Jar of Sunshine Part-3

    Read Part 1      and Part 2



             In a few months time, Rukmini was again huge with a baby. She lay on her bed all the time and shouted out orders to Sumitra. Anuya and her brother depended entirely on Sumitra to look after them. Ishwar Chandra started coming home earlier than usual to shop for the vegetables and help Anuya with her homework. Anuya was his favorite and he pampered her a lot. Rukmini would sometimes yell at Anuya and the girl would refuse to eat until Ishwar Narayan came home and fed her himself. She was the only one who could get away with even kicking Ishwar Narayan. He indulged her so much that even Rukmini would be irritated.
           
              Troubles started when Anuya began taking sides with Sumitra. She would see how over worked Sumitra would be with all the household work and rebuke Rukmini for doing nothing. She would insist that Rukmini ready her for school and tie her pony so that Sumitra could finish with her cooking. She also started demanding that Ishwar Narayan prepare the evening snacks. He could do little to convince her otherwise. He gave in to her demands and following that one could see Ishwar Narayan grating coconut or cutting onions after returning from work early. In her own little ways, Anuya was the only companion Sumitra had. She would amuse her with the stories she learnt at school, bring her the toffees that kids distributed on birthdays, teach her a few words in English and sing filmy songs for her. In return, Sumitra would fascinate her with stories her grandmother used to tell her. Her attachment with Anuya pricked Rukmini but she stayed mum. After all she needed the girl.

           In her eighth month, Rukmini's sister joined her at Anuya nivas. She had come to help her with the  delivery. She was a pompous fat lady who never failed to belittle Sumitra everytime she opened her mouth. Layers of fat hung from her waist and her belly protruded more than Rukmini. She would put kumkum on her forehead using a coin. Although she came as a help with cooking special nutrition that had to be given in pregnancy, she would otherwise just be a burden. She would sit on the cot oiling and braiding her curly long hair or rubbing tobacco on her palms and comment on Sumitra. Sumitra hated her.

         It was the month of June and it was raining heavily. Sumitra was sleeping after a hard day. She heard cries and woke up with a start. She could feel the unrest in the house. Rukmini was experiencing labor pain. Rukmini's sister had gone to a relative's house and slept there after dinner. Ishwar Narayan was sleeping with the kids. Sumitra was scared to see Rukmini wail like that. She fetched water and went to wake up Ishwar Narayan. He shouted at her to call the neighboring women. Without waiting to search for an umbrella, she had gone from door to door fetching women from neighboring houses.  She had come home drenched and pacified the crying children. Hours later she heard a baby crying. It was a baby girl.
        Next morning, Rukmini's sister came home, smiling sheepishly.

       One would expect that after spending a year in the house and doing so much work, Sumitra would finally be accepted. It was far from the truth. Rukmini always cradled the baby in her arms. With the new baby who was fair and pink, Rukmini had suddenly become very proud. She started discriminating against  Anuya who was getting dusky as she was growing up. It angered Ishwar Narayan but he knew better than to infuriate Rukmini. Although she continued being lazy, she now overlooked all the work that Sumitra was doing and found it unsatisfactory. She also noticed the young lads who would make rounds for a glimpse of Sumitra.

     One evening Rukmini sent Sumitra to the market to buy some vegetables. She took Sunaina for company.
On their way back, they were about to enter their colony when a youth came running and quickly handed a letter to Sumitra. She stood petrified. Not knowing what to do, she threw the letter on the ground and walked away. She did not see Ishwar Narayan walking behind her. He picked up the letter.

     She was pouring the tea when a loud commotion ensued. She rushed to the hall and saw Sunaina and her mother along with Ishwar Narayan and Rukmini. Without giving any further thought to what he said, Sunaina's mother, who was Ishwar Narayan's sister-in-law, began slapping Sunaina.

    "Will you go again with that girl?" she asked.
    "Mother, we did nothing!" Sunaina protested.
    " Shut up, I don't want another word." She took Sunaina to her home.

    "Like mother like daughter" Rukmini mouthed. It cut Sumitra to the core.


     Next evening Ishwar Narayan brought home the neighbors. His brother (Sunaina's father), their other neighbors and a few of the relatives were present. Ishwar Narayan showed them the letter.
     "We gave her shelter, good food and clothes and she is whoring around here. Look at this letter. She is shameless to write love letter and throw at guys. What would become of our reputation were she to beget a child like her mother got her!"

     She pleaded to Sunaina's father, who was the eldest brother, "Uncle, I did not throw the letter at anyone. A boy handed it to me and I threw it back. Trust me uncle. Please." She cried.
    Rukmini spewed venom by saying, " We all know the blood that courses your vein. You expect us to believe you!!" She slapped Sumitra.

    The next moments were a blur. The neighbors stood mute as Ishwar Narayan soiled her reputation by falsely accusing her of affairs that she never had. In the next few minutes she saw herself all packed and thrown out of the house, with not even enough money to go back to her village. Anuya sobbed uncontrollably and hugged her. While she was getting pulled by Rukmini, Anuya had shouted
        "Remember the jar of sunshine? You said that fairy gifts all of us. Yours will also open and you will be happy. Don't forget me Sumi didi"

       "I shall never forget you" she had said to herself.

       With her bag of clothes and the address of her grandparents, she stood at the bus stand. Not knowing how she would go.

(To be continued)
    

Jar of sunshine Part 2

Read the First Part Here

  They had reached Anuya Nivas at noon. They had eaten on their way home. A meal of puri and potato. Sumitra had never eaten something like that. All the oil made her queasy. She stomached it with difficulty. She had grown on a diet of boiled rice and curry. On the other side of the table, Rukmini and Ishwar Narayan ate hungrily. Anuya was eating bread and butter and the 8-month old baby sat in Sumitra's lap sucking on his milk bottle. Ishwar Narayan twisted his face with each bite that churned in his mouth. Rukmini never lifted her head up and was engrossed in her plate. Sumitra wondered what kind of food they cooked at home. Soon she discovered.

            She was occupied all the time in Anuya Nivas. She woke up early at 5 am to brew the tea and keep the water heated for everyone to bath. She was the first to bath and get dressed. She would then prepare the breakfast of chapatis and a vegetable. Ishwar Narayan woke up at 7 and would want his breakfast and tea ready by then. She would then set to prepare tiffins for Ishwar Narayan and Anuya. Ishwar Narayan would leave the house at 8.30 and wake up his wife while leaving. She would then saunter lazily by her daily task. Sumitra would wake up Anuya at 8.30 and get her ready for school. The 4 yr old girl would chatter uncontrollably with her and Anuya listened to all her blabber with a smile. The 8 month old baby would come  to her sometimes in the middle of work and she would host him up her waist while working. After the the baby was bathed and fed and Anuya sent to school, Sumitra would have to wash all the clothes. By noon she would keep the lunch ready. Rukmini would get dressed and go to the market and come back at noon for lunch. After lunch she went to her siesta.

            Sumitra would start preparing some snack for evening at 3. Anuya would return at 4 and Ishwar Narayan at 5. It was the time between noon and 3 that she had all for herself. She would sometimes play with the baby in the verandah. The neighborhood kids would too flock to play. She would talk with the girls her age. It was this time that she truly was free. Her beauty soon became a topic of the area. Some young lads often made rounds of the house to catch a glimpse of her. She herself wasn't unaware of it but like any girl that age, she had enjoyed the attention.

           After the evening snacks there wasn't much work for her. Sometimes Ishwar Narayan's relatives would come over for a brief chat or his friend's would join for tea. After dinner, she would do the dishes and by 9 she would recline to her mat and slip into a deep sleep. She was tired but she was happy. Atleast she wasn't starving and she got a small sum of money which she sent to her grandparents.

         One evening she sat listening to the radio that Rukmini had bugged her husband for. Rukmini would listen to the programs sometimes and Sumitra would silently join in too. There was a knock on the door and Sumitra went to answer it.

        On the door stood a man she had never seen before. The man stared at her and she thought he looked angry. She ran to Rukmini to tell her about the man. Rukmini went to the door and smiled at the man.
"Come in, Anuya's father is in bath. He will join us soon."

The man entered but his gaze did not leave Sumitra. Sumitra felt uneasy. She felt that something was going to go very wrong that evening.

Ishwar Narayan came out from the bath bare chested with a lungi around his waist. He was surprised to see his brother.

"How dare you keep her in your house?" the man was shouting at Ishwar Narayan.

"Brother, you are misunderstanding me." Ishwar Narayan replied meekly.

This man was his brother but there was no resemblance. This man was lean unlike Ishwar Narayan's broad figure. His hands were rugged but his finger delicate unlike the twisted ones of Ishwar Narayan. The man hovered at full 6.2 feet against Ishwar Narayan's 5 feet 8 inches. The man's features were handsome.

"You brought this girl here to shame me! You have the cheek to deny that?" he roared in fury. Sumitra wondered what problem he had with her.

" Please calm down brother. We wanted a girl to look after little Chintu and I have so much of work at home. With two kids and husband to look after and another baby on its way, I was overwhelmed. She was anyway at her grandparent's house and they are too old to look after her. We brought her just to look after Chintu. We will send her away after the baby."

The man had huffed and gone away in anger. Rukmini had snapped at Sumitra to go to her room. Sumitra was still clueless about why the man had been so cross with her. She was seeing him for the first time.

When Sunaina, the friendly girl from the neighboring house told her the truth, Sumitra was aghast. Sunaina was Ishwar Narayan's elder brother's daughter and had a keen ear for such gossip and scandals.

The man was Sumitra's mother's husband. He had shifted to another town after his second marriage.

Sumitra was only a babe when her mother had committed suicide by jumping into a well. She had left behind Sumitra and her elder sister Namita. Namita was the man's true daughter. Sumitra was created out of adultery. Her mother had had a relation with her distant relative who begot her Sumitra.
                           

          

Sumitra was just a suckling babe when her mother was confronted by her husband and the adultery was in plain sight. After her mother's death, her sister was sent to her maternal uncle's house and Sumitra was left in the care of her grandparents. Sumitra had never known her mother or father. Her sister too was disowned by her father who went on to start a new life with a new marriage.

As it happened, Sumitra had an uncanny resemblance to her mother. So much so that it took not more than a first look for the man to know it was his wife's daughter.

That night Sumitra grieved for her mother. The mother who committed a sin that ruined her life. She grieved for her sister who was disowned despite being a legitimate child. She grieved for her father. The father who never once thought about her. She grieved for her grandparents who were too poor to keep her with them. She lay on her mat thinking about how her  life might have been. She heard a woman giggling. She peeked out of her window.

Rukmini sat with Ishwar Narayan in the verandah on their jute cot. It was pitch dark outside.
"So proud the woman was, of her beauty!" she remarked.
"My brother was no less. The most handsome man he thought of himself and yet his beautiful wife found him insufficient to fulfill her needs."
"I wonder what would happen to the girl. She is too beautiful for her own good. We can't keep her here forever. She's going to be a wild thing, like her mother. I thought I would like to see her work for me as my servant. It makes me feel I finally have her mother as my servant. But the sight of her beauty disturbs me. I don't want you looking at her."
"You are more than enough for me. Maybe we should fulfill the lie you blurted to my brother. A kid underway huh" he fondled her and took her right there.

Sumitra huddled back to her bed and wept for what seemed like ages. They did it all purposely. She cried to sleep.. It was just the beginning of her miseries and she had thought she had left it all behind..

(To be continued)

Jar of Sunshine

The house was dead silent. The curtains still thickly drawn. The loud ring of the phone woke up Sumitra. Still groggy from sleep, she reached for her phone. She had never noticed how shrill her ringtone could be and made a mental note to change it today. The brightness of the screen dilated her pupils and she uneasily answered the phone.

"Sumitra, I m getting married today" said the excited voice on the other side.
"What? Anuya where are you?" she asked worried.
"Why, at home. You should come today at 9 to the Ganesh Temple near our house. Bring everyone ok."
"Which home?"
"Anuya nivas obviously. I have to get ready now. You come here ok."
She hung up on her. Sumitra climbed off her bed and searched for her telephone diary. There were some contacts she hadn't fed on her mobile phone. Some long forgotten contacts.
She heard her husband whining about the lights she had switched on. She did not bother to answer him and that alarmed him.
"Sumitra what are you searching for?" he asked perplexed.
"My telephone diary."
He rubbed his eyes and checked the time. It was 4 am. On a sunday morning.
"Whose contact?"
"Ishwar Narayan" she finally mouthed the name. A name she had not uttered in years.

At 5 am they set out in their car. Her sons were still in deep slumber when they had bolted the door behind them. She had left notes on the fridge and under their phones.  She hoped to return before they woke up at noon.

She glanced at her husband. He gave her another look as if asking her if she was sure. She nodded. He looked ahead and gained speed. They could make to Anuya nivas in about 2 hours or less. It was 100 kms away from her home.
She couldn't place her diary and Ram had made whatever contacts he had but couldn't trace the number. Looking at her desperation he had suggested they themselves go but regretted it the moment he saw the hurt on his wife's face. A few minutes later she had overcome her hurt and urged him to take her there. He had given in to her and they had quickly got dressed.

They crossed the bridge. It was getting brighter outside and she could see the still water of the river.
 Years back she had crossed this bridge. She had been just 14. It was the first time she had sat in a bus. Maybe it was the first time she remembered sitting in a bus. They said she was just an infant when she was brought to her grandparents. She must have been in a bus to reach her grandparents then.  When she was 14 she had dreams of a naive maiden. She dreamt  of a big house where she would work. She would get to wear better apparels than the hand-me-downs of her neighbors or cousins. She could have a diet of butter, eggs and cheese like the glossy pictures she saw in her old textbooks.

She had stretched her hand out of the bus and waived at the women carrying firewood. She let the wind ruffle her hair like a loving father that she never had. She ate the berries she had plucked in her grandparent's house and saw the ripples that the seeds created when she flung them in the water from the bus. It had been very early in the morning and the passengers in the bus had been dozing. When they had entered the town, the honks of buses and other vehicles had woken up others. She had never seen so many vehicles in her quaint village. They still used bullock carts there. She watched in awe the many cycles and scooters. When she looked besides her, Ishwar Narayan was still sleeping with his mouth wide open.

She heard a baby wail in the seat behind. The woman came to her seat. Ishwar Narayan too was woken up by the loud cries. The woman was his wife, Rukmini. She saw Sumitra, the wide moist eyes, the thick dark eyebrows, the luscious lips and her fair complexion and felt a stab of jealousy at her flowing raven tresses, silky and waist length. She handed her the baby and said, " Here, hold him for sometime. Wake me up when we reach."

Sumitra had never handled a baby. The baby was only 8 months old. He kept crying and Sumitra tried to make faces to keep him amused. She rocked him gently and sang a lullaby that she had heard her neighbor sing. It seemed to soothe the baby.
"Finally he is stopped!" she heard someone say. She looked up. She saw a small girl. Round faced with large nose and short statured girl in a frill frock. She was standing on the seat behind peeking into Sumitra's seat. She was fair and had curly hair which broke in ringlets at her forehead.  The hair was oiled and tied firmly into a pony but still seemed to be spread in all directions. The girl must have been 4. She seemed to take a liking for Sumitra and stealthily handed her a toffee.
"Give it back to her." growled Ishwar Narayan. Sumitra jolted at this sudden raised voice.
"Anuya I bought that toffee for you. Don't give it to anyone."
"Liar! You stole it from the jar in Chinku mama's shop" the girl answered.
Sumitra chuckled to herself. That was her first time she had seen Anuya.

(To be continued)

It's the girls fault!

               "Women are like precious gold. If you expose them, they will be looted" 

Like many women who read this line from a politician in the morning newspaper, I was bewildered. How dare they blame the woman for the unmanly, savage gang rape? Further they say that woman should be accompanied by a male while travelling at night. Right! That's exactly what Nirbhaya was doing. But that was her "friend" who was with her and that automatically raised further questions as to what "she was doing" with a man rather than what those barbarians did to her. That was Delhi and Delhi is not safe for girls. Girls should shut themselves up in their homes after 5 pm when in Delhi. When a photo-journalist accompanied by her colleague was gang raped in the "safe" city of Mumbai in early evening hour, they still blame the woman!

                                                 

More than the insensitive people issuing such statements, I was furious at the newspapers which print it on the first page.
               
                I discussed this later with my father and I was taken aback when he supported the statement. The next thing I heard was Mom backing it up. How could they, the educated and free minded parents, think like that? IT.ISNT.THE.GIRL'S FAULT. Rape is completely the fault of the man. I argued that no one has the right to rape a girl no matter what hour she is out, no matter with whom she is, no matter what she is wearing.                 It was when they said," It is not the girl's fault that she got raped, it is the girl's fault that she knows she lives in such times and behaves recklessly". I sat back to think on it.

              Lets just forget rape for a moment. Take up theft for that matter. Let's say you have gold. Glittery and very expensive gold jewels which you love to wear. It is your right to wear what you want to wear and so you wear it. You go to high end hotels and parties and wedding. You walk back home all alone, do you feel safe? Do you go flaunting that gold as freely as you would in a protected environment? No, right? Why may I ask? The reason is simple. You know that you would be a soft target for thieves. There in you use your common sense and act cautious.
             Let's not compare theft and rape. Just look at the fundamental act. Act of crime. Rape is much grave and cruel I agree. Is our caution the same? Do we take adequate care to keep ourselves safe? The answer sadly and shockingly, is NO. 

            While it is a very valid fight that we are fighting against gender discrimination and freedom for women, can anyone of those crusaders stand up and assure that holding banners that say "Do not tell your daughter how to dress, teach your son not to rape" will help the case? Will it avert the lecherous eyes or be a downer for those devils? There is a thin line between boldness and foolishness. Teach your daughters to be cautious while the sons are being taught "not to rape". Overnight no amount of movements will make it safe for girls to grow up unmolested forget about wearing  hotpants and travel. It is a gradual process if it has to happen!
           
          I remember a recent wedding I attended. There was a young girl clad in a saree that was draped in a way that it went across only half her chest. She wore a low cut blouse that exposed all of her back and a good part of one breast. She must be younger than 20. She stood right in front of the stage facing the people sitting in the hall and enjoyed the attention that she was getting. She was talking to her relatives, many of whom were staring at her bosom. Men as old as 60s were all about her, talking to her and yet not taking their eyes off her chest. She behaved unaware of it all!
        On railway platforms, college girls wearing hot pants and racer backs face the same situation and are delusional about the wicked intentions of the men!
        Do not tempt them ladies. A decent man wouldn't rape even if you went naked. A rapist will rape you even if you are veiled. It is the intermediates that you must not provoke!

                                             

        After all there is some truth in the wisdom of the elders. Women are precious gold. We must protect ourselves because unlike thieves, rapists don't necessarily need to see the glitter.
         
        Accept it or not. It is lurking very close. You can escape it though!
     
       Dress appropriately. It is being hammered time and again and not without merit. Keep those shorts and sexy tops for the beaches and other occasions and not for the train to catch !
       
      Never let your kid out of sight. Gone are the days when you could keep your toddler  with relatives and take a shopping break. Never entrust a male member, no matter how close, to look after the kid in your absence. Leave them with your parents or carry them along.

      Tell them what is a bad touch and encourage them to talk about it. Yes, you have to tell them even if they are just 2 year old. No one touches your baby and gets away with it!

      Do not open the door to a stranger. When you are alone do not let anyone in. Talk to them at the door through the safety door (ensure you have one) and politely tell them to come later. If you must let them in then stand right at the entrance with the door wide open. It would be easier to run :P
     Sometimes it is unavoidable to let them in and not  accompany them ( for eg the man from gas company). Call out to your neighbor (always be on friendly terms!! ) or act as if on phone call and shout out the details of the person with you. "Arre wo gas wala aya hai ghar pe.." kind of conversation.

 
      Travelling I guess you all know this one by now. When taking an auto or cab, always sit right behind the driver. It is difficult for them to grab you. Make sure someone knows which cab or auto you are in. Say it loud so that even the driver knows!

      Avoid secluded spots Privacy be damned! You have all the time in this world for that but do not enter secluded areas as they are prime spots for rapists to lurk around. Even the guards at such places sometimes blackmail and rape the girl. Obviously it never gets reported most of the times!

     Trust your guts Believe me, a girl always has a weird feeling about certain places or people. Avoid them. Once you go somewhere and alarm bells start ringing then no matter what others say, do no return to that place.
 
    If you are attacked put your hands together with all your force (as if a loud clap) on his ears. It will set him off balance and give you time to run!
     
              I think we have reached a point where we are past talking about rapes. IT is always the same. A gang rape happens and  newspapers report it day in and out. New channels flash it as breaking news. A few politicians issue statements. Social media puts up posts and tweets. We sign online petitions. Rarest of the rare case sometimes gets punishment and then goes up the higher courts. We are all back to our lives. With careless abandon.
      

Trapped

           I kept clicking on link after link which yielded the same result. I dug deeper into the subject, subconciously drawing parallels. It was complex. Much more than I thought. When I found what I was looking for, I wasn't so sure if the hunt was better left at it. It did not matter that I had been right in raising doubts and turning to the internet for my answers. Did I feel guilty? No. It was more than that. I felt a loss. 
         
           We were awed by her right away just like anyone who hasn't known her up close. The shuffling of divisions had put us all at an awkward state. It was a heavy decision to take. To choose from Sanskrit entire and Sanskrit composite. Only a handful of students had volunteered to take up the entire course. The rest of the class was coerced by teachers with the promise that it was a "scoring" subject. No one bothered to underline "if you study from day one". It was a huge change to see our friends flung across the divisions and although we all promised to meet up during the break, we all knew that it was going to be rarer and rarer as we moved through the year.

           We entered the class on the first day in the new section, unsure of what to expect. Each one sat beside the person they knew from the previous class. It was by chance that we all sat together. It remained that way for the rest of the school. The numerous proxy classes gave us ample time to play truth or dare and it was this game that drew us close in the beginning.

           She was a people's person. There was no one in the class with whom she could not strike a conversation. She managed to get acquainted with even the lady who sat next to her in bus for the first time. People warmed up to her instantly. It was the way she seemed genuinely interested and honestly naive that made people feel protective towards her. When she was done with all her blabbering after coming to class and finally settled down with us, she would be full of stories.

          Her stories fascinated us. It was picture perfect. It amused me how her family always went out on weekends. She lived in a joint family and her father was a businessman. The conversations, the laughter, the togetherness was something we all envied being from nuclear families. On some days she went on and on about how they had been somewhere and she was gifted something or walked into someone famous.
         Her tiffin used to be dropped to school during lunch time and always had some or the other delicacies while we all frowned over our "nutritious" lunch pack.

        One day she came all disturbed to the class. We asked her what the matter was. She said she had lost her gold finger ring. We did not remember her wearing it to school. She said it was some ring having a particular gem stone which she had. After talking at length and trying to revive her memory as to where she last kept it, we gave up. The next day she told us she had found it. It had been in her rubber gloves. She described how she tended to the plants in her house and had used gloves and the ring probably came out while removing the gloves.
        Some other day it was the pencil box that she had forgotten in the classroom and searched the entire school the next day. We told her to let it go and there was hardly any chance of finding it. She told us it was important to search because it had the pen her deceased grandfather had given her as a last gift. It had sentimental values attached.

       Slowly it had started. It took us time to notice but notice we did.There was no ring and no sentimental pen. She went back on her words, sometimes drastically changing her statements. Altering, modifying statements until no more than a ghost of the previous one remained. We grew exasperated of challenging her. She was always ready with a defensive.
      "I will keep the phone. Reliance charges 4 rs" she said once.
      "It charges only 2." I argued
      "But if it goes to 2 mins then 4 rs na" she said bluntly.

       Still we stuck with her. Ignoring the faults and over looking the lies. She had started changing then. She started getting lost in the conversations. She slipped through gossips and suddenly realised she had missed it and asked us again. She kept quiet and became moody. Some days we saw her at the bus stop and waved but she kept staring at a distance, occupied in her thoughts.

       It took time. Time for her to begin to stop lying. Little by little I explored her world. Of the darkness that lay in it. She trusted me with the facts. It was nothing like what she talked of.
       Broken family, financial crisis, bickering relatives and one problem that lead into another. It was a cascade. I saw no hope but encouraged her to look at it. If it had been me, I would have drowned. She kept afloat, even swimming against the current. We had become close. With time things began to look up for her. Well deserved, I thought.

       Years later when I was staring in face of the new situation, I had no idea what I would find. 

      "This is the watch he gifted me last year" she announced excitedly to us as we started with our food. We were dining and she had bored us to death with every minute description of her date. She found it of immense importance to go over the most excruciatingly mundane details.
      "Isn't this the watch your friend gifted you?" I asked out of surprise.
      "That is what I told at home last year. I had told you that time also !"
      I stared disbelievingly. I.never.mess.up.such.details. NEVER.
 
       Why would she lie to me? What did she have to cover up? 
       Was my mind playing tricks? 

      I went over the the recent conversations in past when she had done something that confused me.

      She had blushed so much to show the dress that her guy had gifted and I had frankly felt a little envious of the same.
      A few days later she had told me of her shopping spree and described a dress that was exactly fitting that of her gift! I had brought out the fact and she had retracted on the design and color. I was perplexed but had let it pass.. This was a few months back.. How long had she been playing with me?

       My search on the internet had explained all the symptoms..
    -   Lying for no apparent reasons or to show a false image
    -  Retracting statements
    -   Marked change in stand
    -   Defensive
      and the list went on and on.. 

      I did not know how to deal with the situation. I decided to take a break from all thoughts. Confrontations bear  no fruit in some cases and silence is the best resort. 

     A couple of months later she came over to meet me. I was a little busy. She talked  about some problems. It was rather late in the night and I was worn out to think clearly. I knew she wanted no suggestions. Just someone to listen to.
     "Why does this happen to me? It is not that everything is perfect, then why?"
     It was then that I realised. She was trapped. She was trapped by her compulsive lying. She was a good person at heart but lying was something she cannot control. All I had to do was to give her the support to keep floating..
                                          
FICTION

Itni si khushi

            We were at a small store a few days back. It is a Mangalore store from where Mom buys brown rice, pickles, spices and other things which are from Mangalore. It is an all purpose store really and there is no time when there is a lull in the traffic that keeps coming. The owner of the store, an elderly uncle, manages the store.

            For the time that I was standing in front of the small store while Mom was busy shopping, I kept looking at the customers.

            A girl in her twenties came to buy Maggi  Noodles. Just back from office and tired as she looked, I presumed that this is going to be her dinner. The shop owner manages the counter and  he shouted orders to his helper to fetch the goods. The girl rummaged through her purse for money. Endless receipts, bus tickets, face napkins and what not came out but for the elusive change!
           " Paisa nahi nikal raha kya?" the shopkeeper asked her rather rudely.
           She looked embarrassed as she handed him a note and went away. Those who frequent the shop know that he meant no insult. It is just his way of talking :P

           A South Indian woman entered. The uncle smiled at her. She looked every part a Mangalorean house wife. She asked for Rassam Masala and suddenly Mom was interested in the same :P

           As my Mom kept delaying, two kids caught my attention. The small girl was talking on the phone in the shop. She was about 6 or 7 maybe. From what I gathered, she was asking her mother when she would return. The small boy with her, about 4 or 5 years old, was trying to drop into the conversation. Her brother for sure! There is something about a brother-sister pair that instantly warms me up to them. Call me biased but I have never really felt that about sisters :P

          Luminous dark complexioned skin, large bright eyes, silky thick hair and thin framed, they personified innocence as they chattered away on the phone. It began to beep and uncle roared from the other end, "Badhau kya?"
         The girl kept the receiver down and asked sweetly,
        "Uncle how much did it cost?" ( In Marathi ofcourse :P)
        " 2 rupees"
        "Ok" she said and ran to the house close by. Her younger brother tagged behind her.
       
         The uncle kept staring at them until a few new customers came. A school going boy asking for Cello gripper pen. A youngster asking for matchbox. IT was never ending.

         The pair came back with money. The girl gave 2 rupees for the call and counted the change that she had. She smiled when she saw that she had a few coins extra to spare. She scanned the various jars filled with biscuits and other eateries.
         "Should we buy the chaklis?" she asked her brother.
         He made a face at her. Just the way kids make to show their disapproval.
         She searched further to get his nod.
         "Kaccha aam??" she asked.
         His eyes lighted up.
          " Ha ha Kaccha aam! Kaccha aam! Kaccha aam! " He started jumping where he was.

        His shouts and dancing suddenly had more spectators. All smiling indulgently.
        She gave her coins to the shopkeeper. He gave her 2 kaccha aam chocolates.
        She went to the other side of the street.
        The boy put his hands forward with a huge smile.
        " What are you dancing so much for huh?" the shopkeeper asked him and handed him 2 chocolates.
        "Only two?" He asked dejected.
        "Take this. This is bakshees for you." the shopkeeper laughed his grandfatherly laugh as he handed two extra chocolates to the boy.
        Just two 50 paise chocolates had painted a million dollar smile on his face. He happily hopped to the other side to tell his sister. They both leaped excitedly as they spilt their share.

       I felt that happiness wrap me too. There was something so touching in those emotions that they could feel so openly, so unhesitating and without reading deeper into it. So easily they could find happiness in that small thing!

      Along the years, we lose that genuine smile. That lighting up of the eyes. That completely acceptable happiness. Why can't we accept happiness that easily? Why do we dwell on it so much that it passes us by, without touching us?  Why do we harden up? Why do we fear to feel happy? Why is that when I saw those kids, I sent a small prayer to heaven to keep that happiness intact? Why did I fear that someday their hearts will break?

      I wonder why kaccha aam doesn't make me that happy! IF only we all could find happiness in small things that easily!

                                   

This felt like the perfect thing to share here. Lifted from facebook ofcourse :P 

Whiff of good luck

              My house smells of the rain all the time.Yes, that over rated fragrance of the soil as the first drops of rain quench the thirst of the land. All you need is to open the large French windows and let the air in. The moisture laden winds bring in the hints of rain. Sometimes when the weather is humid, you might feel the wind in your hair. Dampened with invisible water, you will feel the salt on your skin. Without me telling, you would guess that the sea is nearby. Correction. It is the creek that is hidden by the concrete jungle. If you stare into the horizon, you can see the mangroves from my room. Mangroves that guard the creek on the other side. On a clear day, you can enjoy the view of mountains far beyond. This is no description of some remote place in some untouched part of the world. It is right in Mumbai. My house that smells of rain.
             Early in the morning, when the first rays of sunlight are yet to reach below, my house smells of dew. The plants in the nursery bed, emanate a herbal fragrance. The holy basil dominates the lot. On some days, the rose decides to oblige us with a visit and becomes the chief attraction. My mother tends to them with love. Sometime later, my father waters them all. Plants in all the three rooms appear fresh and happy when he does that. It is then that the smell of the rains is all around. It is the soil that my parents maintain in all the pots. Gingerly changing them at regular interval. Boosting it with manure. The soil that brings the smell of rain..
                   

             My father plucks the white flowers every morning for his prayers. The house smells of white flowers and sandal incense stick in that hour. Far away, the fog clears and the mountains stand proud. All through the day my house smells of different things, rains being the constant.
            The ginger tea boiling in the mornings
            The saute of dal
            The fragrance of each member as they get dressed for the day
            The lingering smell of chicken being cooked on sunday afternoons
            The evenings smelling of laundry
            The nights again smelling of food
            The house always smelling of rain..

            Once in three months or so, the house will smell of something that has so many memories attached to it. It will start to waft softly that evening and then suddenly overwhelm us with joy as the night grows. By midnight the smell begins to wander and then it drops like the flower itself.. Our dear Brahmakamal..
            It wasn't ours when it was brought. It had been with our friendly neighbor for years, without ever bearing. She left it with us when she shifted. It sat with our plants when we stayed in society. Receiving the same care and nurture that other plants in our house got. Wonder of wonders happened when we saw the bud emerging stealthily from the long leaf. We promptly brought the plant in to protect it from the birds that could pluck. I was just 12 then and it was an event that incited great excitement. They say that it happens only once a year.
            The night that it first bloomed to its full glory was also the time my father got his much awaited promotion. A promotion that was long over due (10 years he attempted) but was kept away due to various earmarking in government office. He came home with sweets that night. A large number of people came to our house to see the beautiful flower and we rejoiced at the pristine white of the flower, its intricate beauty and the divine fragrance. I remember we gave sweets to all who came!
            It was then that the flower signified good luck.
   
           IT was a miracle. It still is. Every year we are visited by the flower more than once. It still makes us gleefully look at it blooming hour by hour. It is nothing short of a marvel that it makes me so happy and upbeat to breathe that fragrance. It eases the weight on my chest and I take it as a sign of something good to happen. In years that progressed, it has become something I associate with home. Home is where I will get that comfort. When things go down and bad, I await that miracle. When decisions become wrong and choices blurred, somehow miraculously a flower blooms. I pray silently and my problems ease. I feel there is an intervention from above. My belief makes me think clear and determined. The power of that belief is such. It has become my whiff of good luck..
         How else do I explain its presence
        When my CAP results were out and I was confused about the course..
        When I was broken in ways I never will be again..
        When the comparisons were killing my confidence..

        It is during that one day of Brahmakamal's presence, my house smells like memories. If  memories had a smell, that would be it. The smell of rain fused with the fragrance of Brahmakamal..

                                           

         This post is written for Indiblogger Smelly to Smiley contest www.facebook.com/AmbiPurIndia