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A Story

Guys, for a change this time i am not posting a movie review. I would like to put up a short story  written by me sometime back – titled ‘Myself, Uma‘.

This content is published at yourstoryclub.com

So here goes  –>

2 JAN 2005,   Makkasan Railway Station , Bangkok :

The sound of an approaching train must have woken me up. It was as if I had woken up from a long dream. I was seated on a bench and when I opened my eyes, I could barely recognize the surroundings – totally new faces, new people, a whole new country. How did I reach this place? Rather, my first question was – “Where am I?”. A person – a young man in his late twenties, alighted from the train. I went up to him and asked him, “Which station is this?” He asked me politely, “Khaaw Thoht”. “Poor Guy”, I thought, “Doesn’t know English”. This time round I started indicating with my hands – “What ….place ….is….this…..?”. Silence. I repeated. Again Silence. Then he gave me a smile and told me in clear English, “Oh! For a moment I failed to understand that you are speaking in English. It might be your accent. This is Makkasan Station. Where do you want to go? This train will take you to Bangkok Station.”

Bangkok? It was my turn to remain silent now. For sure, there was no Bangkok Station in India.

“You mean, Bangkok, Thailand?”, I confirmed.

“Yes” was the reply.

“How did I land up in Thailand?”, I thought, ”By the way, what is my name?”

I didn’t remember my name. I was in a state of total shock. I didn’t know what to do.

I desperately started fishing out the contents of my hand-bag, one-by-one, studying each one of them in detail. Finally I came across my identity card. Uma Powar. I had found my name. But still I knew nothing about myself. I checked up the inbox of my cellphone. There were many messages from Nikki. “Nikki must be my best friend!”, I thought. I immediately called up Nikki.

“Hello, is that Nikki”, I asked, sounding a bit circumspect.

“Uma!! Thank God! At last you called. We were all very worried for you. Your family is waiting for your call. We have even contacted the Indian embassy in Thailand.”

“So listen, Nikki, I have lost my memory and currently the only thing I know about myself is my name. I don’t know how it happened. Please tell me how I landed up in Bangkok”

“You have become victim to Tsunami that occurred on 26 December. You had gone to Thailand for pursuing formal education in Fashion Designing. As far as I remember you were planning to visit Phuket on 26th December. Then on that fateful day, you were stuck by Tsunami. I’ll right away call your family and inform them about you”.

“By the way, what are my parents’ names and if I have any siblings, what are their names?”

“Your father Mr. Murali Prasad Powar passed away 5 years back. Your mother’s name is Sarla Powar and your sister is Kamini – 5 years younger to you. Your date of birth is 5th Feb 1983.”

“Thanks a lot Nikki. See you soon”.

I called up my family and told them everything was alright. Nikki had already told my mom that I had called her up. But luckily enough, she had not said anything about my amnesia.

I went to the Indian embassy in Thailand. Since I had lost my Visa, Passport etc, all these were remade without any hassles. Since we were all tsunami victims, neither the Thailand nor the Indian government wanted to complicate things.

A week later I reported to Bangkok’s Fashion School. I made new friends there and started my life anew. I always used to top the weekly tests and my professors always made special mention of all my assignments.

Three months later in April, I came to know that I was pregnant. Immediately I called up Nikki to ask if I was going around with someone before leaving the country.

“You had a steady relationship with a guy – Ricky. Just before you left India, both of you called off the relationship.”

“What about him? Where is he now?”

“He is married to one of his distant cousins”

“Nikki, I am pregnant”

“Better call up your mom and tell her everything”

That is exactly what I did. But my Mom could not stand this. She straightaway disowned me. She asked me never to talk to her and slammed the phone.The doctor gave me an option to abort the child. But I was determined to go ahead with the delivery. The child would give me a reason to smile.

Then in August, my daughter was born. I named her Kajal. After years of separation, my mother had mellowed down.  Finally, she called up one day and asked me for forgiveness. She was really growing impatient to see Kajal. I promised her that I would pay her a visit the very next month.

January 8, 2007: I reached my home in Mayur Vihar. The nameplate outside read – Powars. I started knocking impatiently. A lady in her early 50s – probably my mom, opened the door. She stared blankly at me. Mom failed to recognize me. When I told her that I am Uma, she refused to accept.

When I told my mom what had happened that day and how I had called up Nikki from the cellphone, all of us got a clear picture of what had happened. I was not Uma Powar. But somehow I had got Uma’s Identity card and belongings. I could even handle my career in fashion designing with great ease.

The truth was harsh but strangely enough, it was still the truth.

Now the question remains – what happened to Uma? And who am I? I still don’t know my origin, my birth place. I just know that I lost my memory. Going further, I don’t know who the father of my child Kajal is. Did I have a husband who fell pray to tsunami, or, is he still alive. Or is it that someone took advantage of my unconsciousness. I don’t know the answer of any of these questions. The only thing I know is that I have a loving husband, Stanley who accepted me as Uma Powar– no matter who I am. Today I am a successful fashion designer – Uma Yeoh living happily with my husband and two kids – Kajal Powar and Kiah Yeoh.

Whenever I visit India, I make it a point to pay a visit to Sarla Powar – my mother, the mother who lost her daughter but found another in me.

Disclaimer  : The above story is a work of fiction and the characters including the character names in the story are all fictitious. Any resemblance in name etc to any person living or dead is a matter of sheer coincidence.

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  1. Pratik Prakash
    July 18, 2010 at 9:35 am

    Awesome!!!!! Initially I was thinking I’ll just make fun of it or something, but I got bloody drawn into the story. Love it man! 😀 You should seriously consider writing screenplays 🙂

  2. Nehal
    July 23, 2010 at 5:24 pm

    hmmm… finally yeh wala story post kiya tune…. good hain…. i remember iska proof reading kiya tha meine… u haven’t changed anything from the original writeup….

    btw this was ur most productive output at work… u know what i mean 😉

    • July 23, 2010 at 5:30 pm

      abbe aisee cheezein public mein hain bolte 😉

      • Nehal
        July 23, 2010 at 6:21 pm

        guess i decently encrypted it…

  3. Manoj Warrier
    September 16, 2010 at 9:18 pm

    Hey prashant dude
    How are you. I did not know that you write so well. Why did you not consider writing for our family newsletter? Well, Am going to rip this one and put it in the next issue. OK?
    Take care and keep writing.

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