by Vani Viswanathan
[box]Mrs. Ramachandran lived a quiet, unassuming life until Judy Fleming from the UK came into make a difference. Find out what happened in this story by Vani Viswanathan.[/box]Sitting with a stinging mash of fruits on her face, Shyamala shifted on her chair uncomfortably. Her head angled in a strange fashion, she felt weird to have her feet scrubbed vigorously by someone who ‘tsk’ed every time she fidgeted (she was ticklish; didn’t they understand?). Beyond everything, what contributed to the weirdness though, was her very presence in this place, smelling of mixed scents, women scurrying about, the dampness in the air-conditioning. What was she, Shyamala Ramachan-dran, wife of the Head of Department (HOD) for Physics at the town university, doing here??
The answer is, well, fairly complex, and took the au-thor a fair bit of snooping around and careful observation. You see, Mr. Ramachandran, as the head of the Physics department, had a nice, beautiful house, maintained, pruned and manicured lovingly by Mrs. Ramachandran, who willingly agreed to stay at home and devote her energies to keeping her husband happy in all ways possible, despite her own M.Sc. in Chemistry which could have taken her further had she wished. But no complaints she had, she was set in her role of playing the dutiful wife to the big man.
Now as HOD, Mr. Ramachandran would have to frequently host a number of dignitaries. Other geniuses from Indian schools of technology and science. Scientists, donors who would throw a few hundred thousands to help him buy lab equipment for the Physics department, lecturers from overseas. Since he had such a well-maintained house, and add to that a committed, uncomplaining wife, his house was the first option given to these dignitaries to stay while they were visiting the university. The allure was especially strong for the overseas visitors – Mr.Ramachandran pitched his house as the perfect venue to get the quintessential Tamil Brahmin experience. Now, you may wonder why foreigners might be lured by that description or why they would even care, but well, there are some to whom experiencing anything authentic was a very important feature of their trip to any ‘third world’ country. We would have loved it if they had other ‘cultures’ to see too, but with Mr. Ramachandran as the HOD – and you should know this about him, he is a very, very tenacious person – he snapped the guests up even before the Vice Chancellor could come in with his promise of an authentic Chettinad experience in his house, complete with the wooden pillars and courtyard.
You ask what all this has to do with Mrs. Ramachandran in the parlour? If you think it was one of her regular visits before a foreign dignitary arrived, you are much mistaken. For, Mrs. Ramachandran prided herself on being untouched by these ‘Western’ influ-ences; she was still gung-ho about not needing to use deodorant and happy with her use of besan powder rather than soap or turmeric to brighten her face, or the bright red dot she put on her forehead with kumkum rather than a sticker that most women use these days. Now again, if you think she looked like an image of Kali from an obscenely-animated Tamil movie, you are much mistaken, again. For, Mrs. Ramachandran made you want to stand up as soon as she enters the room, in respect and in awe of her sparkling beauty. I kid you not, her face shines, notwithstanding the two diamond mookuthis (nose studs) that shine brightly from either side of her nose. You know what they mean when they say ‘she has a tejas about her?’ I can be quite sure that the person dreamt of a face like Mrs. Ramachandran’s when she or he came up with it.
So now that you know what kind of a person she is, you might be right in wondering what circumstances put her in the parlour. I will tell you now.
Most dignitaries who arrived at the Ramachandrans were male. Really, are they such few female physicists, you would wonder. It is the reality. Of course, many women do study Physics for more than just having a degree to get married, but few take it as far as becoming a physicist of the kind that would get invited to the Ramachandrans. You might think this is just an Indian phenomenon, but actually it’s global. For the Ramachandrans had never hosted a foreign, female physicist.
This, of course, changed when Judy Fleming came in from the UK. In her 60s, stunningly attractive, poised and classy – that was Judy for you. I wouldn’t be exaggerating when I say even Mr. Ramachandran, the man of strict discipline and hardly any distractions, became a little tongue-tied around her. She charmed the university faculty with her wit and knowledge, the students with her ability to keep them interested in the sometimes-dull world of Physics, and finally, neutral, unaffected Mrs. Ramachandran with her grace.
Judy took an especial interest in Mrs. Ramachandran. ‘You are so beautiful!’ she’d say. ‘And so talented. I wish I could whisk you away to the UK!’ She prodded Mrs. Ramachandran out of her closet of only making polite conversation to having her discuss Organic Chemistry. Mr. Ramachandran continued to stare tongue-tied at his wife and Judy in conversation, though I can’t say if it was because of Judy or Mrs. Ramachandran’s knowledge that he had somehow never taken note of.
Judy and Mrs. Ramachandran began spending a lot of time together. Judy would finish her lectures and visits for the day and meet Mrs. Ramachandran in the evening, when the latter would take her to a temple or two in the city, to shops stocking Kanjeevarams, to hole-in-the-wall bookshops that stored second-hand classics from another era. Judy, on the other hand, told Mrs. Ramachandran things about her life, her married life that involved two divorces (at which Mrs. Ramachandran politely nodded with-out being judgmental), and eventually, about her stunning looks. ‘Yes, I mean to ask you,’ said Mrs. Ramachandran, ‘how do you manage looking so beautiful despite everything else that is taking so much of your time?’
Judy threw her head back and laughed. Mrs. Ramachandran gasped as the curls in Judy’s chestnut brown hair glowed in the sun. ‘What wouldn’t I do to look as beautiful when I’m in my 60s,’ she thought, mentally adding that this was barely a couple of years way.
‘Oh, honey,’ said Judy. ‘There is nothing that a little work at a beautician can’t do!’
‘A beautician?’ asked Mrs. Ramachandran, flummoxed. Did she mean this wasn’t (gasp!) natural?
‘Of course! I’m 64, my dear, my body has long stopped working to keep me beautiful! Shall I let you in on something? This chestnut brown isn’t my real hair colour! Mine is actually white. But white is so…boring!’
Mrs. Ramachandran nodded, disappointed, but curious all the same.
Judy fished out a photo from inside her wallet. ‘This was me, 20 years back!’
Mrs. Ramachandran took the photo and smiled. Judy look as beautiful as ever.
‘So you mean these cosmetic procedures don’t ruin your skin and such?’ she asked.
‘Not at all! Besides, what have we to lose at this age?’
‘You are correct… but we Indians believe in…’
‘Now, let’s see,’ said Judy, taking Mrs. Ramachandran’s face in her hands. ‘Such a well-defined chin! And soft cheekbones… but a bit of a patch on the cheeks… and my, my, you could do well with trimming these eyebrows into shape. And a good hair-cut, yes…’
‘Oh, Judy,’ Mrs. Ramachandran said, blushing and nonplussed at the same time. ‘I’m an old lady, why would I do these things now…’
‘But honey, you aren’t old at all! Besides, what’s the harm in looking good? No amount of recognition I get for my research will give me the confidence I get after a visit to my beautician!’
‘Well, I don’t disagree, but what’s the point now… Mr. Ramachandran doesn’t have time to give me even a cursory glance…’
‘All the more why you should try this, then! Let me tell you this. My last marriage happened when I was 61. Really now, do you think who I am played as much a difference as my looks?’
Mrs. Ramachandran looked at Judy, unsure. They left for home, and Judy left the next morning after extracting a promise from Mrs. Ramachandran that she would visit a beauty parlour that week, giving her a list of things she should do.
And so, that’s how Mrs. Ramachandran ended up in that uncomfortable chair with a fruit pack on her face and a pedicure in progress. The eyebrows had already been trimmed and her hair had been cut into a neat ‘U’.
It was only when Mrs. Ramachandran swiped her supplementary card at the counter that she remembered Mr. Ramachandran had no inkling of what was happening. She suddenly began to fret. He would be at home, see her in this state – trimmed eyebrows, hair blow-dried and loose, dyed to a natural black with the greys gone, face glowing, feet beautiful and toenails painted. And he would be Rs. 6,322 (including taxes) poorer. What would he say?! ‘Ishwara!!’ she said loudly. ‘How did I not think of this!’
She didn’t know what to do. Going to the temple would mean attracting the attention of neighbourhood maamis, who would surely have an obnoxious comment or two. She couldn’t go to the park, it was too dusty and it would mean at least half of the Rs. 6,322 would go to waste. She had no choice but to go home to her husband, who would not only be aghast at the amount spent, but also at her wanting to look younger.
She passed by a car window and caught her reflection again. She had to admit it – she did look prettier. The hair was beautiful left loose like this, unlike the tight bun it was always drawn into. The eyebrows being trimmed made the face look neater, and yes that patch on the cheek was less visible now. Why wouldn’t he like this!
She pushed open the main door gingerly and found him seated on the sofa. ‘Shyamala! You are back.’
She smiled at him. ‘Yes, I am! Tell me now, do you find anything strange? New?’
‘Yes, needed to ask you. I just got an SMS about Rs. 6,322 being spent on the card. Was it you?’
‘Yes, it was me!’ beamed Mrs. Ramachandran. ‘Now what is it that you find different?’
‘Oh, good, I was worried it might have been someone else. I just got to know Mr. Xaxa is coming to visit us again next week, we might need to change the curtains in the guest room. Did you just go to buy that?’
‘No, I didn’t, but if you would just look up you would know what I did…’
‘I’m not interested, Shyamala, in your petty women issues. Just make sure the curtains are replaced. You know Xaxa is an important person.’
Mrs. Ramachandran drew a deep breath to calm herself down, and went into her room. Three months after that, she had become a regular at the parlour. Mr. Ramachandran didn’t bother with the thousands, but paid the credit card bill every month unquestioningly. The maamis at the temple did have their comments for a month, but a few months down the line, I saw two of them sporting U-cuts and trimmed eyebrows too. To this day, Mrs. Ramachandran hasn’t told me why this transition happened. Last month, however, the talk among the temple maamis was that she cried her eyes dry when Mr.Ramachandran told her about the fatal accident involving one Ms. Fleming in the UK.
Vani Viswanathan is often lost in her world of books and A R Rahman, churning out lines in her head or humming a song. Her world is one of frivolity, optimism, quietude and general chilled-ness, where there is always place for outbursts of laughter, bouts of silence, chocolate, ice cream and lots of books and endless iTunes playlists from all over the world. Vani was a Public Relations consultant in Singapore and decided to come back to homeland after seven years away. Vani blogs at http://chennaigalwrites.blogspot.com
[box type=”download”] If you have trouble opening the PDF, please right click on the button and select ‘Save Link As/Save Target As’. This will help save the PDF to your computer. If you still have trouble, drop us a mail at editors@sparkthemagazine.com and we will mail you the PDF straight to your inbox! DON’T MISS THE PDF EXPERIENCE![/box] [button link=”http://www.sparkthemagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/spark-may-2012.pdf” newwindow=”yes”] Click here to download the May 2012 issue as a PDF![/button] [button link=”http://issuu.com/sparkeditor/docs/spark-may-2012?mode=embed&layout=http%3A%2F%2Fskin.issuu.com%2Fv%2Fcolor%2Flayout.xml&backgroundColor=000000&showFlipBtn=true” color=”green” newwindow=”yes”] Click here to flip and read the May issue like a magazine![/button]
[facebook]Share[/facebook] [retweet]Tweet[/retweet]
