Sunday, 25 May 2014

The banyan tree


Beads of perspiration rolled down from the nape of the neck to disappear into the fabric of her blouse. The hot Sun hissed mercilessly on the concrete jungle and lesser mortals had to lug and walk with their heavy grocery bags looking sore with green eyes at the passing four-wheelers with their sun-screened window panes rolled tightly shut, keeping their occupants cool with artificial conditioning.

Meena hailed an autorikshaw , lazily passing by. She had got a good bargain and with a satisfied look , her mind had begun to plan for the 'mavinkai upinkai' (mango pickle). The cut raw pieces of mango will rest in brine along with home-made masalas for a week. She enjoyed this annual ritual. It made her smile.


The tempering on the 'chole' had been completed. The rice-cooker was still hot. The aroma of the prawns curry made Meena hungry. It was her favourite dish.
The 'puris' had to be fried and Meena was casting glances at the open door from time to time.

prepositions of placeAshok walked in with a bag of jack-fruit chips. Rakesh sauntered in with a dozen ripe bananas. Sachin  and Amar walked in with smiles on their faces. RajDeep rushed in carrying plantain leaves and announced that he was ravenous. 

Meena washed the plantain leaves and  laid them down on the floor. The bowl of mango pickle  was the centre of attraction. Laughter echoed in the one-room tenement and the fragrance of the sandal incense permeated the scene.

The serving dishes and the plantain leaves were licked bare and clean. Their bellies were full and so were their hearts. 

Meena, Ashok, Rakesh , Sachin , Amar and RajDeep had spent their childhood days under one roof under the loving gaze of Janaki Amma.

It was Meena's birthday today. Nobody knew when and where she was born. She was brought to the 'Aadhar Shelter Home' by a social worker on the Ides of May. Janaki Amma detested the word orphange . She welcomed all the abandoned infants into her Home with open arms and nurtured them to health with affection and care. 

Janaki Amma's children grew up to the good citizens with moral values. The birdie's flew away once their feathers were strong enough to navigate the open skies . But 'Aadhar Home' was always full with the next generation to replace the fun and laughter.

The grown-up children donated generously  to their 'Home'.

The inmates though not related by blood but bonded with each other as compassion and empathy ran in their veins. 

                                         For :  Write Tribe

P.S. : If you have forgotten  grammar lessons , to refresh your memory click here.