pilgrim’s blog

The story is of the time soon after our daughter had entered her teens, thankfully without any obvious change in her mannerisms. She had always been a quiet and mature child. The time coincided with her hyper active grandmother being advised by the doctor to take rest to facilitate quick recovery from the knee pain that had been troubling her for some time. As a part of the strategy I forced her out of the kitchen and took absolute charge of it, till she got well, to the utter dismay of my husband.

Grand mother always felt that I was not as strict a mother as one should be especially when one had a teenaged daughter. So she took up the task of doing an in depth study of the behavioral patterns in teenagers as she had ample time on hand. She religiously went through all the magazines that offered the minutest of advice on the various problems occurring in the minds of teenagers.

At all other times, when she would not be reading the books, she spent it keeping a close watch on the movements of her only grand daughter to the latter’s great annoyance. It was on one such day that she found her grand daughter reading a book given to her by some one named Durga Das, obviously a friend of the child. Putting all the knowledge she had collected from the books dealing with the changes in the behavioral patterns of teenagers, the grand mother immediately and in a stern tone wanted to know who the friend Durga Das was whom she mistook to be Durgadas. The child having good sense of humor, burst out laughing and explained to her grandmother that the concerned person was not a boy but a girl named Durga.  

At another time when I was busy finishing the house hold chores, grand mother came into the kitchen wearing a very serious look and forced me to come out to have a look at her grand daughter. Worried to death at thinking something was seriously wrong with her, putting aside all other jobs I rushed to the child’s room. Surprised to find her reclining on her bed with no obvious discomfort, I looked at her grand mother quizzically. With an irritating look she asked if I was blind not to have noticed that the child had been thinking of something for so long without any physical movement which was one of the symptoms of teen age and should be urgently dealt with.

That day I decided may be after all the grand mother did not require all the rest the doctor had advised and could pitch in helping me with the jobs that did not require her to exert herself. For a teenaged daughter and a hyper active grand mother was quite a hand full for me to deal with at the same time….

Holi brought in a lot of memories from childhood days. Her first recollection of the festival was when she as a tiny tot would accompany her father to the celebrations that happened in their township. Her father’s friends would be awaiting him and as soon as they saw him coming would lift him up and put him in the huge drum filled with water. Her tiny stature would find the drum really huge and thinking all the rest were out to harm her dad she would start bawling at a volume that would make every body wonder if that sound was really coming out of that tiny figure.

Her next recollection of the festival was when she was in primary school. The local bullies would start celebration a week ahead. Armed with water balloons they would await her and her friends at the bus stop where the school bus dropped them. It was a few minutes walk from the stop to her house. All the girls would huddle together one hiding behind the other to escape from the water balloon that came whizzing by from behind. By the time she reached home she would be half drenched and no amount of staring at the boys, who were otherwise friends the rest of the year, with angry eyes would have any effect on them. Thinking of the boys standing at the stop with bucket full of water balloons wearing a devilish grin on their face still made her shiver with fright.

Holi during the teens was fun. It was for this day all the local Romeos awaited with bated breath. This day gave them the chance to flirt openly with the girl they fancied and it must have been the only day in the year when the fathers of all the girls in the township developed a hawk’s eye. Another vivid image that the festival brought to her mind was the singing, dancing and revelry that happened as part of the celebration. The children got a chance to see the strictest of strict fathers let go of themselves.

The next day found all the kids in the school in different hues a remnant from the previous day’s colorful celebration. Gone were the carefree days of childhood only the nostalgia remaining as splashes of color that refused to fade away…  

The chilly wind condensed to tiny droplets on the window pane. As she lay in the bed the little girl within prodded her to get up and scribble her name on it. Some things from her childhood refused to part ways even after years had passed and only a frosty picture of the little girl remained in her. Even now while eating ice cream she had to lick the flap of the cup before delving into the real thing and that too with absolute precision which left not even a bit of it on the covering. Some thing felt amiss if that one action was not performed though at many times it had lead to heads turning in her direction but she always brushed the quizzical looks with a smile.

The thought of childhood brought to her, memories of her school days that could never be disassociated from the thoughts of her two close friends Sruti and Swapna. Sruti, the boldest of the three who dared to stand up against the bullies of the class to protect the rest. A bubbly and jovial person if not rubbed the wrong way, entertaining the rest was her forte. Spontaneous by nature she would act in a fraction of a second if any harm befell her friends. Capable of handling any tension even without letting her friends get a whiff of it made her the idol in Lakshmi’s eyes who did not even attempt to be like her because she knew it was beyond her capacity. Today, Sruti had climbed a long way in her career due to her own hard work, focus and grit. She had married Subodh after a fairy tale romance in college. Subodh who was quiet and shy found a perfect foil in Sruti. Her strength and moral support enabled him to achieve his dreams which would have been impossible without her presence in his life. Along with her career she managed the house, took care of his parents and none of the tensions of life passed on to the shoulders of Subodh. Amidst all this the desire to see little feet running around the house took a back seat as Subodh wanted some more time to stabilize his career. Sruti never complained because her desire to mother was satiated when she took care of the minutest needs of Subodh, his parents and of course her little puppy. It was a shock from which she took a long time to recover when the same Subodh told her he was not sure if he wanted to continue in the marriage with her. Sruti being who she was, asked him to leave the house the very same night. Next what she heard was he was getting married again. After Subodh left her she found solace in her work and never cared to marry again for she said she had lost faith in it.
 
Swapna, was the baby among the three. She loved to be pampered and protected. Her delicate built and soft voice would bring out the instinct to protect, in any one. She was Sruti’s and Lakshmi’s little baby. Even the tough Sruti could not bring herself to scold Swapna. Never one to pursue a career, she got married soon after her graduation. She had been in love with Kumar since her high school days. Being an orphan he had always told her he wanted to achieve something in life before he could ask her father for her hand. And one day he left for the big city. Swapna lost all touch with him but she always loved him and would tell her friends that he would come back one day to take her with him. He did come back. It was the day before her engagement with the boy whom her parents had selected for her. She did not have a reply when her father had asked her if she knew when Kumar would return. Her father made his intentions very clear when he said he could not wait indefinitely. The sudden appearance of Kumar on the day before her engagement prompted her to elope with him. Being the only daughter her parents forgave and forgot her action soon. As promised Kumar had indeed done very well for himself and was running a flourishing business in the big city. A few years later they were blessed with a baby boy. Swapna lived in the lap of luxury. She had everything she desired except time with her husband. His thirst to achieve newer heights in career never reached satiety and hence he had no time for his family. Whenever he found his wife sulking he would take her to a five star hotel for dinner or gift her with a rare diamond or buy her the costliest of dresses. In the beginning she endured everything but with the passage of time she could not take any more and one day she left him and went back to her parents. Even the thought of her son could not stop her from staying back. She left even before the little boy returned from school.

Lakshmi, was the dreamer of the three. Sruti admonished her for being a novice to the extent of doing harm to herself.. She could not see bad in any thing. She justified the actions of even those who hurt her badly. That caused more worry to Sruti because Lakshmi never allowed her to teach them a lesson. Lakshmi’s was also a love marriage. Rohit was her senior at college. They had started their company together after completing studies. It was Rohit’s idea that they should do something on their own and she had agreed. To her all that mattered in the world was his happiness. The initial days had been very tough. She had to shoulder the responsibilities of the house to let Rohit concentrate fully in his work. Many a time she had had to mother him when he came home tired. Even when she had to take care of the house, their baby daughter and be of support to Rohit, the thrill of being with him never diminished. Years later, even today when he walked into her room her heart would skip a beat. Some times she missed his company a lot but he always noticed it before she could voice it and would take her to the best restaurant for dinner. He always made it a point to buy her the best because he knew she would never buy one for herself on her own. She never cared for the costly gifts he brought her. It was the happiness on his face at such occasions that she treasured the most. She survived on it one may say.

At times she too had felt that she wanted to do something on her own, make an identity of her own in the modern sense but the happiness she gained from that was not even half as much as what she got when being there for Rohit and their daughter. So she knew somewhere within herself even if she took all the tensions of running a household on her shoulders and did not allow it to rub on to Rohit or if he brought her the best things that money could buy to make up for the time lost with her, neither would she be able to live without Rohit nor would Rohit be able to live without her.

It was a time her affair was on. An affair which went on and off. When on, she would be heart and soul into it and when off, no force in the world would be able to pull her out of the nadir she slipped into.

Being a person of extremes the concept of taking the middle path was a total stranger to her. Whatever she did was with full passion. And these days she was happy. Every thing was going fine. She had stars in her eyes. Those around her wondered what would have put that look there. She had a smile for all and a jauntiness in her gait. Any body could see she was in love and she did not deny it. Yes she was indeed in love with life as never before. All that happened around her interested her. She laughed spontaneously.

The hills lifted her spirits further more. The early morning chill did not stop her from flirting with the winding pathways that danced down the steep recline. Only with the vedic chant in her i- pod for company , she ran down the stone steps. On her way at some junction she met children wearing different coloured uniforms carrying bag full of books. Their liveliness rubbed on to her and she waved to them. The green hills were splashed with wild flowers in reds, yellows, blues and whites. Not being an enthusiast in gardening she passed by drinking in the beautiful sight. The chirping of the birds, teenaged girls clad in long skirts going about the daily chores, men wearing warm clothes and monkey caps on their heads cycling to work made her aware of the hills stirring to wakefulness.  The sun came by lazily pulled by the clouds as the little boy who was being dragged to school by his mother. The sun’s warm rays brought a flush on her cheeks. It felt good when interspersed with the light breeze. Some one helped her to gather a bunch of wild flowers from the hedge. Further down the road she saw women pulling out tender carrot singing to themselves some folk lore which she did not understand but liked the beat of it. She was reminded of the solitary reaper’s song. Suddenly her phone began to ring reminding her that she had come a long way and work was about to begin. Quickly retracing her steps she geared up mentally to face the day and the job that was awaiting her…..

She sat with her morning cup of coffee to read the papers. As was her habit always she began with the supplement sheet. A large red heart greeted her announcing the arrival of Valentine’s Day. Expecting to find some cute anecdotes of people young and old she began to read. All that met her eyes was articles by psychologists and psychiatrists dealing with why partners cheat each other or spy on each other and the various kinds of relationships that were in vogue these days. The fancy titles like ‘the cupid’s arrow that drew blood’ only made her more uncomfortable. The next page seemed to be worse for it featured how a jilted lover blackmailed his married girlfriend, followed by how a young man committed cold blooded murder to raise money to marry his lady love. Further down the page she came across the names of different types of relationships that were in vogue, some of which she found genuinely mind boggling. What she found very ironical was only a few hours back on the occasion of Shivrathri had she remembered a story she had heard as a kid. After having agreed to consume the poison that had emerged during the churning of the ocean, Lord Shiva was a little disturbed on seeing the unfazed face of his divine consort Parvathi. It is believed out of curiosity He had asked her if she was not worried about the fact that He was going to consume such a deadly poison as the one that had emerged from the ocean, a drop of which would be enough to destroy the whole world. Smiling at her Lord she replied thus, as long as she had faith in their relationship she was sure no harm would befall him.

Remembering the story had left her feeling good but on the day the whole world was celebrating love what met her eyes looked more like an elegy to love rather than its celebration.

 ”Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!”

 All she could wish for at that juncture was may peace reign on earth and may happiness dawn on all.  

The drive down the road was slow because of the snow. And she was in no hurry. The sun in his last lap of the journey had left a golden lining to the pine trees as a parting gift. She pulled to the side of the road. The pine trees and the horizon stood bathed in the yellow light. The branches laden with snow stood bent under their weight .They reminded her of a time long ago. The pine trees laden with snow standing bathed in the golden glow of the parting sun began to fade from her eyes. Her mind traveled back in time to a small hamlet that lay nestled among the blue mountains.

The little girl with pigtails rose from her bed with excitement written wide across her face. She ran to the wooden window. This had been her first action in the morning for the past one week. She was waiting for the tree in front of her window to rupture into the yellow blossoms that would hang down in clusters as if some one has allowed the golden beads to escape through the fingers. Her little hands would strain themselves through the wooden railings to gather a few palm full of the tender petals. Then the wooden steps would resound with the tinkling of her anklet clad little feet that would run to gather the soft palm leaf veins to which she would very carefully string the petals to form a waist band for Him…the one standing with his hands on his waist and the flute neatly tucked into his waist cloth wearing a mischievous smile in his eyes

These blossoms were special to her for her father had told her the story of their origin. Once He had gifted His golden waist band to a small boy who was a devotee of His. When accused of having stolen the ornament from His idol in the temple by the village folks, the little boy out of anger towards Him for having put him in to such a shameful situation had removed the gift from around his waist and thrown it at the tree standing near by to the temple The very next moment the tinkling beads of the waist band that had stuck to one of the branches of the tree turned into beautiful cluster of yellow blossoms that hung loosely down from them

Every year the months of March and April saw these trees covered in beautiful yellow blossoms and the girl with pigtails made waistbands out of it to adorn His waist.

When she woke up from her reverie the sun had long set and the pine trees with cluster of snow on their branches no longer had the golden lining to them. She got out of the car and walked towards the tree .She strained her hands to get a palm full of soft snow. The warmth of her palm caused it to melt slowly till it ceased to be. She knew the warmth of her love for Him would have turned them into yellow blossoms to be strung into the soft vein of the palm leaf held by little hands of a girl in pigtails who would turn them into a waist band that would lie snugly around His waist somewhere far away in a small hamlet nestled among the blue hills………

On one of their travels she met a person who described himself as a vagabond. He seemed to be a happy go lucky fellow with a beaming smile on his face. He traveled whenever he felt like and in which ever direction his heart commanded him to do so he told her that day. Yet she sensed something amiss in his eyes that she could not understand then. She had wondered what could he be missing? Any body would long for the type of life that he was leading. A life free from all bondages and a freedom that enables one to go anywhere one wished and at any time would be any body’s dream come true. But then as they sat exchanging views, looking at them he had said he was a vagabond because he did not have a family of his own like them.

That comment of his would have stuck in her mind some where because today years later when she was thinking of the concept of freedom those words of her vagabond friend came surging back to her mind. She wondered does the longing for freedom emerge from a sense of belonging? Without the sense of belonging does the happiness from freedom remain incomplete at some point? Had she sensed the longing for belonging in those eyes that day long ago? Was sense of belonging such an integral part of human psyche that even freedom from all bondage would leave you only partially happy?

In today’s world when all pined for freedom and personal space would the fulfillment of such a wish still want us to belong to some one or somewhere? Independence is beautiful but not without interdependence she concluded…….. 

Noon time and the sun was burning mercilessly overhead. The ladies of the house had retired for the siesta and the children were playing quietly indoors. The servants of the house were sitting in the backyard chewing betel leaves and catching up on the gossips in hushed tones that were making their rounds in the locality. The house was peaceful.

It was at such a time of the day that he appeared at the gates. The squeaking sound of the gate announced his arrival. Carrying a huge cloth bundle and eyes taking stock of all that was around, he walked up to the verandah of the house. Dusting the floor below, he placed the bundle there. Wiping his sweat covered brow and pulling the collar of his shirt backward he began to blow air on himself. Soon he saw the day’s paper lying on the table and began to fan himself with it. In answer to the questioning look on the face of the lady of the house whom he saw walking up to the door, he gave her one of his most bewitching smiles and asked for a glass of water as the sun was so hot outside. Seeing the motherly face soften, he quickly moved to unpack the bundle in the mean time sweeping aside her protestations of not wanting anything at that time. In a jovial tone he said that he wouldn’t charge her anything for looking at the wares he carried. So saying, he began to untie the knot on the bundle unhurriedly, thus arousing the curiosity of the bystanders. His purpose achieved he began to spread the beautiful Bengal cotton saris one after the other at a pace that would boggle any ordinary mortal mind. Whites and off whites and mauves and pistachio greens and a whole lot of pastel colors appeared like coolant to the eyes in the hot summer afternoon.

Studying the expression of pleasure on the face of the all those who stood around the now bundle of joy , he handed over a sari of different color to each of the ladies keeping their appearance, complexion and age in mind. He even coaxed them to wrap it around themselves to be convinced in person of what he had given them to be the most befitting one for each. Thus mesmerizing all those present there with his mannerisms, talk and not to forget his beautifully colored saris he made a whooping profit of a few hundreds.

To migrate all the way from native Bengal to a tiny village of Kerala, and with limited knowledge of the local language and geography of the place, to be able to sell the wares with such success as on that hot summer afternoon when any body would lose their cool was worth applauding. That day not only had his saris found a place in the cupboards of the Kerala household but he too had found a place in the hearts of the ladies of Malayali origin.Yes some one truly said distance is only geographical……  

Many nights had found her sitting alone in the terrace of her house lazily watching the star spangled sky, without any thing particular on her mind. Even without her realizing a little star came into the radar of her vision. What started as a chance acquaintance gradually took the form of a deep rapport between the two. Every night would find her eyes searching for her little friend among the other brightly shining stars and when they settled on it would bring a soft smile on her lips. This silent communication between the two became a routine of the night.

What ever may be her disposition, happy or sad, a little time spent with her friend went a long way in easing the tension within her. One night as she stepped on to the terrace her searching eyes met a cloudy sky. Not being able to see her friend made her think about it deeply. She realized the little star found reason for its existence in just shining away night after night. Whether anyone was impressed with it or not did not matter to it. It stood unfazed when some other star shone brighter than it. When the cloud cast a shadow over it preventing even the little light that it exuded from being visible, it did not shine less brightly or get dimmed. And yet it caught her attention from among the innumerable stars that lit the sky. It just shone as it could not do otherwise. This very simple reason was enough to take it forward and reason more than enough to endear it to her.

She thought of the hurdles that she met in her day to day life. At times even a small lack of acknowledgement would dry up the enthusiasm in her for the work. The fright of going unnoticed in the crowd would gnaw at her inner self. It would drive her to frustration and make her lose the very essence of what she was entrusted to do. And here was the little insignificant star which even though completely blocked from sight was sparkling with undiminished fervor from where it stood ,clouds or no clouds. She was sure when the clouds parted she would find the star there shining the same way as it had been all these nights.That night she learnt a new lesson and thanked her little friend for opening her eyes to sucha profound truth…..

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