Reveries unplugged

I am on the beach at Kanyakumari, with my parents and siblings. We drove down to this cape town and I am thrilled!. I can see the bright white sands of the beach and the waves in frothy white creamy layers lapping gently at the shore. This is Kanyakumari, the land of the beautiful Goddess in love, and this place has always intrigued me. More than the vast stretch of beach or the Vivekananda rock, I am fascinated by the tale of the Goddess residing here. I find it very romantic and a little sad to imagine the Goddess in all her beautiful bridal attire waiting for the Lord of the lords, Mahadev to wed her, but due to a prank played by Narada, the cock crows early, and Mahadev, thinking that the sacred hour of wedlock is past, retraces his steps back home. Goddess remains  on this island, her love remaining unrequited.  

I find this tale deeply moving and my heart goes out to this lovely Goddess. 

This island has always intrigued and fascinated me . I love watching the golden orb of the sun vanish into the seas, setting the sands aflame . The sands on the beach here are multi hued; legend has it that the Goddess threw away the turmeric and saffrons kept ready for the holy wedlock. 

The breeze tugs at my stray locks while I remain standing on the beach lost in my reveries. The sky turns deep purple and slowly the moon rises;I can smell the salty tang of the sea, and even though I feel elated at being here, I feel sad for the Goddess. We worship her at the temple, and the glitter and glow of her nose stud mesmerizes me.  As it shines brightly, I watch as if in a trance...

Mom wants me to retire to bed early but my sister and I want to do a bit of shopping. As we traverse down the beach, an insistent shopkeeper tries to sell me a hair band but I refuse. But his crestfallen face tugs at my heart as we walk away. And it continues to haunt me through the night!...

I wish i had bought that hair band...

the day dawns bright and fresh and we go out to the beach to watch the sun rise in all its magnificent glory. I am wearing a bright orange kurta and black pants to go with it; my hair is tied back with a scarf to keep my wayward hair in check.

My spirits soar as I watch the sunrise, and its beams ignite the waves and lend them a sparkle all on its own...  I know I wouldn't be returning here any time soon.. and i drink in the scenario wanting it to remain forever etched in memory.

My eyes scan the beach for the way side vendor.. but I do not find him anywhere. I finally settle for buying a hair band from another eager vendor and I console myself thinking that I had done my wee bit towards helping humanity. 

Its time to leave the island. As we board the car, my heart feels heavy. I feel immensely sad at leaving the beautiful Goddess alone on this island. As the car weaves its way through the beach side road, I glance out at the sparkling waves. . Each sparkling wave reminds me of the Goddess's resplendent diamond nose stud,and I feel that she is beckoning me to stay back and keep Her company.

' I will be back soon'- I assure Her in my mind...." and just You and me can take long walks along the moon washed beach at night, and i want you to tell me about your unrequited love...'

A gust of wind tugs at my scarf and a flower from nowhere, falls on to my lap.. 

I feel blessed, I knew the Goddess had acknowledged my deep love for Her.

' 

T

MONSOON REVERIES

Vidhu opened an eye and glanced lazily at the time on her mobile. It showed 6.45 AM. She turned her gaze towards the window and was surprised to see that it was still dark outside. She clambered out of bed and stood gazing out through the window. The tall apartment building that she could see from her window situated just half a kilometer away was not bathed in golden sunshine as it usually was. Instead, heavy dark monsoon clouds loomed low and large over the horizon. The vast vacant plot of land with verdant greenery spread out just below her apartment contrasted well with the dark clouds. Vidhu felt a sense of peace and calm settle over her.

Heavy monsoon showers over the past two days had made water collect in stagnant pools in the verdant green plot of land and Vidhu noticed a white stork winging gracefully in a lovely arc and swooping down to catch tiny fish from these stagnant pools. There were a lot of storks and herons who come back every year to make it their home during the monsoons. A few of them could be seen settling happily on to the backs of buffalos having a swim in the pools.

Vidhu made herself a piping hot cup of tea and settled down on the window sill to watch the birds and buffaloes, while casually turning the pages of the Sunday papers. She felt a kinship with the buffaloes, lazily grazing away with not a worry in the world. The entire day stretched ahead of her and she was undecided as to what she wanted to do the whole day. Half her mind craved for some fun and spontaneity. Vidhu moved towards her bookshelf lined with all her treasured collection of books by her favorite authors. She lovingly traced the outline of the well catalogued books with her fingers until it stopped at one titled’ The Night Train at Deoli’ by her favorite writer Ruskin Bond. She stood stock still as a seedling of an idea formed in her mind. Yes. Trains. That was what she wanted to do for the day. She decided to take a local train from Chetpet and go all the way up to the last station, meander around for a while, getting lost in the milling crowds and then come back home..

 Until just over a year ago, Vidhu had been working for a magazine at Adyar, and she had so loved commuting on the trains. She had loved the journey, taking in the essence and soul of the people who travelled with her, the sights and sounds, the vendors on the trains, all of them had been fodder for her writer’s soul. With her husband away on a business tour, Vidhu had the entire day to herself. With her mind made up, she quickly showered, changed into a baby pink salwar, grabbed her purse, mobile, glasses and her journal and made her way out.

As she approached the station, there was a loud clap of thunder, and it started to pour. Oops! In her hurry, she had forgotten her umbrella. ‘Was it a bad idea to have come out in this rain?’- she brushed the thought aside.

Vidhu waited patiently in the long meandering queue to get her tickets It was raining cats and dogs and she felt the cold seeping in to her soul and dampening her enthusiasm.

“Gosh! I am hungry, lonely and to top it all I have forgotten my umbrella too. Silly me’- she berated herself. The train chugged in to the station and with a resigned sigh she got in and thankfully found a window seat. It being Sunday and a rainy day at that, there weren’t many passengers, and that made her feel all the more alone and depressed.

As the train rattled along, the rain dwindled to a mere drizzle and her mood lifted slightly. But she realized with a jolt that she had missed her breakfast entirely and now she was ravenously hungry. She hoped that a vendor would come in at the next station selling fruits or her favorite butter biscuits.

As the train stopped at the next station, instead of a vendor, a tall, well built handsome young man sporting a white long sleeved shirt and blue jeans alighted on to the train. He strode purposefully to where she was seated and sat opposite her. He had a back pack straddled on his back, a camera, handicam, and a huge lunch bag. Vidhu felt a smile tug at her lips and she turned away and kept looking out of the window. From his backpack he took out a book, his mobile, a newspaper, and with just a nod in her direction he went on texting someone. A keen observer of human nature, Vidhu turned her focus on to the young man and started studying him surreptitiously.

All of a sudden he glanced up at her and smiled. Mildly taken aback, yet Vidhu smiled back. He resumed his texting. After a while, he took out a tightly rolled parcel from his bag and unpacked it. Vidhu noticed that there were rotis and homemade pickles which he attacked with gusto. She felt her mouth water, and could even feel her stomach growl. Feeling embarrassed, she turned away from him and kept staring out through the window.

“Care to have some of my home made rotis and pickle? My mom is an amazing cook’- the young man spoke to her with a smile.

She smiled back but politely declined. A moment later, he brandished an orange and peeled it. He handed her half of it and said,” Of course you can’t say No to an orange. It’s great for warding off colds in this weather’.

She found it immensely funny and biting back a laugh, she gracefully accepted the orange. Next, he unpacked crisp kakras, sprinkled peanut powder on them liberally and handed one to her.

“Oh no…  I don’t want these”- Vidhu exclaimed.

‘Come on… this is a North Indian delicacy. I am sure you would love to have some khakras in this weather. They are homemade ones. Please have some.”

Vidhu’s stomach took precedence over her mind and she found herself tucking in to the lovely khakras. Both of them shared a companionable silence while they ate.

‘I am a software engineer, but on weekends I pursue my passion, and that is photography. “- smilingly explained the young man.” I freelance quite a lot, and for a lot of travel magazines and blogs. I have my own blog too.’

Vidhu smiled back and introduced herself as a freelance writer and novelist in the making.

“Are you going someplace to meet someone? To write about them? I am sorry if I am being inquisitive”- the young man smiled apologetically.

“Well, I love commuting by these local trains, and travelling on them inspires me a lot and gives me ample material to weave into my writings’- explained Vidhu.

“‘Great... By the way, I am Naman. My wife is away at her home for her delivery. Felt bored being at home all alone and decided to come out with my equipment to capture pics for my next project, titled the Monsoon Reverie.”

“Wow! That’s fantastic. I am Vidhu . My husband too is away on a business tour and I too responded to my impulsive adventurous instinct.”- Vidhu felt an easy camaraderie developing between them both.

They continued talking about books and it was easy light hearted yet intelligent banter. An hour later, it was time for them to both get off the train.

“Well, I am getting off here. I t was nice meeting you’- smiled Naman.

“Me too. It has been fun. And thanks for the food. I was truly ravenous.”

“My pleasure. I just responded to your stomach’s rumbling for food”.

She looked up startled and noticed him sporting a mischievous smile.

She too chuckled happily.

“Well, I am gonna randomly walk around shooting pics. I have no special agenda in mind’- Naman

Do you need me to find you a cab to take you some place? - queried Naman

Vidhu hesitated-“Well, I had no agenda at all. Actually I too had thought of randomly roaming around the whole day, taking in sights and sounds and losing myself in anonymity.”

“Why don’t you join me for the day? You know, it sounds strange, we have just met, nut if you can trust me enough, we can both go around this place randomly shooting and observing. Your writer’s keen mind will help me spot god pics to be shot as well”- Naman looked expectantly at her.

“And…”- Naman drawled

Vidhu looked askance at him.

“Don’t worry about food. There’s enough food to feed an army in my back pack”. Vidhu burst into laughter at that and Naman grinned impishly.

The duo continued towards the exit in companionable silence.

Outside, Naman got busy with his camera. Thankfully the rain had abated for a while, even though the sky was heavily over cast.

In the little town of Chenkalpet, Naman went wild with his camera, shooting pics of cycle rickshaws plying slowly in the rain, children splashing themselves in the puddles, share cabs plying packed with passengers and making their way slowly in the already flooded streets. He shot pics of vendors selling hot cups of tea, coffee, and spicy bajjis crisp samosa, and masala peanuts. A remote and less travelled side street had a slowly ambling bullock cart making its way towards the main road, and the man inside was smoking a hookah, and Naman ‘s camera went crazy mopping up all these shots.

Vidhu found these interesting and immensely fascinating as he followed him around,. Nothing seemed to miss Naman’s keen eye; a flower blooming amidst a thicket with rain drops clinging to it thrilled them both. A shaft of sunlight streaming in through the branches of a tree at noon time; women clustered around a stove and gossiping while cooking fascinated him and they smiled shyly at him while he snapped up their pics.

“Whew…’

Naman and Vidhu plopped down on a bench in a way side park. Vidhu took out her journal and scribbled fast in her journal, eager not to miss out details of this amazing day. Naman meanwhile fiddled with his camera.

“I am hungry. I have some delicious mushroom fried rice, pappads and raita. Let’s tuck in. There’s a lot.  Mon still thinks I am a growing boy ‘- Naman unpacked the lunch bag and they shared the lovely delicious food between them. The wintry skies watched over them and send a refreshing breeze on its way, to cool them and Vidhu closed her eyes in absolute contentment.

“Now for a fruit. Catch”- Naman took out two apples from his backpack and threw one at her.. Vidhu caught it deftly and bit into the succulent fruit.

While they ate, Naman spoke about his family, his wife, mom, sister and Vidhu felt as if she had known them all along.

After a while he lapsed into silence and said, “You know something? The day has turned out fun and interesting, thanks to you. Just this morning I was hoping that something interesting and out of the blue would happen and it has!”

“Yes, for me too. If not for you, I would have taken the next train back home”- smiled Vidhu.

They cleared out their lunch and then strolled down lazily down random streets.

Near a small temple under a banyan tree, they spotted a kili jyotsiar, (an astrologer cum palmist with a parrot to assist him). Catching sight of them, he offered to read their palms. Naman brushed his request aside with a smile and wanted to just shot pics of him and his parrot. The fellow posed for Naman and he was even paid for posing for the pic.

They worshipped the banyan tree Ganesh and then Naman said-“It is nearly 4.30. Shall we have some tea and then catch the train back home?”

“Of course yes. I need to get back home before it gets too dark”- Vidhu agreed.

I t started drizzling mildly and immediately the pedestrians opened out their umbrellas. It was a colorful scenario with lots of umbrellas of different hues opening out and Naman went to work shooting pics.

They made their way to a cozy tea shop and ordered hot tea and plates of crisp masala dosas.

While they ate, Naman said,” You know, I am glad I followed my instincts. “

Vidhu concurred with a smile-“ I too was thinking on the same lines. If I had decided to stay at home, I would have missed out on this beautiful day. ‘

“Yes”- Naman smiled. ‘I read a lot and a book I had read recently says that whatever we ask of the Universe, it provides.”

Vidhu’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “I guess we both asked the Universe for some amazing fun and adventure”.

“Yes! You said it , and we got it”- Naman guffawed loudly.

They walked to the station, alighted on the train and for the rest of the journey back home, they caught up on discussing about books, music, and friendship and surprisingly they found that their interests matched.

“All good things come to an end”- sighed Vidhu as the train chugged into Chennai.

“Not necessarily. Here’s my card with my number. Let’s keep in touch Thank you Universe, for a great new friend”- smiled Naman as they shook hands and parted ways. Vidhu handed him her card too.

Naman helped her into a cab and as she settled back in it, Vidhu felt as light as the rain drops falling all around her outside.

“It pays to listen to your heart, to your instincts’- Vidhu smiled to herself.

Her mobile tinkled. She looked down and noticed a text from Naman. “Thanks for a beautiful day… and good things do not have to end.. It goes on..”

She texted back-yes, it goes on… forever..”

CHILDHOOD MEMORABILIA

Kovilpatti will always remain etched in my memory. Even after all these years, if I close my eyes, I am transported back to “Sivagnana Nilayam, 131, vakil street, Kovilpatti. It was my home for the first 8 years my life- a happy home in all respects.

It used to be tastefully decorated by Mom, and our tiny garden had a huge profusion of flowers in a riot of colors; purple, mauve, white and magenta bougainvillea dotted the place. In my mind’s eye, I am still the little girl of four, striding down the long corridor to the backyard, where there is a tall and lissome neem tree offering us plenty of shade. It was home to umpteen chirpy squirrels too .The entire backyard is strewn with tiny neem fruits.

Every evening, I used to wait in eagerness for my friend Nirmala residing next door to drop in. She used to be the color of warm chocolate with shiny bright eyes, and a winsome smile. Nimmi was one year older to me and she had started school while I was yet to be enrolled in school. “Tomorrow I have school that is why I came to play today’, she would say every evening. I never got around to asking her why she said that every day.  Dad had brought us both two tiny buckets, and our favorite pastime used to be collecting the maximum number of fallen neem fruits. They all were stored in our tiny buckets. Days later, after we had forgotten about these tiny fruits, inevitably Dad would find them in varied stages of putrefaction and he would throw them all out snorting disgustedly. Watching him do that made us collapse into giggles, and it only helped to infuriate him further.

Nirmala‘s mom was a very pretty and kind lady, who used to be great friends with my Mom. Mom too was fond of Nimmi, as we used to call Nirmala. Once, Mom bought us both identical dresses. Atop and a skirt, both in bright orange, with black and white flowers embroidered on them. Nimmi came home wearing it and I too scrambled away to wear it, and we posed for Nimmi’s Dad to click away pics of us both.

Unfortunately Dad never clicked pics of us both, so Nimmi, as we so fondly call her, is relegated to just fond memories.

Not a single evening passed without her dropping in to talk and play. Since she was slightly older than me, she took it upon herself to cuddle and baby me and I quite enjoyed the attention.

On birthdays we exchanged standard gifts of chocolate boxes with lovely pictures on them. More than the chocolate, we treasured the boxes. I still remember receiving a chocolate box with the picture of a skier on it, skiing down a snowy mountain slope.

Suppose I had one too many boxes, Dad used to take my permission to use the least liked of the lot to store his shaving set. I loved the fact that Dad dint take me for granted and used to seek my permission. Maybe he was teaching me basic good manners and the fact never to take anyone for granted by all these tiny acts.

My happy companionship days came to an abrupt stand still when Nimmi left us all suddenly. Her Dad, a bank officer, was transferred to another city. We bid them a tearful farewell, and since in those days, we had no Face book or mobile, to keep us connected, we just drifted apart. Mom used to walk down to their house and weep thinking of Nimmi. She wept harder when her eyes fell on a toy clockwork clown left behind by the little girl, and it was standing alone and forlorn behind closed doors.

After Nimmi left, the neem tree was my best friend and sole solace. Beneath the neem tree, grew large clusters of spinach plants and I used to pluck them for Mom to make tasty upperi.

I so used to look forward to the advent of the ghee lady. She would make herself available every month, and on her arrival, Mom would give her a stove and she would seat herself under the neem tree. I would squat beside her and watch her as she made lovely fragrant frothy golden hued ghee from the home made butter Mom gave her. Mom used to make homemade butter by pouring thick curd into Horlicks bottles and she would keep shaking the bottle continuously until the butter separated from the curd.

I never had any playmates after Nimmi left, so my evenings were spent watching my brother play ball badminton with his cronies.

By late evening, we pulled out chairs and settled ourselves down in the garden, amidst the lovely bougainvilleas. In those days, there were several hours of power cut in Tamil Nadu.  Dad bought us a transistor and we used to listen to ‘chalachitraganangal (Malayalam movie songs) while we waited for the power to resume. On full moon days, the garden used to be bathed in ethereal moon beams with a gentle breeze tugging at our long tresses. On some nights, we used to even sleep on the terrace, under a lovely blanket of stars.

Those were the days , when I knew so much of happiness, and nothing could mar the steady pace and rhythm of our lives. If only I could set back the clock…..