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Questions - 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."

Courtyard Vistas Series 4

Sharanamma, Grandpa’s sister, travels a lot. Her hair is matted and she smears ash on her forehead and arms. People flock to see her. She can predict the future, and knows the past. So, Granny, Grandpa, and neighbours ask her many questions.

In the evening I cat walked into her room. Sitting on the empty wooden cot, she was muttering to her beads. She stared at me.
“What do you want child?” she asked gently.

Surprised, I said, “I have a question.”
“Close the door,” she said.
“Now, tell me what your question is,” she directed.
“Is it true that you can read the past?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I want to ask you about why certain things happen the way they do.”
“Fate.”
“What?”
“What is on your mind child?”
“Why does the peel of carrot, cucumber and banana always curl when removed?"
“Why?”
“Why does…?”
“Is that a question, child?”
“I have thought about it for a long time.”

“The peel is like your dress.”
“My dress does not curl when I remove it.”
“I see your problem.”
“It is difficult to understand such things.”
“Hmmm...”
“Do you know why it happened so in the past?”
“Hmmm...”
“Do you know why they curl?”
“When we remove all that is inside it bends.”
“I am peeling a carrot or a cucumber outside.”
“Inside or outside. The same thing happens.”
“But not for a mango?”
“I see your problem.”
“Can you explain this to me?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What does a star look like?”
“It is the flower seed that glows in the dark!”
“The moon?”
“Smiling mother.”
“The sky?”
“The biggest garden ever.”
Her shrivelled hands shook and she dropped her beads. I collected them for her.
“Sit down child,” she said. I sat on the floor.
“What does my face look like?”
“So many things!”
“The nose?”
“It is a small hill with two slides to hide under when it rains.”
“My ears?”
“They are like Cauvery around Sreerangapatna.”
“My hands?”
“Your palms look like plantain cakes.”
“My hair?”
“Like a thorny bush.”
“My eyebrows?”
“They are like bridges that can pull thought strings from the brain.”
“My eyes?”
“Marbles.”
“My voice?”
“Soft like silk.”

With tears streaming down her face, she said, “What is it that you want child?”
“Please don’t cry!” I shouted.
Granny entered the room.
“Has she troubled you?” she asked.

Sharanamma said nothing.
“Out!” said Granny pushing me.

I stood shivering, on the verge of tears. Then, I went looking for my mother. She rocked me. Later she gave me jaggery to eat and I went out to play.

That night Sharanamma invited me to dine with her.
“Go Sashi!” said a beaming Granny.

I wedged myself between the door and the wall. Why does everyone have to cry when I say some thing? When I grow up, I am going to go to moon and live there alone.

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