Here I am again after a lazy spell, pouring out my thoughts into the great wide internet teeming with ideas, innovation, stories and thoughts.

The world is bustling and bumbling, becoming busier by the day. We are in a constant rush to conquer and have learnt to become complacent in this mad rush to make a living, to be accepted and fit in. In all this, we have, however, started to overlook the little things. What do our actions lead to? In our struggle to save time, are we ignoring something more important? Or is it our way of saying we are just part of the crowd?

Where is this chain of thoughts heading? Well, to ourselves. To us who were younger, stronger and more courageous. To our younger selves who had ideals and who had plans to change the world, even through the smallest of actions. On Children’s Day, a lot of messages crowded our inboxes, asking us to look at the child within. The little people that we were more resilient, and more intolerant of the surrounding injustice. Looking back, it was easier to voice our thoughts. But as we grew older, the prying eyes and the judgmental thoughts all changed us into something we are not.

So, getting to the actual point, COP27, held from 6 November until 18 November 2022 in Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt. COP27 is the Conference of the Parties where the parties are the attending countries that signed up to the original UN climate agreement in 1992. The funny aspect, as highlighted by most climate activists, is that it is nothing but a façade to hide the enormous carbon footprint the countries are really responsible for.

This year there are younger participants joining from different parts of the globe than before. The fact that they are the ones fighting hard to save the planet that they have to live on leaves a definitive question. What have we been doing? Well, struggling to make ends meet, I guess, however, as vulnerable as we have been to the surroundings, the little people of today have a lot to deal with. While we can say that the digital natives have the world at their fingertips, enjoying nature and breathing easily is not.

According to a Statement by UNICEF Executive Director Catherine Russell on the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) AR6 Report, “Today, 1 billion of the world’s most vulnerable children are at extreme risk. If the world fails to act, tomorrow it will be all children. It is past time to put children at the center of climate action.”

Together we have seen the effects of a worldwide pandemic, the intense and destructive climate hazards, the heatwaves, droughts, cyclones, floods, and air pollution to top it off. Our childhoods weren’t this harsh, at least in terms of the climate, and that brings us back to the thought of what kind of Children’s Day is this, really?

We see activists like Greta Thunberg, Xiuhtezcatl Martinez, Nyombi Morris, Licypriya Kangujam and many more, raising awareness about climate change. The young voices have relentlessly been repeating how pertinent it is to take action. The world, however, is still to take heed. The COP27 is yet another platform where the little people are leading the way to change. Makes me often wonder what more I need to do. Zero waste, stopping single-use plastic, go-green and more. Would it suffice to get Earth back to its former glory? And just as we wonder, another bomb drops on a small city somewhere far away, destroying everything in its wake. Switch to another aspect that impacts children the most: conflicts, wars and displacement.

According to stats, “36.5 million children were displaced from their homes by the end of 2021”. The story repeats and tends to continue as people fight for vested interests. Children need safe places to grow in, food to provide nutrition, and a shelter where they don’t have to live in fear. Devoid of such basic requirements, millions of children are still struggling on a daily basis. Then comes education, which again cannot be guaranteed at all times owing to the tumultuous situations in many regions.

So, when we think of Children’s Day, we have to rethink again what we are really offering to the next generation. Change we must, in all ways, possibly slowly and gradually rectify the mistakes we and our previous generations have made directly or indirectly. We can choose to live recklessly, but we can also choose to live carefully. Together, the change can be real, but don’t leave it to the little people alone, for the world is as much ours as it is theirs.

Afraid of what others will say? Let’s do our thing, let the naysayers say whatever they want to say. Believe that you can drive change and set out to make a difference. People will definitely take an interest. Let’s stop being adults who try to fit in and join in with the children who choose to stand out. Let’s speak up when we see something wrong. Let us voice our concerns about wars. Let us not be shy about standing out in a crowd. Taking a bag to the grocery is good and so is taking a container for lentils and whole grains. The good old way of taking a container to buy oil would be great too, but sadly, buying it from the oil mills isn’t an easy option everywhere. Growing vegetables at home, cutting down on electricity usage, using environment-friendly washing agents, and composting food waste is all ways in which we can contribute to reversing climate change. There are tutorials for homemade enzyme cleaners, homemade natural shampoo, and moisturizers, all of which can otherwise add to the plastic pile that we create. Small assertive steps that we take as individuals can contribute towards global change. We might not move the mountain, but we can at least decrease the size.

This is Satrangee Parachute triggering thoughts for change.

Sharing some links for extra reading if it interests you all.

https://www.unicef.org/stories/young-climate-activists-demand-action-inspire-hope

https://unfccc.int/

https://www.unicef.org/press-releases/today-1-billion-worlds-most-vulnerable-children-are-extreme-risk-if-world-fails-act

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/climate-change-affecting-children-even-before-birth

https://www.unicef.org/migrant-refugee-internally-displaced-children

https://conflictandhealth.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13031-022-00486-6

https://www.unep.org/news-and-stories/story/10-ways-you-can-help-fight-climate-crisis

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“And the memories bring back, memories bring back you,” Du du du dududooo….. Yes, read this while listening to Maroon 5. Gives you that walk down the memory lane feel. I just felt like writing today and even before I knew it, I had penned down this post. So, without further ado, here are the top Holi experiences that ran through my mind today.

Let’s Start from the Beginning…..

My earliest memory of Holi is of me hiding under the windowsill waiting calmly for the unexpecting passerby, jumping up and surprising them with a shower of blue-coloured water. Hopefully washable colour or maybe ultra diluted Ujala can’t be sure. But I remember myself smiling, laughing and giggling each time I would successfully surprise anyone. I remember running around the quarters, armed with a Pichkari, yelling ‘Holi hai’, at the top of my voice.

Cut to the next year, I remember my sister crying for hours after Papa came home nearly blackened after being rolled around in charcoal can, apparently. Of all the things weird, I still remember Papa trying to calm my petrified sister by saying, “it’s your papa beta”. I don’t think my sister even heard it, because all she could do was cry while clinging on to our mom, and sneaking peeks from time to time. She kept crying until papa emerged out of the bath in a relatively recognisable state.

The memories from early childhood end there.

I remember the next Holi from when we shifted to a new town. It took me time to realise that not only was the language different, so was the culture and the celebrations. Imagine my surprise when I encountered an angry neighbour when I surprised him with the usual ‘Holi hai’ and a splash of green, the only colour I could find amongst the treasures I had sneaked in while packing.

Holi ceased to exist for the next few years as the colours of Onam and Vishu came to be a part of my ever-expanding life.

Teenage Years

Move to the last year at school, again in a new city amongst new friends and again a Holi celebration almost in the middle of final exams. The memory of my then friend (& now husband) shyly asking for permission before applying the tiniest dab of colour on my face seems so distant yet clear. The innocence and the respect we had for each other remains fresh in my memory. Not that it has gone, but with times things change, don’t they?

First-year of college was a nightmare and the Holi that year is one that still haunts me. One day before Good Friday, I rebelled against the warden for not letting me go to church. The rebellion saved me from getting drowned in a pit of mud, but got me reprimanded for the rest of the year. The mud pit filled with water and the girls being dragged into it is a sight hard to forget.

The most memorable Holi of all was during my second/third year of college. We were sort of living on our own, eating out of the tiffin delivered by the Dabbawallas in town. It was our year of independence, and we girls had a lot of fun together. It was a Holi that we got to spend with each other and naturally we were excited. We had a plan, a good one (at least in our heads). We worked the whole night creating a bobby trap. We balanced a jarful of coloured water on top of the main door so that we could surprise our house owner. The work was so tricky that we tired ourselves and woke up late, only to find that someone had actually pulled it down. Whether the trap worked is still a mystery. We had a good laugh at our own foolishness and wasted enthusiasm, and went out to play Holi with our PG mates. The fun part was us applying so much oil on ourselves to get the colour out easily, which, as it turns out was so greasy that removing the oil ended up as a challenge instead. And yes, the French braids! All of us sitting and braiding each other’s hair was something that should have been captured on camera. The time we spent together is what I cherish the most, and so is our beautiful friendship. My girls will know who I am talking about .

Fast forward to Present

Over the next few years, my body started being allergic to the smallest of things and as it would be Holi colours ended up on the list too. Hence, end of the playing with colours and the playing with spices instead. Holi now is fully organic (Turmeric, Beetroot, and Spinach) or restricted to the Tika/tilak (application only on the forehead), or the water jet (on the rarest occasions). It is also the time for experimenting with my cooking skills and making more sweets and snacks than we can eat.

Life changes, but the past remains. As each holi passes by, I create a new memory. One that I can either hold on to as a lifelong treasure or as one that will be forgotten as time passes.

This Holi was one where my heart felt conflicted. The constant sight of a war, the distraught faces and despair. The helplessness that one feels at the sight of such things often leaves me with the question, why? Global issues, politics and rivalries aside, what is this really for? We have had enough wars and destructions already. To destroy is easy. The nations in war will need years to rehabilitate, restructure and the ones who are suffering will forever live in fear. Human lives are being lost, infrastructure that took years to build is being torn down into pieces. Shattered families, people with no place to call their home, trees, plants, birds and animals all lost. Peace is what I pray for as the day ends. The world weeps, and we try to remain sane. Memories can help. So, once in a while, dig into that beautiful treasure trove and find happiness even when things don’t go as we plan.

Happy Holi.

This is Satrangee Parachute, setting off to create beautiful memories.

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I must admit I have been lazy. It doesn’t really convey the whole emotion, but that’s the gist of it. This post is something close to a self-reflection, a result of the sudden calm that I have been experiencing, thanks to the absence of the metallic roar owing to the Corona driven lockdown. The title here is my version of the notorious phrase, “Islands of Prosperity in the Sea of Poverty”, often used while discussing inequality.

The year 2020 started on a happy note (for me at least). I had weddings to attend, places to go to, and Mom to accompany me all through January. February came in with much flair. Rekindled friendships, unexpected and much-awaited reunions in a gist. And just like that, we traveled back to our home base after taking a few detours here and there. It was all fun. But that was it. Things took a sudden detour from thereon.

The indications of a catastrophe had started show right from December 2019, however ‘Human’ as we are we paid no heed to it until it had a sudden global impact, one that could not be controlled. Hence came the Lockdown, one of a kind that had never been witnessed by humankind before. For a distributed demographic that had seen everything from the World War, Indo-Pak War, Afganistan War, Refugee Crisis, Syrian Civil War to the Tsunamis, the Earthquakes, the Floods. A generation that witnessed the great technological revolution too, for that matter. Oh! the Proud Us!!!

We now have one more thing to add to the list. We are officially the generation that witnessed the world in lockdown. And just who would have thought something of this sort would even happen as we live and breathe? We are now living in a time where the future is unpredictable, yet in other ways a time where we can rethink and reexamine many aspects about life, society, politics, economy etcetera. I, for instance, have been having thoughts that lead to further thoughts about how conflicting life really is. Oh, don’t take that negatively. To put it in simple words, while I live safe, secure, and healthy within the walls of my house, the workers, migrants who actually built this high rise walked in the scorching heat to get to their homes, isn’t that an irony? This points towards the plaguing question of the socio-economic divide, which keeps growing even as I write this post.

“The oceans of poor and the islands of rich.”

While there are talks about self-reliance, decentralization, investments in micro-levels, promotion of the small-scale, self-help groups, etc., the major focus still remains in sectors where cost-output ratios remain too high. What we lack in terms of equal wages in every state now stares back at us in the form of thousands of migrant workers stranded at various parts of the country trying to find their way back home.

To top it all, public-private partnerships are being pushed from a 50:50 ratio to almost 30:70 or even further, which is alarming considering the power-economy dynamics in our country. While this might sound like a lopsided viewpoint, it is just how I see it.

Across the world, protests have died out or have been restricted to Twitter battles, and silent prayers and the same goes for our country too. A nation valued to give equal rights and opportunity to all its citizens is gradually moving towards something different. And while I was still wrapping my head around all of this, a year went by.

Come 2021, I managed to squeeze in a quick travel schedule to meet my loved ones and got back to base just to adjust once again to the ups and downs of lockdowns. Mayhem is the word that comes into my mind. That is how I would describe 2021 so far. While there has been a lot going on: the vaccine rush, the farmers protest (ongoing), the Israel-Palestine conflict, the household issues that keep building up, the social issues that keep adding up, and the disparity that keeps growing. But it’s still not that bad.

Humanity still prevails through acts of the Robinhood army, community kitchen, the environmental actions, and the sustainability initiators, to list a few. You might not be able to move the mountain, but you can definitely chip off a portion. Will never know until we try, right?

The divide exists, and it becomes clearer as days pass. It is time we thought about an inclusive system that unifies people, provides an equal starting point through education, skill based training, alternative income source. There’s a lot to think about, and I will keep adding my two cents’ worth here.

Wrapping up this random train of thoughts for now.

I am fortunate, I know
No complaints there.
The Comfort of living,
and the necessities,
a clear paradox of privilege.

So, what more do I need?
A view? I got one though.
Engagement, Interaction? Aye, that too.
But, I miss something these days, for sure.
What Exactly? Is the question I asked myself too.

I racked my brains and even asked around.
Researched and searched,
All within the four walls.
And one day, I decided to step out.
Out of my haven, and there it was,
The answer I sought so desperately.

It struck me then, the thing I missed,
Was the freedom of choice.
The choice to move around,
The choice of freely going places,
And most of all the choice of seeing,
the unfettered and uninterrupted,
Open Skies.
Blues neither lined by cables,
nor bordered by concrete.

Little did I know,
That while my mind wandered,
My eyes sought those little pleasures,
& its love affair with nature.
That my Nomadic heart and the wandering soul,
sought a life where choices were mine,
and the burden mine too.
And where the freedom,
to wander under the Open Skies,
wasn’t a choice that needed reflexion.  

Addition read:
https://www.telegraphindia.com/opinion/the-real-reasons-for-economic-inequality-in-india/cid/1718757

This is Satrangee Parachute, being pushed around by the torrential winds.

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The other day, I happened to watch an interesting movie from the amazing Studio Ghibli collection titled “Only Yesterday”. A simple story about a girl finding/learning love showcased in parallel with her 10-year-old self who is quite lively and courageous in comparison to her current self. As the character in the movie- Taeko Okajima reminisced her past, I reminisced mine. The 7th-period mystery is my personal version of an incident that happened when I was around 10 years old, I think (“Oh dear! My memory fails me”, says the 60-year-old me from a few decades later).

It was a lovely summer, I remember playing around with my friends, telling stories, picking Jamuns, and laughing at the silliest of things. It all changed in the span of 30 minutes. I was suddenly pushed from my innocent or should I say ignorant world into the world of the adults. Little did I know back then, that there was much more to the world of adults than that teeny-tiny jolt that I had experienced on that fateful day.

It was just like any other day at school until one of our teachers suddenly announced that all the girls were supposed to gather at the Physics lab during the 7th period. Wow, Physics lab I thought, the mysterious room with all sorts of weird instruments. It was a spooky room for all I knew, “what if ghosts popped out? No, not when there are many people around right?”, I convinced myself. During those days we had a mixed seating arrangement, and so my bench mates (no prize on guessing that they were boys) were now busy straining their ears to catch any kind of hints about this sudden mysterious female gathering. It was declared that the boys could use this time to play, an announcement that deviated their attention from the element of curiosity for at least a short while. The girls on the other hand had their minds in a jumble, most of us trying to figure out which great ‘social rule’ we had broken (me in particular, coz climbing trees, wrestling with boys, etc. were the common misconducts I was punished for). After almost an hour of excruciating curiosity that was bubbling up, heavily suppressed by mathematical equations we finally made our way to the Physics lab, which to our surprise was already filled with girls from senior classes and almost every female teacher in the school.

“Phew, I guess this wasn’t about me”, I sighed in relief (on second thoughts maybe I thought too highly about myself!). After being ushered in, we found seats, tables, and walls to lean on to and adjusted ourselves to this entirely uncanny and novel situation.

Seeing that we had finally settled in, one of the female teachers took charge and started speaking. It started something like, “you are all growing girls and you will or have experienced certain changes in your body as you grow” … And so, that went on…a long monologue on Mensuration or Periods as we commonly call it. This subject matter for the 10-year-old me was awkward and baffling, mostly because I had never heard of this before. I looked around, there were many heads nodding in unison, some facing showcasing the weirdest of expressions, while some eyes staring so fixedly at the speaker as if every word was of the highest importance. Little did I know that this would be the turning point in my life, and a major transitioning point in lifestyle and every little activity that I was hitherto accustomed to.

After, 30 minutes or so, the teachers had informed us in a totally generalized and kid-friendly way about what ‘IT’ was and whom to contact in case of issues related to it, and then we were dispersed. I could literally see relief written on many faces as if a huge burden had been taken off their chest. I overheard a few seniors discuss among themselves, of how great it was that they could go to the teachers in case of emergency. We walked back to the classroom and luckily the boys were still in the playground and we had 10 minutes at least before they rushed back. The mature ones in our class took initiative and shared stories of how their moms had given them ‘the talk’. Me and a couple of smaller ones (physically), had the blankest expressions because of the unexpectedness of the entire information. I wanted to speak, enquire about many things, however, I decided to keep my questions on hold for now. “How do I ask Mom?”, now that was a task, I had to muster my courage for.

The last period was really tough to endure. There was this general unrest among girls as if they had suddenly become conscious about their bodies and having boys sitting right next to us made the situation a bit tough to adjust to. Somehow, we managed to evade the curious questions and when the bell rang, we all packed in a hurry while the boys continued quizzing. “What happened in the Physics Lab?” “What happened during the 7^th period?”, were the questions that followed us back home as we walked as fast as we could.

I was home earlier than usual, much to my mother’s surprise. Never had I been this keen on getting back home on time. On normal days, I took my sweet time getting back home. As a regular practice, we would have a rock kicking contest or climb on the Tamarind tree or Jamun Trees near the school and while away the time before getting back home (one benefit of staying within the campus). I quickly freshened up, had my lunch, and scurried into the room I shared with my siblings. It was now or never I decided, time to confront mom. So, while dad and my siblings took their nap, I told my mother that I had to talk. Mom was taken aback by this sudden request and at this point, I am sure she was wondering what prank I was up to. Anyways we walked into the guest bedroom and my mother sat down, waiting to listen to whatever crazy story I had to tell.

“Mom, so the ma’am at school said that we will start bleeding when we get older and bigger. What is that supposed to mean? My friends told me that I am supposed to ask you.” I blurted out. Mom looked dazed at first, after a minute or two she finally pieced the puzzle together. “Ohh…that…”, she said calmly. “I was wondering when I should talk to you about it anyways, come here,” she said. My nerves were killing me now, get done with the mystery I thought. It was too much for my little brain. What ensued was mom’s version of how a girl’s body changes when she reaches puberty, often interrupted by apologies for not being able to explain it well in biological terms.  

“Why must only girls have it? What about boys, don’t they have something similar happening?” I had questions and for some reason, I was extremely angry, but before I could ask anything else, mom was rescued by the sound of my younger brother wailing from his bed. She left me to my own devices and went to pacify my brother. I bubbled with anger and frustration but with no way to find an outlet, I kicked a few toys and decided to focus on my homework. Hence, the discussion was now put on hold, and at some point, I got so engrossed in reading Famous Five that the thought was temporarily shelved.

Back at the school, curiosity stayed alive for a few days. We had discussions amongst ourselves trying to keep it all a secret from the boys, and eventually “physics lab” became our secret code. The 7th-period mystery, slowly became a forgotten story, until two years or so later when I first experienced the excruciating pain, and the first menses struck me like an axe. I panicked, almost hyperventilated, and blacked out, and my father had to carry me home. Then mom sat me down for another talk, trying to reason with me that this was a natural process and that boys too had their own troubles. The pain and anger, the discomfort included left me depressed all through the first ‘period’ experience. The physical changes also triggered changes in my behaviour, dressing, sitting style, and even interactions. I started becoming warier about boys, shied out from playing football, cricket, etc. and tried to avoid climbing trees while wearing a dress/skirt (well, some stupid things I did before). Friendships changed too, it must have been the sudden awareness about the gender difference I think, but I started to keep a distance from everyone around except a select few with whom I felt really comfortable.

Truth to be told, I was angry almost every time IT reoccurred. There were days when I had to stay away from school, it used to be a real task to avoid gossips. While we knew nobody was going to ‘catch period’ by talking about it, the fear lingered around wearing whites, covering stains, etc. The whole experience of constantly avoiding the scrutiny of boys during those days or even otherwise was quite similar to the scenes showcased in the anime ‘Only Yesterday’. It took me years to come in terms with this so-called compulsory process of the female body that allows us to accommodate birth and ensure the continuation of humankind (in a broad sense).

Mensuration is a necessary and inevitable part of our lives, yet there is so much secrecy around it. Right from the way parents shy away from explaining what the Sanitary pads are when we are kids to the way in which we as grown-up girls/women try to sneak them around our classmates/colleagues. As funny as it may sound, I used to think that sanitary pads are some kind of sweat absorbents to be used under our armpits (ROFL).

I admit we don’t have to shout about it from the rooftops, but it is a discussion that is long overdue. Mensural hygiene being a major issue in many countries including India, even more so in today’s situation where the availability of Sanitary pads has become an issue too (1, 2, 3). While there are many steps being taken, there’s still a long way to go. In order to create better awareness about access to safe and hygienic menstrual hygiene products, May 28^th was observed as the Menstrual Hygiene Day. And while hygiene and availability of options remain a question there is also the question of increased plastic content in the regularly available, mass-produced products (4). There are environmentally friendly alternatives available, but much like the awareness about mensural hygiene, it remains accessible to the socio-economically stable populace.

An environmental and cost-effective solution is the need of the hour. Products that can be availed by everybody, irrespective of the societal hierarchy. The steps would include, enabling smaller manufacturers to produce environmentally friendly products that can be distributed even to the smallest of villages, teaching women how to make sanitary hygiene products, how to dispose of them safely, how to take care of themselves, etc. This can only be done by making mensuration hygiene a necessary topic of discussion in every institute that provides secondary education, broadcasting information about it on television and radio (Padman was just the start), and most importantly ensuring that the social stigmas around mensuration are completely destroyed.

Remember You and I are all part of this change. With this thought in mind, this is Satrangee Parachute breezing off into the clouds of memories.

References:

1. https://thewire.in/women/coronavirus-menstruation-sanitary-pads
2. https://www.financialexpress.com/lifestyle/menstrual-hygiene-management-tips-for-safe-period-hygiene/1973872/
3. https://www.business-standard.com/article/health/world-menstrual-hygiene-day-2020-coronavirus-lockdown-impact-on-girls-menstruating-rumours-120052800633_1.html
4. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/environment/2019/09/how-tampons-pads-became-unsustainable-story-of-plastic/
5. https://www.hindustantimes.com/sex-and-relationships/world-menstrual-hygiene-day-2020-go-sustainable-with-eco-friendly-products/story-MpMebIdwu3K3oGyiFtN1pL.html
6. https://www.vogue.co.uk/article/best-eco-friendly-sustainable-sanitary-brands-products

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Sincere apologies for my tardiness. So, here’s a bonus… Chapter 5,6,&7….

Then Life Happened-A Collection of Connected Short Stories

Story so far:

Chapter 1 –https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story/

Chapter 2-https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story-the-wake-up-call/

Chapter 3-https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story-the-silent-yearning/

Chapter 4-https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story-the-bystanders-shock/

THE STRANGE ENCOUNTER

Joe had asked for the day off, but they couldn’t find a replacement driver. That’s what the administration had informed, so reluctantly he was waiting for the shift to end. The day had been uneventful so far. One hour more and he could head home, shower, grab a beer and spend the evening with his girl. That’s when the radio buzzed. Emergency dispatch call to the university laboratory. Joe called Phil the EMT on duty and he had to find the lousy paramedic Lizzy too. He hated her guts.

Luckily Lizzy had been informed and reached the exit quite quickly for her standards. Phil too had managed to make it on time and so in minutes they were on the road. Apparently, a pregnant doctoral student had collapsed in the lab and the injuries were severe. Joe knew that time was of essence, so he drove as fast as he could. Joe, Phil and Lizzy ran towards the lab, a scared woman pointed towards the frail woman lying on the floor. Phil ran to do the patient assessment, Lizzy right behind, and as they turned the woman, Joe was shocked to the core. It was the Hae Rin, the nicest person he had ever met. Seeing her lying on the floor, a tangled mass, bulging belly and pool of blood, Joe just stood there, at the door transfixed.

THE MAD RUSH

Lizzy knew the drill, she quickly checked the pulse, they had to shift Hae Rin to a gurney. Hae Rin was bleeding, probably internally too and looking at the way she had fallen, Lizzy suspected rib injuries too. Her breathing was weak, she needed intubation. Phil had already taken out the equipment, but Joe was staring blankly at Hae Rin. This wasn’t the first time he was out on such an emergency. “Joe, snap out of it will ya”, Phil’s sound pulled Joe out of his trance.

“Will she be alright?”, Joe asked Lizzy as tears ran down his face. Lizzy was taken aback by the emotional outburst, but she knew she had lives to save and that each minute counted. Quickly she instructed Phil and Joe to shift Hae Rin to the gurney as she monitored the pulse and breathing. Intubation was needed, and she managed to do that in midst of Joe’s constant questioning, the overall hysteria in the lab, and the incoherent mumbling sounds that an older lady, named Martha as she came to know later created. They could transfer Hae Rin to the vehicle once the breathing was alright. Lizzy had attended a few pregnancy cases and so she checked for the immediate signs that the baby was safe. With all that done they quickly moved Hae Rin into the ambulance. Grant, the lab assistant, accompanied them, while Martha followed in the car accompanied by two of Hae Rin’s lab partners.

THE CHASE

Martha had heard about Hae Rin while she was just leaving for home. The news got her running crazily through the corridors her blood froze when she saw Hae Rin lying on the floor. Her instincts told her to check for pulse and breathing as the rest of the lab hovered around, some yelling, some sprinkling water and calling the hospital. This was a nightmare she wasn’t prepared for, and the baby, she really couldn’t tell.

The minutes spent waiting were painstaking and once the emergency team had arrived the frenzy just quadrupled. Martha had tried asking the lady in-charge about the situation, but none of them would answer and then there was the emergency staff who was weeping unconsolably. That was a baffling reaction, and deepened Martha’s fear.

Martha had called Kimbal immediately. Luckily, she had kept his contact details out of habit rather than interest. In her opinion Kimbal could never give Hae Rin a stable life, something that Martha always wished her protege would get unlike herself. But, this wasn’t the time to hold prejudices and Hae Rin probably needed all the prayers and support she could arrange for.

The emergency team were now busy rolling the gurney towards the ambulance. Grant, Martha and two of Hae Rin’s colleagues followed it closely. A few head nods later, Grant climbed into the ambulance with the paramedics and the rest scurried towards Martha’s car. Martha closely followed the emergency vehicle and passed the keys to one of the co-passengers as soon as they arrived and dashed in towards the emergency room.

Thanks for Reading Folks. And just so you know, I really appreciate feedback.

This is Satrangee Parachute signing off for now.

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Here’s the 4th chapter of Then Life Happened- A Collection of Short Stories.

THE BYSTANDER’S SHOCK

Grant worked as a Lab Assistant in Hae Rin’s Lab. All that he knew, he had learnt over the years from different scholars who came and had gone. He was still learning. Hae Rin was a patient tutor when it came to explaining things. Grant had taken a liking for the soft-spoken girl and was quite taken aback when he found that she was pregnant and was planning on keeping the baby. He had tried to explain about the hardships of being a single mother and the kind of harassments she would have to face. She was adamant and wouldn’t hear a word. Gradually he had stopped talking to her, though it pained him to watch her struggle.

This day was eventful. They had couple of demos, a few elaborate experiments too that kept everyone on their toes. Reluctantly, he had coerced Hae Rin to take some time to rest instead of running around. The girl looked exhausted, what was she thinking working in this condition. But, who could beat sense into that girl. And then there she was a few hours later, lying in a pool of reddish distilled water. Grant was shell shocked. For him time stood still as Hae Rin crashed into the distillation machine and dropped down splaying water and shards of glass all around.

Read Chapter 1 here-https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story/

Chapter 2-https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story-the-wake-up-call/

Chapter 3-https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story-the-silent-yearning/

Watch out this space for the rest of the story. Would love to hear from you. So do post your comments/feedback.

Adios for now.

This is Satrangee Parachute signing out for now.

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How have you been? Not really sure about the impact of the story so far. But, I do hope someone out there in the vast interconnected web is waiting eagerly to read the stories I write. For anyone who has been reading, here’s the next part of the micro story series as promised.

THEN LIFE HAPPENED

A Collection of Connected Short Stories-Chapter 3

THE SILENT YEARNING

“Martha, please stop dozing off will you”, that was Hae Rin’s opening line almost every other day. She needed to work harder on her communication skills. Martha was the Clinical Research Program Coordinator and Hae Rin was a 4^th year doctoral student, somehow a bond had developed. There was something about Hae Rin that soothed Martha. She would forget her past, her pain when she saw the bright smile on the face of the petite girl, who often carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

In the past four years, Martha had watched Hae Rin struggle through her financial crisis as she worked harder than anyone in the lab. She knew that her only living relative was an aunt, who would rather care for street dogs than look out for her own niece, and had supported Hae Rin time and again. Slowly and gradually they had confided in each other, shared their darkest secrets. Martha had been with Hae Rin during her medical checks and was the one who helped her take the decision to keep the baby. Martha had a purpose now, Hae Rin’s pregnancy filled the void that her infertility had created. Time that had once been too cruel seemed pleasant now.

That’s all for today..

Read Chapter 1 here-https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story/

Chapter 2-https://www.satpar.in/then-life-happened-micro-story-the-wake-up-call/

Hope you enjoy the read.

This is Satrangee Parachute, Over and Out!

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Short stories aren’t my forte. So, my micro story has a few more parts.

Then Life Happened is a Collection of Connected short stories. Here’s the next part.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

THE WAKE-UP CALL

Kimball’s short nap was broken by the blaring sirens outside and the ringing of his Mobile phone, both so simultaneous that there was no way he could ignore those. There was urgency in the voice on the other side. It was Martha from Hae Rin’s Lab and she wailed and as she talked and the only words that he could decipher were, “Hae Rin…University hospital…. baby.” Was it that day already? Is it the due date? The phone was disconnected before he could frame the right question. He changed into his tracks, the relatively sensible ones that he owned.

As he dashed towards the hospital, he remembered the day Hae Rin informed him about the pregnancy. He was out with his friends drinking, when she had called. He was annoyed that she even thought that he could be summoned at any time. But then when the words had hit him, he had freaked out, mumbled that he needed time to think it through and sprinted out of Hae Rin’s single room apartment. He needed time to prepare, to be capable enough. He needed time to earn, be a good partner and a reliable parent.

Will be sharing the next parts over the coming weeks. So keep reading!

This is Satrangee Parachute signing out for the day.

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A lot has happened since I last published the post, “Then Life Happened“, that’s because life hit us real hard the very next day. It’s been 5 months now, but the pain remains raw and fresh as it was on that evening, on 10 of January 2018. And to think that he never really read anything that I wrote, except for the short stories I wrote back in school. This is for you Papa.

2018, a year that began with great hopes, wasn’t as sweet and smooth as I had hoped it to be. Was it me leaving the keys behind the locked doors or was it something else? I kept looking for positive notes, for some sign that would say that the year would be good. It took just 10 days to burst the bubble, shatter every ounce of hope I had. Who would have imagined that, just 10 days after I happily said Happy New Year to the people I love, I would lose the person to whom I never could really say it all.

Were we close? Not much, but we weren’t distant either. We did talk, about this and that. A bit less than when I was younger, but more than when I was going through my turbulent teens and early twenties. Marriage had kind of renewed our Father-daughter relationship. Brought us closer. I had started to visit home more often than before, thanks to the job flexibility too. We talked, at times about stuff we like, the general dislikes. As always, I never failed to put my thoughts across either as a backlash or as a vocal opinion. At times he would stomp out angrily, the patriarch in him would never bow down.  While on other occasions he would listen, debate, and be open to discussions. He was a man with different faces, different moods, different habits. And in all those years I had come to know him, the reasons, the familial conditions, the situations that had made him the person that he was.

We knew each other. But, he was never really the person to remember dates and stuff. So, be it birthdays or his own wedding Anniversary, he needed constant reminders. But that was him, and we had come to accept him the way he was. But, yet at times we failed to fathom what he constantly pondered upon, where his thoughts took him. But then again, we are just humans, and not even psychologists at that to know a person in and out. Goes without saying, that the people who claim to know me, know just a part of me.

In all that knowing, understanding, loving, caring, planning and all the stuff that we do, nothing prepared me for the time when I lost him forever. It’s just the physical presence that has gone, his memories will forever be etched in my heart and mind. But, what about the things that I failed to say, what about things he wanted to say?

It’s those unsaid words, the things we omit or fail to say out loud, that leaves this huge gap in your heart. A void that stays with you, for how long? I don’t really know. And, a lingering thought that always begins with “I wish, I had….”

And though I never really said that out loud, “Papa, I do Love you.” And I know that, “I am, because you were.”

I wish you had read the blogs I posted, I wish you had seen the learning content I designed, I wish you could watch me drive, i wish ….I wish…i wish….

I have to live with the words buried in my heart, all the things that I never said. Hope from somewhere out there you can hear it all, the spoken and the unspoken. Some day when I pour out my heart on the paper, will the pain be eased?

With turbulent thoughts, this is Satrangee Parachute wandering through the memory skies.

Adios until next time Amigos.

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I have always respected people who can concisely summarize their thoughts. Writing micro stories is something that comes in that category too. So, I challenged myself to write one. I tried, and here’s the output.

Posted it on a contest page- https://sweek.com/story/AgAKAQoDZgABBwgJAwACAwtsCAA=

Sweek #Microtime, but that needs Login. So, for all my readers who wish to skip the hassle, here’s my first micro story.

Then Life Happened

[A Collection of Connected Short Stories]

THAT DAY

Life was busy for Hae Rin. As if working on her research and part time jobs weren’t enough she now had a new issue at hand, an unborn child waiting to pop out any minute. The past months had been a turmoil of emotions and her work was getting nowhere. Serious relationships! She didn’t have the time or the luxury for that. And Kim, he wasn’t the right choice either. The rainy night, the drunken aggression. If only things had ended there. Why did she have to carry the memories of that very night within her. God is unfair, she thought for the hundredth time that day.

Lying on the hospital bed a few days later. The piercing pain, the wails that poured in through the walls, the blinding lights, the percolating spell of alcohol and disinfectants, the whispers of the hospital staff, the constantly beeping machinery, everything was driving her crazy. She could hear a distant siren of the ambulance, maybe the very ambulance that had brought her in two days earlier, when she had collapsed in her lab. Weeping, lamenting her fate, she laid semi-conscious, with broken ribs, an empty womb and all the Time in the world.

Do Like and share. If possible, do Login to Sweek and support me.

Adios untill next time Friends. This is Satrangee Parachute diving into the world of writing.

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