by Anupama Krishnakumar
[box] Certain little joys in life are irreplacable. Anupama Krishnakumar pens five such short stories hinging on the theme of fun and weaves in the five elements of nature namely, Water, Sky, Fire, Wind and Earth as the backdrop for each of the five stories. [/box]Radhika : Water
When Radhika, who was back home for her vacation, entered her little haven, she was dressed in a way that would qualify to be called ‘a pretty picture’ back in Ahmedabad. But, not here in Srirangam, where her parents lived. She wore a white V-necked, short sleeved T-shirt, a scarf that laughed out in rainbow colours and a pair of straight fit blue jeans, that earned an instant disapproving look from her mother. Radhika just knew what it meant. She went to the backyard, washed her feet and hands, came and hugged her mother from behind. Her not-so-pleased mother asked her MBA-studying daughter to get out of that ‘thing’ that she was wearing.
And soon, transformation happened.
The coolers came off, the loosely bound hair was oiled in a jiffy and she was packed off to have a bath. A bath complete with shikakhai (homemade that too! Not those synthetic types available in markets!) and turmeric. Pretty soon, a round, red bindhi made its way to the point in between those well-shaped, arched eyebrows. The thoroughly-dried hair was braided into a loose single plait. A string of beautiful jasmine adorned it a minute later.
The trendy, light-weight, copper-coloured, circular earrings that were earlier dangling off her ears were replaced by a pair of diamond studs and pearl jimukkis. Four golden bangles, two in each of the hands replaced the funky bracelet on her right hand and the Fastrack watch she had worn on her left. After all this change, the attire transformation Radhika went through is anyone’s easy guess. Yes, her mother handed over a traditional green and red half-sari. Looking at herself, Radhika wondered if she would be written off as a total stranger just in case anyone from Ahmedabad saw her now.
Yet she loved this – this entire ritual of sinking into the traditional depths of her existence. It gave her a feeling that she was returning to her roots, of belonging to where she really did. Even as she was thinking, the happiest part of her makeover just arrived. The anklets – the silver, jingly ones! She just loved them! They were in total contrast to the strung-bead types she wore at college.
Just as her mother was trying to put the silver ones on, she noticed the toe rings on her daughter’s toes. These were new additions! Radhika’s mother was aghast! What all do you people do in the name of fashion? Now get that off your feet, she almost shouted. You aren’t even married and that too, singular toe rings? Oh God! You are not supposed to wear toe rings like that!
If you are wondering how Radhika, daughter of such an orthodox mother went to Ahmedabad to study, well, it’s a different story altogether! Why even think about it now? Well, to cut a long story short, it was about emotional blackmail and one mighty big thing called destiny! It had to happen.
Radhika loved to do two things when she came home on vacation. One, visit the temple and two, spend time with Kaveri, the river, her childhood companion, and in many ways a close representation of her core self. Radhika had always played little games with the river as a child – throwing pebbles into the waters and laughing at the ripples, imagining them to be the lines on the face of an effervescent, smiling river. She had spoken to her at times of distress – voicing out her concerns. And she loved the way the river soothed her as she put her feet slowly into the watery folds of a caring friend. The water as it flowed would gently caress Radhika’s feet soothing her divinely and letting her anklets jingle a little. Ah, the thrills of river tickles! Priceless. Sometimes she would just sit and watch the river flow by and let her thoughts wander before finally settling on one thought – mostly the decisive thought that would chart her course of action. And, she loved to believe that the river had played that perfect listener, providing just the right sort of calming ambience to let her think – think clearly.
So, off she went, even this time, after all that celebrated makeover and a visit to the temple, to meet her dear Kaveri; and there she was, waiting as ever, with her arms outstretched, and so full of love. And, as Radhika put her feet into the water after slowly lifting her green skirt, the river did just what she used to all those years – give her friend the tickles.
Radhika was overjoyed. What a beautiful sort of fun it was!
Sulochana : Sky
Sulochana was thrilled.
Not because the guy who lived next door and worked as a peon in what Sulochana thought some ‘God-Knows-What’ office smiled at her. He smiled at her everyday and she was least interested in reciprocating his subtle display of ‘love interest’. Sulochana knew she was pretty. Her mother may be a housemaid and her dad a mighty useless drunkard, but in place of penny she had beauty. She was dark but had big, bright, beautiful and expressive eyes and lovely long, black hair.
Even Mrs. Kapoor had been making that remark constantly for the past fifteen years.
Oh, has it been that long, Sulochana wondered, that long since she and her parents moved to Bombay, that long since her mother who began as a construction worker and due to some ‘important reference’ took up the job as a servant at the Kapoors’ residence? So long since she had been living on the hand-me-downs from the Kapoors? Their only daughter, Shreya, was two years elder to Sulochana and all that Shreya had worn to tatters and had read to shreds and re-used to bits were all handed down without a second thought to Sulochana. Sulochana hated it. To the best of her knowledge, she had never, ever enjoyed anything that came first hand. Worse still, her parents stopped sending her to school once she was thirteen and since then she had been assisting her mother with her chores at the Kapoors. While Shreya was now completing graduation!
Sulochana knew it was pointless comparison. Yet, it somehow hung on inside her that self pity was often the fire that would drive her to better her life, her existence. She always felt that she deserved something better!
So, Sulochana was thrilled. Again, not because that peon smiled at her. But because, she was going to be alone at home that day. Alone at the Kapoors’ residence, to be more precise. And, she had plans!
The Kapoors were off to Delhi to celebrate their only daughter’s engagement to the son of a rich industrialist in the city. Sulochana and her mother were supposed to do up the house and keep everything ready for the post-engagement party the next day. As luck would have it, Sulochana’s mother fell sick.
And so off went Sulochana, to manage things on her own. The security at the house let her in without any fuss, handed over the keys to the house. The gardener was at work and half an hour after Sulochana went in, the cook came over with a huge bag of groceries. She deposited them in the fridge and left. The gardener left after a while too.
Sulochana began with the hall, dusting the curtains, furniture and setting everything in place. She brought out the vacuum cleaner and dusted the carpet. She then washed up the vessels and stacked them up neatly. She brought out the entire dining cutlery, cleaned them and arranged them carefully on the dining table.
She was tired. And that’s when she decided to do something – unfurl her plan. She went and bolted the main door and hesitantly walked towards Shreya’s bedroom. The room still smelt of the perfume that Shreya had generously splashed over herself. The room was a total mess. Sulochana went in and gently closed the door.
She pressed the mattress first and ran her hands over the spread. It was so soft. She lifted her legs and stretched herself on the bed. Oh, how remarkably comfortable it was. She lay still for a moment and in an instant, began rolling like a woman mad with happiness, mad with a new found sense of freedom! She stood up and jumped up and down on the bed. Ran to the window and picked up three big teddy bears and threw them around. She stood before the mirror and admired herself. Didn’t she look even more beautiful in this dazzling mirror of the rich?
And that’s when it struck her. The vision of that bright yellow and pink floral skirt! Shreya’s skirt that she had so admired when that lady had worn it on her birthday. How much she had adored it and craved for such a skirt for herself! Guilt tugged at her heart strings but it left as quietly as it came, like a frail, passing cloud.
The next moment the cupboard was opened and out came the floral skirt. In a few minutes, Sulochana stood before the mirror, dressed in her dream skirt, smiling widely and admiring herself as if she was the eighth wonder of the world! Ah, the fun of being rich! She put on those dangling earrings that lay carelessly on the table and tried on a lipstick. Didn’t she look gorgeous?
Elated she ran up the stairs inside the house, up to the terrace, holding on to the stole hanging around her neck. She loved being in the moment; she was overjoyed at this God-sent opportunity of soaking in affluence. She carelessly took out the stole and threw it up and the gentle breeze carried it along – like a bright symbol of momentary happiness, against the cool blue sky.
Antara : Fire
Diwali. Antara, like every other child of her age, loved it for the crackers. It was the same this time too. Every time the traditional sparkler came to life with a crackling sound at the touch of the candle flame, Antara’s heart leapt up in joy. Dad always got her the long ones lest she would hurt herself. And so, as the entire street celebrated the joy that the festival of lights brought about, Antara walked, carefully holding the sizzling sparkler, towards a flower pot that stood firmly on the ground, waiting like a proud army man to live up to its destiny – of spurting out blue, white and yellow sparks – before finally burning down, just to bring joy to someone’s heart. The first ever flower pot lit during every Diwali was a moment pregnant with tension and curiosity for Antara. It spoke of the anxiety that came with the gap that existed between two Diwalis. And this time, as the delightfully colourful sparks of the first of the flower pots burst forth with an uproar, Antara loved it! Diwali was such fun!
In between those dying sparks that fell to the ground, Antara caught two pairs of eager eyes looking inside through the grilles of the gate. Poor kids watching the richer ones bursting crackers, thought the 12-year old, it didn’t stop with the movies. She called out to her Dad and pointed towards the gate. Go ahead, said Dad. Antara ran towards the gate and opened it and signaled the children to come in.
The two of them looked hesitant and turning away, started walking to the other side. Yet, children they were, weren’t they? In a split second, desire overtook hesitation and they turned. Antara let them in as they walked over. She handed them five flower pots each and a box of sparklers. They looked at her and beamed a big smile and as Antara looked into their eyes, she realized that they sparkled with a happiness that would put even the brightest of the Diwali sparklers to shame.
Vinu : Wind
At 21, Vinu was still single. The thought irritated her. Aren’t you seeing anyone? Her friends and acquaintances had asked her enough, each of them sounding so dumbstruck as if a Tsunami had just hit their city. Deep inside her, she tried hard to muffle down the buzzing noise of a strange longing – of being attached to someone, of ‘seeing someone’.
Don’t ask why she didn’t find that perfect someone. He just didn’t come her way. Not till a week back. When Vinu joined her new office in Bangalore, little did she know that Cupid would strike her. Little did she know that the same Cupid would strike him too.
And boy, he was quite quick! He had asked her for a date on Friday! Well, not surprisingly, she readily agreed! Dinner at the Bamboo Shoots on Museum Road and then Dessert at the Corner House in TGIF on Saturday. That would give them some time to travel on the bike like a couple in love! Vinu prided herself for this marvelous suggestion she gave, though she was not sure if he knew her actual intent.
That Friday night, Vinu walked up and down in her hostel room, in her pink satin night dress. She almost felt like a Hindi movie heroine and even tried to see if she could catch a glimpse of the moon and a drifting cloud and feel a cool breeze that would gently ruffle her hair, as she hugged her pillow and tried to bring the expression that heroines brought on their faces in a move to combine blushing with pillow hugging. You know the sort of expression that drew lines on their faces, as if someone had just pulled an invisible string running around their head that can be pulled near the ears.
Would he propose to her tomorrow? How would she react? Should she say yes immediately or ask for time, trying to act mature? Gosh, what would she do! The entire night she closed her eyes and tried on different dresses in the realms of her imagination. Finally, at 8 in the morning, as the sun broke into her room through the window, she decided that she would leave her hair loose, among other such specific details she had worked out, including the bright pink nail polish.
Saturday arrived. Sweet corn soup happened. Fried rice happened. Potato wedges in tomato sauce happened. Well then, the famed DBC, Death By Chocolate also happened!
And soon, as they headed towards the hostel, the wind that pierced through her hair and kissed her face did some magic. The hormones began to do wonders. She thought she was on a high; wished life could freeze that very moment. And when he hit the brakes on a lousy road with terrible bumps, a boon indeed for lovers, she slid down on the bike’s seat from where she sat, over that little gap that they consciously maintained, and let out an ‘Oh my God’ and held on to him as she pressed her pink nail-polished fingers into the black jacket that he wore. God, so filmy! This was turning out to be more filmy than she had expected. And, not to mention, so much fun! Even that silence that stood like ice between them, when he dropped her near the hostel gate, it was like she was in a dream! And then the clouds passed, the moon shone bright and the wind ruffled her hair.
He held her hands and called her cute. Asked her if she would be his. And that’s when Vinu realized this. That the actual moment of love cannot be mimicked. It couldn’t be like what films showed them to be. This moment was real. The reaction would be pure, uncorrupted, unplanned, drawn from the deepest insides of one’s self, not a comic imitation.
Her eyes gleamed as she looked into his. She held on to his hands and said yes, instantly lowering her eyes. Then, there was a gentle breeze.
Sharadha : Earth
Sharadha could not wait anymore. She had waited enough for this day to arrive. This day, when her younger sister, Supraja, would come down. It was Navrathri. It brought back memories of their childhood when they had been fortunate enough to be together, only that they didn’t realize back then that all this would pass.
Earth was always a part of each Navrathri. Mud found its way into the ‘Golu’ (the traditional arrangement of dolls in odd-numbered steps) in the form of a park, or a zoo, or a cricket match, or a temple procession or Rasa Lila! What’s life without the earth? Sharadha smiled at the thought of how she and her sister would go to homes of neighbours and relatives in bright coloured pattu pavadais (silk skirts) with well-oiled and jasmine adorned double plaits, singing the same set of songs, and coming back with packets of yummy ‘sundal’ – the real specialty of Navrathri! Of course, Saraswati Puja was fun, for it meant not studying for one whole day! They would act, quite amusingly, as if studying that day would amount to attracting the wrath of Goddess Saraswati!
Ah, the thread of transformation that ran through all those years! Soon, they got married. They would meet once in a while but Navrathri was still special. The childish flavor of the festival now belonged to their little children. What a wonderful thing that history repeated itself! Sharadha and Supraja’s kids did the same things they did as children – only that they began singing film songs too! It was they who decided what the earth of the Golu would support every year!
This time Navrathri was even more special. Sharadha’s eyes grew moist. Years had indeed rolled by. She and Supraja were now grandmothers. Supraja was coming this time with her family and more importantly, her little granddaughter, all of nine months. And Sharadha’s five-year old granddaughter and three-year-old grandson couldn’t wait!
And when they arrived, the get together was beautiful and laughter and joy filled the air! While the kids played and the daughters-in-law spoke and the men chatted away, the sisters stood holding each other’s hands and looking at the Golu. This time, there was a temple, a big family praying and of course, mud.
Pic :
joysaphine – http://www.flickr.com/photos/joysaphine/
sayan – http://www.flickr.com/photos/sayan51/
mellissa – http://www.flickr.com/photos/ladytaz/
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