Monday, Aug 30, 2004
Pass It On - 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 7
I was helping mother wash clothes in the backyard, when we heard the letter carrier. Mother ran to the door, “Continue washing,” she shouted over her shoulder.
Although I was overcome with curiosity, I pretended to be unconcerned. I thought Mahadev was sitting on the bathroom roof watching me. I dashed the clothes on the stone, squeezed it pretending to be washing. Soon I ran out of clothes and began to spread these clothes to dry. Mother was nowhere to be seen.
When I went indoors, the house was silent. Ominously quiet. Blinded in the cool, dark interiors, I began to panic. I closed my eyes and waited behind the door till I could see again.
Everyone sat around something, peering at from the light streaming through the window. Granny, mother, and aunties were sitting; uncles were bent to their waist as they watched it. I wondered what it was. Perhaps a jewel, or a new dress, or a gift that my father sent for me!
|
|
“What is it?” I asked.
Uncles straightened at once and said, “Nothing..,” but patted my head and cheeks on the way out.
“Sashi must be proud,” said Mahadev.
“Would you not be?” asked Eswari aunty.
“Pride is not good for young women!” warned Granny.
|
“Grandpa thinks you are the best,” said Tulasi coming to hold my arm.
“Sashi, you have done great!” said Eswari aunty.
“That is enough,” said Grandpa.
“Girls pound the rice,” said Granny getting up to gather the bamboo basket with rice.
I glanced at mother. She was flushed, and she had tears in her eyes. I wondered if it was my fault. Timidly, I walked behind Eswari aunty. She taught us some funny songs, and imitated people and before we knew it, the rice was pounded into a fine powder. Mahadev was nowhere to be seen.
We were still laughing when mother came out to fold the dry clothes. I went to help her. As she looked at me, tears rolled down her cheeks.
“O Sashi! What am I going to do with you?” she asked sadly.
“What did I do?” I whispered.
“You did your best..,” she said wiping her eyes with the edge of her saree.
“And….,” I whispered, my heartbeat louder than my words.
“I don’t know what to do..” she said sadly.
“Is it good or bad mother?” I asked.
“Good or bad?”
“What ever I did..”
“Good! Good! Very Good..”
“What is it?”
“Your grades. Your teacher wants to promote you to middle school!”
“Why are you crying then?”
“Because I don’t know how people are going to talk about it…”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes!”
“Does father like it?”
“Yes!”
“I like it too..”
“So?”
“You said that we could do what we like..”
“This is different Sashi. No girl in our family has ever...”
“Mother,” I interrupted her, “Father talks about your matriculation...”
Shock registered in my mother’s face. I stood trembling. She dashed down to the river. I followed her. I realized that she was trembling. We held each other for a long time.
“Yes! Sashi, I will do it!” whispered mother just before sunset.
~~I giggled.
Courtyard Vistas Series 6: Top Class
Courtyard Vistas Series 5: Amrosia For Boredom
Courtyard Vistas Series 4: Questions
Courtyard Vistas Series 3: Bathing Rituals
Courtyard Vistas Series 2: Bestowed Names
Courtyard Vistas Series 1: Courtyard Vistas
Photo Credits
Picture provided by: http://members.tripod.com/~jennifer_polan/indianvillage/villagetext2.html
View and Post comment on this article
The contents of the article are Copyright © of the author and may not be reproduced in any form without prior written permission from the author.
|