I Told You So!

A Short Story

Anuradha stands there in front of the large mirror in a blue blouse and petticoat. On the dressing table, Amma’s gold Kasu mala is waiting to be worn. The gold coins with Goddess Lakshmi embossed on them gleam. Anuradha has neatly combed her hair and pinned it on the sides to keep it from falling on her face. She has managed to tame her unruly curls by massaging a few drops of coconut oil mixed with water. Amma’s tips are always effective.

Leela looks up at the clock hanging on the butter-coloured wall. There is still time for them to arrive but her beloved Anu must be ready before time. She switches the fan off before tucking the saree into Anuradha’s petticoat. The Kanjivaram silk Leela has carefully selected for her daughter is blue. Blue like the early evening sky, cloudless and clear. She deftly pleats this silken piece of firmament and carefully pins the pallu on Anu’s shoulder. The golden peacocks on the saree’s border are dancing gleefully. No words are exchanged between mother and daughter. Leela doesn’t need words to understand her daughter.

The loud ringing of the black phone breaks her chain of thoughts and she rushes to the door. But, Anu’s father has already picked up the phone. Anu hears her father speak with a smile, in a voice reserved for outsiders. He ends the call with a polite seri, seri and keeps the heavy receiver back in place with a clink. The television in the drawing room gets switched on.

Standing in front of the mirror, Anu applies some kajal and lightly dabs the pink lipstick, careful not to overdo it. Leela admires her daughter’s reflection in the mirror and smiles. Anu notices her mother watching and puts the lipstick back on the table. Leela steps closer, pulls out a packet of bindis from the drawer. She selects a small one and sticks it on Anu’s forehead.

Anu knows that Mahesh belongs to an educated family, grew up in Delhi just like her, has a steady job with a bank, earns well. Even Amma and Appa want this to work out since Chitti recommended this alliance very strongly. Even the horoscopes matched well, but there is a question that is nagging her.

“Amma, how will I know if he’s the one for me?” Anu’s voice is unusually soft and eyes shifty.

“Don’t worry, you will know when you meet him.” Anu looks up at her mother, with a questioning look. Leela can sense her daughter’s thoughts, “Don’t worry. Believe me, you will know.” Anu smiles nervously in response.

“Wear the necklace. It’s my good luck charm.” Leela leaves the room after patting her daughter on the shoulder.

Leela fries the vadas on low flame, turning them over to achieve the uniform golden color. They should stay hot till the Rajagopalan family arrives. The coconut chutney is ready. On the other side, the mustard seeds, dry red chilli and curry leaves sputter in oil. Prabhu always says, nothing tastes better than freshly cooked sambhar. Thus, she had made Sambhar every single day, for the past twenty five years of her married life. Now, she can’t get it wrong, even in her sleep.

As she puts in a fresh batch of vadas for frying, her mind begins to wander, to the question her daughter asked. How does one really know if they are meant to be together for life? Did she know when she married Prabhu? Even in her thoughts she cannot muster the courage to acknowledge her response. Maybe this was her destiny, or was her life just an outcome of the decisions other people took for her? Mostly, her father and then her husband.

Leela transgresses back to the time when she lived in a village near Trissur. To a time when she knew a certain Mahesh. Her Mahesh? Can she call him that? The curly haired, lanky, tall fellow who could climb the coconut tree in under a minute. Leela had dreams. Dreams of being a Carnatic singer, having grown up listening to M.S. Subbulakshmi. Leela was famous in her village for her singing. Her family had encouraged her to practice and her high point was when she performed at the Sri Guruvayoorappa temple. The audience of over five hundred people had listened to her with rapt attention. A certain gentleman had approached her father and asked him to get her to Chennai for playback singing, but her father had refused immediately. Leela got to know about it much later.

It was her singing that had attracted Mahesh to her in the first place. After speaking to him a few times on the way back from college, her juvenile mind had imagined spending a lifetime with him. Youth is such that it makes one believe in the infinity of possibility. Every dream had seemed achievable to Leela, until one evening.

Over the evening kaapi and murukku, Leela’s father declared that she was to marry Prabhu, the son of his friend from Delhi who had visited them a few months ago. Her objection had no meaning in front of all the virtues her father counted on his fingertips. She just stood there in silence and stared at her father’s feet as he swayed on the wooden aattu kattil in the central open courtyard of their ancestral house. Leela cried the night before the wedding and everyone believed it was because she had to leave for faraway Delhi. Even when the girls decorated her long black braid with pieces of jewellery and strings of jasmine, she wondered if her husband would allow her to sing. She had packed all her colourful silk sarees and jewellery in a sizeable steel trunk but left her dreams and hopes behind. The music inside somehow got left out at the Thrissur railway station as she hopped on to the train for the three-day-long journey to Delhi.

Over the years Leela got to know Prabhu as a person. He provided for everything that they needed, never refused whenever she wanted to visit her family and even allowed her to join the temple chorus. There is nothing to complain about. With the grace of Lord Guruvayoorappa, they have everything they need. A home, a car, a beautiful daughter, what else could she ask for? Was her father wrong in choosing Prabhu for her? Although Leela is unable to point to it, something is definitely missing. What is it? She opens her circular box of spices and adds a pinch of salt into the sambhar. Everything tastes bland without the right amount of salt. It ties all the flavours together.

Was a part of her still empty? Like a locked room in her father’s house. A room of invisible hopes, dreams and desires that could never be fulfilled. Leela has never told anyone about this room, not even Prabhu. Neither does she dare to enter it herself, but she knows, it is empty, dark and dusty. Once in a while she just stands in front of the door, looks down at the heavy brass padlock, touches the smooth, painted surface of the door which conceals the roughness of the wood beneath. The key to this room can no longer be found.

“Deee, is everything ready? They will be arriving any minute now.” Prabhu asks from the drawing room, while watching the match.

“Yes, the food is almost ready.”Leela responds equally loudly from the kitchen, wanting to be heard over the television. The smell of delicious sambhar is spreading across the kitchen.

Anuradha and Mahesh look beautiful together. She is looking at him furtively, shyly. They are smiling at each other. A smile that doesn’t need words as a companion. Her face is a mixture of so many emotions. Mahesh whispers something into her ear that makes her giggle. Her mehendi covered hands conceal her laughter. A sweet fragrance hangs around her. Is it just the flowers or maybe something else too is in the air? It is hard to distinguish.

Leela looks lovingly at her daughter as she is about to get into the waiting car, that would whisk them away to the airport. Anu is leaving. Leela still cannot believe that her little girl is now married. She has never slept without her daughter next to her, ever since the day she was born. A strange sensation creeps in her chest and claws at her throat. Tears are on the verge of spilling out of her eyes, but Leela does not want them to escape. Anu turns around to give her mother a hug.

“Ma, you were right. I just knew it was Mahesh when I met him.” Anu whispers into her mother’s ear.

“See, Anu moley. I told you so!” Leela wipes the defiant tears from her cheeks. May you receive all the happiness in the world, my child.

 

The Daughter I Never Had

A Short Story

Sunita was preparing dinner for her family. Her eight month old son was sleeping in the cradle in her room while her toddler played in the drawing room with her sister-in-law. Sunita had worked as a teacher in a primary school before her children were born. Presently, she was a housewife, taking care of her home and family was her duty. Her family comprised of her husband, his parents, his sister, grandmother and her two sons. Her husband a post graduate, worked at a bank and earned sufficiently to support all of them.

Sunita was making chapattis in the kitchen and was wondering if she was late. Her delay had earned her harsh taunts from her mother-in-law in the past, but what she feared much more was the tight slap from her husband that had left his palm printed on her face. She suddenly heard a child whisper into her ear. Although she could not make out what was being said, it was distinctly the voice of a child, a girl, not more than five. There was no one beside her and she dismissed it. Maybe she was tired.

Two days later while picking up her son’s toys from the floor she heard the voice again, whispering close to her right ear. She did not think much about it till later in the evening when her mother-in-law spoke about how Ammaji was losing her mind with old age. While Sunita knew that Ammaji at times spoke about very old incidents or forgot dates but this was bizarre. She had claimed to see a pretty little girl in the house, dressed in a beautiful frock and she asserted that it was Sunita’s daughter.

Later, that night as Sunita was drifting off to sleep after completing all her chores and putting her sons to sleep, she was startled to hear someone call out to her... ‘Ma’. She sat up with a jerk and found both her sons and husband sleeping peacefully. She could no longer go back to sleep and began thinking about the voice she had heard repeatedly over the past few days and about Ammajis insistence of having seen her daughter in the house. She was reminded of the time when she had been pregnant with their first child five years ago, before her sons were born.

Tears rolled down her sleepless melancholic eyes as she recalled how the gender detection test ordered by her mother-in-law had led to a big upheaval in their otherwise peaceful life. Her premature daughter had been snatched away from her, denied to live, extracted forcefully from her womb in an obscure nursing home in old Gurgaon. Sunita had cried for days, not from the pain, but from the grief of having lost her baby. Her husband although not an active accomplice had remained speechless and powerless in front of his mother’s wishes. The two pregnancies that followed would have met the same fate, but luckily for her, they were both male.

She wondered how an educated woman like her mother-in-law, who had been a school teacher herself, could harbour such hatred for her own creed. How a person could decide to end the life of her own grandchild, just because she was a girl? She could have revolted against her mother-in-law which would have left her homeless and rejected even by her own parents, but how could she fight against a society that considered a son to be the prized possession and a daughter as a burden. With these thoughts running in her mind, Sunita stayed awake till her tired body took over and guided her to sleep. She dreamt of a little girl in the pink frock, her face as pretty as a porcelain doll, bright eyes, pink lips and the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.

As per the 2011 population census, Haryana has sex ratio of 879 females per 1000 males, which is much below the national average of 940.

Interesting Census Facts 2011

§  Mahe district of Puducherry has the highest sex ratio of 1176 females per 1000 males

§  Daman district has lowest sex ratio of 533 females per 1000 males

 

http://www.census2011.co.in/states.php

Om Namah Shivay!

A Short Story

Mornings were identical in the Rajagopalan household. The sound of Carnatic music from Thatha and Paati’s room informed the rest of the household that it was past five in the morning and cajoled them to wake up to start a fresh new day. Their daughter-in-law, Meenakshi, now in her early fifties rushed to the kitchen to prepare filter coffee for the family. Within thirty minutes the dining area was fragrant with the smell of freshly prepared sambhar and the whistle from the cooker indicated that the idlis would soon be on their way to the table. On some days they had dosas too.

Paati was the first one in the house to take a bath and she would walk out of her room in a brightly coloured kanjeevaram silk saree bedecked in several gold chains, bangles and diamond nose pins adorned both sides of her nose. The entire Rajagopalan family, including Thatha, Paati, their son Mahesh and their two grandchildren, Shiva and Anuradha would be seated at the dining table just as M.S. Subbulakshmi’s song came to an end, often working as a cue for everyone to start eating. Meenakshi managed the house with clockwork precision, meals and snacks were served on or even before time, every single day of the year. On certain days the clock’s battery would fail them, but not Meenakshi.

Soon the children could be heard complaining about the lack of variety at the breakfast table, often followed by a gentle reminder from Thatha that they should be grateful for the food they were having rather than complaining, while his son would prefer to keep out of the usual bickering and stoop over the newspaper and throw in a piece of fruit or idli into his mouth at regular intervals. His wife Meenakshi would settle into the same chair every morning to have her breakfast of a banana, two idlis and coconut chutney in peace, once her husband left for office, children went to college and her in-laws had retired to their room to rest. The excursion to the dining room itself was a major event for them, enough to tire them out after every meal.

Every fortnight, usually on a Sunday morning, Mahesh and Meenakshi along with their children would visit the Guruvayoor temple in Mayur Vihar (Delhi). While the children were never keen to go to the temple they did not dare to stage a protest in front of their strict father. They took it as something essential for every Tam Bram. They came home with Vibhuti smeared on their foreheads and Prasadam made of rice and jaggery for their grandparents. Festivals like Diwali, Pongal and Vishu were celebrated with puja at home. All rituals and customs were followed to the T with complete devotion. Meenakshi was seen decorating the entrance of the house with fresh flowers and rice flour based rangoli at six in the morning on these special occasions. They were a God fearing, religious family with a firm belief in destiny and God’s blessings. They celebrated their “star” birthdays* with greater enthusiasm than their birthdays as per the Gregorian calendar. These star birthdays involved homams, japams, deepam, dhuppam, danam and not to forget the essential payasam.

On Shiva’s star birthday that year, Swamiji came over to conduct a homam at their house but before he left, Shiva’s mother Meenakshi, after expressing her santosham for the puja, asked Swamiji to look into Shiva’s horoscope since he was in the last year of college and she was anxious about her son’s future prospects. Paati and Thatha moved closer to Swamiji with considerable effort to listen to Swamiji disclose the secrets of Shiva’s future. Swamiji had special powers bestowed upon him through years of devotion and worship to the almighty.

Swamiji took out a handful of shells from the small red pouch he was carrying with him, placed it on the table, tilted his head backwards and closed his eyes in devotion, he began chanting in Sanskrit with the shells trapped in his palm. Once his chanting ended he placed a few shells on the table, in a pattern that only made sense to him. The family watched him with rapt attention. After a full minute of silence, Swamiji finally spoke. He was always polished in his words and with years of practice he knew how to share bad news softly, but Meenakshi did see a few lines appear on Swamiji’s forehead before he spoke. Swamiji predicted a fatal accident for Shiva and if he overcame that he would have a smooth sailing and was sure to get admission into a good college abroad for higher studies. He saw a very bright future for Shiva but the accident was something that could shatter their dreams.

Paati let out an “Aiyoo” immediately and began to call upon the Gods. Thatha fell silent and began looking at the floor, it appeared as if his complexion had turned darker with worry. Meenakshi, who was the anchor of the family at such times prodded Swamiji to tell them a way to avert this misfortune. She was confident that with the blessings of the Lord, they would be able to overcome this problem and her beloved Shiva would be safely on his way to earning a Master’s degree in the US. Mahesh and the children looked at their mother and then Swamiji as he began to chant again. He then suggested a Mahayagya to please Lord Shiva. They had to conduct a Mahamrityunjay Homam to prevent any tragedy. Meenakshi agreed immediately, she had full faith in Swamiji and the blessings of the almighty.

After Swamiji left, Shiva approached his parents and asked them not to fall into the trap laid out by Swamiji. He knew that Swamiji was playing on their fears to earn big bucks for himself. He dismissed the need for any such unnecessary Mahayagya which would involve ten pandits who would chant mantras over a period of five days. Anuradha too asked her mother to think like an educated human being and not fall for everything that Swamiji said. Paati who was still in the room let out another “Aiyoo” followed by touching of both her ears and biting her tongue as if these arguments would offend the Gods watching over the Rajagopalan family.

Soon Mahesh interrupted the discussion and said that they would conduct the puja without any delay and asked his wife to fix up an auspicious date with Swamiji as soon as possible. Meenakshi agreed and immediately went to the next room to get the holy almanac to look at the dates. Shiva and Anuradha looked at each other and left the room in a huff. By the next evening Meenakshi had fixed the date and all the arrangements began. The very next Wednesday the yajna began and ended with a huge homam on the following Monday. All the men of the house were present in the room wearing white dhotis and angavastrams, while the women adorned themselves in nine yard Kanjeevaram silks, kumkum on their foreheads. The continuous crescendo of chanting by ten pandits, the fragrance of white flowers and the heat of the fire from the homam had changed the environment at home. The entire family sat there with their hands folded in deep devotion.

After the puja was over Meenakshi served lunch to all the Brahmins on the freshly procured banana leaves. The pandits left happily with the daan and dakshina Mahesh gave them. Shiva and Anuradha stayed home for the day and later in the evening Shiva complained to his sister on the unnecessary expenditure his father incurred to satisfy the pot-bellied Brahmins. Anuradha agreed and in the same breath spoke about the futility of any disagreement with their grandparents on parents. Shiva did realize that it was done out of love and for his well-being. They all had big hopes from him, he was the son they would rely on when they grew older just the way Thatha and Paati depended on their father.

In another part of Delhi that day where the new flyover was being constructed, one section of the concrete came loose and landed on the road. A biker got crushed under its weight and breathed his last before making it to the hospital. It was the same road Shiva took every day on the way back from college. He read it in the papers next morning and decided to take another route on the way back home to avoid the traffic. Before Meenakshi settled down for breakfast that morning she read about the tragic accident in the newspaper. She looked up from the newspaper and closed her eyes for a moment, the crease on her forehead becoming prominent. Her lips quivered as she sent out a silent prayer expressing her gratitude to the Gods ending with a barely audible "Om Namah Shivay".

*Star Birthday is the day on which the Nakshatra of the person appears in his/her birth month. The date of the star birthday is usually different from the actual date of birth and changes from one year to the next.

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