April 2010 Issue
We are back and this time with an “Empty Box” . You heard us right, we are themed “An empty box” this month of april. Find yourself reading a whole bunch of entries around this abstract theme and see the different manifestations these boxes take. Read, enjoy and tell us what you think 
Click on the link to read the magazine
Draupadi
By Manasa
Episode 5
The rays of the bright round moon slant across the beams of the narrow room. I lie on the best blanket they have to offer me, next to Kunti stretched out on my side. She is fast asleep, snoring, slightly flatulent. She’s the noisy kind, not the noisome one. That’s a relief.
Let me mention here that this is the first time in my life that I have slept next to someone; slept in a room with six people rather. Back in the palace, Shaktima used to sleep with me till I was 6, but then I insisted of a room of my own. No one minded. I was never afraid of the dark like some kids. I was not afraid of ghosts and monsters under the bed. I am not afraid of many things, actually.
But here I am now, unable to sleep on the first night in my new surroundings. My husbands snore lightly, sometimes in rhythm. That’s right, you heard me right, my husbands. Every one of the five of them.
I guess I should fill you in on what happened this evening.
Our makeshift chariot rolled up outside a row of mud huts. Each of the huts in the row was indistinguishable from the next. I could sense people in the huts peering out; their eyes on me, but no one actually stepped out. I wondered if I was still in Panchala, whether I was these people’s princess, whether they knew me, whether they knew that their princess was to marry the mighty Arjuna.
Arjuna held out a hand to me and helped me down from the chariot. Bhima made to go into the house, but Arjuan stopped him. “Let’s wait for them,” he said. ‘It would be unfair if we showed her to mother without all of us being there. After all they helped us win her.”
“Us?” Bhima laughed. “Brother, you won her. Next, you would be saying let’s marry her together,” he winked at me.
I laughed. I was growing to like Bhima already, that rough and ready face, the twinkle in his eye, the wide smile. He went and sat under on a boulder, tore a piece of grass and chewed on it.
I stretched my arms and walked around aimlessly, looking at nothing in particular. Arjuna was solicitous. “Would you like to sit down a bit?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry you have to wait here so. We want our brothers there when we introduce you to mother. It has always been that the five of us stick together, no matter what. That was the only way we have survived.” Arjuna paused. “After father died, mother raised us single handedly. And it has always been because we have stayed together, under her wise guidance.”
“I understand,” I said.
“Are you sure you don’t want some water from the well, maybe?”
“Well?”
“Yes, there is a common well that all of us draw water from. Mother will show you tomorrow and you can learn to work the pulley. Are you sure that you are not tired?”
There was something about the offhand way he mentioned the well, mother and my being tired in the same sentence that was a little disturbing. Why show me the well? So that I could draw water from the well? Don’t take me wrong, I am not a stuck up princess who thinks doing chores is beneath her dignity. Considering that I had never done such things, and considering that I was marrying, but you would never know it, a prince. But it was the offhand way that he said it that irked me. “Oh, you are the woman, you must work for us now.” Somehow, drawing water from wells had never been a part of the picture of my marital life.
As we stood there, we heard hooves, and in a moment we were joined by two horses. Yud rode the first one, the twins were on the second. The horses were evidently from my father’s stable.
“Good that you waited for us,” said Yudhistra, as he dismounted. He was a man of fair height, a pencil thin mustache gracing his upper lip, a riot of boyish curls on his head. Yet it was the eyes which gave away the maturity of his person; sad owl’s eyes.
Nakula and Sahadeva jumped down to, and Sahadeva rubbed down the horses lovingly. “Gifts of your brother,” he said to me, with a wide grin.
“Really?”
“Yes, it was becoming a bigger fight than we expected. Drishtadymna told us that he would take care and told us to get away,” said Nakula. ‘So here we are!”
‘Good, now we can go in and tell mother,” said Yud. Sahadeva was at the back of the house, putting away the horses and the chariot, but he did not seem to miss Sahadeva. Moreover, the horses were neighing and whinnying, so that alerted Kunti to our arrival.
“Who’s there?” we heard a female voice sound from the interiors of the house.
“Mother, it’s us!” shouted back Bhima. “Look at what we have brought home today!”
Mother Kunti’s voice sounded from inside the house again. “Whatever it is, share it among yourselves equally, children!”
Bhima and Arjuna started laughing convulsively. Nakula joined in too and even Yud was smiling. “No, mother,” said Yudhistra, and motioned me to follow him. “This is what we got home,” and opened the door. I walked in first, followed by all the brothers.
A thick haze of smoke by the fireplace parted to reveal a woman, old, yet beautiful. The elegance of her youth had not left her; the lines under her neck were the only indication of her age. She was frail boned and pale skinned, with her certain haughty air about her eyes. This woman, trying to make a fire in a mud kitchen and cook for five sons (and a daughter-in-law), was no doubt a queen.
“A woman?” she laughed. “What’s your name, child?”
“Draupadi”
“Ah, the daughter of Drupada, the Panchala princess. I knew your mother, Draupadi, a fine woman she was.” She turned to her sons. “A fine alliance, boys. So was that were you went when you said you went hunting?”
“Yes mother, though Arjuna was the one who hunted her,” said Bhima, grinning.
“No matter, what I hold still stands. Arjuna, you do understand, don’t you?” She turned her face to his and gave him The Look. “Share her with your brothers, I will arrange for all the five of you to be married to her soon.”
I stood there, dumbstruck.
There were discussions before the decision was made final. Kunti and Yud went outside and talked first. I could hear Bhima’s voice when it was his turn. “But Arjuna won him. It is not fair to him.”
Nobody asked me if it was fair to me.
Arjuna refused to look at me, and I sat silently in a corner, taking in my surroundings. Five husbands! How would that work anyway? Who was she, Kunti, to impose all of her sons on me when it was one of them who had won me by right, and when, indeed, it was one of them that I was interested in?
While Kunti spoke to Bhima, I waled over to Yudhistra and Arjuna sitting at the back of the house, talking. How would I get to tell him what I wanted to? I cleared my throat.
The two men looked at me, Yud almost embarrassed, casting his eyes to the ground almost and Arjuna giving me a weak smile. “I’m sorry it’s so confusing,” he said, always the well bred cavalier.
The words rushed out of me before I had the time to think.
“Do you think I could talk to you for a second?”
They were addressed to Arjuna. But Yud sprang forward first. “Yes, mylady, please feel free to be open with us. We shall not do anything against your wishes.”
I hesitated for a minute, not sure what to say. I fixed my gaze on Arjuna steadfastly. Never have I seen a man’s face fall so fast; that was Yud. ‘Go on,” Yud murmured, and left us in the shadow of the big tree.
“It’s not fair. Why don’t you talk to your mother?”
“I can’t,” said Arjuna. “You don’t know my mother. She always has her will. I can’t go against her. Bhima went against her and married that forest girl. She made him leave her behind. I can’t leave you behind.”
The last few words caused my head to reel for a minute, but I gained my composure. “But I can’t be a wife to you and all your brothers as well!”
“Well, if mother wills it so, then it can’t be any other way. We will see what we can make of the situation.”
This man, this warrior that men from the tips of the Himalayas all through the spread of the Ganges were afraid to duel with, the son of the legendary Indra, was this the man who stands before me so, wishy-washy, not able to make up his mind? Afraid of standing up to his mother? Indeed why did he even need to have allegiance to her? Was he not a grown man? Could he not, with his prowess, carve a kingdom for himself anywhere on earth as he saw fit? Would he rather share me with his brothers to maintain the integrity of their family rather than give his woman her due and assert his own independence? Did he even care for me, or (for the first time doubt started creeping in) was I just another trophy?
It was at that moment that I felt my most helpless and vulnerable. There was nobody that I could turn to, nobody else in the house that I trusted. My father or brother would not care; I was the wife of the Pandavas. More strength for them when my father would attack Drona.
But I was wrong, of course. I saw the strutting peacock feather first and knew from the jaunty walk who was around the corner. Kanha, of course.
“I saw the feather walk into the house through the doorway, and talk to Kunti. Poor boy, how tired he must be! There were no horses or hooves, he must have walked all the way over. I ran to the back of the house to get him some water from the despised well.
Sahadeva stood next to the well, looking at his own reflection, or at least trying to. He started when I called his name. ‘Sahadeva, Krishna is here. Could you please show me how to draw water from the well?”
“Certainly, Draupadi,” he said. I liked the way he used my name, without the averted eyes and inhibitions of his brothers. He was a boy, closer to my age than the rest of them, very conversational. “I don’t like this business one bit, Draupadi. Really, why is no one asking what you think? Do you want to marry all of us?”
This frank youth, drawing water for me, certainly pleased me. I warmed to him at once. “No, Sahadeva. Much as I like and respect all of you, I don’t know if I can find it in me to treat you all with equal fervor were I to be the wife of you all.” I hesitated.
“I will take up your case with mother, Draupadi,” said the boy to me. “She does these things at times, and I am sure she has her reasons. But your desires cannot be blown away just like that. Besides would we be happy with a wife who is not happy with us?”
I said nothing, but smiled, and took the pot of water into the house, struggling under its weight. Sahadeva taught me the correct way to hold the pot. As I walked inot the house, I noticed Yud standing by the door, lost to the world.
To be Continued ….
How Empty is an Empty Box??
–Archana Ramasubramanian
An Empty Gift Box is to fool..
An Empty Lunch Box is a chance to escape the routine..
An Empty Black Box adorns trendy living rooms..
An Empty Jewel Box is a girl’s delight..
An Empty Complaint Box brings on a Smile..
An Empty Tool Box is innovation..
An Empty School Box is real education..
An Empty Cereal Box is health gained..
An Empty Paint Box leads to delighted eyes and soul..
An Empty Charity Box creates a helping hand..
An Empty Watch Box is an Artist’s..
An Empty Thought Box is bliss..
An Empty Heart Box is a fresh new life..
An Empty Time Box is an Earned perspective..
An Empty Mind Box leads to ultimate happiness..
An Empty Life Box is a Lie…
An Empty Box is a Beginning never an End!
Imminence
By Raghuram Godavarthi
Imagine the pain of a leaf, bearing upon its tip,
the very last drop of rain
is it the pain of separation?
or is it the last bit of pain suffered from carrying so many raindrops?
Imagine the creak of a door hinge, about to be shut for the day,
and locked up for the night
is it a sigh of relief?
or is it yet another gasp at being swung about all day?
Imagine, the thudding of a felled tree,
upon the unrelenting, hard ground
is that the final utterance of an unrewarded life?
or does the tree finally express its anguish at having to stand motionless all life long?
For voices never heard, for actions practiced only in shadows,
and for thoughts formed only within cerebral walls
there is but one release – Imminence
and such is the travesty therein!
the overwhelming cry of chaos, the chitter-chatter of change
drowns all other sounds in its crashing wave
none can ever truly distinguish
an utterance from anguish
relief, from disbelief
separation, from transportation
In the gushing wake of Imminence
life hereto, and hereafter, could very well just be
an empty box, devoid, desolate, disparate
Shored
By Debleena Dasgupta
I’ve travelled to the shores of men,
Travelled beyond the seas;
The world is such a festive fair,
Bright lights looming everywhere,
Whetting dreams bold and bare,
Billowing, never to cease.
My mast stood tall, my flag flew high,
My journey seemed unending;
Each nook and cranny had I searched,
Atop the towers had I perched,
Had pushed my sails until I lurched,
And watched the flame ascending.
Gems and jewels strewn about,
Grabbed them lest they vanished;
Each dawn spelt a gilded chase,
My face etched in frenzied craze,
Stopped not I to cast my gaze,
Upon the walk I banished.
From time of yore have I sung,
The song of wretched lives,
Hauled too did I the trove of might,
Slept in power many a night,
Thrived in sniggering, dark delight,
That quietly, masked, arrives.
I trod upon the cringing men,
Felled both friend and foe,
What kith, what kin, all skittle clan,
My stride guides me to grander plans,
My shadow flickers, dim and wan,
As alone on I go.
****************************************
Past my purple coloured days
I lie now spent, ashore;
My ship has sunk, my flag is torn,
The trove has rotted, all gems gone,
The king is dwarfed to a mere pawn,
My torch burns no more.
An empty box, all that’s left
Of me, a dismal stance;
Bereft of all jewels am I,
Those folks with whom I learnt to fly,
My soul utters a plangent cry,
And looks at me askance.
And were I to rise again
And cross the tides of fate,
A chest to hold my humble past,
My yawl would glide in oceans vast,
Awning sky would see my last,
An empty box my weight.
If I were Harry Potter
Writing has always been a passion for us at the TheBanyanTrees. When we started
this venture, one of our goals was to promote, if not introduce, the pleasures of writing
to students. As a first step, one of our editors, Anuradha Chandrasekaran, went back to her alma mater, Jawahar Vidyalaya Senior Secondary School in Chennai, to conduct
TheBanyanTrees’ first writing workshop. The March issue of TheBanyanTrees
featured an article in which Anuradha talked about her experience
of interacting with the young adults of Jawahar Vidyalaya and also about the subsequent creative writing competition we conducted. We awarded prizes to the three best entries and will be publishing them, one-by-one, in our April, May, and June issues.
Here is our third-place entry:
How would it be to be a part of a fantasy land? It would be a yes for all those annoyed by the normal hectic lives that they are forced to live in.
Well, it is not bad to at least dream of it when nothing of this sort is possible in reality.
One character whose way of life I envy is Harry Potter. I have always dreamed of being a part of the wizarding world where the lifestyle is enviable by us (muggles).
Everyone wonders at one point of time why he/she was born as a normal human being and not as one with magical powers. Things we toil for day and night are simply achieved with the wave of a wand by Harry Potter. A magical word and a whoosing of the wand and tada… your work is done.
If I were Harry Potter, just imagine! I would be ruling the world. Anything would be possible for me. I would fly in a simple broomstick instead of standing in queue to get air tickets for a flight. I would dream up magical spells and use it to make me successful in a snap. I would be a Quidditch seeker instead of sitting here watching a boring cricket match on television.
I would be on an adventurous mission, tracking my enemy Voldemart who craves for my blood and not be someone who has nothing interesting happening in life.
If I were Harry Potter, I would solve numerous mysteries, figure out ancient secrets and would be the ‘boy who lived’, ‘the chosen one’.
If I had been Harry Potter, why would I need to dream up all this?
By R. Swetha, Jawahar Vidyalaya,9th Grade, F section
The Not So Empty Boxes:
One by one, we moved each one of them. Carefully so as to not break or mishandle the contents of the boxes.
For as ordinary and dowdy they seem, they contained within them, a large chunk of our lives.
Like it or not, our whole lives can be packed in to boxes. With each packing and unpacking, comes reliving the moments, sipping nostalgia along with some tea, and telling, retelling stories. Tens of stories and many memories later, we had finished unpacking.
As I looked at the numerous empty boxes lying around, I couldn’t help but think, how they helped fill the entire house. They had transfered all thier wealth to the empty house, thus making it our home.
Empty boxes? I think not.
–Nivethitha Kumar
Unclaimed Baggage
By Aditya Srikrishna (Time wasted capsule)
How much does your life weigh? Imagine for a second that you’re carrying a backpack. I want you to pack it with all the stuff that you have in your life…. You start with the little things. The shelves, the drawers, the knickknacks. Then you start adding larger stuff. Clothes, tabletop appliances, lamps, your TV…. The backpack should be getting pretty heavy now. You go bigger. Your couch, your car, your home… I want you to stuff it all into that backpack. Now I want you to fill it with people. Start with casual acquaintances, friends of friends, folks around the office … and then you move onto the people you trust with your most intimate secrets. Your brothers, your sisters, your children, your parents, and finally, your husband, your wife, your boyfriend, your girlfriend. You get them into that backpack, feel the weight of that bag. Make no mistake—your relationships are the heaviest components in your life. All those negotiations and arguments and secrets, the compromises. The slower we move the faster we die. Make no mistake—moving is living. Some animals were meant to carry each other to live symbiotically over a lifetime. Star-crossed lovers, monogamous swans. We are not swans. We are sharks.
Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) in Up in the Air
What could the full-time corporate downsizer, also a motivational speaker, possibly be talking about? Obviously not about finding a huge bag that can physically hold all the stuff he mentions. Not the minor fact that we are all sharks and definitely not swans. Ryan Bingham is talking about the baggage we carry. In the forms of people—minor, unimportant, major, important—wealth, dependencies, liabilities, compromises, successes, failures, regrets and so on. And how we don’t need to carry it. Or probably should not. Ryan Bingham lives his life that way. He wants you to live it that way because that makes it easy for you and everybody around you. He wants you to carry nothing but an empty box.
What do you get when you draw up a pros and cons list of travelling with the baggage? You put up with people, whether you like them or not. You put up with everything they dole out to you, whether you like it or not. You get to share your joys and sorrows with them. You feel your happiness grow many-fold when shared.
Or you could be someone who doesn’t like sharing even the not-so-intricate details of your life with other people. You are better off being left alone in that case. You may be a loner. You probably keep to your books, your music, your car, your pets, your computer and so on. And you really don’t find life worth living for other living things. Apart from your pets. That’s why the whole baggage theory cannot be blindly followed.
It’s an extremely individual perspective. The importance of people in life comes from an individual’s need for acceptance, love, care, and mutual respect for one another. And yet there are individuals who think they are better off without any form of emotional human interaction. Their relationships are not layered but are born out of a mechanical dependency on one another. And it is opened and closed as easily as opening and closing a bottle. One such seemingly innocuous relationship is explored by Alex (Vera Farmiga) and Ryan, but that is until Ryan realizes that he got too sucked into the relationship, ignoring the agreed albeit unspoken disclaimers.
In real life, Christopher McCandless tried something—though not entirely similar—that was not in the realm of what is generally considered to be civilized human interaction. He moved away from people, away from a life of trivial pursuits, and inched closer to nature. In the movie adaptation of his life, Into the Wild, Chris says he wants to face the blind death stone with only his hands and his head for help. We don’t know for sure what he learned and what he realized. But conventional wisdom has us believing that ultimately the reality must have dawned on him—he must have realized that happiness is real only when shared. The movie adaptation leans towards this interpretation. But we will never know the truth. And even if we did, it might make little sense to us, for we would never know the real McCandless.
Christopher McCandless died alone in the Alaskan wilderness. In Up in the Air, Ryan Bingham believes that everyone dies alone ultimately, and so there are no incentives to take away from things like love, relationships, and people. Sometimes you are defined by the company you keep. But what if you keep no company? Do you become a statistic? Someone who also lived. Someone who had no one to live or die for. The question is whether that someone can be replaced by something. It’s an automatic choice to go for flesh, blood ,and soul instead of something metaphysically intangible. Ryan Bingham lived for his frequent flier miles. Five million miles was his target and that was the only focus he had. Chris McCandless lived to embrace nature in its rawest form; that gave him his high. The question we need to ask: would you rather be defined by a desire that involves you and only you, or will you go for a greater collective good born out of relationships that, in this day and age, come with all that baggage. The Holy Grail would be something that combined the best of both worlds.
Ryan Bingham and Chris McCandless were not conventional men. They obviously were not for conventional wisdom. That is why both of them are perfect case study material. The secret to living without baggage is to find that one thing that gives you the feeling of home. Some people spend their whole lifetime trying to find it. Some people don’t experience any enlightenment even after finding it. For Chris, it was in the wilderness. For Ryan, it was all about being up in the air:
The stars will wheel forth from their daytime hiding places, and one of those lights, slightly brighter than the rest, will be my wingtip passing over.
Just An Empty Box
By Dhivya Arasappan
It was 3:15 pm, and Mrs. Silverman dismissed her third-grade class for the day.
Mina grabbed her backpack and started walking back home.
“Hey Mina! Wait up,” she heard someone scream out behind her.
It was Celia, the new girl in class.
“Want to walk back together? My house is just around the block.” Celia asked.
Mina looked the new girl up and down. She was different from all her other classmates. Her clothes looked like hand-me-downs, her hair was tied up in two messy pigtails and her bookbag looked like it was from a thrift store. Hesitantly, Mina agreed to walk with her.
“So, where do you live?” asked the new girl.
“I live on Oak Street, just ten minutes from here,” answered Mina.
“I think that’s just two streets after mine. You want to come home and play sometime?” asked Celia excitedly. “I’ve got a big castle that we could play in.”
That got Mina’s attention. “Really?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m Princess Ursula, and I rule over the entire kingdom. You could be my sister, Princess….” She paused to think of a name.
“How about Princess Isabella?” Mina finished.
“Oooh, I like that name.”
All the way back home, Celia talked about her beautiful castle. She talked about the spiraling staircase and about the tower where Princess Ursula sat and watched over her people. She told Mina about the moat surrounding the castle and the wooden drawbridge that kept intruders out. Mina just couldn’t wait to see it.
This continued for the entire school week, till Saturday.
On Saturday afternoon, Mina walked excitedly to visit Celia at her house, for the very first time. Her friend greeted her at the door. When Mina walked into the house, she realized how small it was, certainly a lot smaller than her own house and a lot of her friends’ houses. But she didn’t give it much thought—all she wanted to do was go outside and play in the castle.
Celia led her to the backyard and said, “Here it is! Princess Ursula’s castle.
“See, there’s the drawbridge. Up there is the tower,” Celia pointed out.
But Mina didn’t understand. She looked around the backyard. There was no castle there. All she could see was a large empty cardboard box. Why did Celia keep pointing out things that weren’t there? Was she playing a prank on her?
“Stop it!” Mina interrupted. “Why did you lie to me? That’s not a castle. That’s just an empty box!
“Why don’t you get a real castle instead of pretending that this stupid box is one?” she asked angrily.
Celia looked at her friend and smiled. A knowing smile.
“Because with the box, this week, I can be Princess Ursula in a castle. Next week, I can be a pirate in my own ship, and the week after that, I don’t know, maybe a chef in my play kitchen,” she said.
“It’s not just an empty box, Mina! Not if you look at it right!”
Celia pulled the still puzzled-looking Mina towards the box.
“Come on, give it a try,” she said, hoping that one day, her friend would see the magnificent castle that she did.
BOXED
By Macademia the nut
You may not believe it now, but the Box once contained precious little sparkles. Sparkles, which made it glow with an iridescence that drew everyone to it.
People were curious. “What,” they wondered, “is making it shine so?”
But there were others who were not happy. “We cannot let the Box become so popular,” they said. “It’s we who must possess the sparkles that are within the Box! It is we who must glow!”
So they plotted and schemed to break the Box and take away its sparkles. They waited and waited, until one day they found the little Box all alone. They took it up a hill and threw it down from the top. The Box fell hurtling down. It hit boulders, rolled over thorns and stones and slid to a stop at the edge of a huge lake. But it did not break.
This enraged the people further. “Use a hammer!”
“No use a saw.”
“Set fire to it!” they yelled. But the Box remained unbreakable—battered, torn, and sullied, but still locked and glowing.
Suddenly they heard voices. The others were coming in search of their Box. Run, they whispered. We will find another way to get the Box alone again.
So they began to spread rumors.
“The Box contains sins,” they said. “It’s the devil’s own trap.”
“It will be the downfall of us all,” cried others.
Slowly but steadily, the crowd around the Box dwindled.
“There can be no smoke without fire,” they all said.
Day by day people stopped visiting the Box until, one day, it was all alone.
“Why don’t you like me anymore?” it cried.
“Go away!” yelled the people and pelted it with stones.
Two tiny teardrops rolled out of the Box. As they trailed down its side, a secret latch popped from within, and the Box slowly opened.
The watching people drew back with a collective gasp.
“Sorcery!” they whispered as they backed away.
For a second or two nothing happened. Then, out rolled two of the most beautiful things they had every seen in their lives—the sparkles that were inside the Box. They shimmered and blazed with an unearthly radiance.
The people ran to posses them. They fought with each other to be the first to claim the two sparkles. But when they looked up the next time, they were gone!
“Where are the sparkles?” they asked the Box. “What were they?”
The Box said nothing at first. The people advanced angrily towards it, demanding an answer. And the Box began to speak.
“You were my people,” began the Box, “My very own. The two sparkles were planted inside me because of the way you made me feel.
One was called Happiness, the other was Love.”
“Today you’ve taken both away from me. You will never revel in my glow again, nor will you ever possess your own little sparkles!”
Saying this the Box turned away and walked. It didn’t know where to go but it kept walking. It walked from the only family it had known. It walked from its friends.
And I walked and I walked until I could walk no more.
I had no tears left to cry … just a hollow where I once held love for my people.
I am just an empty Box now.
