Deceit

He was in my bed, the space that I ought to share with my husband. I was guilty as charged but did not feel that I was the wrongdoer, until that night when….

“I have just finished school and you are already looking for a suitable boy?” I asked piquantly.

“Sh…be quiet said my papa. He never failed to check the daily matrimonial.

I looked pleadingly at ma. She continued braiding my thick black hair yanking it even harder. I winced. This was her way of saying “Sh….be quiet.”         

The following weekend our entire household was busy with various activities; cleaning, dusting and washing, cooking and trimming the garden. I was stunned to see all my relatives in one place.

“All this was for a ‘suitable boy’ for me?” I was bewildered.

The more questions I asked I was shushed, as if that was the only word in the dictionary. That evening mother adorned my hair with jasmine flowers and draped me in a sari. Pritam arrived and instantly agreed as if I was a pack of instant noodles and in no time I was a bride.

“Diya, shall we sleep now?” asked Pritam.

I agreed happily. But this went on the next night and the night after that until the day I confronted him.

“Why are you not asserting your rights as a husband?”

Pritam hesitantly replied, “I don’t know how to tell you this but do you understand the meaning of impotent?”

I nodded.

Time flew and I was coined as sterile. I was disgraced and taunted. I retaliated by shamelessly sleeping with men on the sly, until that night when Pritam saw me in bed with this stranger. He looked away with a painful expression but remained silent and that's when I knew he loved me.

Hope (Revathi Raj Iyer)

I was startled to see two strange men seated on the tattered sofa of my tiny home. I quickly hid behind the curtain but it was too late. He saw me. The footsteps were now getting closer.

“Ma…….” I screamed in sheer fright as I felt an arm rub against my petite body.

I went to a municipal school but harboured a dream to go a big school where well to do kids studied.

“Will you make my dream come true, ma?  I asked in all earnest.

“Try and be happy with what we have,” my mother said quietly.

I had no idea as to how ma managed to feed and clothe me or run the house. Most girls at school had both parents but my ma was both rolled into one. I was very proud of her.

“Who are these men lurking by our house? They don’t look nice. I see them daily when I get back from school. Be careful ma,” I said as I closed the door and bolted it.

I now felt two strong arms lift me. I kicked helplessly.

“Ma……” I screamed again. I was petrified as I felt the strap tighten around my body. Just then, I saw my mother enter the house. I knew that ma was strong and would do something to end this nightmare.

Overwhelmed with a sense of relief, I cried even louder “ma …….do something quickly.”

To my utter shock, she stood still. As we passed our eyes met and I shivered at that cold, stony glare. The men guffawed. I felt a gush of bile rise up my throat. As the van revved up in the silence of the night, I saw ma close the door; and that’s when I knew she did not love me anymore…

http://www.bonobology.com/Features/41/Relationships/Window-of-Hope

A considerate man (3rd February, 2014)

This is my humble attempt to share my thoughts about my father-in-law whom we referred to as appa/dada.

I have shared a special bond with appa and an understanding that evolved over time. Our relationship dates back when I came into the Iyer family as their first daughter-in-law. Appa used to frequently visit us and was more of a friend to me than a father-in-law. We used to have interesting conversation about all matters that he liked. He would talk and talk and talk and I would be intrigued as to how any person can make such a long conversation without much effort, considering that I myself was a fairly quiet girl.

Initially I used to be quite amazed that his 3 sons would always address him as BOSS and he would call them DORAI . But as I got to know him more - I realized that this was really how he related with all his sons, in a relaxed manner.

When our daughter was born, dada's happiness knew no bounds, and he took joy in being involved in her childhood, as much as he could. I was happy to see how dada became the doting grand dad to his pethi as he fondly referred to my daughter. He never missed a birthday and would take charge of decorating the lounge with balloons and festoons. My little girl would look forward to her share of gems and chocolates and would be very happy to be the centre of attraction. Dingdees and Bublimaas were some of the pet names he would address little Shefali.

Dada would also happily take charge and cover my daughter's school books and text books with brown paper and neatly label it.  We always took this for granted and in 1999 when we moved overseas I suddenly realized as to how dada had lovingly taken charge of such a time consuming and mundane task.

For a person who held a very senior position in one of the multinationals, he also had a much softer side as dada. Appa was a very soft spoken person and looking back I feel that, had he not been a talkative person, ours would have been an empty relationship and I wouldn't have learnt so much about the family and his experiences.

His talks centered around his days as a little boy and his extra large family, how he met his wife, how he raised his sons, his first trip to the UK, his friends, politics, his friends, and not but not the least his career progress and his office. He used to quote funny anecdotes and I used to marvel at how he could remember such minute details. His penchant for books is known to all his family and friends.

It was an endless chat from an otherwise quiet person (as amma would often remind all of us) who became a talkative man with time and life's experiences. It was funny as to how at times, amma would intervene when his talks used to get repetitive. He used to talk not just to us, but with everybody that he felt close to. I am sure my family members that are reading this note are nodding their heads in agreement.

He pursued 2 years of law post retirement so as to be in touch with the outside world. It was his sweet way of coping up with time and he adjusted beautifully to the change of office routine. He also engaged himself with a vouluntary organisation and that became an interesting topic of conversation.

When we moved overseas they shifted base so as to be in the midst of all our relatives, our communication grew stronger with letter writing. He refused to be part of the techie world and loved his typewriter. It was one of his priced possessions. He never failed to send a birthday card to his grandkids nor did he forget his our wedding anniversaries. A card would arrive promptly on such occasions and his blessings came from his heart.

I cannot help add that for a person who was so easy on a face to face conversation, his phone protocl was also just perfect. It wouldn't last for more than 3 minutes and always ended with my good wishes to you all.

I noticed that as his grandkids grew he became more content and happy in life. He once told me that he had no complains with life and was in the evening of his life, when we called to wish him on his 80th birthday. Since the past two years, he would tell us that he was in the declining years of life.

In retrospect,  I feel happy and blessed that we made an effort to spend as much time as we could each year, in spite of the distance and our busy lives, and ensured our little girl had the same level of love and warmth, as she grew up into a lovely teen and a young adult.

Although we all wish that he had lived longer and continued to humour us with his stories, I must also admit that I have no regrets that we hadn't spent enough time with him. Dada has three sons and each of them have 1 girl. It was his wish that all his boys with wives and grand kids should unite and this was something we could never work out, due to differing priorities.

However as providence would have it, this long time wish of dada was also fulfilled as the entire family got together at the wedding of his other granddaughter and he bid farewell the very next day, leaving us all in a state of shock and disbelief.

As I write this tribute to appa/dada, on his 13th day of parting from us all, I feel that he has been most considerate, even as he departed.

May his soul rest in peace.

The bird watchers {Revathi Raj Iyer}

 

It was one of those days when nothing went my way, including the light banter with a friend that ended up in an argument over a non-issue after which we both simultaneously hung up. It was midday; my husband was at work and daughter at school. I kept dwelling upon the silly argument with my close friend. It was otherwise a bright sunny day after a wet spell. I made myself some hot tea and settled down in my favourite spot by the porch. The streets were deserted and very few cars went past. Midday was siesta time and the Fijians loved it.

That is when I noticed two tiny birds, almost the size of my palm, fluttering in and out of the dense vine skirting the porch. They perched on the custard apple tree and pecked at the fruit. Then flew out and came back with slim twigs and disappeared amidst the vine. In no time they were out and pecked at the fruit and disappeared. I went closer and saw a nest being built in a precarious edge of the vine that rested on the wall.

This reminded me of the white cheeked bulbul back home in India, which had similar tendencies and apparently their nests are placed in such a position, need not be high up on a tree, but anywhere it considers safe. These were some other species of birds that were endemic to Fiji Isles. I decided to research that part later.

The chirping of the birds was always like a background score but I had never consciously bird watched. Butterflies and bees were part of my daily watch but an occasional mindless glance at the birds was all I cared about. All this changed, thanks to my friend for having me wanting to switch off from the human species and concentrate on nature’s other creations.

I sat quietly and kept watching them. I never knew bird watching could get this exciting. In no time the nest was ready. It was so tiny that it made me wonder if it could hold the eggs and the momma bird when it hatched. "Nature has its own ways," I thought and by evening they flew off. I shared my new passion and discovery with my husband and daughter.

My daughter was very thrilled and wanted to miss school the next day, to bird watch with me. I hadn’t quite expected that. "A day off from school should not hurt all that much," I said to myself and wrote a note to her form teacher..........(to be continued)

 

 

 

Turmoil - {Revathi Raj Iyer}

Kaveri amma was unable to get out of bed that day. Her bones were stiff, it felt as if all energy had drained off completely, leaving her in a state of near death.

"Am I going to die?" She was mortified. This was not how she had pictured her end, alone and helpless.

"What if I die now?"

"Who will check on me?"

"Who will inform Ramesh?"

Kaveri amma was getting closer to the House of God and she knew that. She begged her body to move so that she could get out of bed and make that phone call to her only son Ramesh. Whenever she had expressed a death anxiety to him, he would always comfort her by saying that he was just a phone call away.

"Just a phone call away," she now thought weakly. At this hour of need she understood what that truly meant; nothing at all, if one cannot get out of bed and reach out for the phone.

She often took solace in her past as she had a constant struggle with the present. She was unable to live in the moment. Death seemed imminent. It was going to happen today and she was going to die alone. This frightful thought gripped her senses as she slowly sank into the past.

***

Amma had no one to blame for this situation. It was her decision to live all by herself. All these years, she had lived a much cocooned life under the warmth and protection of her husband. Her husband had passed away peacefully in his sleep at the ripe age of ninety. She was seventy eight and her coping mechanism was good. She tried not to dwell on the loss but felt even more determined to be like him, independent and strong. She did not want to be a hindrance to anybody, least of all to her only son and his family.

Amma was very fond of Asha, her daughter-in-law. They shared a very special bonding, although generations apart. Asha had lost her mother at a very young age and when she married Ramesh, Kaveriamma was more like a mother to her, perhaps even more special than that. When amma turned 80, Asha insisted that she shift from her husband's house located in a small town on the outskirts of Chennai to their apartment which was in the heart of the city.

"How long are you going to stay alone?" Asha had asked with concern.

Whenever amma was confronted with delicate questions, she would change the topic to her grandchildren and Asha easily fell into the trap. Both of them would happily travel down memory lane and recall all the mischiefs and playfulness of the twins, Priya and Varun, in their early years.

Asha was a teacher and took voluntary retirement when her twins were teenagers. She wanted to stay more connected with her family. Both her children were set on different paths; Priya was married into a wealthy family from Boston and Varun devoted himself to the music world just like his father, and was steadily gaining name and fame. He had created a niche in Indo-Western music and named his band as "Fusion beatz." His shows gave him an opportunity to explore the world but his home was Chennai, the hub of the music industry. Asha would show his music videos to amma who insisted on watching it over and over again.

One day Asha told amma, "this song of Varun has gone viral and thousands of people all over the world are seeing it? Let me play it for you."

"Even songs get virus fever?" asked amma with an innocent curiosity.

"Amma, even computers have virus," replied Asha smilingly.

A perplexed amma asked, "Which doctor can cure this computer virus?"

Asha rose up to the bait and replied in a serious tone, "Amma these doctors are computer engineers who can get rid of any sort of virus and cure the machines."

This was enough to make the women from two generations giggle like girls.

***

Amma's mind suddenly flitted to that box, a priceless possession which she had guarded all her life. It was still there, the dainty box, made of dark teak wood with intricate leaf like carvings. Somebody in the family had actually carved it. This box belonged to her great grandmother and got passed on to her grandmother, to her mother and now finally it was hers. Over the years it had lost its lustre and the copper hinges had corroded. But it still held the ancestral jewellery as the family had prospered over the generations. It would now be worth a fortune. She wanted Asha to have all of it. She was tired of guarding it. It had to be passed on.

Amma's voice trembled with emotion as she spoke, "Asha, my dear, please do not refuse and hurt my feelings. I would like you to have this in my memory."

She pressed the box in Asha's hands and continued, "You must pass this on to Priya and her children and so on for many more generations to come. I would also like you and Ramesh to have this modest house that I am living in, so that I can comfortably breathe my last and find a place in heaven."

Asha did not know what to say. She accepted the box and started weeping quietly. She was genuinely happy about her unique relationship with amma and wanted nothing more out of it. She was aware that if she refused to accept the inheritance, it would break amma's heart. So she remained silent.

All this seemed a distant past. Amma was now getting breathless. Her eyes filled up with tears as she remembered Asha who had battled till the end before finally succumbing to breast cancer. Amma hoped and prayed but nothing could change Asha's destiny.

She could now hear Asha's voice, distinctly.

"Come to me amma. We both can live together in this new place named ‘heaven' by earthlings. Do you know how beautiful it is here? There is no gravity and we can float and drift anywhere. We are masters of our doings, come to me amma."

Kaveri amma's thoughts whirled in the pool of her own emotions.

Ramesh became a recluse after his wife's death and diverted his focus from music to his daughter and grandchildren. He visited Boston to be with his grand-daughters. Varun never married and lived with his father. Amma knew that she would not be able to adjust in their space and hence continued to live alone.

***

Amma looked at her childhood photo which was by her bedside. She was the last one living out of her nine siblings. She was going to join them but for some strange reason, she was afraid to face death and even more terrified to die alone.

"What if my body decomposes? What if I turn into a ghost?"

She halted her thoughts and tried to get up. She felt very weak and paralysed. Her legs simply refused to move. Her son had given a cell phone and even taught her how to use it. At this hour of need it was beyond her reach.

"Just a phone call away," she thought wryly.

She had to call someone. Her mind was in turmoil and her head began to throb.

Just then there was a distinct knock on the door, not once but three times. She strained to see who it was.

"Is that you Ramesh?" she asked with her hopes rising.

She heard a click and the door slowly opened. She could see a woman enter the room. The woman was clad in white and next to her stood a youth with white overcoat and a stethoscope around his neck. The woman was shuffling a sheath of papers and both came towards her.

Amma's head had hurt and she was very confused.

"Had she met with an accident?"

"Did she fall off her bed?"

She looked down and found that she was in hospital clothes.

"Where on earth was she?"

"Where was Ramesh?"

In spite of all this confusion, amma's spirits suddenly soared because she was not going to die alone. She could seek their help in calling Ramesh. As she collected her thoughts a gentle voice breezed across the room.

"How are you madam?" The young doctor in white overcoat grinned and felt her pulse. At the same time, the woman touched her shoulder and gave her a light hug.

"How are you Asha?" she asked in a soft voice with a tinge of anxiety.

Amma was baffled. Her mind was again in turmoil.

"Who is Asha and where is my son Ramesh?"

"Can somebody please answer me?" pleads amma. Her head was throbbing and it felt like it would explode any moment.

"Asha, you look beautiful and fresh as a morning daisy. I had bathed and changed you last night and you still look so fresh. This means you had a good night's sleep," said the woman releasing her grip.

Amma pointed at the hospital clothes and exasperatedly asked, "Does this make me look fresh as a daisy?"

The woman in white handed her a mirror.

A pale, young face in her mid-thirties stared back.

"Who is this?" amma asked confused.

"This is you Asha. Shall I call Ramesh?" asked the woman.

"Nooooo..." she screamed in agony.

"I am not Asha. I am Kaveri amma."

"Who is Ramesh?" Amma's voice softened and trailed off as she looked at the ceiling with a deadpan expression. Her fingers were still clutching the dainty jewellery box. She opened the box and screamed again. It was empty.

***

The young intern clad in white, turned to the doctor and read out her observation:

Patient's condition is deteriorating. She has been hallucinating. I have checked with her family and there is nobody by the name of Kaveri amma. The jewellery box was gifted to her by her family. It had been empty before and she always kept it by her bedside. She is delusional and the duration of her spells has increased considerably. Therefore I recommend that the patient be moved to an institution (not in isolation) before onset of any symptoms of violence."

The doctor nodded thoughtfully as he examined Asha.

Through the narrow glass, Ramesh looks helplessly at his beloved wife with tears in his eyes, hoping for a miracle. Priya and Varun are by his side sobbing. Destiny had indeed prematurely snatched Asha away from all of them to a point of no return.

**********

Published in Muse India - January/February, 2016
Thank you Atreya Sarma - Editor (fiction & reviews)

Welcome 2016

Jingle bells, jingle bells, all the way they – jingle, jingle, jingle

As the grand pa clock chimes - ding dong, ding dong, ding dong

The countdown begins - tick tock, tick tock, tick tock

As we bid good bye to 2015 to wake up to another new year 2016

With renewed faith, dreams and desires

As our emotion unleashes the tempest within

To the farthest horizon that cannot be fathomed

It is time to gift wrap 2015 with all the memories – good, bad and ugly

Because it doesn’t matter anymore

It is not too long for the New Year to unwrap and give us all a chance

To express - love, warmth and tenderness
Reunite - with the ones we have lost ties with
Build more memories – good, better, best

Let us feel happy and cherish the kindness of time, giving us another chance
To wake up to a whole new year 2016

Let us spread cheer and warmth and steer our lives
To embark on this new journey of a whole new year 2016

Jingle bells, jingle bells, all the way they – jingle, jingle, jingle

As the grand pa clock chimes - ding dong, ding dong, ding dong

The countdown begins - tick tock, tick tock, tick tock

Merry Christmas and a HNY

Merry Christmas to all my readers and may the bells jingle all the way into a prosperous and happy 2016...