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Courtyard Vistas - Rani Iyer "I trained as an ecologist and worked blissfully in forests of Western Ghats. Since then I have lived in many places in North America. I currently reside in Washington State. I find nature to be eternally fascinating and resilient. Likewise, places and people constantly renew their acquintance. Deep within each of us resides a new community of thoughts that have the power to uplift or pull us down as we process our daily reactions to events. In this series, I attempt snapshots of those moments."

"I don’t want it for another week," shouted granny from the courtyard to the hawker at her doorstep.

"Can I have some water mother?" he asked.

"Eswari, give him water," Granny instructed my youngest aunt. I watched auntie fill the small shining brass pot with well water and wondered if I could accompany her.

By then Granny spoke loudly to Siddappa, who was milking the cow in the backyard, "Is she any better today?"

"Not much," he replied between the click-click noise he made with his tongue.

Granny began to say, "Basappa¼"

"I am a new hand, mother. Give us a week," said Siddappa quickly.

Chandraprabha, who was gathering the sparkling brass pooja vessels, said, "Did you expect ideal brothers like Basappa and Siddappa to fight?"

Above the squeaking well axle, Granny said, "Desire, and ambition, are unrelenting masters."

Heaving the pot of water from the well, Granny grunted and proceeded to wash her face, hands and neck. The earth absorbed all the water and sun dried Granny’s face. She splashed her face again, mumbling, "Siva, Siva! Don’t scorch us in April!"

Entering the courtyard with the vessel, Siddappa exclaimed, "We have more milk today!"

"That remains to be seen," declared Granny wiping her face on her saree.

"I am sure," he replied as he placed the vessel inside the house.

Granny said, "Consistency¼"

Siddappa sprinted into the passage.

"Velliammai wants to speak to you," announced Eswari from the hall.

"What is the matter?" asked Granny examining the jasmine bush.

"She won’t tell me. She says it is about temple," replied Eswari walking to the door.

"Ask her to come around," said Granny.

Sweat trickled down my spine. My calves and thighs were sealed with sweat. I got up every few minutes from the smooth black stone to check if the mark was wet enough to write my name on it. The outline evaporated as soon as I got up.

Dressed in white mundu and blue blouse, short, frail, and dark, Velliammai entered the courtyard from the passage. Eswari placed the pot near the well.

"Wash it," granny told her.

"Chandraprabha, I hear a cat in the kitchen," granny called out.

Velliammai waited for granny to speak to her. Her flowing silver hair was stunning.

"No cat here," replied aunty from the kitchen.

"Eswari go and stoke the fire. Learn from your sister how to make coffee decoction," directed granny. I thought Eswari was mumbling.

Granny declared to her back, "Laziness is a disease. Women should always work hard."

My mother walked into the courtyard after her afternoon nap and began to drag our dried clothes from the coir line.

"How are you Velliammai?" she inquired.

"Comfortable. Same with you?"

"Yes."

"Pretty daughter."

My face and ears scorched. I ran into the kitchen and eavesdropped; worried that someone might mention the ‘m’ word.

I came out as Velliammai was leaving. Granny went into the kitchen. My mother followed her with a pile of clothes. As I was trying to write my name the sweat, Gangamma, in a torn saree, walked in through the passage. She smiled at me.

In a soft voice, she announced, "Amma, I am here."

"The rice and dhal are soaked. Wash them well, and remove any stones," advised Granny not looking up from the milk she was stirring. I watched Gangamma for a while, as she rubbed the black skin from the dhal. I wandered around the house, watching the floor for my sleeping cousins and uncles. I was drawn to the aroma of coffee in the kitchen.

Midst of making coffee Granny called out, "Gangamma, I hear some stones."

After a pause the stone rolled again. I walked to the shaded spot behind the kitchen and watched Gangamma roll the stone with one hand and push the dough with another. The dough moved like a long, rough snake.

"Can I turn the stone?" I asked Gangamma.

She smiled and nodded.

"Are you asleep Gangamma? At this rate you will not finish until tomorrow," reminded Granny from the kitchen. We giggled softly and the stone changed hands.

"How old are you Gangamma?" I whispered.

"Thirteen. I guess," she answered, spinning the stone masterfully.

"Are you new here?" I pried.

She nodded.

"Which school are you in?" I asked her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She began to wipe them furiously with her saree.

"I am married," she said sadly.

The dreaded ‘m’ word brought a rush of tears.

"Gangamma, are you awake?" Granny asked from the kitchen.

We giggled softly. I promised, "I can teach you to read and write."

Gangamma started to cry again.

"I will never forget you," she whispered.

"If Sashi is pestering you, send her away," said Granny from the kitchen.

We exchanged a smile. I walked to the backyard to admire the flowers and forget the haunting encounter with the ‘m’ word.

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