Sarc-E-Azam

This is Chapter 2 of a multipart series. If you have not read Chapter 1 yet, or you want to read it again, here is the link to Chapter 1 .  I would suggest you read in sequence. There are many Tamil expressions throughout. For non-Tamil readers, there is a glossary at the end of each chapter. Chapter 2 A decade and a half ago, Bharathi was a lanky kid in Class V in the same school she risked her life saving earlier that day. She was one of the brightest students, yet also the most annoying for the teachers too. An extremely inquisitive child, she questioned anything and everything under the sun, including the sun itself. “If the sun is so bright, why do we have to color it yellow, and not white?” she asked the Akka from Madras who taught them Art on Fridays. “Why are leaves not Koiyya 1 pink?” she put forth to Kamala Miss who taught them Science and Social Studies. “ Vakkeel aaga poriya ? Ivalo Kelvi Kekkara 2 ?”, the HM asked her one day. “ Yes Yuvaronar ”, she ...

This is the first chapter of a multipart series. There are many Tamil expressions throughout. For non-Tamil readers, there is a glossary at the end of each chapter. "Over my dead body! I dare you to move!" the woman shouted, as she lay down in front of the bulldozer, so close to it, she could feel the cold of the steel on her warm shoulders. The rage in her eyes; smoldering, even sharper than those huge steel blades, pierced through the windshield at the operator's face. He was taken aback; literally, as if someone had pushed him! What was he to do? He was merely an order taker, not the undertaker. He didn't dare move his foot which was pressed firmly on the brakes, lest the beast of a machine moved an inch forward. "Vaa.. Ethu Paappom", she dared. As if on cue, the whole village who had been witness to this, joined her, and laid down on the ground. The growing crowd, with renewed confidence, quickly surrounded the bulldozer, the Police Jeep a...

It was the night of the pooram. There was an air about her. A nonchalance. A sway in the hips and a laze in the step as she ambled. A tigress, bedecked. Long dark tresses flowing to the waist, sheathed a body that shamed her legendary name sake - For she was Rathi, the Thamburaatti . The mistress. Twilight. The evening lamps were being lit, and the women folk carried them out to the verandahs with the inimitable chanting of Deepam. They watched her walk down the street to the Tharavaad , bending at their waist in obeisance, yet admiring her beauty. A tinge of envy. He followed her... at a safe distance. The woman of his dreams walked in front of his eyes. Her stride reminded him of the great Kesavan of Guruvayur . She wasn't skinny, nor was there an excess anywhere. She had filled out at the right places, and then some more. As she reached the outer verandah of the Tharavaad , she turned around, and looked at him. Her eyes drank him in as he drowned in that gaze. The hint...