The story teller and his Cinderlla - Hari sankar (ereader for textbooks .txt) 📗

The Story teller and his Cinderlla


I saw the words "Nadia" written on the tree right in front of my house. Tears flooded my eyes. I couldn't resist the thoughts about her, her voice in my head said "That's not ow my name is written”. I tried to stop them by thinking about my father. My father was a successful businessman in his late fifties. I respected him for the life he has given me and cursed him for the life he had taken from me.


I grew up in cherthala ,a small town in kerala which is at the southern end of India. My mother was a teacher. They didn't want me to know anything about my job or the salary. Most of the time I was alone in my house. I still do not know how much my father earned then. Our life style was like that of 80’s. My father took decisions in the family and no questions asked. My relation ship with Nadia has its roots from my childhood.

Aunt ,Nadia,Sameerah:

A woman named Lakshmi worked for us .She used to help my mother in cooking and cleaning, Though we offered her a high wage, she refused and in turn requested accommodation and food for her daughters at weekend nights.Lakshmi was a women in her early thirties, Her beauty was too good for her age, Her husband Abdul died of cancer at the third year of their marriage. She had two daughters Sameerah and Nadiah.Sameera was one year younger and Nadia was having same age as that of mine.Nadiah lost her eye sight when she was a child. Everything about sameerah was in stark contrast to that of Nadiah.Sameera was beautiful, talkative; full of enthusiasm.Nadiah was exactly the opposite of her. The only similarity in them were the garments they wore, it showed there utter state of poverty. Though Lakshmi was not a relation to us, I called her Aunti.,it was a habit from my childhood. Unlike my father, my mother loved these children and they were always welcome in our house. My father barely talked and if he did it was to my mother.Nadiah and Sameerah had to stop there studies by eighth standard and helped auntie for earning daily bread.


Mr. Ravind:

“He was a gentleman, he always smiled, he was very rich, I with my own eyes have seen him donating money to auntie and other backward people in the society. I idolized him.”
Somehow Mr.Ravind was not welcome in mine, or any of my relatives house.
This was my knowledge till 10 th standard. The night before my departure after eavesdropping a conversation between my parents, I came to notice a peculiarity about Mr.Ravind.this man was a Nymphomaniac. He indeed asked favors to his loaners.
Whoever rejected him, had to suffer his brutality.


While I was in 10th standard .I had tuitions late night. Some days my teacher who was also our family friend used to escort me. Many days I have seen Ravind’s Black Fiat car parked outside Auntie’s house, and all those days Sameerah and Nadia stayed at our house. Then I didn’t know what it meant but after I have joined the school in Bombay, I came to know about it. Though I have forbid myself to think any further, somehow I lost respect for the woman after that.

During the vacation after my 10th exams,most days I was alone in my home .father and mother was at my cousins house helping them arrange his marriage. My mother trusted Nadia and asked her to accompany me. She would come in the morning and simply sit at the verandah of our house staring into nothing. She was so shy in talking. While she talked she kept her head straight though her listener was not at her front. unlike other blinds she didn’t need much help, she had something like” inner eye”. till now I haven’t completely understood what that was. While days passed I sat with her on the verandah and one day I asked her what she liked the most. She answered that it was stories. I started to tell her stories, some were fables, some religional,I tried to bring a happy ending to most of them. While I have completed my story she would simply smile.
One day she asked me to tell her Cinderella though she had heard it at least 3 times. I did so and after the ending of the story she was silent as usual but she didn’t smile .Suddenly like a lightening in dark she asked me,” Would the king have married her if she was blind?”
I simply said Yes without thinking about the depth in her question. After this incident she used to hold my hands while I told her stories ,and I was so happy about it. One day after the story I kissed her on the cheeks and she chided me calling “Saheeb “ still smiling.


After that things went pretty bad, Life dragged me to a different course .By the end of that week I was at my aunt’s house in Bombay expecting admissions to school for plus one. The life there was fast. It was full of laptops, porn ,women. I studied there for 6 years and has never once, gone back to my home town. The six years of exile had changed saheeb to Mr.Hari.

I met Nadia on my marriage day. She wore an old saree of my mother. Her eyes was full with tears .My cursed soul didn’t want to go to her or talk to her because Mr.Hari was no more saheeb.

Publication Date: 05-11-2011

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