A Moment of Faith

by Rrashima Swaarup Verma 

It was the month of June in 1985. Delhi was as hot as a furnace. The electricity had been playing hide and seek in Ragi Kashinathan’s house for the last 45 minutes. The Kashinathan family however, seemed oblivious to the oppressive heat as they ate breakfast together in the dining room. Mr. Kashinathan was, as usual, lost in his morning newspaper, the family dog was sprawled on the floor in anticipation of a stray piece of food that might come his way and Ragi’s younger brother sighed heavily as he ate his porridge with a pained expression. It was the same scene every morning and Ragi smiled contentedly to herself as her mother poured them all big cups of tea. She was just reaching out for the slightly overdone toast when the peaceful silence in the room was suddenly interrupted by the noisy jangling of the doorbell. Her mother went to answer it. It was the postman.

“There’s a letter for you,” said her mother as she sorted through the pile and handed an impressive looking, business envelope to Ragi. Ragi tore it open and a delighted smile spread across her face as she read the letter. “Mom, Dad, I’ve got an offer letter from that multinational!” she squealed. “I went for the interview last week, remember?” Her father immediately came around the table to envelop her in a tight hug and her mother kissed the top of her head while murmuring “Thank God, Thank God!” all the time. “Oh, come on Mom,” laughed Ragi “This has nothing to do with God. I’m the one who slogged for it.” “Don’t tease your mother,” chided her father. “She’s just happy for you.”

“Oh, by the way, I almost forgot! Did you get your reports?” Mrs. Kashinathan looked questioningly at her husband as they finished breakfast. “You were supposed to get them collected yesterday.” “Ah yes, I did,” smiled Mr. Kashinathan “Everything’s fine. Cholesterol, triglycerides, sugar level all good! So you have no reason to worry.” “Thank God,” murmured Mrs. Kashinathan then as Ragi rolled her eyes and her younger brother laughed. She was just so predictable! “Mom! What is this Thank God, Thank God you keep saying? Who is this God you’re always thanking? Have you ever even met God? Or seen him? Anyway, Dad’s cholesterol and triglycerides are a direct result of what he eats. Where does God come in?” She raised her eyebrows and spread her hands out, as though stating the obvious, but Mrs. Kashinathan was not amused. “Some things are better accepted than questioned.” She looked at her daughter gravely over her spectacles. “And it might do you good to be a little more accepting. Anyone would think you were an agnostic!” “No thank you, Mom,” Ragi smiled good naturedly at her mother and gulped down her juice. “You’re religious enough for all four of us. Speaking for myself, I’d rather vicariously enjoy the goodness of religion and spirituality through you.” They all laughed except Mrs. Kashinathan. She personally believed that there was a sanctity to certain things and didn’t approve of making fun of them. But since nobody seemed to be agreeing with her, she pursed her lips and said no more.

“Ragi, I’m going to Kailash Market this morning. Do you need anything?” Mrs. Kashinathan glanced at her daughter as she got ready to leave for work. It was almost 8.30 and her father had already left to drop her brother to school. “No Mom,” said Ragi distractedly, as she picked up her bag and files. She was running late and didn’t have the time to stand around, making small talk. She had an important meeting that day and the traffic was sure to be as chaotic as it always was on Monday mornings. “I’d better get going. It’s going to be bedlam on the roads this morning after last night’s rain.” “Well, call me if you think of something,” called out her mother as Ragi grabbed her lunch box and headed for the door. “And make sure you eat your lunch on time.”

The traffic was terrible. In fact, there was total mayhem on the highway after last night’s spell of rain and Ragi groaned as she realized that she was going to be late for work. “And this is what happens after one bout of rain,” she muttered to herself as her auto honked uselessly at the car in front of her. “I can’t even begin to imagine what will happen when the monsoon arrives.” She sighed and glanced out of the window. The scene outside was as dismal as ever. The already dilapidated roads had broken down further so that considerable parts had almost completely disappeared; there were poor, homeless people scurrying about despairingly and little beggar children running around everywhere. One of them saw her watching them and ran up to her auto. He held out his hand for some money. Ragi, who firmly believed that all beggary was a huge scam and never encouraged it, resolutely looked the other way. The child was persistent and tried a few more times and then finally gave up. He scowled at Ragi’s back and went back to join his friends. “Not a lot there to thank God for,” muttered Ragi to herself as the car in front finally moved a few inches. “I should discuss with Mom again in the evening…”

She was still muttering to herself when she finally strode into her office at 10. She was half an hour late and her boss was sure to notice and…Ragi was just about to enter her name in the attendance register when she suddenly noticed that the reception area was empty. Even the peon and security guard, who usually hung around when the receptionist wasn’t there, were nowhere to be seen. Strange! As she walked towards her cabin, she realized that the entire office seemed to be empty! The usually chaotic corridors were in fact, silent. That was odd! It was certainly not a holiday. Where was everyone?

It didn’t take her long to figure out that everyone, including the receptionist and all the peons were huddled in front of the television in the cafeteria. As she walked towards the crowd of people huddling around the blaring radio, Ragi suddenly got the strangest feeling. Her mother would have called it premonition.

“The first bomb exploded exactly fifteen minutes back followed by two more in quick succession,” announced a loud voice. Nobody even noticed Ragi as she made her way closer to the radio and drew in a sharp intake of breath at the reporter’s next words. “Kailash Market was reduced to a sight of blood and terrified screams in a matter of seconds. Thirty people have already been reported dead.”

Ragi felt the room spin around her and she felt she would faint. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably as she rushed to the nearest phone. She could hardly dial the number and she felt beads of sweat break out on her forehead. She clutched her chest and bit her bottom lip till it bled. It couldn’t happen! It wouldn’t happen! She could still hear the reporter’s grim voice in the background and all kinds of dreadful thoughts raced through her mind but she resolutely pushed them away as the phone continued to ring. At last, she heard the familiar voice. “Hi Ragi! Have you reached office? Everything fine?” “Mom, are you all right?” Her voice was shaking as her mind tried to decipher the fact that her mother was indeed alive and sounded okay. “Of course! Why do you ask dear?” “You mean you didn’t go to Kailash Market?” whispered Ragi. “Oh no,” said her mother cheerfully “Actually, your Granny dropped in half an hour back. We were just having a cup of tea together. Are you all right darling? You sound a little strange.” “I’m fine, Mom. I’ll call you in a minute,” said Ragi, weak with relief. She disconnected the call and tried to steady her breathing. Her mother was safe! Miraculously untouched by the terrible bolt of lightning that had struck and taken so many innocent lives. Tears streamed down her face as she cried for what had happened as well as what could have. Her hands were still trembling as she sat down, closed her eyes and murmured the inevitable words to herself: “Thank God, Thank God!”

Rrashima Swaarup Verma has an MBA in Marketing. She is Senior Director – Business Development with a leading, multinational business intelligence and strategic consulting company. She has worked on numerous projects with leading Indian and international corporations and has wide experience in business writing across a diverse spectrum of functional and industry segments. Rrashima is also a fiction writer and poet and several of her compositions have been published in leading newspapers, magazines and literary journals.

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