A STREET SPARKED FOODIE ANECDOTE

It’s been days since I penned down a post in my own blog… some other things took precedence over my writing. Excuses galore, and laziness added to it, and I refrained from doing what I love to do best.

Even though my days were spent in writing to various magazines and random scribbles in my journal, I somehow neglected my own kind of writing for quite a while. What sparked the story teller in me was a random visit on my way back from Malayali club to a way side street food stall. Hari and I had walked in to get some spicy potato chips to munch while watching a movie, when my eyes fell on spicy red coloured mouth-watering cauliflower Manchurians in bowls over the counter. 

It was not just the cauliflower Manchurians ,in fact it brought back a whole lot of memories of another time, another era perhaps, of several summers ago, when Ninjoo was still at school.

Time stood for me while my thoughts raced back to the days at Sangam apartments in Kilpauk. Hot summers were most welcome then, and we used to look forward to ice cream smoothies, mangoes galore, and of course, these cauliflower Manchurians. Back in those days, we used to have a little girl living in our apartment complex by the name Nagarathinam. I used to call her fondly Naga, and on most days, she was always with us, and she used to reluctantly go back home to sleep. She was as fond of us as we were of her, and she was like a little kid sister for Ninjoo. 

Since I was helping her with her studies, she used to be at my place from morning to evening on weekends and on holidays.  She was family for me and Ninjoo and every time we thought of ice creams, Ninjoo and Naga used to make a beeline for the nearest ice cream shop.  On the pretext of studying, hot summers were whiled away licking yummy ice cream smoothies and biting into luscious ripe mangoes. She used to love my potato stew and I used to call her to have lunch with us whenever I made potato stew. 

One of those days, we discovered these cauliflower Manchurians and a street vendor used to come near our apartment every evening by 8. Naga and Ninjoo used to have their eyes glued to the clock and as soon as it struck 8, they made a run for the door and were back in minutes with packets of these yummy cauliflower delicacies.

 Years whizzed past, we moved away from Sangam, Naga had to return to her home town Rajahmundry because of her mother’s sudden and unfortunate demise. But we still managed to keep in touch, although randomly.

 The little girl who was in the fifth when we were in Sangam is now a software engineer. She used to call me occasionally and just a few days ago, she called to say that her marriage had been solemnised. I was so very happy for her and even though we couldn’t attend her wedding, we decided to meet up in Chennai.

Hello, mam’- the shopkeeper’s voice brought me back to the present. As a tribute to my little Naga, and for Ninjoo and for a glorious summer at Sangam and for all our fond memories , I decided to buy these cauliflower delicacies. 

While penning this down, as though there is a telepathic connect, my phone pinged. It was a message from Naga.

‘Hi Auntie, I am at your home town with my husband Yashwant. We are proceeding to Munnar from Kochi. We decided to honeymoon at Kerala as a tribute to you, Auntie.’

My eyes welled up at these words… Naga, you alre always fondly remembered and cherished,, may you stay blessed….

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…..

GOING BACK IN TIME…..

It is late evening. Mom, Dad, my brother and I get into our Ambassador car. I look out through the window and to my delight, I see a star spangled sky..Not even an inch of the sky is left empty. It looks more like a Silver Star spangled carpet. Adorning it is the moon in all its glory, looming large. The moon is my friend. Somehow to my lonely 5 year old self, and to my vivid imagination, I always envisage a bunny rabbit snuggled well inside the moon. The bunny too is my buddy.

As my Dad drives, the moon seems to be following our car and I gaze at it in wide eyed wonder. As Dad drives out through the outskirts of the little town of Kovilpatti, towards an ancient hill temple nestled atop a nearby hillock, Kurumalai, I can hear Mom ranting on about my sister who is in a hostel at Nagercoil, pursuing her studies. Dad drives on silently. I watch my brother snoring away peacefully; it has been a long day for him at the school, what with NCC Camp, hockey practice and so on.

It is dark outside, except for the moon beams illumining our way. Dad drives on towards an unmanned railway station. This particular station holds a lot of mystery, intrigue and fear to my childlike mind. What if a train came hurtling by as we were about to cross the rails? I shuddered at the thought. Well, my dad is fearless and strong, he would guide us away from all danger, and my trusting mind assured me.

The breeze picks up speed as we drive up the brief yet steep hillock. I hug myself... brrr… it is very cold and chilly and the wind whips at us, as we tumble out of the car, my brother and I. Dad parks the car and we walk towards the ancient Shiva temple, that remains bathed in silvery moonlight. We come here every month on full moon day; the chief priest at this temple, the “siddhan” as mom calls him is treating her holistically to cure her of asthma which has been ravaging her thin frail body for ages. Thanks to him, to a large extent, the treatment has been successful and her asthma attacks have become few and far between. The siddhan combines faith healing, spirituality and naturopathy to treat several patients who come to him for remedy and solace.

Inside the temple precincts, I bow down to my favorite deity Lord Shiva. As the night deepens, the wind picks up velocity and blows hard, freezing and chilling me to my bones. A willowy, wisp of a kid that I am, I half expect to be blown down the hillock pretty soon. I imagine myself hurtling down the dark brooding hill, and an icy tendril of fear travels down my spine. My Mom gives me a nudge and I am broken out of my reverie.

Within the temple, on the right hand corner, there is a well with ice cold water and everyone is required to either bathe in this ice cold water or at the very least, wash the hands and feet with the water from the well .Dad draws up some water and beckons to me. I tenderly dip a finger into the bucket. OUCH! My brother pours some water over my legs and I howl and screech in protest.

My mom shushes me, and I look on in horror as a bevy of ladies walk briskly up to the well, draw up icy cold water and without batting an eyelid, and pour it over their heads!

The strident ringing of the temple bells has my attention diverted and I pray in obeisance and devotion. The whole temple is lined with camphor and they are all lit at the same time, and this exudes an aura of the whole temple being on fire. I feel awed and terrified at the same time, by the continued chiming of the huge temple bells and the lamps and camphor lines being all lit at the same time... I feel as if all my senses have been brought to a point of total awareness and my hair stands on end. The chilly wind continues its assault and I cow down behind Mom in fear and trepidation.

Some of the devotees sway in a rhythmic dance as the bells continues to chime and arathi is done. The fumes from the arathi assault my nostrils and I feel as if I would drown myself in the smoke and flames arising all around us. This is repeated at each sanctum sanctorum of the deities presiding in the temple, mainly in front of Lord Shiva’s and Goddess Parvathi’s. The noise ascends to a deafening crescendo as we approach the Goddess’s sanctorum. As I watch in wide eyed wonder, the full moon in all her glory comes in line with the abode of the Goddess and I can see Devi’s nose stud glittering in the dark.

Years later, I still remember and cherish the ethereal beauty and the tantric ambiance created by the Siddhan. Finally, it is time to go home. Mom takes consultation from the siddhan who gives her some dried herbs and twigs to partake daily, and also some prasadam   .Eyes heavy with sleep, we clamber back in to the car. I look out and I see the moon with its bunny inside smiling down cheerily at me, assuring me that it will follow me back home. I smile back and bid a silent good bye to the now silent hillock that is the abode of the Lord and His Divine Consort, and I am sure they would continue their cosmic dance in peace and solitude.

REVELATION- A SHORT STORY

Vanessa walked into the club house of her apartment .She was very new to the place, had just moved in, and this was her first residents meeting there. She looked around to see anyone she could befriend and her eyes alighted on a lady clad in a pink salwar. She smiled at her and the other lady smiled back hesitantly.

Being a naturally friendly person, Vanessa decided to sit next to the lady and try making friends with her.

“Hi, I am Vanessa; I am in B Block, 3 rd floor.”

“Hi, Iam Paddy, I too am in B block, but on the 4^th floor’.

They exchanged pleasantries, and they found out to their surprise that both their daughters had the same name. Paddy’s child was just in the 5^th while Vanessa’s was completing her Masters.

After introducing their husbands to each other, they promised to keep in touch and took leave after the meeting.

A week later, , Vanessa felt lonely waiting at home for her husband. Her daughter had been her best friend but now she was miles away at Pune and suddenly, while sitting at her desk at home, she felt very lonely and felt like reaching out to someone. Her new found buddy Paddy came to mind. They had exchanged numbers the other day and Vanessa decided to ping her.

Paddy answered on the second ring-“ah! Vanessa, I am a little busy right now, I will call you back in a while, let’s go veggie shopping’.

“Ok Paddy, let’s do that”- Vanessa smiled.

Slowly, as days rolled on, Vanessa and Paddy became good friends. Vanessa was a voracious reader, loved watching movies but Paddy just loved to talk, and talk she did, all the time, very loudly. It was mostly about her husband, her family and how she was very proud of the fact that her husband was a senior official in the UNO, and so on.

Even though Vanessa felt claustrophobic at times talking to Paddy, she kept her cool and was very tolerant about her.

Things came to a head one day when Paddy barged in on Vanessa.

“Van, you must come home, we have bought new furniture. And here’s some foreign shampoo for you. Iam sure you don’t get to have any foreign products to use since your hubby is in the media here”.

Even though Vanessa felt her temper rise, she managed to stave off sharp words in order not to offend her.

“Pads, I really don’t want these. My hubby has been travelling extensively on tours all over the world, and foreign goods do not hold any special allure for me”.

Paddy just smirked and walked off.

A week later, Paddy invited Vanessa out for lunch. While returning, Paddy asked-“How much does your hubby earn? I am sure he earns 2 lak per month. I just won’t allow my hubby to work in India. What do they pay here? Just a pittance. How can anyone live like this in India earning just 1 0r 2 laks? When we were married he was working for the CBI and it was me who pushed him off abroad.”

Vanessa was a patriotic soul and it hurt her sentiments to listen to Paddy. From then on, she devised excuses to avoid meeting Paddy. When Paddy asked her out, she politely declined.

One evening, Paddy dropped in at Vanessa‘s place. Over tea, Paddy opined,’ Vans, I have noticed that you are very careful in your spending.”

“Yes, I am, Paddy, I don’t believe in splurging and wasting money”.

“You know something, Vans, My brother also feels so. He is one happy soul who is content working for a pittance in India. He has a small flat that he owns, he is happy that his kid studies well, and he has a car. That‘s it. I asked him point blank, that once he retires, how is he gonna live? He might get his daughter married off with the money we throw at him but then what happens after that? I am happy that my hubby is working abroad and that I have enough and more to spend”.

Vanessa felt disgusted listening to this soliloquy. She felt that Paddy had stooped so low to be making such remarks about her own brother. Indeed, Vanessa knew Paddy’s brother was well settled in a good job right here in Chennai.

“Paddy, I don’t think you should be speaking about your brother that way. He has a good job, and he is well settled in life. Stop making derisive remarks about others.”

‘What derisive remark? Let me tell you, once he retires he won’t even have money to feed himself!”

Vanessa felt sick to her stomach, but thankfully, her hubby walked in and Paddy made her graceful exit.

Months passed by, and except for a cursory hello, Vanessa decided to stay clear of Paddy.

Once while discussing Paddy with her psychologist friend Ann, the latter was intrigued and wanted to meet Paddy. Since Ann was dropping in to have lunch at home the next day, Vanessa promised to take her to Paddy’s place.

The next day, before Ann dropped by, Vanessa rang Paddy on her mobile.

“Hi Pads, how are you? I have a friend who is dropping in for lunch... Why don’t you join us too?”

“Hmm.. no Vans, I don’t think I will.. I am busy’.

“Ok, if you are busy, can I bring her over to your place? After lunch?”

“Ok, do come’.

After a fruitful afternoon of chatting, laughing and having lunch, Ann and Vanessa decided to drop in at Paddy’s place.

Paddy welcomed them warmly. Once seated, Paddy asked Ann, “So, tell me about your hubby. What does he do?”

Ann was amused by her question and with a smile curling at her lips, replied,’ Paddy, ask me first about myself. I am a psychologist. My hubby is a film director.”

Paddy’s face flushed in excitement.” Wow! Vans, you never told me that your friend’s hubby is a film director! I would have definitely come to your place for lunch”.

Noticing how shallow Paddy could be, after the initial pleasantries, they took leave.

“Well, what do you think of her?’ – asked Vanessa.

“Isn’t it obvious? She is pretty shallow. I just hope that life doesn’t hand out a blow to teach her a lesson”.

Months later, Vanessa got a call from Siba, a neighbor and a common friend.

“Vanessa, did you know? Paddy’s hubby had a cerebral hemorrhage and is critically ill and in ICU”.

Vanessa was shocked. Paddy’s husband is a truly nice person with no airs or attitude, a down to earth, good human being.

 She frantically dialed Paddy’s number but it kept ringing. Early next morning, she rang again, and this time, it was Paddy’s brother on the line.

‘What happened to Paddy’s husband Jo? I just came to know yesterday.”

Her brother replied in somber tones-“Jo was returning to Chennai from Kerala when he had a stroke on the train. He has been hospitalized unconscious for over a week. Doctors have given him just 1 percent chance of survival. He has been placed on the ventilator.”

It was a sad day for everyone at the apartment, especially for Vanessa and her family. However shallow Paddy had been, her husband Jo had been great friends with both Vanessa and her husband Harry. They had shared moments of great camaraderie

Vanessa refused to believe that Jo would not survive and for the entire day and night, she spent in prayers. She spoke to her sister and all those who had known Paddy and Jo and asked them to fervently pray for Jo.

Vanessa got up very early  the next day and with great trepidation, called Paddy’s brother.

“He has been taken off the ventilator. It’s nothing short of a miracle, but the worst is over. Now we just have to wait patiently for him to recover and regain all his faculties”- Paddy’s brother informed Vanessa.

She felt weak with relief. Every day, she continued to pray for Paddy’s family and for the two young children of hers. Every week she diligently called Paddy’s brother and asked about Jo. He was indeed on the road to recovery.

Months after Jo was discharged from the hospital, Paddy dropped in at Vanessa’s place.

On seeing Paddy, Vanessa rushed to hug her and Paddy collapsed crying into her arms.

“Vans, I have learnt my lesson, a very hard lesson; remember how I used to look down on others? On my brother? Now he is my sole pillar of strength. Jo can’t work for at least two years, and after that, God knows... But I am happy; it’s my brother and mom who are supporting me. I have realized that life is not about earning in laks, it’s the quality of life that we should uphold.

I knew you used to disapprove of me at times, when I used to say all that, but I used to think I was above all of you. I’m partly to blame for Jo’s illness. Despite knowing that he had high BP, I neglected his health and was focused only on him working and earning a fat pay packet abroad. Now I just want him to recover and be normal again. I don’t even care what happens to my kids; whether they learn and get good jobs or anything.” – Paddy kept sobbing

Vanessa‘s heart went out to Paddy and hugging her, made her a cup of hot tea. Then she made Paddy sit down beside her and said-‘Pads, stop blaming yourself. Just be grateful that Jo is on his road to recovery. He will be fine in no time. As a mom, as a wife, you need to be strong. For your Jo. You need to motivate your kids, be there for them and see to it that they excel in studies and in life. Years later, when Jo is fine again, he will be proud of you for having been supportive and caring and inspiring in these trying times.”

Pads was silent for a while, then with tears in her eyes she hugged Vanessa and said’ Yes, Vans, I promise, I promise to do just that. Thanks for being there for me.”

Vanessa hugged her in return and said, ‘I am always there for you dear”.

by

Valsala Menon

RENEWED HOPE- A SHORT STORY

Valsala Menon

Vibha stood by the window fiddling on her sari. She was in a daze, thinking back to her luncheon with her old school mate Jyothi.

Vibha had found her long lost best friend from school Jyothi on Face book, and immediately they had connected, exchanged numbers and promised to meet. Surprisingly enough, Jyothi was in the same city as she was, and they  had arranged to meet up the very next day for lunch.

Vibha had dressed in a simple yet graceful kurti and jeans and had arrived early to meet Jyothi at her favorite eat out in the city.

“Wow! Vibha, you seem to grow gorgeous with age! “– smiled Jyothi as she hugged Vibha. Jyothi had trooped in unobserved and had given her a shock by exclaiming thus.

Vibha smiled back placidly; Jyothi looked the same, but over the years, her graceful slender figure had rounded out and she looked every bit a motherly matron, even though she still displayed a grace and elegance in her style. After exchanging pleasantries, both of them launched into animated conversation, catching up with all the news over the years. Jyothi had given up teaching to be a full time wife and mom, and while Vibha had held down several jobs, she was yet to catch up on her dream….

As Vibha gently tasted her dessert, she caught Jyothi looking wistfully at her.” Vibha, do you realize how pretty you are? More pretty than you were back at college; your eyes still have the same sparkle and your face radiates the same innocence.”

Much to Jyothi’s horror, Vibha‘s lovely eyes welled up in tears.

“What happened, Vibha? Did I say something wrong? “

“No Jyothi, let’s go, I need to get back home.”

They paid their bill and walked back home in silence. “I will call you in a while, Jyothi, please, I am upset. You know I have never been pretty; you are just being kind to me. Please don’t be. I know what I am. “

Jyothi looked at her in surprise.” Vibha, don’t tell me that even after all these years, you haven’t gotten over what your mom said long back!”

Vibha couldn’t speak, she knew that if she continued to linger, she would break down in loud sobs. She just hailed down a nearby cab and got into it and hurried away, leaving Jyothi standing at the kerb.

Vibha got back home and cried her heart out.

It was all because of her mother. Her thoughts went back to the day when she was  13 years old. She had just got back from school and noticed that her mom was busy folding a brand new silk sari.

“Wow! Whose is that? Amma, is it yours? New sari?”- Vibha asked in wide eyed innocence.

“No, not mine; Shubha is getting married, right? Lakshmi Aunty brought it for her.” Vibha‘s sister Shubha was engaged to be married. There was an 11 year gap between the sisters, and while Vibha was a thin and gawky teenager, Shubha was in the prime of her youth and considered the ‘beauty’ of the family. Lakshmi, her mom’s aunt had just gifted Shubha with a lovely Kanchipuram sari.

“Oh! Why dint Lakshmi aunty bring me something too? She always does.”- pouted Vibha.

“Why on earth should Lakshmi aunty get you anything at all? Do you deserve anything? Look at you! Scrawny rat! Compared to Shubha, you are nothing! She is so pretty, while you look like a scrawny spider!”

Vibha stood rooted to the spot, shocked beyond measure. She gazed at herself in the mirror, and found her mom to be true. Yes, she was all angles, while her lovely sister was curvaceous and graceful. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wept her heart out.

It was only to her best friend Jyothi did she confide about her mom, and her very unkind remark.

Years later, Vibha had grown into a slender graceful woman, with lovely dark eyes and a beatific smile, but her mother’s words continued to mar and blind her vision to the truth. She continued through college without ever allowing herself to fall in love. She had internalized her mother’s opinion and continued to live through it.

Vibha got married eventually to a journalist, and she too was a gifted writer. It was her pet dream to be a recognized writer of renown and pen down her own novels but something kept holding her back from accomplishing her dream.

Jyothi did not contact her over the weekend. On Monday morning, Vibha had a call from Jyothi.

“Vibha, I am coming over. We need to talk”.

At 11, her doorbell rang and Vibha smilingly opened the door to her best friend.

“Get dressed. We are going out”- Jyothi

“Where to?”-queried Vibha in surprise.

“Hmm, to exorcise some of your ghosts. Come on, hurry up… I am gonna take you to a friend of mine.”

Jyothi gave no time for Vibha to protest. She bundled her into her car and drove down to Jyothi’s friend Anita’s place.

“Anita is a clinical psychologist, Vibha, and a close friend of mine. I have spoken to her about you, and how you need to get over your mother’s comments long back. It’s hampering you, Vibha.”- Jyoti

Vibha felt suddenly light and relieved at the same time. She had needed help but now she was happy that her best friend had initiated the process.

 Anita looked just like anybody’s friendly neighbor, and after serving cups of hot tea, Anita invited Vibha to her room.

“Vibha, you seem to  be a very nice person. Jyothi told me that it’s your greatest dream to be a writer. I know too that you have enrolled for a creative writing course with a foreign university. Tell me, I am your friend. Shall we talk? Just think of me as a friend and keep talking.”

Anita gazed at Vibha with so much compassion and understanding, that Vibha could hardly prevent her tears from flowing unhindered. All her pent up feelings and frustration and the layers of hurt that had accumulated deep within her as a child welled up  in tears and amidst crying, she managed to talk and let the past flow out of her .

After an hour, Anita smiled down at her kindly.

“Vibha, you need to bury the past. For your own good, forgive your mom and let go. I know that it was a very unkind and thoughtless remark that your mom made, , but internalizing it has prevented you from growing as a person, as a writer. I know you write well, I have read several of your blog posts on FB. Jyothi sent me the link. What you need to do, is to get to work on your self esteem. Believe that you do not need any body’s approval. All the approval you need is from yourself.

Remember, you are not the thin gawky teenager you were so many years ago. Now you are a matured and graceful young woman, with a family of your own. Next time someone compliments you, accept it. Just say, Thank you.

Now I want you to write your mom’s hurtful comments on a piece of paper and before you leave this place, burn that piece of paper.  Let go. Forgive your Mom as the paper burns

Go home, and work on your writing. Believe in your heart that you are born to be a great novelist. Good luck”- Anita hugged her while seeing Vibha off

Vibha made up her mind to do as she was instructed and for the first time in years, she felt light. Jyothi drove her back to her apartment, and while getting out, Vibha hugged Jyothi and whispered a tearful ‘thank you”.

“Don’t thank me, pretty lady, go work on your dreams. Let me see your short story in print”- grinned Jyothi.

Vibha smiled back happily and Jyothi drove back home feeling relieved that Vibha was on the right track after all. She was letting go of those hurtful comments.

Two months later, Jyothi received a call. It was from Vibha.

“Jyothi, can you believe this? I am getting my first book of short stories published, by Random House.!And one of my short stories has been selected for the Chicken Soup series.” Vibha’s voice displayed her emotions.

“Wow! Great news Vibha! I am so happy for you. Let’s celebrate. I am coming right over”

Vibha was waiting with her husband at the gates of the apartment, as Jyothi drove down. She got down and hugged Vibha.

“I have dedicated my book to you, Jyothi. If not for you, I wouldn’t have penned all this down “- happy tears glistened in Vibha’s eyes, and it was all Jyothi could do to hug her tightly.

Vibha was now truly flying high on the wings of self confidence and renewed hope.