WISHMASTER’S INC.

                                                                 WISHMASTER’S  INC.

When the wishmaster moved onto cloud number nine, just above a vast garden in the middle of the city, it caused no surprise . The spirits of the air and the trees around had been used to the changing occupants of cloud nine. It was  a great place to be on, but not a permanent residence. Over the ages, many had come and gone, no questions asked or answered.

The wishmaster was different though. No one had as many gadgets, strange looking wires and antennae as the wishmaster did. Besides, he actually looked like he came from Russia. Most spirits look un- distinguished , ethereal. He had a distinct personality and personal effects. The red Russian cap, the bubbling samovar of tea, the many tapestries depicting Igor’s war campaign in the seventeenth century. He also had the sad eyes, long face and elegant  pale hands of  a Prince from the old country.

In his long career, the wishmaster had granted many  wishes. He alone could get everything to a point, where the wish was no longer unrealized. He  helped to make them real. He rose higher in the corporate ladder at  Genies and Associates. He reaped the benefits of his hard work, and could now be a little more at leisure. However, in the time honoured tradition of idle minds, he now granted wishes a bit more “imaginatively”.

It started in a small way, as these things do. A little girl who wanted the moon, woke up to find it planted cosily in her family’s garden.   A woman who wanted to be irresistible, spent a week fending off ardent suitors, love messages from strangers, and enduring a lack of privacy, that bordered on the indecent.

The  last straw  was the time traveller. A young man wished to go back in time. He was working on his doctoral thesis on the reign of Genghis Khan. Technically , it was not a wish. It  was merely a thought, expressed out loud. It came true,  the young student went back in time and found  love with a Tatar girl. The wishmaster  was in  trouble. He had to make amends, or leave his job. Since the young man refused to return,  there was no hope for it. The wishmaster tendered his resignation.

And came to cloud number nine, looking for consequence, silence and that most elusive of things, himself. He did not know if he would find any of these, but he was merely following a path, that many have followed, in the human and the spirit world.

The voyage of self discovery  is long, boring and  filled with introspection. The quality of introspection  matters . If the wishmaster was distracted by the sound and light shows put up by the sun , wind and the other clouds, he ignored them. If the sounds of the birds chatting as they flew across the sky, reached his ears , he feigned deafness. He just sat and thought, looking back at his past and trying not to see his future, which wishmasters  are capable of doing. The fact is, he felt presentiments were a curse, rather than a boon.

Many days passed. The sunny days gave way to the dragons of thunder and rain. The wishmaster refused to give up his cloud. People who strolled thru the garden below , would marvel at the single white cloud, in a sky full of stormy ones. Some would, while the majority  were just too careworn or involved in difficult  wishes  that took time , energy and left no respite for cloud watching. Some of these wishes wafted up to the wishmaster. He ignored them, too.  But a true professional can rarely resist a challenge.

It was  a  wish  which floated up on a moonlit night, the kind that  romantic writers wax eloquent about. It was a death wish. Asked for intensely. The fact is, that the death wish is the most ill used of all wishes, used for other  linguistic purposes. Humour, self deprecation, an angry retort, or a measure of boredom ( as was the case, in most of the nineties). This one, had a ring of finality  and  a kind of “no turning back” feel to it. Hard to ignore.  The wishmaster stopped it, before it reached the upper regions of the atmosphere. The death merchant had his offices there, and he was very efficient. He dispensed death, impartially, and matter of factly. Most times, his services were not desired. So, he  invented accidents, mishaps, and natural disasters to take care of the natural balance.

In cases such as these, the death merchant simply caused a never ending sleep. A prized thing,  a no fuss  death.  Still, the wishmaster felt intrigued enough to pluck the wish from the breeze and add it to his borscht , where it would provide some much needed zest . Then he hooked up his antennae  and a few wires to the trees below cloud number nine. Then, he settled in to listen.

It was surprising , just listening, without attempting to grant a wish. Not trying to respond in any way. The wishmaster had always prided himself on figuring out wishes, particularly unspoken ones. He had been adept at telling which wishes were  the real ones, which wishes were spoken out, to disguise a deeper, often darker desire. He could tell which wishes would bring happiness, and which ones were doomed from the start. He had tried to suit wishes to the wisher, and  prevented wrong  choices.

Now, he listened, feeling better than he had in a long time.The wish was not repeated, but a lot of melancholy thoughts,  were heard. Then came a few unreasonable thoughts, followed by some very angry ones. Then, came a long silence. The wishmaster got uneasy and started tweaking wires, wondering what was wrong.

“ I wish I could  go to sleep”…..Now , this was something that the wishmaster could grant. So, he quickly lit his pipe and blew out a puff of strong, fragrant smoke. He sent it on it’s way, telling it to provide a gentle sleep, for as long as the person wished to sleep. One only sleeps as long as one wants to.

The next day, the wishmaster awoke to a bright  ray of sunshine gliding over his cloud. A couple of storks flew by, clutching baby bags in their beaks. The last of the rain dragons was washing his linen over a coastal  area. And for some reason, the wishmaster was enjoying it all.

Since that night, the wishmaster has set himself up under the legend “ Wishmaster’s inc.” It’s a no profit organization. Though it has spiritual benefits, and the wishmaster’s aura has never shone  brighter.   He listens in on wishes. The ones made in the garden below, are usually the most true and sincere ones, for who can lie to themselves, while sitting under a cloud of butterflies? He doesn’t do much, except smile indulgently  once in a while. Then, he sends them  dreams, which  have been  woven with their  wishes. If a person  accepts a dream , it’s easier to make it a reality.

The last I saw the wishmaster,he was on cloud number seven. He looks older, less sad  and therefore, less like a Prince  from the old country. The latest  occupant of cloud number nine, is a fairy who can’t sleep. He sends her a few puffs of smoke  and she accepts them sometimes. But she is looking for herself, and  that ,as we all know is an long , introspective task…..

THE GOOD WOMAN GUIDE.

THE  GOOD WOMAN  GUIDE.

 

 The good woman guide  was originally termed “ Adam and Eve’s Weekly”. It was a way  for a good and benevolent God  to keep track  of his errant children.  Later, with the advent of gender roles, and family, it was necessary to provide some  guidance. For, really, humans were clueless!         

Since the female of the species was more susceptible to change and new ideas, it was the target audience for the new and improved “ Good Woman Guide“. Now, in it’s trillionth edition, it was the prescribed, tried and tested formula of existing on Earth as a woman. It was not printed matter, but existed as a word of mouth of guide. The older a woman got, the more proficient she got at quoting from the guide, and truth be told, embellishing it to her own personal circumstances. Younger women tended to be more skeptical, but they did refer to it, in matters related to money, household organization and child rearing.

Although the Guide had undergone all the politically correct changes , with regards to women pursuing careers and  being  the best that they could be, it was still a bit rigid  on two issues. A good woman raised her children, without resorting to babysitters all the time and secondly, she smelt good, no matter what  she did or cooked.

These rules were the reason that Mrs. Batra had spent her life in a mist of talcum powder and later, a series of flowery deos. She was standing at the airport, seeing off her third born son, fulfilling yet another unwritten rule  of  the good woman guide. Love your children, but always let them go to seek out their horizons. Rajiv, the last of her brood was headed to  Italy on an apprenticeship with a maestro of leathercraft. So, Mrs. Batra  smiled and waved , as he flew , literally, to meet his fate.

It was later, while sitting  in the lounge of the airport , that Mrs. Batra realized that she had been conned. She was a well preserved forty five year old, with two older, genteel daughters, busy with their work and families, her husband was a successful  investment analyst  ….and she was alone. She  could  have remembered  the latest rule of the good woman guide , just then.  Something perceptive  about dealing with  the empty nest syndrome. But she was at a point, where she could only be brutally honest with herself. She felt  bereft and no rule book could tell her how to feel .

Mrs. Batra was an old fashioned  kind of lady. She had been acquainted with the Gods and Goddesses of the Hindu echelon, almost  as soon as she could speak. Her devotion to the Divine Mother was great, and  since most of her prayers were granted , she was obviously recognized as a bonafide devotee.

It is a fact, borne out by all the scriptures, that a true follower’s call, or despair is never unanswered. The Divine Mother was  engaged in  battle, in the Middle Ages with a couple of truant  demons, on another planetary system. Her pager beeped “deep despair, Earth, 2004 “. The Divine Mother sighed, much as she loved her fight sessions, she would have to leave. She told the demons off crisply , and left them in no doubt that she would be back.

Although her giant eagle was fast , he  had to deal with more traffic in space, these days . Satellites, orbiting stations, space labs, all cluttered up the route. Besides, parking space was a problem too.  As a result, the Divine Mother landed at the airport , but a few seconds after her devotee had left the building.

Since it was time for  bedding down,  the Divine Mother sought out the nearest Ganpati temple. They had always been friendly, and Ganpati’s  love of books, ensured that they never ran out of topics for conversation. For a while, the goddess relaxed, listening to the sounds of evening worship, and enjoying the attention, that came with being a part of the divine fraternity.

It was in the  night, that she remembered her mission. At that time, Mrs. Batra was at a party , smiling, being the gracious hostess, and making sure that all went well. The Divine Mother appreciated her fortitude, but she realized it was more a matter of practice, than any actual enjoyment. Years of being a good woman, made it easy to hide the pain. It did not dissipate it, sometimes, it was made worse by the façade.

The Divine Mother mulled over the problem all night. Of course, she did get her beauty sleep. After all appearances had to be maintained, in her case, for all eternity. She was getting a conditioning bath of milk, curds and rose water, the next morning, when she hit upon a solution.

Why not glance through Mrs. Batra’s prayers? Prayers were a way for expressing needs with impunity. You could ask for anything, and no one could tell you not to.  If a prayer came true, it was seen as divine will. If it didn’t, that was not the right thing to ask for, anyway.

When the Divine Mother scanned her log book for Mrs. Batra’s prayers, she found that the lady in question, seemed to pray for everybody, but herself. Her standard signoff line was “ bless everyone, and be with them”. Her truly ardent prayers, were reserved for her children and her extended family. She prayed for her husband, with a dutiful devotion,  missing neither a fast nor an event ,which would earn him divine brownie points.  Her prayers, like her, were about others.

The Divine Mother  was worried. Something was missing. There must have been a time, when Mrs. Batra was selfish. However, she  couldn’t find any mention of it.  She went over the log book, again. There it was!  Around the year 1975,  Mrs. Batra had prayed , like there was no tomorrow. For one thing. She wished to be a hairdresser, and had sent in her application to a reputed beauty institute. She had prayed for  her application to be accepted. Her parents had been praying too, for a suitable groom for their lovely daughter, and their wish had been granted.

Sadly, the Divine Mother had forgotten all about Mrs. Batra’s  heartfelt pleas. She had answered the parents’ prayers, assuming that the daughter concurred with their choice. Besides, she was actively engaged in helping a prominent astronomer, find a new planet.  What with guiding the telescope, without being detected and her usual workload of demons to be slain, devotees to be protected, etc. the Divine Mother had been less than thorough. She had slipped up.

The good woman guide says, that nothing is in vain. Actually, that is not a rule.  It is part of the foreword.  Whatever happens, has a reason, and only time reveals it. Mrs. Batra reminded herself of this, whilst energetically supervising the various activities, in her family home. Still, she found herself questioning the rules and the guide itself.   Why did the guide make it sound, as if there was a reward for good woman behaviour?  Why had her life taken this course?  She had spent her life thinking and acting for the good of others, and, now, she had nothing to do for herself.  With that dreary thought in mind, Mrs. Batra squared her shoulders, and set off to pack for her husband’s foreign tour.

An ambition lost is the greatest human tragedy. The Divine Mother found that gods and demons  blithely changed career focus, and pursued new goals, every other millennium. But as Ganpati kindly pointed out, they had the benefit of being immortal and thus, slightly more cavalier in their attitudes. Human beings, on the other hand, had one short life, which  was often frittered away in social niceties and  household related activities.  Obviously, they were faced with the feeling that there was no time left, and  that they had achieved nothing . Ganpati had read up on the mid life crisis in a book on psychotherapy. As usual, he did not keep the knowledge to himself.

The Divine Mother was in a dilemma.   How was she to remind Mrs. Batra of her erstwhile dream? In the old days, it was easier. A goddess appeared in a dream and expressed a wish, or gave an order, whatever the situation demanded. In this case, it would be difficult, specially since, these days, only a vision was allowed, no audio.  It might result in Mrs. Batra dutifully going on a pilgrimage or keeping a fast, or distributing food to the needy. Which was all very good, but the goddess wanted Mrs. Batra to focus on herself!  A good coincidence was needed, one that would convert the mid life crisis into an opportunity.

Now, although, Mrs. Batra had given up her aspirations of being a hair stylist, she remained  a zealous patron of  hair  couture . Her hair was immaculately groomed, and coloured in the latest, most subtle shades, for good women  don’t do “outrageous” or “flashy”.  She was awaiting her turn, at a swank hair studio, when she saw the posters in the reception area. Jasbir, the hair and make up guru, was going to conduct a workshop, for beginners. Application billets  would be accepted and  a lottery would determine, who the participants would be.

Mrs. Batra  felt a sense of déjà vu. She remembered a different  time, and a different set of applications and draw of lots. It hadn’t happened  then.  She quelled the urge to fill out the billet  and buried her head in a magazine, until  she was called  for the appointment. Afterwards,she walked out of the parlour,  fragile dignity in place, curiosity firmly suppressed.

Somehow, the Divine Mother had expected that. Getting a good woman to accept anything that is good, solely for her, is a difficult task . But the Divine Mother had  defeated  greater demons, and  she was not about to concede failure to an attack of low self esteem. She waited and planned her next move.

If  Mrs. Batra were asked about her dreams, she would have said that she was too tired to dream. Or she might say that her dreams were forgettable. However, a day after her visit to the parlour, Mrs. Batra had a dream, which she could not forget, or ignore.

She saw the Divine Mother standing before her, in full goddess regalia. A breathtaking sight at any time, the Divine Mother had pulled out all stops on this appearance.  Instead of her usual  beatific radiance, she had a look of triumph on her face. She seemed human and that struck a chord, in the very human and very somnolent Mrs. Batra. Slowly, the Divine Mother raised her arms. Multitasking is her forte and so, the goddess has eight pair of hands. Mrs. Batra watched as objects started to appear in each of the hands.

First, came a ladle, the kind that Mrs. Batra used to stir up mouth watering dals. Next, appeared a mini vacuum cleaner, the kind that Mrs. Batra used  to clean out her husband’s bookshelves. A planner appeared, like the one she used for her scheduling. The objects kept appearing, and they were all related to Mrs. Batra’s life.  Finally , there appeared a can of hair spray, and a pair of scissors. Just like the ones, Mrs. Batra’s hair stylist used…..

Mrs. Batra woke up with a start. It was the early hours of the morning. Dreams seen at this time, were  prophetic. She had  seen a dream which seemed a direct order from the goddess , to follow up on the hair stylist issue. Seated in her bed, Mrs. Batra  thanked the goddess for making the decision for her.  She started her day, with a feeling that anything she wanted, she could do.

Several hours into the day, while trying to note down her husband’s telephonic instructions, and simultaneously, taming a hissing curry into compliance, Mrs. Batra  saw the futility of it all. She would be merely adding another chore to her list of tasks. After a point, the hair styling would become drudgery, her husband would be unhappy, her children would not receive their expected  quota of long distance motherly love, and  she, would be guilty of that cardinal sin amongst good women – neglecting her family.

The Divine Mother slapped her forehead in frustration. She had been closely monitoring Mrs. Batra’s  train of thought, and had not seen that gem of reasoning coming! For a few minutes, the goddess allowed herself the luxury of a full blown tantrum, which created a bit of a whirlwind and  threw the weather bureau’s allegations of  “pleasant winds” out of the window. She then turned to Ganpati, and asked, why. To which,he had a short and erudite reply, “ Habit”.

As  a fledgling goddess, way back in time, the Divine Mother had experienced  guilt pangs, every time she had to go off on assignment to another galaxy. Or when she had to keep watch over the path of a comet and make sure it did  not cause too much harm to Earth.  She suffered, and felt that she was the worst of mothers for leaving her children alone. Gradually she learnt, that the time spent alone, taught them to fend for themselves. They became accustomed to her occasional presence in their lives, resorting  to prayers and festivals to keep in touch .  Of course, all this evolution had  taken a few centuries. She had gotten used to being a vestigial presence. Mrs.Batra would also need to break the habit of being indispensible, to her family.

But that, as the day’s events had shown,  would take some doing.

Tired, and  disappointed after a week long vigil over Mrs. Batra, the goddess was about to call it quits. She had failed, once again. She was about to summon her eagle, who  had gone to get his license renewed, when Ganpati asked her to read the manual for gods and other celestial beings. She read it, and saw a ray of hope. This manual was a purist’s version. Human destiny was to be governed in part by the timing of  coincidences and  by the choices that humans made. Gods and goddesses may help, by  giving courage,  but mostly it was about free will. People found it easier to pray for distinct material goals, and earthly desires. The gods had been coaxed to put aside their rules by their devotees’  rituals and  rigours.  They had given in to the pressure.

The pressures of being a  good woman are many. The flip side is the sisterhood of good women, who recognize and support  each other. While the sisterhood was strongest within the joint family system, it now existed between friends. Here, a good woman could find advice, a shoulder to cry on and, empathy.

So, when Sheetal, a leading light of the sisterhood, called Mrs. Batra, with an unspoken request for help, Mrs. Batra understood.  Sheetal was busy juggling caterers, decorators and two sets of antsy  parents, who did not see eye to eye  on any issue.  Sheetal’s niece was getting married, and had been scheduled for a bridal pampering session at a beauty spa. Mrs. Batra  gracefully  stepped in as chaperone.

As she listened to the bride-to-be cooing sweet nothings into a mobile, Mrs. Batra was tempted to give  her some good woman pointers. Let the man call, don’t pester him while he is at work, and so on….She  kept quiet, though. The guide would be revealed to the girl, anyways. Sometime between the honeymoon and the first baby, women actively sought it.

The two ladies entered the spa, and were ushered into a  cubicle. Mrs.Batra was finding it difficult to make conversation . She did not feel at ease and an uncomfortable silence reigned till a cheery greeting was heard. Mrs. Batra turned to look at a young man who was two inches shorter than her, totally bald, with a

a personality which was about twice his size . He wore a white T-shirt, with the words “ Goddesses are single mothers”, printed on it.  He smiled, “ Hi, I’m Jasbir. Are we ready to look gorgeous?”

The Divine Mother who had been watching the action, rather dispiritedly, perked up. She was well acquainted with the quirks of human nature, to know that things were still on uncertain ground. But, Jasbir  was a very persuasive and perceptive person, and  his T-shirt might be perceived as a  divine portent by a now receptive  Mrs. Batra.

For the next three hours, the prospective bride underwent all the necessary travails needed to look gorgeous.  Meanwhile, Mrs. Batra had consumed  more coffee , than she had drunk in her entire life and found an unlikely , but truly good friend. Jasbir had extended to her the courtesy of joining the beginner’s course, in hair  and makeup , no application required. Mrs.Batra had accepted and  as she left the spa, she sent up a thankful prayer to the Divine Mother.

Which did not have to travel too far to reach the goddess. In fact, she  almost sent out a prayer of thanks herself . This job had been one of her bigger challenges, and secretly, she felt that it’s success was more  a happy combination of coincidences and human will. But, that of course, was not the prevailing view. It would be seen as a  boon, by most humans.  So, she smiled and accepted the attention, that Mrs.Batra lavished on her over the next few months. Of course, Mrs.Batra also attended her classes and tended house and husband. As per good woman credo, she had lots of practice of  not complaining and working hard.

The Divine Mother had to leave for work, too . There was a possibility  of creating life  on Mars.  Sustaining it, would need a lot of work, not to mention, motherly love and encouragement. She left, the day Mrs. Batra inaugurated her very own “ Divine Tresses”, for women who wanted maximum style, and minimum  inches of hair cut off.

These days the goddess is busy, shuttling between Mars, and Earth. She avoids the NASA teams, but  cleans up after them.  Once in a while, she takes off for a breather. She swoops down by the Batra household, on her eagle,  usually on a  Friday. The radio is playing and Mr. Batra is  getting a hair cut,  or the latest treatment for dandruff ,from his  resident hair expert. Mrs. Batra does not know it, yet, but the latest rule in the guide is inspired by her. It says, a good woman’s talents and achievements  are not solitary , they are also enjoyed by  her loved ones.