Thomas Eldo and Other Stories

By Ashwathi

A sense of belonging is what everyone craves for. It emanates from the capacity to empathize with others, often manifesting in strong family relationships and deep-rooted friendships. The course of life is dictated by the ebb and flow of these emotions. Most of the stories depict this ebb and flow. Once this outer crust is broken, beneath lies a bottomless ocean of loneliness where one has to navigate alone. Thomas Eldo, a man of many moods (at times arrogant, at times whimsical), thought he was never going to be a captive of this web of emotions. But once the mantle was shattered, he became helpless. He had to spend the rest of his life searching for friendly ports to dock. Nowhere could he berth permanently. He was a tiring Ulysses without a pining Penelope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Jun 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482850086

Ashwathi

Tharun Kurian Alex, English poet,critic, short story writer, playwright and editor is a research scholar in Translation Studies in Sri Sankaracharya University of Sanskrit and former assistant professor of Don Bosco college of Arts and Science, Karaikal. In addition to the poems, short stories and critical articles published in national and international journals, he has penned an anthology of poems titled Month of April and completed the translation of anthology of Malayalam poems titled Muttassiplavu to English.

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Copyright © 2015 by Ashwathi.

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Contents

1. The Memoirs of a Dining Table

2. The Debacle of ‘Kali’

3. The Other House

4. Hydrose and the Cat

5. The Shape of the Things

6. Friends Forever

7. Thomas Eldo

To my beloved mother who introduced me to the magical world of books that opened up new vistas of thought and imagination.

The Memoirs of a Dining Table

F orty years is rather old age for a dining table. Already my legs have become unsteady which is not a good symptom of health at all. Further, yesterday there was serious discussion running into late hours whether I should be retained or sent to the lumberyard. The younger folk showered all sorts lousy epithets on me. Finally it was due to the strong resentment from Leelamma that I was given a fresh lease of life. So it’s high time that I write down my memoirs.

Unlike the two- legged creatures of the house my earliest memory goes down to the moment of my birth. To give a cosmic dimension to that event, it would be apt to say that I was born with a big bang; to be more precise, a series of bangs around the corners that almost ripped my body apart. Later I came to know that all this pain was inflicted on me to attach four well- rounded legs that have ever since given me proper dimension and an identity among our ilk. Yes,’ no pain no gain.’ Several times have I heard the master of the house din this great truth into the ears of his little monsters, but to no use. They went on their lazy way quite wantonly, making fighter planes out of the pages of their homework book until the progress report arrived one day. It was a day of muffled sobbing and wailing. Hot tears rolled down and rolled over me. The little one was almost inconsolable. Thomas Mathew thumped his hairy fist on my back and threatened them almost sending a shiver across my body. Food was the least sought after item that night. There were no jokes or laughter. It was consumed like a sacred ritual, but only in portions. No one made fighter planes nor cared to look at the ones that had crashed behind the window curtains the previous night. Even little Broony sensed the seriousness of the occasion and stopped wagging his tail; but made no compromise on food. He cracked the bones with the same precision and lapped up all the left over.

It would be a misnomer to call me a dining table, for I facilitate a variety of activities. Children sit around me for their studies, sometimes toddlers climb over my body while taking food and at times people sit and gossip around me uttering most shameless lies with an innocent smile on their face. At times the family collects around me for solemn prayer meetings. I am the center of activities till late into night until at last Broony is shown his place by Zacharia, the eldest boy in the family after a little bit of cuddling and fondling. Broony would come peeved with his tail between the legs and ears drooping to find his little mattress under me. Never would he understand these bipeds. Then, it’s just the night and me.

The household of Thomas Mathew wakes up to the namaz* call early in the morning from the near by mosque. Lights are switched on and after a few familiar sounds from the kitchen Leelamma places a glass of hot steaming tea on the table. Now Thomas Mathew comes in yawning