Synopsis: The unnamed female protagonist of Mela is a pre-teen. Living in an affluent neighborhood in contemporary India (circa 2015), she is beginning to grapple with the complexities of following her urges while being conditioned and restrained by her status conscious parents. She can be seen hacking away with abandon at the rather flimsy veneer of upper class urban life with her unfiltered takes on social niceties, the pretensions of adults, and the appearances which all segments of society are expected to enact to enable the apparently smooth functioning of the societal engine. A suspiciously dark humor lurks in the dimly lit corners of the world Mela tries to shine a light upon.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Dear Reader
***
Mela
***
Author
Publishing Workflow
Copyright © Sushant Devarachetty, 2020 onwards
This is a cryptic copyright; to view the copyright page, click here.
FIRST EDITION | EPUB, PDF & Webpage: JANUARY 2020
Mela is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people and incidents is mostly unintentional.
Identifier (in lieu of ISBN): mela-sushant-devarachetty-january-2020
Mela is also available in the following formats:
Note: The above links are persistent URLs redirecting via purl.org, a service of the non-profit Internet Archive.
Dedication
For
Narsingam Shriyans,
Devarachetty Srithik,
Narsingam Samrithi,
and Devarachetty Sanmay.
Dear Reader:
Thank you for your interest in this work of fiction. That it will entertain you is my sincere hope. The creative process is ultimately a collaboration between the artist and the audience. Assuming you like this story, and that you wish to read more of my works, it is in our mutual interest to make the process viable. The bare elements of the creative process are production, distribution and consumption.
At the production end, I have many, many stories to tell and am motivated to keep writing. I self-publish to eliminate middlemen. Consequently, you benefit from lower prices while I retain the freedom - both artistic and commercial - to work in your best interest.
The 2nd element, distribution, is a tough challenge, more so since I plan to continue self-publishing. Fortunately, there is a solution: word-of-mouth publicity. Please spread the word about my stories and poems, assuming you like them.
A key aspect of the 3rd element, consumption, is compensation. So far as pricing goes, I’ve been trying different approaches: my novella, ‘Another Attempt–The struggle for an MBBS seat’ was self-published in e-book format in 2016 and is available for free on my website under the very liberal CC-BY-NC license; my debut novel, ‘The Oyster’, whose print edition I self-published in 2018, offers complete freedom to the reader to decide whether, when, and in what form to compensate me. Which brings us to my latest work, the short story ‘Mela’, which I’m self-publishing as part of a crowdfunding campaign (beginning with Kickstarter) aimed at helping fund its expansion into a novella length work.
If you wish to support my endeavor to remain independent, any ideas which reduce costs or increase my readership are welcome.
My co-ordinates:
Telegram & Whatsapp: +91-9885060704
Email: sushant.pedni@gmail.com
Goodreads: Sushant_Devarachetty
Looking forward to your feedback and support.
Sushant Devarachetty
Hyderabad, India
January 2020
Mela: A Short Story
Palak giggled when I ran my toes along her calf. She did the same to Rupa, who was sitting to her right. Rupa gave a start and toppled her glass of water onto the table. The lunch room supervisor walked towards us from the other end of the room. We froze in our seats. He placed a thick finger on his thin, dark lips and said, “Shhhhhh”.
We finished lunch in silence and returned to the classroom.
During the weekly field trip to the museum the next day, some of the boys from our class teased us for no reason, as if we were stray dogs you could pelt stones at. Palak and I teased them right back, sticking our tongues out and pulling their hair when they tugged at out plaits. During the lunch break, I pulled Palak along and went over to their table. After a few minutes, I took off one shoe and ran my foot along the leg of the boy sitting next to me. He scowled and moved his chair away. Palak copied my move and the boy beside her called her an idiot. Palak pouted and said, “Stupid.”
I was confused by the boys’ reactions. When mama moves her foot along papa’s leg at the dining table, he doesn’t get annoyed: sometimes he winks at mama, other times he runs his foot along her leg. Though he behaves as if nothing happened, I can clearly make out whenever mama does that to him. I have also seen them kiss each other on the mouth. I must try that at school someday.
I like school. It’s boring at home; there are no children of my age living in the villas in our lane. If I wish to play with other children, I must ask mama or papa to take me to the park. Sometimes they take me to an apartment block a few kilometers away where I can play with their friends’ children. I don’t enjoy these outings. Our parents keep watch and stop us from doing anything remotely unsafe. Even when we run around, we are ordered to remain in the small grassy lawn. I envy the children at the construction site near my house. They do all kinds of dangerous things but never get hurt. And their parents don’t stop them from playing any game they wish. I am not allowed to go there. I wish those children came to the park but they seem happy to play near the piles of construction material. Or, maybe they are not allowed into the park because they wear torn clothes. I know this because the guards at the park don’t allow beggars and poor people - who seem to have an unending supply of torn clothes - to enter.
Tomorrow is the last day at school before the seven day Deepavali holiday. Papa brought crackers yesterday and the new clothes mama ordered were delivered today. I wish they had taken me shopping; it has been months since I visited a store because mama and papa buy things on the internet. The only reason papa regularly visits the market is to buy meat but he does not take me, saying there are flies near the meat shops. But the real reason is that he does not want me to see hens and goats being cut – I heard him say this to mama. I must find a way to visit the meat shops someday.
We will be traveling to Bengaluru during the Deepavali holidays. Papa wants me to learn how to travel by train because I might have to go by myself some day. He says it takes much longer and is more difficult than traveling by an airplane, especially because the rest rooms are dirty and all kinds of “riff raff” travel on trains. We will be visiting mama’s best friend and will return by an airplane because papa has to go back to work. Once school reopens, I have to submit a project report on how we spent the holidays; mama said I should write about the train trip and bought me a camera.
At school, I asked Palak how she would celebrate the festival. She said like every year her grandparents and uncles would be visiting from their village. Palak had visited them only once and she did not want to return to the city but her parents scolded her and brought her back. She wants to live in the village when she grows up. I will go along with her. We decided not to tell anybody about our secret plan.
When I told Palak about the trip, she gave me many suggestions because she has travelled by train a number of times. She asked me not to forget to pee before leaving for the railway station and not to drink too much water on the train because the tiny toilets will be filthy and uncomfortable. She said I should not speak to strangers because they kidnap children from trains and railway stations to make them beggars. I asked her if there was anything enjoyable about train travel; she said only adults get to enjoy because they can walk to any compartment whenever they wish. I must remember to tell mama to use the wash room before leaving home. There is no need to tell papa because it is easy for boys to pee. That’s one reason I hate boys. Hope myself and mama can complete the trip without having to pee. Maybe we should practice tonight.
I wonder how the people at the construction site will celebrate Deepavali. Will they have holidays for a week? Will they buy new clothes? I will keep a watch.
Mama said our driver would take me to her friend’s house after school today. By the time I reached, they were yet to return from the beauty parlor so I had to spend time with Priya aunty’s son, Rohan. I don’t like him. He never plays, wears soda glasses, and is always reading books. I tried talking to him but he was not interested. So, I watched Cartoon Network. After returning, aunty scolded Rohan for not playing with me. He peered at her from behind his soda glasses and went back to reading. Aunty sighed and shook her head while looking at mama. That made mama scold me. I said I tried talking but he was busy reading. Mama frowned at me. I switched off the TV and sat next to Rohan but he ignored me. While returning home, I told mama that I do not want to go to aunty’s house ever again. She did not say anything.
When we reached home, papa was supervising the decorators. They were hanging marigold garlands on the door frames and placing serial bulbs all along our compound wall and on the plants in the garden. I counted seven workers, including two boys who seemed the same age as me. One boy was sewing garlands while the other was helping place serial bulbs. I sat on the steps and observed them. I wonder how they learnt so much when I don’t even know how to use a needle and thread. We will be taught stitching in the hobby class next year but not serial bulb decoration. Though I wanted to watch, papa asked me to go inside. Maybe he would have allowed me to stay if I were a boy. I saw on TV that it is possible for girls to become boys and boys to become girls. If papa and mama continue stopping me from doing what I want, I will become a boy.
After changing and eating my evening snack, I stood in the balcony and watched the decorators perform final checks. After a while, mama called me inside for dinner. I told her that I wasn’t hungry but she said I must eat early and go to bed because there was a party at home. I asked mama if I could join but she said it was not for kids. I asked her to invite her friends’ children but she scolded me for not obeying her. Later, I lay awake listening to the party sounds from the living room. When papa peeped into the bed room, I shut my eyes and acted as if I was fast asleep. I don’t remember when I fell asleep.
When I woke in the morning, the first sensation I had was that of cigarette smoke - it was different from the one papa smokes. I heard voices from the sit out; papa, mama and two of their friends - they sounded like Priya aunty and Tarak uncle - were laughing aloud. Before I could reach the door of the sit out, Nita stopped me. She is one of our maids. The other maid, Mala, was clearing glasses and bottles and cleaning the living room. Nita took me back to my bedroom and asked me to bathe. When I refused, she said mama had asked me to take a bath after which she would give me new clothes. I like new clothes. I went to bathe.
When I came out of the bathroom, there was a new pink frock laid out on the bed. I hate pink but mama says it looks good on girls. I asked Nita where mama was and she said she was busy and had asked Nita to help me. I could still hear laughter from the sit out. After helping me wear the new slip and frock, Nita combed my hair and tied the plaits with pink ribbons.
I told Nita that school will be closed for seven days for Deepavali and asked if she had holidays too. Nita smiled and said, “I will celebrate Deepavali with you.”
I asked if her family will visit from Nepal but she became quiet. She changed the bed sheets and walked out of the room, asking me to come to the dining room for breakfast. I think she was sad.
Because my stomach was making angry noises, I ignored the laughter from the sit out and went into the dining room. Mala was waiting to serve breakfast. While eating, I asked if she had holidays for Deepavali. She said, “Deepavali is not my festival.”
I asked what her festival was and she said, “Christmas.”
I know that festival, the one during the December holidays.
As I was finishing breakfast, papa, mama, Priya aunty, and Tarak uncle came to the dining room. They looked tired and Mala served tea.
Mama asked aunty to stay for breakfast but she waved her hand and said, “We have to leave. Tarak’s parents are visiting. They’ll have a seizure if they see me like this. Can I borrow one or two of your exquisite sarees?”
Mama smiled artificially and they went towards the closet. I got off the chair and ran after them. I asked aunty what was wrong with wearing jeans and a t-shirt when Tarak uncle’s parents visit. Aunty and mama laughed but did not answer. I hate it when grown-ups don’t answer my questions. Even I will stop answering their questions from now onwards.
Mama has many sarees. I remember we had counted 57 a few months ago. Priya aunty could not stop admiring them. After some time, her phone beeped and she asked me to hand it to her. While removing it from her handbag, I noticed a message from Tarak uncle: HURRY UP!
She read the message, quickly selected two sarees, and left.
After we saw them off, I followed mama back to the closet. Nita was already rearranging the sarees. Mama handed her keys to the locked almirah in the corner, the one with sarees she did not show Priya aunty. There were many beautiful sarees inside and mama selected one. I wanted to try but mama laughed and said I was too tiny for her sarees - she would buy me a kids’ saree soon.
Mama left to take a bath and get ready for the Deepavali puja. I told Nita that I wanted to wear a saree. She asked me to pick one and helped me wear it. We had a lot of fun even though it did not fit. I like Nita because she understands me. She asked me to change before mama returned so I started removing it. Just then, papa entered the closet. Nita looked at him and smiled. She always smiles when she sees papa. I think she likes him. Papa laughed when he saw me removing the saree. He said I looked funny. Papa started checking his clothes and after I wore my frock, he asked me to go and watch TV.
Instead of watching TV, I stood in the balcony. I was angry because papa disturbed us when we were having so much fun. I will ask Nita to help me wear sarees again once mama and papa go out.
From the balcony I could see the children at the construction site bursting crackers. I ran inside and looked for papa but he was not in the bedroom. I went to the closet but the door was closed. I pushed the door but it did not open. As I was about to leave, the door opened and papa stepped out. I asked him if I could play with the children at the construction site but he said I could not go there. He carried me into the living room and said we would burst crackers in the evening when his and mama’s friends visit - I could play with their children.
Mama came out of the bedroom and asked papa to go for a bath. When Nita came and handed the closet’s keys, mama scolded her for taking so long to rearrange the sarees. Nita stood silently, hung her head, and looked at the floor. Even I look at my feet when I am caught doing something wrong. But I felt bad for Nita.
I returned to the balcony but it soon got boring. I wanted to speak to Palak. I asked mama to give me her phone but she asked me why I needed it. When I told her the reason, she said she would dial Palak’s number. I can dial numbers but mama doesn’t allow me, saying I might make a mistake. Mama is careful not to dial wrong numbers because the strangers will call and harass her. She says girls in India should be careful. It is much safer for girls in white-people-countries, such as America or Britain. My cousin, Shiva, lives in America. When he visited India last year, Shiva said they keep a gun at home for safety. I think if we keep guns at home, even India will become safe like America.
Author
My affair with writing fiction started in August 2014 and has turned into a passion. I’ve been fortunate to have a steady flow of story ideas and the time and space to complete a few. Having decided to self-publish some of my creative writing, I set up a website to distribute the content: pedni.com. My novella ‘Another Attempt–The struggle for an MBBS seat’ was self-published in e-book format in 2016 and is available for free on my website under the very liberal CC-BY-NC license. In 2018 I self-published the print edition of my debut novel ‘The Oyster’.
Just in case you aren’t aware, I’ve self-published the short story ‘Mela’ as part of a crowdfunding campaign to fund its expansion into a novella length work. The reason? These are quite desperate times for creative types, more so if they want to remain independent. And the challenge is certainly not in being creative; it’s in that gargantuan, almost voodoo-like task of marketing. How do I know? Because I’ve been boiling in that cauldron trying to find readers willing to pay anything (that’s right, the print edition of my novel is priced ‘Pay what you want’). I’m hoping crowdfunding - beginning with Kickstarter - helps me find an audience which, apart from reading my work, is willing to sustain me financially.
In 2018 I initiated a collaborative publication named ‘Authors’ Best: One best paragraph per book, selected by the author’ (the URL links to the Facebook page) to provide readers an interesting way to discover new authors & new books. Participating authors contribute content which is compiled & published by volunteers. Authors’ Best is published as an e-book and is available for free: 1st edition PDF, EPUB | 2nd edition PDF, EPUB.
Let’s connect
Goodreads: Sushant_Devarachetty
Email: sushant.pedni@gmail.com
Telegram & Whatsapp: +91-9885060704
The first short story edition of ‘Mela’ is also available in the following formats:
Note: The above links are persistent URLs redirecting via purl.org, a service of the non-profits OCLC & Internet Archive. It is completely safe to access web addresses beginning with purl.org. No analytics or other notifications are generated upon clicking purl.org links.
Publishing Workflow
The following software products and services formed part of the publishing workflow of Mela:
Font Families: LinuxLibertine and Underwood Quiet Tab
Word Processor: LibreOffice Writer
Vector Graphics: Inkscape
EPUB Generation: Sigil
Website Host: GitLab
Static Site Generator: Hugo
Permanent Identifiers: PURL
SSL Certificate Authority: Let’s Encrypt
Copyright
Self published by Sushant Devarachetty in 2020
Text copyright © Sushant Devarachetty, 2020 onwards
Sushant Devarachetty has asserted his right under the Copyright Act, 1957 (Act No. 14 of 1957) and the International Copyright Act (short title) to be identified as the author of this work.
EPUB code in the documents (including XHTML files) and style sheets in this publication © Sushant Devarachetty, 2020 onwards
Identifier (in lieu of ISBN): mela-sushant-devarachetty-january-2020
Why is there no ISBN? I believe identifiers belong to a bygone era when the only mode of publication was print. Today, search engines can find anything published online. And they don’t need a string of numbers to do so: the title of a book and the author’s name or month of publication suffice.
BISAC (2019 Edition): FIC000000: FICTION / General | FIC019000: FICTION / Literary | FIC029000: FICTION / Short Stories (single author)
Classification: UDC 82-32 | 821.111-3 | 821.111(540)
Leave a comment:
To comment, please email me and I will include your message in the post.
Why didn't I include comments natively on pedni? Spam. Commenting systems try to get around the problem with inefficient solutions which annoy readers who are keen to have their say in the easiest way possible. While messaging your comments isn't the ideal solution, it will definitely resolve the problem of spam. And I promise to publish all comments, be they critical or supportive of my work.
Get in touch