Excerpts;

"You have to make a choice" - was all she could muster. She ran away from the drawing room, covering her face with the loose end of her sari. I am at a loss to follow why? Did I say anything wrong? I brought out the facts before her. May be that I was blunt. But did I have an alternative? Either she agrees and rescues me  or I sink lock stock and barrel. There is nothing in between.

She locks her up in the bedroom and goes into quarantine. No more discussion is now possible with her. She will think all through the night. It may be that tomorrow morning she will award her final verdict. I have to wait for that. She is the judge and I am an accused. Whether she will acquit me of all the charges tomorrow? Whether I shall be freed from the tentacles of the dilemma that Aggarwal has thrown me into?

("The Eclipsed Moon" ISBN 0977966216, can be ordered on line from creative bookpublishers.com, amazon.com , barnesand noble.com , alibris.com)
One can search inside the book from the following link
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_b/002-8563174-4335201?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywor

Two concrete benches were the only amenities available in the lonely platform at the small railway station. Adinath arrived exactly at 9 a.m. but his train was running three hours late. Both the benches were unoccupied and he made himself comfortable on one. Adinath, a city dweller, visited his village every weekend and was now returning to his workplace. His had a storybook for use during the tedious journey but he preferred to sit back and wait.
Soon a second man came and occupied the other end of the bench. Both preserved the stoic stillness till a third walked up noisily and plonked himself in the space between the two.
The third man not bothering about an introduction, turned to Adinath and said in an impatient tone:
“Unless I return to town my work will greatly suffer. Three hours’ delay is equivalent to a day’s loss.” Adinath thought that this man might provide him with the story he was looking for and said-“ By any chance, are you a contractor?”
“ Right sir, I inherited the company from my father. But how can I fulfill the expectations of so many people?” Adinath was now sure a story was on the anvil. He asked: “Do you face a liquidity crisis these days?”
“No sir, I was talking about the expectations of officers. The problem was there earlier too, but there was a limit. Now, even one third of what is spent by the authorities does not reach where it should. Most of it goes to satisfy the fathomless greed of the officers.”  
“Are you unable to carry on business if you do not bribe the powers that be?” Adinath wanted to know. 
“Exactly. And now, the officers’ wives demand favours too.  They  ask for food packets and sweets and what not! The other day I settled the bill for a gall bladder operation of one such lady at a renowned nursing home. The amount was around fifty thousand rupees.” After a pause, he added:
“ The officer released a substantial amount from my outstanding bill as a reciprocating gesture.”
“ So the account was then settled… What then is your grievance?” enquired Adinath.
“ I have no complaint on that account. But the officer’s wife humiliated me. She ordered me to send sweets to her neighbours who had wished her a speedy recovery. Is it fair sir?”
“Do you have any other case to prove your point?”- Adinath was curious.
Before the man could think of an appropriate reply, the second man – who had been sitting quietly so far- intervened: “ I have been listening to you both with interest.” Addressing the contractor, he said: “Whatever you say is absolutely true, sir… If you permit me, I can tell you about the love affair of one such memsahib.”
The third man’s face had peck marks of all over. His teeth were worn off at places making them look irregular and broken. He was dark, heavily built and spoke the local dialect. “I am a businessman by caste – Aggarwal, to be precise.  A humble shop is what I have for earning a livelihood.  I came to know about this story from a friend, also a contractor in the colliery field. But whether you can call this a love story or a saga depicting fathomless urge for sensual pleasure is for you to decide. I can only lay bare the facts.”
The halts in between sentences, the smile, the look, the worn out teeth, all suggested that the man had crossed many a hurdle in life. Was he telling his own story?
Aggarwal began: “Babuji   told us about the illegal transactions between contractors and officers. But I shall now tell you what awaits the beneficiaries of such transactions.”
Adinath interrupted: “ Please start from the very beginning. I am a poor listener, you know.”
Aggarwal resumed his story: “My friend’s officer was a newly married man. The wife, a vivacious woman, wanted a separate car. As soon as my friend the got a hint of this, he was most willing to oblige. The officer had to specify only three things- make, model and colour. After consulting his wife, he informed my that a red car of a popular model would be fine. The car was in the officer’s garage in no time.”
” And then?” asked Adinath.
Aggarwal continued: “ A driver had to be arranged for training madam to learn how to steer the wheel.”
“Then the problem must have been solved, after all. Your friend must have bagged a lucrative order in return.” Adinath, failed to foresee any story developing.  The third man by this time had completed the calculation as to how much would be the order value to account for the car:” Your friend must have been rewarded with a contract of not less than ten million. Isn’t that so?”
“Only for the time being.” - said Aggarwal. “ Very soon my friend began to doubt that madam had illicit affairs. The driver who was training her told him about many minor incidents. My friend even engaged a detective to monitor the movements of the lady. To his surprise, it was discovered that she was involved with the milkman. This ruffian was obliging her by satisfying her desire for sex.”
Adinath now sensed that the story was taking a turn towards obscenity. It was below his dignity to listen to such accounts from strangers. But the story could not be stopped at this stage.  He could not change the course of events even if he wished to.
The third man, however, was impatient to get to the bottom of it all and asked: “What happened next?”
Aggarwal smiled, as if in anticipation that Adinath would reciprocate, recognizing him as a master storyteller.
“ The milkman visited madam almost everyday when the husband was not in the house. My friend duly reported the matter to the officer. One day they reached the bungalow unannounced and caught the two red handed.” he said gravely. Aggarwal looked down as if feeling the intensity of the situation.
“Did they call the police?” asked the noisy man. 
“So far as I know, police has nothing to do in such cases. If two adults willingly engage themselves in a relationship what can anyone do? Is it not sir? The police act on complaints only.”
 “Yes. That is what I meant. Didn’t  the officer lodge a complaint? He had a witness too. He could have  easily obtained a divorce…” said the third man.
“He did not have a lawyer in tow. The officer and my friend were so stunned that they were not in a normal frame of mind. The officer was silent. God only knows what was going on in his mind. But his wife didn’t seem repentant. She remained quite unruffled.”  
“ After the initial shock subsided, the officer asked his wife to pack up. The woman obeyed and packed all her belongings. All the four of them got into the new red car and drove off, but only after the officer ordered the driver of his own car to follow.” Aggarwal was gradually winding up his story.
“ Where were they heading?”- The third man couldn’t keep still.

“They went to the milkman’s khatal (shed). The officer left his wife there with her paramour, the new car and all her belongings. The others came back to the bungalow. My friend had some other job to attend to and left the place after a while.
I know the events only up to this point. Beyond this nobody knew what happened.” Aggarwal was visibly over with his narration. 
“Oh no! You can’t leave the story unfinished.” Cried the third man.
“Tell me what happened after that!”
Aggarwal suddenly narrowed his eyes. And after a pause said in a low voice:
“The burnt car of the officer with a charred body inside was found the next morning. Nobody knew for certain whether the body belonged to the officer or not, but the man was never seen again.”  
“ And what happened to the woman?”
“She married the milkman and completely changed her life style. She gave birth to a series of children. Whenever drunk, the milkman beat her and wept for the good officer.”
Adinath shifted slightly as if not wanting to disturb the atmosphere.
Just then, the train’s arrival was announced over the public address system.

                                                                             The End

This story is one of a dozen stories of the e-book "Diabetes and other stories" that can be downloaded on line from the link:

http://www.angelfire.com/blog/1stimers/index1.html

 

Excerpts:-

"Tell the truth to Aggrwal. Tell him that I am your wife."
"If he asks me why did I not tell him earlier?"
"Then also tell the truth again. You did not tell it out of shame. The observer of a crime feels ashamed, the perpetrator is devoid of sense."
"Supposing he still wants it that way?"
"Then tell him that I am not willing."
"What about the consequences?"


To search inside the book "The Eclipsed Moon" go to the link:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_b/002-8563174-4335201?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywor

The annual seminar of the engineers’ association was organized this time as well. It had a stated subject as was customary. Perhaps there was an unstated purpose to it, which left one guessing till the end. Otherwise, there was no plausible explanation why electrical engineers working in the government should select HVAC (Heating Ventilation and Air Conditioning) as this year’s topic.

As invitees sat through the daylong deliberations, they too kept on wondering. But they did not have any inkling as to what would transpire at the end.

To set the ball rolling towards its desired end six papers were short listed to be shared among five speakers. Four of these papers were of 30 minutes duration each while the remaining two were each of 45 minutes.

The main speaker of the show, a professor, split up his lecture into two parts of 45 minutes and 30 minutes. He was an expert speaker by virtue of his profession and therefore extracted the total time of one hour fifteen minutes. Another expert, a consultant in the field, was equally assertive. He could extract 45 minutes from the organizers.

The remaining three speakers were compelled to manage their briefs with 30-minute slots each.

One’s experience with such general type seminars has been that whatever be the subject, the speakers tend to bend it to suit their ends. In one such seminar recently, it was found that a very distinguished speaker, an able administrator and chairman of a large undertaking, was found talking about the detrimental fallout of globalization at length, while the purported topic was management of turnkey contracts.

It was therefore not surprising to find the respected professor start his deliberations in a manner of addressing his students in a typical classroom of the university. He perhaps didn’t pay any heed to the fact that the subject of discussion was “Management of HVAC projects in public works” and went on explaining how to calculate the heat load of premises by consulting charts and tables. His assistant who flashed charts, formulae and figures with the help of a lap top computer and LCD projector, ably supported him from the sidelines.

Words such as entropy, enthalpy, psychometric charts, dry and wet bulb temperatures, chlorofluromethane etc. rent the air of the seminar hall in course of the professor’s presentation in two monolithic sessions consecutively. The hapless listeners were left in no doubt as to what was on. Most of them were practicing electrical engineers with expectations galore as to applicability of modern project management tools in the realm of executing HVAC projects.

Alas, their expectations remained a distant dream.

Since government employees organized the event it was but natural that the departmental ministers would be invited. MOS (Minister of State) appeared a little after inauguration of the seminar by a luminary from the legal profession.

MIC (Minister in charge) joined him later. Both of them were requested to address the gathering, which they readily agreed to do. Both spoke briefly eulogizing the role of electrical engineers in public works. MIC exhorted the departmental engineers to devise air conditioners for the common man.

The audience greeted them with the statutory applause befitting their status. Honorable ministers realized when they had reached the zenith of their ovation and left the hall precisely at that moment. Every one stood up in reverence and bid them adieu with another round of clapping.

After finishing his bout of lecture, the professor was standing by for the question answer session that would come later. Meanwhile the other speakers delivered their lectures with aplomb and due diligence.

Only one of them, the consultant, was allotted 45 minutes. He could comfortably cruise through his part, which dealt with selection of equipment. He also scuttled the issue of project management.

The remaining three speakers, each of whom had 30 minutes in their kitty some how squeezed through. They were also miles away from the declared subject matter.

This was nothing unusual. In such type of seminars, which were held once a year during springtime, talks were meant for talks only. People were used to be tormented with such gibberish year in and year out. What really mattered was not the content of the paper presented but who presented it. So long as the speakers were glamorous nothing else mattered.

Each piece of the jigsaw was falling into place perfectly till a young member from the audience, who was a fresh engineer from the university and a brilliant student decided to play the spoilsport.

The honorable ministers had left the rostrum long before the technical sessions began. In between the two technical sessions was the lunchtime. Sumptuous food filled up the gaping holes and fissures left behind by the previous speakers. Participants were immensely pleased with the food and that showed in their faces. Some of them would now attempt to steal out of the hall. Some would doze off whatever still remained of the lazy afternoon hours.

After the technical sessions came to a close, the question answer session finally arrived. It would have been perhaps better had it not arrived at all.

A senior member was the first to question a speaker on ozone layer depletion by chlorofluorocarbons vis-à-vis global warming. This was a trendy topic. The concerned speaker quenched the questioner’s thirst for knowledge.

Next in line was a young speaker, who was heckled by a questioner regarding the price of reciprocal versus centrifugal compressors. The young man had bungled up the cost aspect in course of the lecture. He apologized.

Then came our young engineer friend who had studied under the same professor referred to in the earlier part of the story. The young man came to the podium quite unwillingly, or so it did seem. Then he apologized to every one for he wanted to ask a question, which might seem silly to the audience. This was the first time that he attended this annual event for he was new to the service.

All the members exhorted him to ask his question. Knowledge was a great leveler. He might be new to the flock. So what?

The young man then hesitatingly asked the professor:

“Sir, you lectured us today on heat load calculations and not on management of air conditioning projects, which was the declared subject. I wanted to ask you the reason for that.”

He said so much and left the rostrum as quietly as he had come.

The professor almost scurried on to the stage in his characteristic manner. With a sheaf of papers on his hand the professor declared without any sense of remorse ringing in his voice:

“Sorry folks. I made a serious mistake. The papers meant for my presentation at some other place tomorrow was swapped with today’s ones.” 

The End