Frozen Moments

By M. Tasleem

Suddenly Ira turned to me and asked Why do we live?
I am taken aback by her question. I start staring at her face while thinking about the answer of her question. I am unable to think of any answer. In the process I take her hand in my hand and tell her I think I am living to keep these hands in my hands for ever, for whole life. I wish to live to hear my name from your beautiful lips forever. I wish to live to hear your sweet melodious voice. I want to remain entrapped in your big magical eyes. I want to live with you forever.
The ghat is now lit up with bright light. It appears as if someone has transformed the scene by a magical charm by murmuring abracadabra. Colorful reflection of the ghat and surroundings in quietly running water of Ganges is looking divine. The hustle bustle around feels as if everyone has woken up from their slumber. There are sounds of bells and hymns of mantra. We are lost in these divine surroundings for awhile. Suddenly I took Iras hand in my hand told you know Ira, we live to keep this divine moment preserved in our memory forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Nov 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482857313

M. Tasleem

I am a retired mining engineer from Coal India who also happens to be a law graduate. I hail from a small town Supaul in Bihar which lies on the border of Nepal. This fulfilling journey of a small town boy to a big professional world has inspired me to pen down my life’s unique experiences. My educational journey has been quite enthralling as I got a chance to study from a premier institute of the country; the Indian School of Mines, Dhanbad. I believe that life is a beautiful gift wherein all the experiences we encounter make it ever more beautiful and astounding. This process of learning something new each day has inspired me to write. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing.

Book preview

Chapter 1

A dark green ink pen with white metal cover is in my hand. On the chariot of memories attached to this pen, I suddenly have reached the year 1972, Varanasi City. I was due to appear for my first Class Mine Manager’s Examination in the mining engineering department of BHU.

It is evening. Ira and I are sitting on the left side of the second step from the top on the Ganges ghat. Surroundings are melancholic. At some distance towards our right, a dead body is being burnt. The River Ganges is flowing very quietly in front of us. As the evening descends, people are coming and sitting on the steps of Ganges ghat. Hustle and bustle is increasing all around. I too am immersed in these surroundings.

Suddenly Ira turned to me and asked Why do we live?

I am taken aback by her question. I start staring at her face while thinking about the answer of her question. I am unable to think of any answer. In the process I take her hand in my hand and tell her I think I am living to keep these hands in my hands for ever, for whole life. I wish to live to hear my name from your beautiful lips forever. I wish to live to hear your sweet melodious voice. I want to remain entrapped in your big magical eyes. I want to live with you forever.

Ira starts laughing you have yet not dropped the habit of playing with words.

Ira is my friend. We know each other from school days. Ira is in the final year of MBBS in BHU. We rarely meet each other because we study in different cities rather different states. We rarely write letters to each other but whenever we meet, we talk and discuss on trivial, irrelevant matters like today. In fact it is our old habit.

Once I asked her What do you think love is in your opinion?

Without awaiting a second Ira replied opportunity

Perplexed, I asked her What do you mean?

She started laughing and said kavi maharaj (Mr Poet), at present I am in need of a cup of tea. Do something for that. We will discuss about it later.

As you wish, your Majesty. and we started walking.

Ira often calls me kavi ji (Mr Poet) or kavi maharaj (poet sir) and I call her madam or Devi ji, whenever we discuss on some irrational, irrelevant or trivial topics. We rarely call each other by our names. Whenever we meet, we mostly discuss trivial issues.

The ghat is now lit up with bright light. It appears as if someone has transformed the scene by a magical charm by murmuring abracadabra. Colorful reflection of the ghat and surroundings in quietly running water of Ganges is looking divine. The hustle bustle around feels as if everyone has woken up from their slumber. There are sounds of bells and hymns of mantra. We are lost in these divine surroundings for awhile. Suddenly I took Ira’s hand in my hand told you know Ira, we live to keep this divine moment preserved in our memory forever.

Very well said kavi ji (poet sir) but now let us go back. Tomorrow you have your exam. Ira told me. And we started for BHU.

On the way to BHU I saw a fountain pen shop. I purchased this pen, which is in my hand now, for my examination.

So you still buy a new pen for your exam. And after examination you never use it. Ira asked.

I said yes madam.

And how long you will keep continuing this? Ira asked.

I said pray, may this be last one.

Ok, then promise, you will give me this pen. Ira asked.

I said sure I’m going to give you this pen after my exam.

And we bought this pen, which is in my hand. In fact it was Ira’s choice.

After purchasing this, we walked to BHU just gossiping. When we reached BHU, she went to her hostel and I went to my hotel.

When I came out of examination Hall, I saw Ira very upset, waiting for me. She told me "I have received a telegram from my home. Mummy is in hospital. I will have to go. Let’s see when destiny permits us to see each other.

Don’t worry by the grace of god everything will be fine and we will meet soon in near future. I told her

And she went her home. Till today we did not see each other, nor could we talk ever. I do not know where she is? How she is? I even wrote her a letter but did not receive any reply

The game of life is very strange. Time comes silently and whispers Abracadabra, colours the canvass and leaves silently without leaving any trace what so ever, leaving a pang and anguish for a life time. We get submerged in this magic, obligated. Perhaps it the ways and perhaps this is its beauty and its colourful enchanting spell. That is why, we all carry our cross enduring the pain of life, living with mirth and glee till we reach our fool proof destination which is nothing but a full stop. We call it destiny.

I am hopeful and wondering by holding pen in my hand, that someday I will certainly give this pen to Ira. Somebody has rightly said-neither any promise, nor any hope, still I am supposed to wait for you…

Maybe I’m probably waiting for her. Probably this is the only way of life to make a man aware of his capacity and worth.

Chapter 2

It is about those days when my father was admitted in the ICU ward of Patna medical college hospital. He was admitted there due to severe heart attack. I used to be with him in the hospital from 8 o’clock in the morning till 8 o’clock in the evening. My younger brother was staying in the hospital with him during the other half of the day.

At the left of the ICU entrance, there was a waiting room which had two wooden benches. Outside the waiting room there was a wooden stool for peon. After that entrance, ICU was fitted with glass door.

Along the left side of the passage were four rooms. The room was available in twin sharing basis and was equipped with all the necessary medical equipments for patients. Thus at a time only eight patients could be accommodated as there were only eight beds.

Adjacent to the glass door on the right hand side of the ICU ward, was a room for duty nurse. Alongside the duty nurse room was a big carpeted air conditioned room with big sofa cum bed, TV, telephone and condition monitoring equipments for all the eight patients. All the vital information related to the patient’s conditions was displayed on those equipments in the room. Junior doctors and nurse were available in the ward round the clock. Patients were given medicine by duty nurse only.

There was a room adjacent to this room from where patients were given breakfast, lunch and dinner. Patients were given medicine by duty nurse punctually and timely. A senior doctor used to come and see the patients in the morning at around eleven o’clock and another senior doctor visited patients at around five o’clock in the evening. They use to write their instructions. ICU was under these two senior doctors.

Most of the times, I remained with my father but sometime I used to sit in