on the fingers gets her little fingers overly strained for removing those stains . The soap is now detergent, a sulphate group element, still not assured of perfect cleansing though. It requires few more washes to remove the stains.

In the wake of time, anti incumbency is the escape root for the current crisis in every election though, amidst the state of affairs in politics and ruling systems, turmoil’s after the election, pre-poll verdicts and party agendas, in-depth media journalism, burgeoning heroic oratories of spokespersons and headlines elusively disappearing.

Turning to the opposition agenda always ready for clandestine issues, hobnobbing with the plural ruthlessness.

Crisis life span is short lived; we can’t adjudge the grotesque staggering viewership of criterion. Independent leadership needs viewership. Niche leadership churns through cataclysmic vitals of the system, boils a decoction and precipitates for the death of the wisdom.

But rather vicariously concubines inside the breweries of oligarchy.

Milieu of the system is stemmed from the pillory of the far fetching vastitudes, incarcerating the time and distance.

Apropos the bourgeoisie right to breath and bath is costlier for the wiggeries of by-liners of their ink.

Farm pig’s syndrome synthesizes nature of vicious circle.

Society is a ring of autism that courted the musings of cooing birds; coterie calls it their duty to preserve the humanity and justice.

Neanderthals and lollapaloozas, hot bellied coverts, cited the lurking dangers, for their feast of follies.

Despondency intruded in a form of rotten miserable steaks that reattributes the mundane brutality.

Independency of life is in fortitude of fathomless transitory state ever after.

Karma land is runway to hell for those to rejoice the take off, remnants all any way.

Kalyan had approached with his sense of fatherhood that can touch her expectation of the nine and half month experience, in her case its 66 years nine and half months of history of this system, the ink pad odour to that of the festive of tail wagging class.

 

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