Packing my last piece of garment into my suitcase, my head moved sideways with my
pupils shifting gaze to the entire length
of the wooden almirah. A handkerchief or a piece
of toiletry left behind would
be duly returned to me on my next visit with a scolding by
mom. A scolding
accompanied with a twist of my ear and a reminder that I was no longer
a little
girl. I never was.
I couldn’t bathe in the luxury of a childhood. Before the last
embers burnt to ashes, I had
donned the trilby of a patriarch and the trappings
that came with the title. Responsibility
was my middle name.
The paid holiday of two fortnights was an annual indulgence
which I concluded it to be of
avian species that flew away with the bat of an
eyelid. My short tresses would be
pampered with a home-made herbal oil concoction easing the accumulated corporate
stress. I was treated to an array of gastronomical delights cooked on slow fires under
Ma's watchful supervision, a far cry from the monotonous urban canteens and cheap
restaurants.
pampered with a home-made herbal oil concoction easing the accumulated corporate
stress. I was treated to an array of gastronomical delights cooked on slow fires under
Ma's watchful supervision, a far cry from the monotonous urban canteens and cheap
restaurants.
I and my little sibling walked into the woods and waded into vernal waters hand-in-hand.
As my luggage was loaded into the tonga, my posture bent down to touch the wrinkled
feet. Her trembling hands clasped my shoulders to
raise me and I melted into her warm
embrace. I held her tightly to dig my tears
into her cotton sari which absorbed my
sadness.
“Take care, Ma”, soft words churned from my throat.
“I am not so helpless, Anjali”, a fusillade of salty pouring
added to the melancholy. Her
grief and helplessness were camouflaged in her uttering.
“When will you come again?” fully knowing my itinerary.
“Soon”, I heard myself say, aware that the monosyllable
implied a time gap of 24
fortnights. This enquiry had become a annual ritual.
“Didiiiiiiiiiii, you will miss your train”, neighed the voice from the
tonga.
(Indian tonga. Google pic)
Geeta had left a generous space for me to be seated beside
her in the mode of
transportation. With one strong hand she pulled me inside the horse-cart to foist my body
under the awning. The waving of the hands continued till the bend of the road swallowed
my Ma out of sight.
transportation. With one strong hand she pulled me inside the horse-cart to foist my body
under the awning. The waving of the hands continued till the bend of the road swallowed
my Ma out of sight.
I and my sibling had a long way to travel.
The hoofs of the animal echoed the rhythmic pattern in a
sing-song manner to rock the
cart. Our bodies swayed in unison. The rough disheveled road added to the woes.
“Ma looks frail”, with concern in my voice.
Geeta nonchalantly rolled her eyes and shrugged her
shoulders.
The hills adjoining the road showed subtle signs of ageing
with crevices. The trees on the
hills seemed to keep each other at arm’s distance. Not all
seems to be in good health.
“Her tongue develops a sweet coat with your arrival. You
haven’t tasted her bitter words,
Didi”.
It was my turn to roll my eyes but I widened them.
“Remember what she has gone through, Gee”. This was my way of
addressing her.
“And do you have any idea how I suffer under her, didi?”
“Ma is a blanket of love”.
“At times this love suffocates me. Didi, I have no rights or
privacy. She demands to know
the details of my friends. Going for a sleepover
is out of question. Is there anyone to
question you?”
“Gee, she dotes on you. Every right comes with a baggage of
duty and responsibility. Do
you know how much I miss her warmth and your
company, Gee, in the far-flung Mumbai?
The thought of coming back home and to my
family keeps my heart ticking”. I almost
sermon-ed my little sibling.
With an extra velvety gentleness I asked if Gee would like
to trade places with me.
Abdul Chacha , the tonga-driver lashed the whip on the Sona’s
body. Gee 's body shivered.
“Quicken the pace of your hooves, Sona (horse)” , and Abdul Chacha was
privy to our
exchange of words.
Gee and I were locked in a loving embrace, my last query having
dissolved her rebellious
streak.
We said our good-byes to each other.
Me and my luggage entered the train.
We said our good-byes to each other.
Me and my luggage entered the train.
The metallic monster chugged out of the station. From the rectangular
window frame,
the distant hills looked verdant, devoid of any cracks and in salubrious health. I smiled.
The train of my thoughts continued with my journey..........
The train of my thoughts continued with my journey..........
Notes :-
Almirah - Wooden wardrobe.
Hindus cremate the dead. Later the ashes and bones are immersed into the waters.
Indian youngsters bend down and touch the feet of elders as a mark of respect and to
seek blessings.
Didi - elder sister.
Indian youngsters bend down and touch the feet of elders as a mark of respect and to
seek blessings.
Didi - elder sister.
Tonga- Indian horse-drawn cart
Chacha - Uncle , addressed with respect.
Sona - name of the horse.
This is a piece of fiction.
This is a piece of fiction.
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