When Will My Tree Bloom?

By Kottakal Sebastian Varghese/ Kasava

The novel 'When Will My Tree Bloom?' is a home-spun story of a young Jason who nurtures the dream of becoming a writer. When young he lived an ordinary life like everybody else going through the travails of a young boy facing deprivation as a result of the poverty he had endured when his father succumbed to an illness. He had to care for his sick mother and brother which he did holding his head high and nurturing the dream of learning English which he got from his father who taught him the beauty of English. But he never cared for English when his father was alive, but on his death he turned to it and considered English as his Bible. He did well writing novels and short stories which began to be noticed by publishers. Finally, this novel saw light, and he looks forward to his other works getting noticed, and to live the life of a known writer. But when everything comes calling Fate has its last laugh by knocking him down by a severe stroke that left him bed-bound. But God comes with help and raises him again to get his work ready.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Jan 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9789388573900

Kottakal Sebastian Varghese/ Kasava

Kottakal Sebastian Varghese, amaster degree holder in Englishlanguage and Literature, has beena teacher throughout his life. Hehas taught in Bhutan, Maldivesand India English language andcreative writing. A footballer in hishey days he has represented theKerala University Team a few yearsand captained the side in 1981.A story-teller par excellence fromwhose pen had fallen a few novelsand around a hundred short storieswhich he wants to get into print.He now lives in an out- of- the- worldold town called Elappara in IdukkiDistrict, Kerala, with his retiredteacher wife and two children.

Book preview

When Will

My Tree Bloom?

Kottakal Sebastian Varghese

(Kasava)

First published in 2018 by

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Copyright © 2018, Kottakal Sebastian Varghese

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ISBN – 978-93-88573-90-0

Dedication

This book is dedicated to God, my creator, Mother Mary,

and my earthly father, Late Kottakal Joseph Varghese,

who taught me the beauty of English.

Acknowledgements

I acknowledge with great thanks and humility my students who drew the cover page keeping to my vision and the rough design I created.

Thanks to my friend, Mr. Santhosh who had the patience to listen to my part of the story and encouraged me in my endeavour.

A bouquet of gratitude goes to my nephew Siju and his friend who made the beautiful cover page according to the design of my students and my idea.

Finally my heart overflows with love for my wife and children who encouraged me a lot and gave their own insights into my writings and motivated me to prolong with my work till it was ended. They propped me up when my energy flagged till I put the last word.

About the author

Kottakal Sebastian Varghese, a master degree holder in English Language and Literature, has been a teacher throughout his life. He has taught in Bhutan, Maldives and India English Language and creative writing. A footballer in his hey days, he had represented the Kerala University Team a few years and captained the side in 1981. A story teller par excellence from whose pen had fallen a few novels and around a hundred short stories which he wants to get into print. He now lives in an out-of-the-world old town called Elappara in Idukki District, Kerala, with his retired teacher wife and two children.

Content Page

The work is not hampered by chapters but is a continuous whole just like life itself or a tree grown from a seed into a giant blooming with fragrance and beauty of its own.

I was born on 10th April, 19—between 6.30 and 7 p.m. That was what my mother told me. She was deadly sure about it. She might have gone wrong by a few minutes on both sides of the time mentioned.

When asked repeatedly she became silent, thinking over it for a time, and then said with surety in her words.

I’m sure it happened at that time because it was getting dark when you were born. There’s no doubt about it.

Are you sure, ma? You might have gone wrong under the circumstances.

No. I noted the darkness creeping in when the doctor handed you to me with a smile, It’s a boy, he said.

I clasped you to my chest. You hugged me tight. And darkness stood outside the windows peeping in, afraid to enter as the petro-max glow became stronger inside. The lamp stood on a nearby table casting yellow light that grew stronger and stronger by the minute. It must be past 6.30. I’m sure of it.

Ma was sitting at the dining table peeling onions to help my wife cooking in the kitchen. She was always like that doing something or the other, or when she had nothing to do she would be muttering her prayers or telling the beads. A T.V. set was at the right corner of the room while a coffee brown Usha fan whirred lazily overhead to keep down the heat. A door at the back of ma led through a set of rooms to the kitchen where my wife worked tirelessly on a gas stove. The door of the kitchen led out to a car shed. I was sitting on the other side of the dining table jawing with my ma. A door on my right led to the compound and to the main road. This was Fort Cochin, an old town, in the state of Kerala.

I heard my father say often that I was born under a particular star. What about it? And how come such a religious man interested in stars?

He was not. But his Hindu friends when they heard about your birth, made your father make a horoscope. Some of them were amateur astrologers, and found that you were born under a special star.

What star, ma?

Do you want to know? I don’t believe in that prediction. The astrologer who made the horoscope said you were born under a particular star which comes into effect or prominence or something like that once in a hundred years.

What good does it do? Do you know, ma?

I don’t know whether it brings bad or good luck. But it said the person born under it would be like Hitler.

Hitler? Then I would be great, I said with a smile.

Who knows? But father was afraid of the prediction. He always tried to protect you. You became the apple of his eye, and he would never leave you long alone. Wherever you went he would be there with you. That may be the reason why he never left his eye from you. He loved you the best out of the six children we had.

Did I ever show such a tendency?

No. You were the darling of your father. And you grew up like other children. And father slowly forgot his fear. But we wondered about it without any let up.

For me, when I heard, it was very funny at the beginning thinking of the drastic change that would come upon me, and then it became such a fear that I prayed to God not to make me such an ogre like Hitler. He had become a byword for all types of cruelty, and there was nothing pleasant about him in history. I would often sit pondering over the matter for a long time, wanting to know in what way I would become a monster, and it preyed on my mind so much that it disturbed me to no end. And I would wait with a palpitating heart waiting for the aberration to steal into my character which till then was passable though not perfect. Even in my not young age now I ponder occasionally over the matter that had deluded and eluded me so far, and it would all end in a shake of my shoulders at such a thing which had become almost an enigma to me. I had never come upon such a horoscope and mother had no idea about its whereabouts. When asked to mother she had only this to say about it.

He kept it secret somewhere, maybe to protect you. If it comes into wrong hands it might do damage to your future, father feared. So, when he died the secret died with him.

Later on, in another time in my life, when I was returning from Bhutan, where I worked as a teacher, and had crossed the border to come to New Alipur Duar in Bengal. I happened to be in a hotel where I had to wait for two days to catch my train in which I had reserved a seat for Kerala. In the evening of the first day I landed there I was strolling along with my friend Thomas through the streets of Bengal when my friend happened to come upon a nameplate, etched in bold black letters on a white background, of a famous astrologer who had been for long in our minds as a result of a conversation with a teacher friend from Bengal who had informed us of a great astrologer that the rich and the poor consult, whose prediction had rarely gone wrong. Thomas on seeing the famous name wrenched his head back in my direction and said excitedly.

Jason, look! It’s the same person whom Saha told us.

I looked wondering what it was, and saw the name and a faint recollection came flooding into my mind. I said in awe.

He’s the same astrologer, I read with wondrous eyes. He’s a master degree holder in astrology, and a member of the All India Astrologer’s Association.

All these were mentioned under his name in big, bold, black letters. We climbed the rickety wooden stairs and came to his two roomed office. There was not much in his room for such a great person. The middling table at the centre was loaded with a few heavy volumes of books on Astrology. A pen holder stood on the left of this table with a few ordinary pens in it, and by the side lay a big lens set aside in a hurry. Another pen a little stylish and garish on the top was clipped to his white shirt pocket. Below the table you could see his grey trousers and his legs slipped into white slippers with blue straps. He was short in height and a little lean with a pair of black rimmed spectacles on his face that heightened his beady eyes and gave him an owlish look.

His eyes lit up as he saw us at the door. He beckoned us by throwing his right hand to the seats in front of him. We pulled the chairs and sat down. We ogled at him mesmerized by his twinkling eyes as he waited for us to begin.

We came to see you, Thomas began in earnest. We would like you to read our hands.

The eyes took on a better hue. He turned sideways quickly and picked up the big lens from the table and glanced through my friend’s right hand which he had thrust in a hurry before the astrologer. He went over my friend’s hand, shook his head in the affirmative with great understanding and predicted to him after getting his date of birth and time of birth and year which he wrote down in a note pad and did urgent calculation. His brow wrinkled in great concentration. Then he burst out his prediction in great fervor which was not much to get interested in. Once he had satisfied my friend, he glanced at me and asked for my hand. I lengthened it without much ado. He got my name, date of birth and time of birth on a paper in the note pad and did the calculation. His brow knit as he went over it. He added and subtracted again diligently. He shook his head with wonder, then, scrutinized my hand once again with his lens to clear away his doubts. He was overjoyed by what he saw and calculated. I kept silent waiting for him to speak. When he had things to his liking he spoke energetically.

You’re going to be great, very great and rich

How rich? my friend butted in with great enthusiasm.

Very rich! He’ll build many bungalows, and will have many cars. He’s really destined to be great.

I was very happy but did show it. A little disbelief unknowingly might have crept into my face. Seeing it, he asked.

Don’t you believe it? he asked sarcastically. It will happen as I say.

I remained silent. Then to test him I asked.

How many children will I have?

At that time I was married and was the proud father of a girl child.

You will have only two children. Now you have a girl. The next one will be a son.

I was stunned. I wanted more children. So, I asked him with a disheartened heart.

Only two children? Is there no chance to have more?

No. You will have only two children. To have one more is unlikely, he said shaking his head.

I stood there crestfallen.

As we got to our feet, he said again as a parting gift.

It will happen, you believe me.

We paid his fees which we kept on the table and left, each one lost in his own predictions. We strolled out. Thomas seemed to have taken it to heart the predictions made to me. He took pot-shot glances at me. His looks at me turned to admiration which could be seen in his eyes as he took sidelong glances at me. I pretended not to see them. Warmth slowly spread through the cockles of my heart as I thought about the predictions. In the heart of hearts I loved hearing the bright future that was foretold to me. I bathed in the warmth as it spread throughout the body. There was a spring in my steps as we roamed through the streets killing time. We sampled the exotic local food that sprang up when darkness fell, and did some window shopping looking at things we dared not buy seeing the prices which we could ill afford. It was time to turn back and we did it with great reluctance because there were so many things that caught our fancy and made us leave them reluctantly.

Back at the lodge Thomas brought back the predictions made.

You’re going to be rich, Jason. He said it’ll happen. Do you think so?

I don’t know what to believe. What he said about the children 50% of it is true. You know I have only a daughter, and the second one, he said, will be a boy. Soon, I will know whether the predictions are going to be correct.

It’ll come correct. I believe him, Thomas said emphatically.

Ah! Time will tell. Let’s wait and see, I said in finality.

But I never stopped at that. Thomas was too excited to be left alone. We talked about it till late at night and wondered whether such predictions would come true. Tired at last with the head overcrowded with unhealthy thoughts we went finally to sleep.

Years later, on a fine morning I was in front of the Ministry of Finance in Thimphu, the capital of Bhutan, trying to get my dues after retiring from service in Bhutan. When everything was done to my satisfaction, I came down the steps and was about to leave the building, when I was hailed from the side. I saw a well dressed Bhutanese smiling at me. I have never seen him before. He wore a gho (the national dress of Bhutan) with a red scarf over his shoulder and across the chest and under his left arm. That scarf told me things. For, only an officer equivalent to the district administrator or above wore a red scarf. He asked very friendly.

Where are you staying, Sir?

That was a strange question from a stranger. He seemed to be a nice sort of a person and rich to boot and looked very friendly. I said.

I’m staying in a lodge near the cinema theatre.

There was only one cinema theatre in the capital in those days. I had forgotten the name of the lodge and thought my answer would set him off. But to my great surprise he said with a smile that took away the last resistance in me.

I’m going that way. I’ll drop you there.

If it was in India I would have shaken my shoulder and gone my way, but he seemed to be a nice sort of a person wanting to help. He had already opened the back door and was waiting for me. Only a few Bhutanese talked the way he did in English. He was very educated and cool. As I stepped in he closed the door and went to his driver’s seat. He put the belt over his shoulder. The door shut with a bang and we were off. He was very courteous and talked to me politely asking about myself. I was honest and told him what I am.

Suddenly he spoke earnestly.

Sir, look in front of the car. See the army truck with the flag leading us.

I looked and saw a big army truck with a flag in front very close to the car, and it seemed he was leading us. The voice from the front continued.

We Bhutanese believe that if a vehicle with a flag is escorting us, then the man sitting in the car behind is destined to be great.

That’s you, sir, I said not knowing exactly what he said.

He became serious and grave and said.

Not me, I’m driving the vehicle, but it’s you I’m driving. So, you’re the man who is destined to be great.

I was flabbergasted. I never expected such a thing. He drove me smoothly through the road and in a few minutes the car parked in front of the theatre. A small crowd wandered there. A few looked our way and lost interest soon.

There is the theatre for you, he said smilingly with a big friendly grin.

I got out of the car and said.

Thank you, sir. And where do you stay?

He said close by, and turned his car and drove back the way he came. I watched the tail of the car until it disappeared in the distance. I shook my head in utter disbelief and crossed the road to my lodge shaking my head.

Why did he help me? I asked myself, but there was no answer. It seemed so incongruous. And I am nobody, just a teacher for you.

One day in Cochin I was whiling away my time in front of a private hospital with my very small daughter and waiting for the arrival of the children’s specialist. I had registered myself and had come out of the stuffy atmosphere which smelt of antiseptic lotions to the front of the hospital facing the highway, and was lolling in the porch with my daughter playing her own unintelligible game when a middle-aged person in white mundu came and sat near me. He was silent for a time, then glanced at me and asked.

Are you from here?

No, I said.

Then we fell to talking and got acquainted with each other soon. But I never revealed to him my job or the whereabouts of my present house. Suddenly he said.

You must be working in a European country?

I said, No. I have no work.

He was taken aback with surprise but collected himself and said with confirmation in his voice.

You are destined to work in a European country. If you’re not working there already you will be very soon.

I have never set foot out of Kerala. How can I be in Europe?

You will be. And you’re destined to be very rich.

Seeing my unbelief in his words he continued.

You’ll have many bungalows and cars, not like the rich people you see in cars moving around.

He waved his arms to take in the vehicles moving around in front of us.

You’ll be greater than them, he continued. When you’re not in your own cars, others will come running to take you along in their vehicles. That’s how great you will be.

He talked of yet greater things to come, but I had lost interest in his talk, and got up to see the doctor whom I saw going in now. He left me, and as I proceeded to go in with my child I saw him walking away a forlorn figure in the crowd and I lost him soon. I turned my eyes back and moved forward and became part of the hospital crowd lining up and waiting for my turn to come.

I narrated all these incidents to make you understand what was waiting for me in future. But all these predictions were mere humbug I know now, and do not give much importance to any more predictions made which are done in plenty. For life is stranger than fiction. Many years have passed since then, and I have aged in grace. You are too eager to know what I have become. I will tell you. I am now one among the thousands of people walking through life with the belief that any moment life may change for the better. I hope it does. But let me tell you my story, my side of the story. Be patient and hear me. If there is any truth in the predictions made I would like to know ‘When Will my Tree Bloom?’ Don’t you like to know?

*******

My Christian name is Jason, and as I said earlier I was born on 10th April, 19--. The first thing I remember from my very early life is the fall I had from a cycle. It was a time when cars rarely roamed on the road. I was entrusted to the hands of a young servant with the orders to be taken to the shop where my dear dad waited to see me. I was lifted to the front bar of the cycle and he got on the seat behind to ride. But as the cycle moved off balance he lost his control and the cycle tumbled down, but at the nick of time he leaped clear, and I fell down with the cycle with a great clatter. He anxiously lifted me up but already the damage was done. There was a beautiful bruise coming up on my right knee with tiny beads of blood making their strong presence felt. I had really skinned my knee and it was very painful for little me. I think I cried loud unable to bear the terrible pain. The servant’s face blanched. He bent down, wiped the tears on my face and pleaded with me not to cry.

Don’t cry. I’ll give you a sweet later on, he begged me.

He scooped me up in his arms and tried to clear away the dirt from the bruise, smearing the blood all around the bruise in the attempt. He wiped all the tell-tale signs in his fear, but new beads of blood