As the bell went off, she picked up her pre-packed satchel and raced to the gate. She wanted to be the first one to step out. It was the first drizzle of the season. Thrilled by the chill, she merrily opened her blue umbrella with bright pink flowers (mocked by her all-grownup - sister as a "childish and too girlie" choice !). She did not care. She loved the rains. The puzzling puddles and funny faces that one can see in them! The ripples set off by cars as they whoosh past her and the joy of taking the umbrella off one's head, staring at the sky while still keeping your eyes open was incomparable. At times, clutching your umbrella tightly, lest it would fly away with the wind. She loved to watch drops trickle down from the umbrella, to stick hand out from umbrella and splash the water on puppies and kittens and steal a quick glance to look out for any discipline-conscious adults around you. All this was fun! As she head home she thought of all these joys and also of the mouth watering pakodas that her mother would make for her. Though, everyone had some, she knew deep down that they were made for HER! She was after all mom's favourite.
She stole a glance at him. How wonderful was their "friendship"! She adored him fiercely and passionately. And now, they were supposed to make a project together! The teacher had paired them up! With that thought, she glided to the college gate. It was pouring outside. The universe was giving her adolescent ever throbbing heart a sign! He was the one and they were going to be together for ever and ever! She was so happy that she forgot everything. The grocery list whatsapp - ed by her mother, her umbrella too! Well, she never liked that uncool accessory. The rains are supposed to drench you, fill you with hope and dreams! How romantic was the weather and she made a list of things she needed to do to look gorgeous next week :a parlour visit, cool clothes and amazing accessories! She dreamed on.....
She clutched her purse, stuffed her wet umbrella in a plastic bag found miraculously in her purse, and sprinted to the platform where her train was just coming to a screeching halt. With waited breath she jumped into the optimistically called first class compartment for ladies, jostled by women and poked by bags and umbrellas she somehow made her way to a seat and adjusted herself on the little space offered to her. Why did she pay for this? Oh yes, the crowd smelled of sweat mixed with some branded perfume rather than smelly fish baskets and greasy, unkempt hair! If only her husband were to share his car with her! But then they travelled in different directions. She looked at the watch it was 6:30 but it seemed very dark outside. As the train crawled to her station, more women came in to crush her body and spirit! She made a quick list of things that she would have to do, after braving a packed compartment, running to make it in the line for an auto that would make its way through snarling traffic, sticky roads littered with everything and finally she would reach home. She avoided thinking of the assault on the senses brought on by the various powerful smells.
Soon, she found herself home. Exhausted and now exasperated at the maid's call to inform her that she would not come thanks to water clogging in her area. She saw the girls had returned. The TV was playing Doremon. Her little girl was prancing around the hall and giving her an update on her day along with a lobbying for simmering hot pakodas: "Look Mom! It has been raining for so long! Please please please make me something spicy and yummy. I have finished my homework too.
The blessed innocence of childhood knows nothing about office, travel, inflation, laundry or unreliable domestic help. Wishing her cares away, she took a quick shower and admired her beautiful skin and complexion, white looked pretty on her, still! She blushed slightly as she blow dried her hair. She then went on to check on her adolescent daughter and inquired about the grocery. Her daughter sheepishly admitted that she had forgotten all about it and suggested that ordering a pizza would be an excellent solution to her mom's problems! Stunned into silence by her daughter's convenient amnesia and escapist solution, she went to her mother's room. She found her dreamily looking at the rain as it pattered on the window pane. The old lady turned to her and calmly asked her daughter if she had bought her medicine for joint pain. "Come on, Ma. Don't you start now. I have just come home. I promise you will get it tomorrow." Her mom snapped back, "don't you dare use that tone with me. I raised you, Ms. Smarty pants!"
Hurt and crushed she left the room and headed straight to the kitchen. As she went through the hall she saw her daughters fighting over what to watch on TV.
She knew she hurt her daughter. Balancing work and home was tough. But then her aching joints and rattling bones made her grumpy. She heard the knife chopping away furiously. The onions and potatoes were being peeled and sliced. There was the crisp housing of oil as it merged with the pakoda batter. The flavours rose to the occasion as she heard her daughter call out to everyone that the first batch was ready for tasting! As the old lady slowly started for the kitchen, her young granddaughter came with a plateful of simmering pakodas "Come Nani, mom's calling you."
The key turned and the man of the house entered. He was drenched. His hair plastered to his hair. He looked old and funny. The girls giggled. Without a word to anyone he headed straight to his bedroom. Soon he joined them after a refreshing shower. A fight was brewing between his daughters. The bone of contention was what pizza to order. As things started to turn ugly, he intervened and proposed to put cake on the menu. Truce achieved. His wife smiled at him. She was finally enjoying the last batch of pakodas with her family. Her feet were killing her already. She immediately moved on to prepare for tomorrow: kneading the atta, chopping veggies, reminding the daughters to pack their books, dumping their clothes in the laundry bag, giving a list of instructions for the maid that her mother would pass on.
Finally, she retired to her room. She found her husband lying comfortably in the bed and pretending to read a book. As she shut the door, he gently gave her a peck on the cheek, handed her a pouch and whispered: “Happy Anniversary". She opened the pouch and found a car key. There was a note inside which read :Of the many firsts of our love, marriage and life together, here's your first car. Enjoy the ride."
Their anniversary never saw first rains. This year was different. There's always something special that rain brings for us.
She stole a glance at him. How wonderful was their "friendship"! She adored him fiercely and passionately. And now, they were supposed to make a project together! The teacher had paired them up! With that thought, she glided to the college gate. It was pouring outside. The universe was giving her adolescent ever throbbing heart a sign! He was the one and they were going to be together for ever and ever! She was so happy that she forgot everything. The grocery list whatsapp - ed by her mother, her umbrella too! Well, she never liked that uncool accessory. The rains are supposed to drench you, fill you with hope and dreams! How romantic was the weather and she made a list of things she needed to do to look gorgeous next week :a parlour visit, cool clothes and amazing accessories! She dreamed on.....
She clutched her purse, stuffed her wet umbrella in a plastic bag found miraculously in her purse, and sprinted to the platform where her train was just coming to a screeching halt. With waited breath she jumped into the optimistically called first class compartment for ladies, jostled by women and poked by bags and umbrellas she somehow made her way to a seat and adjusted herself on the little space offered to her. Why did she pay for this? Oh yes, the crowd smelled of sweat mixed with some branded perfume rather than smelly fish baskets and greasy, unkempt hair! If only her husband were to share his car with her! But then they travelled in different directions. She looked at the watch it was 6:30 but it seemed very dark outside. As the train crawled to her station, more women came in to crush her body and spirit! She made a quick list of things that she would have to do, after braving a packed compartment, running to make it in the line for an auto that would make its way through snarling traffic, sticky roads littered with everything and finally she would reach home. She avoided thinking of the assault on the senses brought on by the various powerful smells.
Soon, she found herself home. Exhausted and now exasperated at the maid's call to inform her that she would not come thanks to water clogging in her area. She saw the girls had returned. The TV was playing Doremon. Her little girl was prancing around the hall and giving her an update on her day along with a lobbying for simmering hot pakodas: "Look Mom! It has been raining for so long! Please please please make me something spicy and yummy. I have finished my homework too.
The blessed innocence of childhood knows nothing about office, travel, inflation, laundry or unreliable domestic help. Wishing her cares away, she took a quick shower and admired her beautiful skin and complexion, white looked pretty on her, still! She blushed slightly as she blow dried her hair. She then went on to check on her adolescent daughter and inquired about the grocery. Her daughter sheepishly admitted that she had forgotten all about it and suggested that ordering a pizza would be an excellent solution to her mom's problems! Stunned into silence by her daughter's convenient amnesia and escapist solution, she went to her mother's room. She found her dreamily looking at the rain as it pattered on the window pane. The old lady turned to her and calmly asked her daughter if she had bought her medicine for joint pain. "Come on, Ma. Don't you start now. I have just come home. I promise you will get it tomorrow." Her mom snapped back, "don't you dare use that tone with me. I raised you, Ms. Smarty pants!"
Hurt and crushed she left the room and headed straight to the kitchen. As she went through the hall she saw her daughters fighting over what to watch on TV.
She knew she hurt her daughter. Balancing work and home was tough. But then her aching joints and rattling bones made her grumpy. She heard the knife chopping away furiously. The onions and potatoes were being peeled and sliced. There was the crisp housing of oil as it merged with the pakoda batter. The flavours rose to the occasion as she heard her daughter call out to everyone that the first batch was ready for tasting! As the old lady slowly started for the kitchen, her young granddaughter came with a plateful of simmering pakodas "Come Nani, mom's calling you."
The key turned and the man of the house entered. He was drenched. His hair plastered to his hair. He looked old and funny. The girls giggled. Without a word to anyone he headed straight to his bedroom. Soon he joined them after a refreshing shower. A fight was brewing between his daughters. The bone of contention was what pizza to order. As things started to turn ugly, he intervened and proposed to put cake on the menu. Truce achieved. His wife smiled at him. She was finally enjoying the last batch of pakodas with her family. Her feet were killing her already. She immediately moved on to prepare for tomorrow: kneading the atta, chopping veggies, reminding the daughters to pack their books, dumping their clothes in the laundry bag, giving a list of instructions for the maid that her mother would pass on.
Finally, she retired to her room. She found her husband lying comfortably in the bed and pretending to read a book. As she shut the door, he gently gave her a peck on the cheek, handed her a pouch and whispered: “Happy Anniversary". She opened the pouch and found a car key. There was a note inside which read :Of the many firsts of our love, marriage and life together, here's your first car. Enjoy the ride."
Their anniversary never saw first rains. This year was different. There's always something special that rain brings for us.
The art of our generation has failed to make us recognise and acknowledge such small moments and gestures of happiness. This post stands out because it makes one relive all such gestures in a couple of minutes, and reiterates their importance in our lives. Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment, deep thinker!
DeleteGood use of the pronoun, but in my opinion, that build up and surprise loses its way towards the end. The end makes a point on its own, not that I didn't appreciate it. But I got the sense of two stories mixed into one.
ReplyDeleteThanks saroja. I was actually going for that! Our lives are stories that mix into one another, or conflict with each other . Each story has its own validity and universe. It both individual and social.
ReplyDeleteAs far as the pronoun goes, it was an experiment in writing.
ReplyDelete