A Quirk of Fate

By Brian D. Kharpran Daly

A Quirk of Fate is a collection of short stories that reflect the sensitve observations of the author in and around the environment he is familiar with. Some of the stories relate to his experiences as a caver and as a concerned environmentalist; while a few relate to the more mysterious and dark beliefs of tribal folks. A romantic at heart the author delves with the sensitivity and passion of one who truly understands and accepts that life is love and that there can be nothing greater than this feeling of immense joy and bliss that love encompasses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Sep 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482856552

Brian D. Kharpran Daly

Brian D. Kharpran Daly was born in Shillong, Meghalaya, india and is presently Chairman of the Shillong Co-Operative Urban Bank Ltd. He was awarded the prestigious Tenzing Norgay National Adventure Award 2002 by the Government of India for his pioneering work in the discoveries and documentation of the caves of Meghalaya.

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Copyright © 2015 by Brian D. Kharpran Daly.

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CONTENTS

A QUIRK OF FATE

THE PYTHON

A FRIEND OF YESTERDAY

FOREBODE

A TRYST OF LOVE

THE ANGLER

THE FIND

LOST?

KONG ROSE

TIGERMAN

A FRESH BREATH OF LIFE

THE SILENT PRESENCE

DINO

A LOVE OF LONG AGO

THE PRAYER

A LOVE ETERNAL

LITTLE ‘HEAVEN’

In sweet memory

of Kong Silverine Swer.

Though the ages were far apart

as day to night

a true and inspiring friend

she’d always been.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I am deeply obliged

to the countless people

who have unwittingly helped me

through their remarks, statements or beliefs.

A QUIRK OF FATE

T he darkening sky was speckled with soft hues of crimson and orange, making the day prolong its lingering and shimmering daylight – a sunset reminiscent of mystical and unpredictable days yet to be unfolded. Across the iridescent sky a flight of crows, homeward bound, flapped their wings with single minded intent. Nearer home red-vented bulbuls sang in animated excitement before the night closed in on them. The sound of the siren from the Mawmluh-Cherra Cements Co. Ltd. pierced the quiet and serene sky to announce end of day’s work for the hundreds of its toiling workers. A normal and uneventful day for the laid back denizens of Sohra and the adjacent hamlet of Mawmluh.

Khraw Sun couldn’t remember having seen such a beautiful sunset; this is a good omen, he thought as he reluctantly pulled himself away from the mesmerizing sky. It was not often that one could see beautiful sunsets in Sohra for most of the time it is shrouded in dark rain bearing clouds; hugged and kissed by fog and mist never seeming to let go. A quiet and sleepy town it has a special history in the annals of the state especially with regard to the thunderous activities of the monsoons. The power of water has had much say in the history of the town, so much so that the region has been denuded of its top soil making it barren; resulting in creating vast sheets of water covering the plains of Bangladesh during the monsoons. Fragile as it is, it is a region that needs conservation and protection from any mining activities for its own continued existence. In spite of the stark reality of Sohra being the wettest place on earth and a dry barren desert with scarcity of water during the winter months, yet it is a quaint little town having a charm all its own.

His mother had already poured him a cup of hot, black tea. Khraw added half a tea-spoon of sugar, stirred the tea briefly and took a sip. Finding the tea too hot, he put the cup on the table and started nibbling away at the famous Sohra butter biscuit.

Had a good day, Khraw? His mother asked him.

Not really. The machines broke down again today and we had to stop production. That is why I am home earlier today, he answered her, his mouth full with the butter biscuit. I must cut down on these biscuits, he warned himself, they are too fattening. I must control my waist line more than anything.

His mother looked quizzically at him.

Does it mean you are going to work tomorrow? On a Saturday?

No mei,’ he said smiling at her, ‘some engineers have arrived today from a Kolkata firm, to assess the up-gradation of the cement plant with new and innovative machines. In the meanwhile they will try to mend the ageing machines to run for the time being, with some spare parts they have brought with them.

I have heard about this modernization of the factory for a couple of years now, but nothing has happened so far; for we still suffer from the ash that the factory spews from its huge chimney, she complained. And depending on the direction of the wind, no village or hamlet within a radius of one kilometer is spared from the pollution.

I know mei’ he said, ‘everything moves so very slowly in our state. But this time I think the cement plant is about to get a facelift for the contracts have already been signed; and the contract engineers have arrived today. Anyway, how was your day, mei?

Not too bad, but I look forward to retiring in six months time, and she heaved a sigh of relief at the thought of such a prospect.

Khraw picked up his cup, found that the tea had cooled down appreciably, and drowned it in three thirsty gulps. He then remembered the task he had in hand; something he had dreaded to even think of for the last twenty two months, during which time he had sweated out in the nights in bed with fear and remorse. He had not been sleeping well and had even lost weight. Twenty two months of guilt, fear and terror. How did I, get myself into such a mess, he wondered. That incident will always bother me all my life; to wake up in the morning with guilt and to go to bed at night with dread and fear. Oftentimes to have nightmares and wake up in the middle of the night, sweating with terror and fright. Why have I been guilelessly trapped into committing something I would have never ever dreamt of doing?

I need some exercise, he said, putting his empty cup in the sink and avoiding his mother’s eye. Tomorrow in the morning, just after tea, I will take a long walk along the ridge of Lum Lawbah. It’s been a long time since I last took a walk in the area.

Will you carry a lunch pack? She asked him.

No mei,’ he said, ‘I will be back in a couple of hours, in time for lunch.

Little did his mother know that he had no intention of taking a walk along the ridge of Lum Lawbah; he was going to Lum Lawbah no doubt, but deep into its depths – into the dark confines of a cave, Krem Mawkhyrdop or Krem Mawmluh as it is commonly known, to retrieve something he had hidden there twenty two months earlier. Time had passed so exceedingly slow, but pass it did, and now it was almost two years since he had last visited the cave. His mind flashed back to the events that led to that dark, dreadful and harrowing day.

He had achieved a first class in mechanical engineering from Kharagpur University and he was looking ahead to getting a good job and settling down. In order to have easier access to employment opportunities, he camped in Shillong, the state capital, where he stayed in his aunt’s house in Mission Compound. He was quite familiar with the locality and had learned to rather like the surroundings, but Sohra to him was home, a place he would want to settle down permanently to a quiet and peaceful life. Who knows however, where he would land up when he does get a decent job. It could be anywhere; with the greater probability being Shillong, which he wouldn’t mind at all, though the city was becoming a nightmare with congestion, traffic jams and a highly polluted atmosphere. It was still the place to be, for the happenings, health care and other various up-to-date facilities it could offer.

He had submitted so many applications to so many government departments, state government undertakings, corporations, companies and private sectors; he had sat for so many interviews and was confident of having done very well in all of them, yet he never found his name in the selection list. The continuous written tests and viva voce over the months had passed and turned into a year. He was becoming frustrated; he could not go on living on the goodness of his aunt or on his mother’s money which she had been sending him every month. She had done enough for him to see him through his Engineering College. To earn some pocket money for himself he took to tutoring students sitting for their High School Leaving Certificate Examinations. But that is not enough; he had to have a proper job, suitable for his qualifications. The year became two years; frustration was writ all over his face. He became irritable, moody and disgusted with life. What enraged him most was when two fresh engineering graduates who had scraped through in second class, were immediately employed in a government corporation. This is not fair, he fumed, ‘I have studied hard, passed out well, personally met so many would-be employers expressing my confidence, interest and sincerity, but I am passed over for others. Am I not good enough? God, hear me!’ His heart thundered with anger.

He began to develop a dislike for the establishment, the policy makers, bureaucrats and the government machinery. ‘One has to have a buying power to survive and thrive in life’, he contended, ‘but I am not about to stoop to those rascals.’ It did not stop him however, from applying for any suitable vacancy advertised in the Meghalaya Gazette and in the local daily newspapers, though he had no more faith in the prevailing system. He was always sure of himself; knowing that he had always done well in the written tests and faced the Interview Board with confidence, responding to the questions posed to him with elan and charm - and every time he had come out from an interview, he was given the impression that the job was his. But after so many interviews he was still unemployed and life was drifting by. His heart rebelled at the injustice but he was a young man with an amicable disposition and a soft and caring heart. He knew that to give vent to anger would be the undoing of oneself. ‘Anger?’ he voiced silently in his heart: ‘Do not let your heart feed on anger for it will surely consume your whole being. That brief euphoric moment of righteousness and invincibility will soon give way to a lingering festering sore in the soul; for anger is like a sword which destroys not the enemy, but one’s friends and near and dear ones, and erodes one’s self esteem.’

His heart was sore however, and life was becoming difficult and meaningless. This is the reason why so many promising youth had ruined their lives; learning to hate the establishment filled with rampant corruption they had taken up arms to join the many underground outfits. Their enthusiasm and zeal in fighting for a cause, for a good and transparent government and the well being of society was soon belied when they were unwittingly drawn into acts of treason, loot, murder and crime. Many of them soon realized that they had been led astray to live in the wild as outlaws, and cannot come out over-ground to be with their near and loved ones, unless of course they surrendered; in which case they would rot in jail or be murdered by their own comrades for desertion. They had become desperados to be hated and killed when encountered. Theirs had become a life of uncertainty which could be snuffed out in their prime in disgrace. And who is to be blamed for all this? Doesn’t the youth deserve to be guided and provided with opportunities to grow and take up life’s challenges? More so those who have worked hard and excelled in their academic pursuits?

Caching in on this gimmick, many a hardened and criminal-minded youth including school drop-outs joined such insurgent groups as merciless desperados – the more cruel and notorious the better; to create fear and mayhem by extortions, looting, kidnapping for ransom and killing with no compunction. For then soon, to end such lawlessness the government would invite those bands of cutthroats to the negotiating table. There would be a splendid laying-of-arm with all the pomp and splendour; attended by ministers and high bureaucrats of government to grace the ‘coming home of misguided youth’. Rehabilitation packages would be offered and ways would be paved for them to enter politics. The result would be that the government would be governed by those despicable vermin of society; who should in all fairness to their actions be put behind bars. What about the youth who had worked hard and excelled in their studies? Are there no incentives for them? What cruel justice rules the state!

Khraw was smarting under the unfairness of the system. Why should he go and appease the minister or the local representative? He was confident of achieving his goals on his own merit yet it seems as if all doors are closed on him. Disgusting it was if he had to stoop to use unfair means, and he recoiled at the very thought of it. Why is it that morality has no more place in the hearts of men today? Development with all its state-of-the-art gadgets, comforts and easy accessibility to the good things of life, have brought about greed and corruption and degraded the minds of men. The simplicity of life has been totally destroyed. Money was now the mantra of life and God was feared only in church. Corrupted and conceited hypocrites he thought, always rushing to find a seat in the front row in church.

On such a morose and difficult afternoon, as he was getting ready to go out to Police Bazar to buy some magazines, he was surprised to see his long childhood friend turn up at his door.

Hello Shining, what brings you over?

His friend smiled showing two broken teeth.

I was just passing by and since I haven’t seen you for ages, I thought I would look you up, he said, somewhat hissing because of the gap caused by the missing teeth.

Yes, it’s been a long time since we met. So what are you doing now? Khraw inquired.

Nothing much, Khraw, not since I lost my job, he replied somewhat indifferently.

You lost your job? Khraw was incredulous.

Yes, it was the measly pay and the long hours,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘Besides the work was boring and I thought I would suffocate if I stayed too long, he justified himself.

Khraw was dumbfounded. Here he was, with an engineering degree but without a job, while his friend who had passed only High School had blatantly thrown away his. He could not comprehend his friend’s behaviour but refrained himself from prying too much.

Come in and sit down,’ Khraw apologized, ‘actually, I was just about to take a walk to Police Bazar.

Then let us go together,’ Shining said, ‘we could chat over a cup of tea in some restaurant.

They walked along the busy and overcrowded road to Police Bazar, hardly exchanging any word because of the noise and the over-congested street. Khraw bought his magazine from the news-stand and directed his way toward Delhi Mistan.

Let’s not go there, it’s too noisy and crowded, Shining said, and instead suggested they go to a nearby bar, where they could have a drink, relax and pick up on their childhood days in Sohra.

Khraw hesitated. He could not afford spending money in a bar; in fact he had never been to one, although he does have the occasional beer or a peg of rum once in a while on outings or picnics. He was about to refuse when Shining sensing his discomfiture, appealed, Come on Khraw, it’s on me; just for old time’s sake.

Khraw, not willing to offend his friend, reluctantly followed him.

The bar was dimly lit, with soft music floating through the stagnated and stale air. It was almost empty except for a couple sitting in the far corner. They chose a table in the other corner and away from the bar counter. A waiter appeared and Shining ordered two whiskeys, Blender’s Pride, to be precise. Khraw was speechless and was about to protest but the waiter had already left. He remained silent.

The whiskeys soon arrived with a glass jar of water, a bottle of soda and a plate of fried peanuts.

"Anything else, sir?’ The waiter politely inquired.

Yes, a plate of fried chili chicken, Shining ordered.

Khraw wondered how his friend could be so flushed with money.

They toasted to their friendship and health; Shining with his whiskey topped with soda and his topped with water. Khraw grimaced when the fiery liquid passed his throat and he shook his head. He had never drunk whiskey before; he had better be careful. They sipped their drinks and chatted about their school days in Sohra. The chili chicken arrived and Khraw took a piece; it was good he thought, taking another piece. Soon more customers entered and the bar slowly began to fill up. Khraw felt uneasy and guilty at being caught drinking in such a posh bar, him without a job; he felt as if everyone was staring at him. He wanted to leave the place.

So how come you don’t have a job, yet? he heard Shining ask him

I don’t know, Khraw murmured.

I’ll tell you,’ Shining said with an angry edge to his voice, ‘unless you pay those bastards, you will never be selected even if you excel in your interview. I should know, because I paid for my measly job as a peon.

I would never do that,’ Khraw said resolutely, ‘not only because I cannot afford to do so, but as a matter of principle. Moreover I’ve always done well in my interviews.

Rightly so, but what are you going to do now? For getting a job without payment or the right backing is almost impossible, Shining said, shaking his head from side to side at Khraw.

Khraw pondered. The fear that age would soon catch up and bar him from any future appointments loomed menacingly in his face. He knew he needed work experience even if he were to start his own consultancy service agency. What could he do, except some petty services which may not be enough to give him a decent life?

There is nothing I can do but to keep on trying. Maybe my luck will change, he said, putting up a brave face.

Fat chance you have! With due respect to your qualifications and intelligence; there is no such thing as luck. You have to make it happen.

Khraw’s eyes widened at the animated Shining. How can he make it happen? What was he to do? He had done his best and in all fairness what more could he do?

Shining drowned his glass and over the din with his hand raised up high, shouted, Waiter!

Two more whiskeys, he told the waiter, even before Khraw could stop him.

Khraw sipped his second unwanted peg and admonished himself for having come into the bar with Shining; even the chili chicken did not taste so good anymore. He just wanted to leave and go home. The bar had become noisier with more people coming in, making his life more miserable; thank God that he did not recognize anyone in the bar. He was not even listening to Shining, babbling away and drowning his drink as if he was used to such a lifestyle. Khraw felt his face flush with the intoxicating and suffocating atmosphere. His vest inside his shirt was wet with perspiration and he felt that if he was to stay any longer in that oppressive and stale air of the room that seemed to be closing in on him, he would surely puke.

Let us leave, Khraw suddenly found the courage to say.

In a little while, Khraw. Let us have one more; for the road, eh!

Not for me! I can’t take another one, Khraw said.

Come on Khraw, just a small peg and then we’ll go?

Absolutely no! Khraw was firm, covering his glass with his hand indicating that he has had enough.

Then finish those pieces of chili chicken.

No, I’ve had enough of those too, Khraw said shaking his head. The fact was he was sick to the core of his stomach and he just couldn’t relish the dish in such a claustrophobic and alien atmosphere. The urge to get up and leave was overpowering but he could not hurt Shining’s generous hospitality.

Shining ate the pieces while he waited for his third whiskey, which arrived all too soon. In one big sip he drained half of the glass, smacked his lips and looked at Khraw full in the face.

Now Khraw, when we leave here, I want you to accompany me to a shop close by. I have to collect something. After that we can go home, okay?

Khraw was ready to accompany him anywhere just as long as they could leave the place.

Okay, he said, fidgeting in his seat.

Shining called for the bill while he finished his drink. When the waiter arrived with the bill, he took out four five hundred rupee notes from his wallet and handed them to him. Khraw was perplexed with his out-of-job friend spending so much money. The waiter soon returned with the change, which Shining pocketed leaving a hundred rupee note as tip.

Thank you sir the waiter said, smiling graciously at Shining.

Let’s leave, Shining said with the urgency of one in a hurry.

Khraw heaved a sigh of relief once outside and into the street, breathing in the fresh cool air which hit him instantly. He steadied himself and stood a while to let the headiness pass off. It was already dark and the street lights on; he did not realize how late it was. The two tuition boys would be waiting for him at home; he had to hurry back, but first he had to go with Shining which shouldn’t take long, he thought.

Come on Khraw, Shining urged him.

Collecting himself, Khraw followed Shining with determined and measured steps. He felt as if he was treading on thin air and everyone was staring at him – staring at his stupid grinning face. I hope I don’t meet anyone I know, otherwise there would be talk that he was seen drunk in the heart of the city. Then his self respect will go down the drain; and what would his aunt think of him?

There, that’s the shop we have to go to, Shining said, pointing to a cloth shop. Once inside, stay close to me and do not utter a word; just guard me.

Before Khraw could inquire or voice his protest, Shining had quickly made his way to the shop. Khraw simply had to follow him, a sense of foreboding and apprehension filling his heart. When Khraw caught up with Shining in front of the cloth shop, Shining took out something from a bag he was carrying and handed it to Khraw, saying, Here, wear these dark glasses and pull this monkey-cap over your head. I don’t want them to recognize you.

Khraw’s heart was pumping wildly; instinctively, he knew they were about to commit a crime and was about to turn and run away. But Shining held him firmly and in a hoarse voice commanded that he follow him. Khraw quickly wore the goggles and pulled the balaclava over his head and in somewhat of a haze, followed Shining into the shop. His legs were like rubber and he thought he would just faint, but somehow steeled himself for what was to follow. Too late to back out now he realized; he just had to follow through with what Shining had in mind – though the cry in the pit of his belly screamed for him to get away.

Shining went straight to the owner sitting by the cash box whose eyes popped up in alarm.

Do you have it ready? Shining’s threatening voice reverberated in Khraw’s mind, as he saw Shining ramming a pistol against the owner’s fat belly. Khraw noticed no customers around and the two shop-boys stood