Join us on an epic journey to India! K.V. Dominic, one of India's leading contemporary English poets, takes us on a trip to India in this constellation of short stories. His love for his native country is exposed through stories that cover a range of humanistic concerns, including women's empowerment, the natural environment, government and corruption, the education system, crime, the power of compassion and the question of how much influence we have in our own destinies. 'Sanchita Karma, a collection of stories evocative of India with its characters, is simply sketched in a few sentences while still feeling rounded and real. From the tentative beginnings of friendship, to family problems, running from life to finding fulfilment, pointed character studies and quiet meditations--Dominic's people are often bereft, put upon and always searching for something. Through them, he speaks volumes--in a short space--about cause and effect in relationships.' --Dr. Patricia Prime, poet, critic, reviewer and editor, New Zealand 'The stories inSanchita Karma deal with a wide spectrum of themes, including the helplessness and loneliness of the aged, the thirst for love, crime and terrorism, religious intolerance and superstition and corruption and unemployment. Like sips of cold water after a dusty walk in the hot sun, the vivid portrayal of these stark realities is revealed through instances of love, humanism, honesty, duty consciousness, compassion, repentance and reformation.' Chandramoni Narayanaswamy, English poet, writer, essayist and translator, Bhubaneswar, Odisha, India 'InSanchita Karma, K.V. Dominic's potential is testified by a simple yet realistic depiction of various characters drawn from all walks of life. The poet/short story writer portrays characters in such a way that the words emphatically flow from their mouths--and stay in our minds--as if they are time bound and dictums for all ages.' --Dr. Radhamony Sarma, Professor of English (ret.), poet and critic, Chennai, India.
1 – The Twins
“Why do you let that cat into our kitchen? It will eat our food when you are away,” I told my wife who was battling in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning.
“You are busy with your computer upstairs, and who is there with me to save me from my loneliness? So I have invited Sundari into the kitchen,” my wife replied.
Sundari, the name my wife had given to that stray cat, was left out by our nearest neighbours who shifted to another place. Sundari was not thatsundari (beautiful), but an average cat of native breed with pink and white colours. Being a stray cat, it was frightened when I or my son approached. None of us was allowed to stroke her, but the very touch and cry of the cat removed my wife’s solitude.
In a way I am guilty of leaving my wife alone in the kitchen for too many hours. She is not a feminist and so she never insisted that I should help her in cooking. We belong to a patriarchal family line, and the men in the family have superiority over women. So my wife was never demanding, but I should have helped her instead of sending emails to my friends. She didn’t want the help of a servant, fearing the loss of privacy. When I teach feminism to my students, I pray to God to dissuade the students from asking its practice in my own life. A teacher should be a model to the students.
My wife’s friendship with Sundari continued and the bond became stronger and stronger. Still she could not stroke the cat. Sundari became pregnant and after one or two months it gave birth to two kittens, both photocopies of the mother. They were brought down to the kitchen from the berth after a week. Now my wife had three companions in place of one. Her kitchen work became smoother and happier. I was also entertained by the plays of the kittens. Then one of the kittens was found missing. What happened to it is still unknown. Since my wife was happy with the cats, I decided to buy a beautiful kitten of foreign pedigree, which we could stroke, have on our lap, and have communication with it. When I expressed my desire, one of my colleagues told me that he would supply me a twin instead of one. Accordingly, I went to his house and he presented me a carton bearing the twins. The carton was opened in one of our rooms after shutting its door. My wife and my son were very anxious to look at the guests. Two angels got out of the carton. Indeed, they were very, very beautiful. They had snowy white fur except for dark spots on their head and tails. The tails were thick and bushy, characteristic of the Ooty cats. Pairs of emeralds on their heads looked at us. The twins were not scared at all. My wife placed some milk before them and they drank a little. Then they started their running. They were identical twins; one had more dark spots on the head than the other. My wife named them Manikutty and Amminikutty.
Needless to say, these twins brought our innocent childhood back. We started to behave like children ourselves, playing with these twins. Sundari and its kitten were ignored. In fact, they refused to come to the kitchen as the twins encroached on the place. Still, food was supplied to them in the backyard.
A plastic ball was bought for the twins. The way they played football was more thrilling than watching the World Cup. Naturally the agility of these kittens is superior to the World Cup heroes.
Along with pleasures, the twins supplied us burdens and restrictions. For the first three days, they used our bedroom, particularly the bed and pillows, as their toilet. We had to wash the sheets, replace pillows and even change the entire bed. As a precaution, the bedrooms and the reading room had to be kept shut, alway
