The Foe Within

By P Sheelwant

In ‘The Foe Within’ Sona, 20, wrestles through her
obsessive-compulsive disorder of imaging herself as a
champion lawn tennis player, like Helena, the World
Champion, even if she had never won beyond club level.
Experts said she didn’t have a champion within her. Her
friends, Naresh and Iqbal, made her realize that her alter
ego had imprisoned her, and, then, she fought through her
disorder, pursued her second best passion, and emerged a
bestselling novelist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Point Six Technologies Pvt Ltd
• Release date: Jul 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9789352019250

P Sheelwant

Dr. Sheelwant Patel, pen name P. Sheelwant, has been an insurance seller, a forester, anenvironmentalist, and a researcher. He has authored two books – one on soil-environmentconservation and the other on medicines from trees. He has climbed the Himalayas, stalkedkiller elephants in jungles, and halted in many a haunted halting house in the hilly Himalayanwilderness. He has come across many an apparition, later to be found out to be funny auralhallucinations. Yet, he can’t stop his hair from rising at their ends if he bumps in close proximityof a wall lizard!A docudrama based on his narrative about a devout Muslim’s intense love for elephant, a livingdeity of Hindus, has won a national award for the best documentary on environmentconservation.He lives in Mumbai with his wife and two extraordinary kids, now grownup, one an animatorand the other a film maker.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE DISASTER STRIKES

The Kolkata International Airport Terminal was bustling with people. Worried family members of passengers on board AI 666, bound for Kolkata from Singapore, which had lost contact from anywhere, were arriving in hoards. Display board was flashing ‘DELAYED’ against the names of most flights.

Sona was ashamed of herself for the dilemma she was in. She didn’t know if she was awaiting information about the ill-fated AI 666 or for her mom, her dad, Rupa, and Iqbal to emerge from the exit gate. Sona felt a crunch in her lower belly, and a butterfly fluttering on her belly button, for not knowing which one she was doing. She knew her dad would never call her and not even let her mom do it; but she was most disappointed in Rupa, her elder sister, whose chum she had once been, and in Iqbal, Rupa’s hubby, the philosopher. If for nothing else, Rupa should have at least called for knowing the well-being of Guddi – their six-year old daughter, a St. Joseph High School boarder. How couldn’t she care even that little for the chirpy child who had the sparkling blue eyes of Iqbal, and a mole the size of a pea, as if bindaas babe was wearing a bindi!

Am I the only one liable for the dilemma, Sona thought. Didn’t they have a responsibility to inform me about which flight they were taking? Rupa and Iqbal could’ve, couldn’t they? They should have. I know Dad must have made them swear that they would not communicate with me, but isn’t any oath worth breaking when such a lovely child was involved? Had they done that, I would have been here to greet them. Sure? Am I? I am not. I know Dad’s presence in the milieu colours my perceptions, but I can hardly help it. Even if I knew the date on which they were departing for Singapore, I hadn’t come to see them off at the airport because, I knew, Dad wouldn’t approve of it. I was in such a jam, still am.

Sona knew she wouldn’t have come to the Airport had it not been for the news about AI 666 having lost contact. And when in dining hall of Diamond Working Women’s Hostel, Sona and Aarti were chaffing Ganesh about stuffing himself with dum aloo; Aarti opining five middle aged huddling diners in a corner to seem conspiring, Sona had heard the news about the AI 666. And, she had been unsettled ever since. Though Sona remembered they were to fly back home on that date, she didn’t know the flight details, or if they were extending their sojourn and not flying at all. All their cell phones were switched off. Aarti suggested going to the airport and, hence, they were there.

Don’t you have manners, man? Why don’t you go to the waste bin and gorge yourself out as much as you wish? Ganesh barked at one of the hagglers at the entrance gate, who had spat out a mouthful of paan saliva on the floor, marking a foot-long red spot – a shooting star – on the tiled surface. Sona, Aarti, and Ganesh had missed the projectile by skin of their teeth. That had infuriated Ganesh.

Man didn’t bother to respond immediately. He used the small cotton bag in his hand, the bag as shapeless as a grocery bag, to wipe off the sputum splayed on his lips. He, then, turned around to face the trio and took a long look at Ganesh.

Was I born yesterday? he said. Do I have to learn manners from you? I am of the age of your father…

Cut that out…

Ganesh started arguing with the man, but Sona could hardly hear what they were talking about. Her dad’s words echoed in her ears.

Her father had shouted, ‘WAS I BORN YESTERDAY’ and snapped at her wrist, pulled out the TV remote from her hand, and switched off the live tennis match she was watching. He had branded her a rogue living in a fool’s paradise; a lousy girl dreaming to turn herself a Helena, the reigning World Tennis Champion, which she would never become; writing a wretch of stories and dreaming of turning herself into a Vikram Seth, which she would never be; and sketching fantastic beasts that would take her only to her doom. He had accused her to be an addict living off her parents.

Her father had continued shouting, calling her names. Sona had resolved she wouldn’t retort. She had, however, not been able to keep that resolution. How could she when his ‘we regret the moment Radha conceived you, the most’ had set her blood on boil. When she had shouted at her dad that he had no right to dishonor her very being, she hadn’t recognized her voice and had surprisingly seen her right index finger almost poking into her dad’s eyes. She had screamed at him not to speak another word or he would regret that; and, then, a blow had sent her sprawling to the ground.

Aarti, intervening in Ganesh’s argument, jolted Sona out of her reverie. The security guard, at the entrance gate, had told them to go to a special counter, beyond the arrival lounge, for more information. As they moved forward, Ganesh twisted back and glared daggers at the man.

The authorities had hoisted a large electronic display board to provide information about AI 666. The trio closed in. As Sona read the names of her parents, Rupa, and Iqbal among the list of passengers on board AI 666, she felt as if her body had caught fire, all at once; her eyelids forgot to bat; and her heart, to beat. Had Sona seen the reflection of her façade in a mirror, she would have found her eyes opened the widest ever, jaws slumped down to her chest, and the colour, drained off. Sona felt her nerves stunned as if by an electric shock which had led her head go blank. She felt weak in her knees as a severe shudder passed through her frame, and she slumped down. Horrified, Ganesh and Aarti attempted to prop her up. They couldn’t.

Aarti and Ganesh lifted her to a nearby bench and rested her there. Ganesh sprinkled water on her face to get her consciousness back.

CHAPTER 2

SONA VISITS GUDDI’S

SCHOOL

The tall Anglo-Saxon lady, in her mid-fifties, had pushed the single-leaf door of office open, gone behind the secretariat table, looked at the scribble on the visitor’s slip, and asked if Sona had waited for long. Sona had said, ‘just half an hour’, stood up in deference to the lady, and did a namaste to the Principal. Neither Sona’s response nor her namaste registered with the Principal who was tilting the paper for better light and struggling to understand the scrawl on the slip. The Principal sat in her chair, asked Sona to sit and rewrite the visitor’s slip in block letters, as the school filed those for records.

At the end of table, on the Principal’s left, lay five stacks of books with library code numbers stuck to them and one stack of attendance registers, on her right. As the Principal snatched a book from the heap and read the library card on the inside, she murmured an expression under her breath for the lazy librarian. She picked up her mouthpiece and barked at the librarian for leaving those books on her desk for days; why he wasn’t putting them in their places; and was she required reminding him at each single occasion. She ordered for immediate removal and banged the instrument on its cradle. She rang a bell and ordered the peon to remove the books right away; and also to take attendance registers to her deputy.

As Sona placed refilled visitor’s slip for the Principal, a man, three chart-papers in his hand, entered the room.

Yes, Mr Baangar, the Principal said.

It seemed, she were expecting him.

The man said that panel had judged the three sketches in his hand as the better ones. He stood a chair away from Sona, shuffled through the other chairs to reach the Principal’s desk, and laid three chart-papers before the lady.

Baangar tapped the sketch in the centre saying that the panel of judges had considered that the best one.

The Principal closed in on charts and gazed on them. Sona took a peak at the sketches and an image of Guddi, sketching, flashed in her mind.

Sona had gone to Rupa and Iqbal’s place for a few days’ stay, since her hostel was under repair. She had found Guddi sketching intently and the child’s rebuffing, ‘can’t you see Maasi, I’m busy, Horlicks later’ had brought a smile on her lips. When Sona had said that she hadn’t yet returned the canvas she had given her when Guddi had visited the hostel with Rupa, the child had said her friends were still making additions to that and would return that soon. Guddi had taken Horlicks to her desk and said she would finish the job as she sipped the beverage. She had declared as if a Chairman were making an announcement to his company’s Board of Directors.

As Sona thought of the countenance of child, her childish confidence brimming from her demeanor, and her postures as if she were in complete control of her affairs, she felt her heart thumping wildly in her chest, throat choking, and a deep sob building up inside her and trying to force its way up; Sona sucked her lips to keep her face from distorting. She turned her face away from the Principal busy with Baangar.

When Sona heard the Principal remarking to let her deal with Sona’s matter before discussing details, since she had been waiting for long, it disrupted Sona’s thoughts. The lady jerked herself up from the charts and pushed her right hand under those, fishing for the slip. The man said he would settle some matters at hand, in the meantime, and moved out.

Before the door closed behind Baangar, Sona could see him rushing upstairs, two stairs at a time, and another such rush flashed before her eyes. How clearly I feel the throb of Dad’s roar, of showing me what rights he had, in my ears as if that had happened microseconds ago, and not eight months, she thought. Images floated in Sona’s head. Dad hurling my things down from portico; half a dozen lawn tennis rackets, four tennis kit bags, several embrace-fulls of my canvases and sketches, and nearly two dozen manuscripts, and several reams of written matter; Dad descending down and moving out in verandah. He had not looked at me even for an instant. I had felt I had grown roots, Sona thought.

Oh God! Were both her parents on board AI 666? the Principal asked.

Sona said they were.

She removed her glasses and laid them down on her desk. The information had horrified her, froze her, parched her throat, and made her jaws drop to her chest; and she couldn’t blink for several moments. Sona had nearly blurted out that, both, her and Guddi’s parents, were aboard AI 666, and that, only she and Guddi were the survivors of the family since Iqbal had no surviving relations, but she withheld herself at the last moment. She didn’t know why she thought it better not to divulge the information. She had a remote sensation that she would look begging for pity; and that she abhorred.

Both sat in silence for several long moments.

The Principal said, at last, that she was extremely sorry to make her wait for so long; she could have told her about such a momentous matter straight away; and how upset Sona might have been all along. She regretted the delay several times over and asked the peon to get her a glass of water.

The child is in class two, I believe. Is she it? she asked. She put on her glasses again and looked at the slip.

She is.

Poor child! Fate has turned so cruel to her.

Sona sat silent.

They say it was a mechanical failure of some sort. Was that so?

Nobody knows. Many suspect its fuel tank caught fire, and the carrier exploded midair.

Both sat speechless.

I mean no ill to your institution ma’am, Sona said after some time, but I wish to take her out of the school.

Why, Miss Sunwal? I think she will be better off as a boarder in our school at this critical juncture. Don’t you think so?

I intend to keep the death of her parents a secret from the child, at least for a while. I think talks about the death of her parents in school shall reach her. Those shall impact her psyche and shatter her fragile sensitivity. A change of environment can ward off that hazard, I believe.

You may be right. Nevertheless, don’t you think she will notice her missing parents the moment she reaches home? If she continues in this school as a boarder, at least for a while, you can have your time to break the news on her. No one in school will know about the demise of her parents, that I assure you. I feel sorry for the poor child.

Sona looked contemplative and undecided.

I only say, try it for a while, the Principal said as she stood up. If you feel you have to take her out, even after that, you can always do that.

Sona found herself nodding in agreement.

The Principal said she would send the child in. As she skirted her desk on her way out and passed by Sona, she came close to her; and she stopped. She looked into Sona’s eyes unblinking, a softness palpable in elder woman’s eyes. She extended her right hand and caressed Sona’s scalp. She didn’t speak for a long moment. Sona again felt like saying that she, too, had lost all her relations except Guddi, but she didn’t. Had Dad not thrown me out of Sunwal House for pursuing what I liked, and more so, for not pursuing what he liked, I could have probably said that, Sona thought. But as of now, I can not. I know my conscience wouldn’t ever let me rest in peace, if I did.

God has thrust a huge responsibility on your shoulders, my child. I pray Him to grant you strength to carry it out, the Principal held both of Sona’s hands into hers and murmured. Sona spied glisten of tears in the tall Anglo-Saxon lady’s eyes.

Sona, touched by her words, stood speechless. The loss had yet not sunk into her psyche. The empathy of the Principal, in a strange way, made her sense what an enormous loss she had suffered.

Maasi! Guddi said. She was surprised when she entered the room.

Guddi looked smart in her school uniform of white top and a sky-blue skirt. The blood red necktie had ‘St. Joseph School, Gurasedara’ embroidered in green on its flap. Her boots were polished and their shine contrasted well with white stockings with blue circular markings. The name of school appeared on the top, too, in green. Housekeeping had laundered her dress well and aligned the pleats of her skirt, perfectly. There was no wrinkle on her top and the crease on its half sleeve showed fresh ironing. Had Sona been in her normal mental state, she couldn’t have missed the thought that, though they paid through their noses, Rupa and Iqbal were getting its worth in their child’s education.

Hello darling. You look smart with that hairdo.

You know. I have been waiting to meet you for so long. I have added so many things to the sketch of Killcoco. You gave me that the day I came to your hostel, you remember? You will like it when you see it.

Sona drew child close to her and stroked her head as Killcoco brought memories of Rupa’s visit to Diamond to reconcile the father and the daughter. It was also when Sona had given Guddi the sketch to add components as Guddi pleased. The ebullient child talked herself out of breath in excitement, but Sona’s head was hardly registering that. Images of Rupa’s visit to the hostel with Guddi floated in her mind.

On talks of reconciliation between the father and the daughter, Sona, teary eyed, had asked her sister if she was that worthless. Rupa had got up to caress her scalp, consoling her; and it was then that she had seen Guddi ‘spoiling’ Sona’s sketches. The ‘spoiling’ of sketches had angered Rupa, but elated Sona, who had taken meticulous notes of ‘spoilings’. When Rupa was leaving Diamond, Sona had given the sketch of Killcoco to Guddi for making additions, and deletions, as she wished.

The guard at Diamond had informed them that a couple had come looking for Rupa. While bidding good bye to Rupa, Sona had seen her mom and dad sauntering in front of the hostel. The moment her dad saw Sona, he had pulled her mom away and an involuntary ‘Oh Mom’ had issued forth from Sona’s lips. God!

As Sona held Guddi close to her, she regretted not having rushed to her dad on that day, and saying that she was sorry and loved him, nonetheless. She bit her lips to keep herself from crying.

Sister told me Mom has come. Had I known it were you, I would have brought the Killcoco. Come, I will show you.Guddi clutched Sona’s hand to pull her out of the room.

‘You know Maasi; I enjoy your visit so much. Mom only rebukes me. I wish she never visits."

Sona pulled Guddi up in her arms as the image of the mangled remains of Rupa, somewhere deep in Indian Ocean, flashed in her