ThoughtsIJot

A trip to Kerala with my parents and sibling that left my young mind with constant emotions and doubts or rather a feeling of terror deep down my gut. It was that frame that practically never left me till date. I find myself pulled back to the memories of that day every time I look at a married woman.

That day like the other days in Kerala, we were on an expedition to meet our some of our long distant or for that matter even close relatives who we hardly knew, relatives that only came alive when my mother eagerly introduced us to them and they would with their bright eyes look at us and always say the same things, “Oh how tall she has grown or Jaya? Don’t you feed her well? She is thin as a stick”. I would lower my eyes to those remarks and simply grin. But, today I was delighted that there would be kids to play with where we were headed. My mother’s uncles family lived at a short distance from her own maternal house where we were staying while in Kerala.

We had no car to travel there so our mom and dad would board us into one of the various Jeeps that rallied across the Jet black roads which lied beneath our house. Mama says this is the connecting national highway, NH something. You would always find a daring heart swinging on the rear end railing of the Jeep that sped across the U-pin drives of the hilly region that it was. Our jeep came to a screeching halt and we carefully deboarded. My mom’s face instantly lit when she saw the house where she had spent her childhood playing with her cousins. She led us to the old but magnificent house which still stood strong by the look of it.

Her cousins and uncle were already on the Verandah with broad smiles and expectant eyes. They were seeing us after almost a decade. I had gone there as a toddler earlier as mom said later. Soon there were greetings and hugs and laughter on jokes that seemed too private for only them to understand. We stepped into the house finally from a big round of chitter chatter on the porch itself.

Now was the turn for an even bigger round of savouries that are only seen in Kerala – The Pazhamporis and Acchappams, the Unniappams and Kozhalappams(My north Indian friends always wondered why all our delicacies were some or the other Appams), the Poovu(flower) cakes and the Bondas. And to top it all some ripe Kerala bananas cut into halves(well considered, what if you do not have any space left after having all the other stuff) were heaped up in a big round plate. You are not supposed to move until you have tasted at least one piece each of all that was served on the huge dining table. No prices to have known that this was just a welcome snack. The actual lunch will follow suit.

We had already had a round of introductions and friendly head nods by now. After a while though, my mom held us by our hands and took us to the depths of the huge house (For Mumbaikars every house beyond 3 bedrooms is, of course, a mansion. But this house indeed was huge).

To the end of the house was a dark lit room. My mom leads us to that room and I was more shocked that surprised to see a woman in her thirties or maximum forties sitting right in the middle of the room, on the cemented floor.

From the look of the room, it seemed like it was a loners den, that only this woman dwelled in that dark corner with just minimal furniture. Just a cot in one corner and a lantern kept on a wooden table on the other corner. The floor was cold to my feet, but she seemed not to bother.

She continuously kept shaking and hammering one of her legs on the ground while the other was pressed by the thighs to her chest. She seemed restless. Although, when her mother called out she looked up with a smiling face and turned towards us. She enquired, “Kazhiccho” (Had your food?)We nodded our heads in unison. After a while, she asked again, “Kazhiccho?”.

She kept smiling as we nodded yes. But she seemed less satisfied and kept asking us the same question repeatedly. My mom somehow exchanged a few pleasantries with her and lead us to the other room, soon to my relief.

Later that night when we were fast asleep as our parents believed, we heard them discuss her. She who unstoppably kept shaking her legs.

Her parents had named her Indira but hardly anyone called her so. She was Indu to all. Chirpy, lively girl jumping around the house in her long Dawani skirt and half saree. Her hair plated into a long braid almost hit her calves as she swayed around humming her favourite tunes.

Her face resembled the most beautiful flowers in their garden and the big black bindi that she wore would drive away all the ill eyes that laid on her beauty. Her eyes the shape of a fish and her whole lips always parted by a broad smile. She was beautiful beyond one’s imagination.

She was just turning 18 when she was betrothed to be married. Her Fiance was working overseas in an ice company as a supervisor. Anand. She blushed red to even take his name.

to be continued….. in part 2

You left me drowning, left me sore,
broken to the core, revival no more
Now that I know, it drives me mad
Cause loved and lost, I never had

A hole in my heart needs repair
Dying mind’s despair, does anybody care?
Love, its a pain, I know, yet I’m sad
Cause loved and lost, I never had

A thousand words, that I never wrote
My grief to emote was never taught
Words that ditched me were sugar-clad
Yet, loved and lost, I never had

“This is the final boarding call for passenger Mrs.Cooper booked on flight AIXXX to India”, she was startled from what seemed like an eternity. Celine Cooper had ultimately made up her mind to board that flight. She rose from her seat and hurriedly walked to Gate 3. She had been nothing but thinking and rethinking for the past two hours that she had spent at the airport if the decision she was making was the right one. She had questioned herself a hundred times and she was sure she wanted to do this. She had to take this flight, to India.

She checked her seat number, pushed her bags in the upper cabinet above her seat and soon got lost in thoughts as she settled down on her window seat. She mentally clicked the list of things she had to take care of before leaving. Her kids, she hoped would cope with the new findings. She did not seem to care much about her husband though. Last night they had another big fight, one of the unbroken rituals that continued for half a decade now. They could fight over the smallest things and grunt over it until the next fight. But, her children, their pictures flashed in and out, what did they do to face this. It’s just a matter of a couple of days, she convinced herself.

It felt like a lifetime, going through the clouds, now her thoughts slowly switching to him, the anticipation of seeing him in person. She met Arnab on a social networking app. Her plans were to make friends in the virtual world that she could seldom make in reality due to various boundaries she had built around herself, but she got so carried away with the boundless love that he showered upon her that she could hardly find a way back. Days and nights of endless chatting with the guy who was for that matter unknown but dearer than anyone she ever dated. Precious than her own husband, after all her marriage, had a big dent to the verge of breaking anytime. But she had never expected all this. Never foreseen what she was doing. No, it wasn’t a decision taken in the spur of a moment. She had reflected and retrospected on all of this and more before leaping into the unknown.

After a long journey of the dilemma, she landed at the Mumbai Airport. She gathered all her belongings and her pacing heart while she walked towards the exit. And she spotted the man from the pictures live on the airport doors waving at her. He might be in his late twenties, she thought to herself. She was far older than him, she shied a bit in approaching him but they had discussed this earlier. Age was not a bar he had stated. Arnab moved forward with obvious enthusiasm and hugged her, a prolonged hug for all his anticipations stood right in front of him. He looked like his feet found no ground.

After the initial minutes of alien uneasiness, even when they were not really strangers, they started speaking of random things; Things they had already spoken of. Things about the weather and food and all unnecessary details.
They knew instantly that they could speak forever and not get tired of each other. For the next few days to come, there were more talks and roaming around new places, hand in hand. They backpacked to the mountains and jungles and long road trips together. It was like a never-ending holiday.

Soon they grew inseparable, wanting more and more of each other. Their love knew no bounds, no boundaries. She was glad her decision was not wrong, this man she held hands with, with whom she could live and die with was indeed a genuine person. He loved her wholeheartedly and promised never to leave her side. But things went topsy-turvy when they discovered the worst.

Her Visa was to expire soon. Only a day to go and she will have to head back to her life which she had left behind. The monotonous, unloved life. But for her kids, she will have to go. But all the strength in the world could not bring her to the resolve to leave though. She wanted more of her life, more of him. She wanted to be with him until her last breath. He wanted her too in his life and in his afterlife. And that is what they decided.

To live together or to die together. She packed her bags with parting notes to her family. He had no family to write to but still, he wrote a note to tell the world that it was a mutual decision. And that no one is responsible for their death. Next, they lay on the railway tracks, close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats. Far enough from the world, not to hear the train’s rumbling and beating underneath the iron lines spread on both ends.

Just a thud is what she could last remember. She was in the hospital bed when the local Police sent his body to the mortuary. He went without her to the other world.

And, She lived to tell her tale.

Mom was walking away with him, the man who held on her hand with an unsaid authority. Jay wanted to stop her. He cried his lungs out, “Amma, please stop. Take me with you”, his little voice deafening under the loud music. Someone was holding him back, dragging him away from her.

He felt the ground slip away from his feet. She was the only one for him. Bring her back, she’s mine. He put all the strength he could gather to pull apart, to reach her. He was too frail to fight with an empty stomach since morning.

He had no appetite when all the invitees sat in a row on the tables that were laid at the backyard. Fresh banana leaves were placed before each hungry eye. Not too many but a decent count of delicacies were served. Rice and Sambhar and Aviyal and Kalan and Olan and Toran of different types. Payasam and banana chips and curd. Too many to name. Few to digest.

People ate and were replaced with another set with fresh leaves laid again. But Jay had no appetite. The only thing he could think of was his mother.

The day ended and so did the celebrations. People were busy wrapping up now. Wrapping the show which took his mother away. His Ammumma tried to feed him but no food could taste good to him. His hunger went out the door with his mother.

He waited, empty stomach, empty heart until all were asleep. He knew which trails to reach his mother. And he set on the path to seek her, to bring her back.

He walked with the darkness in the night, following the crickets noise that kept him company.

He walked barefoot on the wet white sands that covered their coastal land. He walked through the narrow lanes, crossing the sidewalks on the small pond, careful not to be bitten by a snake hiding somewhere. But God did it bother him?

He was on a mission. He walked past the junction when he saw the house with lightings and knew he had reached. It was the same picture as his own house, all were fast asleep. He knocked at the only door, slowly first and then frantically.

The big moustached man which the bad grin, opened the door. He stood there covering the entire frame of the door. Jay could hardly spot his mother when she walked in and stood behind the giant guy.

She still had the same demeanour, head down lost in thoughts. She did not utter a word. She stood shedding tears when her new mate pushed Jay away. ‘Go away, how dare you walk here at this hour?’, his harsh words did not weaken Jay’s love for his mother. ‘Amma, please come with me’, he cried. All she could do was nod her head in a ‘NO’.

Jay knew more than to stay there any further after hearing a muted NO from his mother. He traced back the paths that he had taken to reach her. His little heart longing for a hug from her. To hear from her, “I am there for you boy”.

He didn’t get any of it.

He had matured in his heart in just one night. He knew where he belonged now, as he marched across the deserted tracks. When he finally reached home he ran to his Ammumma who waited patiently at the doorstep for him. She hugged him and he cried for one last time.

He stood there, staring at all the decors. There was some celebration for sure. People had poured in, dressed in their best outfits. Kanjipuram sarees and Jeri bordered mundus(dhoti) all around him, endorsed the occasion with chatters and waves of laughter.

He had no clue why his mother was all decked up and who was that man sitting beside her he wondered. He wanted to run to her and ask her what was going on but he was kept away from the mandapam (stage). Kids ran hither tither in her happy strides but he stood transfixed looked straight into his mother’s eyes. Why isn’t she looking towards me?

Oh, she looked beautiful in that maroon kanjipuram saree, her hair braided and adorned with beautiful strands of mogra. A gold earring only a bit bigger than the one she usually wears and a necklace and bangles in gold. She wore a big red bindi. She looked like a Goddess. He gazed in awe!!

‘Amma’, he whispered, how much he loved her and wanted her, no one could decipher. She was the only one he needed. To lie in her lap and dream to the tales she told was all he desired. She was the only one for him apart from his Ammumma (maternal grandmother).

Theirs was a small family. Amma, Ammumma and little Jay. He always hung to the loose end of her saree, like her shadow he walked with her, dawn till dusk, observing her while she did her household chores. She loved him equally. No one ever saw her yelling at him, or beating him like the neighbour Manu’s mother beat Manu. She bathed him, cooked and fed him, walked him to the primary school and waited under the shades of the coconut trees until he came out. He also never left his mother out of sight. They were like a kangaroo and its baby, always clinging together.

But today he felt like things were changing. Why isn’t she looking towards me? Her eyes were lowered, she seemed to be weeping. All but the two of them were looking happy. Someone muttered into his ears, “Your mom is getting married. Be happy for her”.

Married? To that man there? He didn’t look a bit appealing to Jay’s hopeful tender eyes. He had that big toothed grin which Jay was instantly scared of. He although was not still aware of what was in store for him.

…to be continued………….. in (Part 2)

‘They have said no before, how shall I ask again’, she wondered. She had no answers to the thousand thoughts that circled her head, making it want to burst out. All she asked for was to meet her parents once a year.

All was good when she got married to the good-looking young man from the city of dreams – Mumbai. Her happiness knew no bounds. When she got engaged, her friends teased her, ‘Ooh how lucky you can meet SRK and Bacchans now’. She had no desires to meet the celebrities though. All she desired was to be with him, her love for life.

It was an arranged marriage. Arranged marriages were still not out of fashion when she got betrothed. Many women from were married off to different cities, different countries after one or maximum meeting with the groom to be. Decisions were made by just looking at the family background and if the girl looked suitable enough to be taken into the family.

But she was in love with his sophisticated, army men like appearance. He had a job overseas and had to travel abroad frequently in intervals but she was ready to adjust with the intermediate separations for the sake of being with him.

How beautiful she looked on her wedding day, her eyes twinkling with joy. She hardly could foresee that the ritual of ‘Bidai’ meant actually going away from parents in her case. She will have to travel miles by flight to reach them, to meet them now. That thought made her eyes well. She cried like every other bride, knowing deep within that the separation was meant to be.

Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked up from the internet. Will be replaced by original pictures from the author soon.

She quickly adjusted with the new family. They were as loving as her own parents. She missed her parents but she loved her new family equally. Her mother in law did never show the tantrums of a typical mother in law and she was relieved to have her too. She soon took care of all the households and her mother in law was happy to share her burden.

When her husband travelled with his work, she stayed home waiting for his return. She also started working in the city soon. It was for her relief that she got engaged in work now. Weekdays well spent at work and weekends being at home, with the household things to keep her even busy. She thought of him often but never complained, she had chosen this lifestyle.

Six months past their wedding she had the urge to see her parents. Her sister in law was visiting from abroad. ‘She’ wanted to meet her parents too. Her husband was home for a vacation. She shared her desire to meet her parents. He was more than happy to be travelling with her. Although her in-laws did not seem to receive the suggestion well, they did not stop her though, this time.

She was thrilled to visit her parents after a long six months gap. She brought them goodies and gifts. Three days with her family who she spent her childhood with. Three days for the love they showered upon her. Three days for the lifetime of sufferings they took in getting her married. Three days with her parents.

And then, while returning she hugged her mother for the years to come, her heart swelled with pain. Her father’s eyes questioned, when will you come back? For which, she had no answer.

Even today, after four years of marriage, she has no answer on why she can’t visit her own parents at least once a year. Every time she seeks her in-law’s and her husband’s permission to go, she is faced with offended looks. ‘You are a married woman now, you belong to this family. Forget about the family you left behind’.

She is unable to explain what she feels. How much grief she has in her chest hidden, so much so that often it pains bad, she is unable to express. Unable to tell them that she needs the comfort of her mother’s lap to forget all the sorrows that day to day life brings; that she needs to see the smile on her fathers face before its too late.

She still has no answer, ‘Why can’t I see my own parents?’

Author: A girl leaves her family and respects the tradition of living with her in-laws. All she has is love in her heart. Men are too lucky to be in their comfort zone, being with their family for life. If he takes a decision to live separately with her, he is not a good guy in this society. But if she wants to be with her family even if only for once, she is going beyond limits. This is nothing but hypocrisy. Live and let live is all I can say.

As a child, she was too naughty and too fearful at the same time. She rejoiced in all sorts of mischief and when it was time to get caught she could even go to the extent of peeing in her pants.

Playtime would be like gathering all the chawl( a type of residential building found in Northern part of India) kids and running around with them through the lanes between chawls, behind chawls jumping over the drainage pipes.
Playing in the mud was a past time she absolutely enjoyed, muddy nails and dirty frock left for her mother to scrub on later.

Boys, she loved playing marbles with them, ‘Kanche’ they called it. She had learnt the skills by observing them closely. Make a small round hole in the mud and a bigger circle around it. Put all the marbles in the big circle from a distance. The ones that fill into the circle were yours to keep. Another game would be to hit one of the marbles that the opponent pointed at. If you hit it, all the marbles were yours. She never won, but she would collect as many marbles as she could and play with them anyways. She was content with the feeling of being included. Her heart filled with joy that poured out through her proud grin.

She often walked to school which was quite close to her house, just a 7-minute walk or a 4-minute run when she was getting late. Point to note is that there were no child pickers (kidnappers) at that time to worry. Every kid used to walk to school, all alone. Only the overly protective parents accompanied their kids. School time was fun-time for her. Free periods were the chance to play in the school playground, getting all drenched in the dirt. A lone woman, with her hand-pulled card full of edible items that she loved savouring on, usually stood across the school ground. Tamarind lollypops, dried gooseberries, oooh, how children loved to munch on them with their teeth gripping on the sour taste. She often got a 25paise coin to buy something from that woman.

Once back from school, she loved playing with the kids across the street. Mom didn’t like her playing with the street kids and often complained to dad, nothing bothered her though. One day when she was still playing with them, she saw her dad coming home from work, from a distance.

There she escaped, full speed so that she touched home before him. She did. But in the spree she missed him noticing her. He called out to her as soon as he stepped in. She was still all dirty and damp with the hot air oozing out of her body. Her face, a black version of her. He asked, “Did you go out to play with the street kids again”. “Sorry, Papa”, was all she said. He never hurt her. But she was too scared that day.

Her little mind kept neglecting the scoldings she would get if she repeated what was not permitted. One such day she came back from school and saw that dad was still home. At once, he noticed, her shoes were torn, the sole almost ripped to the extent that it would fall out any moment.

His expressions spoke, “How could a new shoe, barely one-month-old, tear so badly in a day?”. She read the lines on his forehead and quickly mumbled before he demanded an explanation, “Pappa I was walking back home, and, and I slipped”. “What, this badly, u don’t seem to be hurt”, exclaimed her father all furious. He knew she was lying. She rubbed her nose often when she did so, looked away from him.

“I was walking on the steps down at the junction, I fell, and the shoe ripped”, she lied again. She didn’t seem convincing, he pulled onto her hands dragging her through the lanes not even bothering to wear his shirt. His demeanour meant he had made a resolve.

She was literally running behind his fast-paced steps which stopped only when they had reached the junction with steps leading up. He took her to the top of the steps, “Now show me how you fell and how the shoe tear”. She stood there, her whole body shivering, head down. He knew it. She was lying.

However, he did not know what she knew. Her eyes all blurred when she pictured her friend from the lanes who was too poor to afford a shoe. Her shoes were ripped just like the one she wore now. Her friend, she couldn’t buy another pair. She did not have enough money to get it mended either.

Disclaimer: Picture randomly picked from the internet. WIll be replaced soon by the author.

She still stood there head down, her eyes all blurred with her friend’s image grinning back at her. Her friend -she wore a new pair of shoes, just like the shoe her dad brought for her. She was no more crying or shivering with shame. She had a secret pride she showed none. She never mentioned it to anyone. But that day,  she had determined one thing, Never to lie again and she still holds to the promise she made to herself. She is as helpful still. She is still very naughty. But she does not fear anyone, anymore. Cause what she has with her now is Truth.