Waiting is probably the toughest thing to do. When you are a minute early at the stop, the bus seems to take forever to come to bay. 60 seconds that would have ordinarily passed for a trifle, (one minute is nothing man!) seem like an eternity when you are waiting.
Meghna glanced at the watch on the wall for the 4th time. He should be here now. She walked to the verandah again. It was a mad house down there, Rafiq street had never been a quiet place, or so it seemed to everyone who lived there. It had an odd mixture of residential complexes and commercial structures. It was a concoction of different kinds of economies, surviving and sustaining each other. The hawkers and street vendors' raucous calls battled with the roar of traffic to draw attention of the men on the street. The collared ones saw those on the street with eyes full of contempt, a contempt born from the fact that they needed these lesser men below, so they could be up there in those glimmering air conditioned cubicles. They knew somehow that their lives were intertwined; just as those filthy men looked up to them for those few pieces of green paper that they possessed in abundance.. they too needed to look down for all the comforts that made their life. This dependency made them feel flawed. It struck a realisation that there was something beyond their control, the very fact that their dependency dealt with humans, much like them, and god forbid they should ever realise what this dependency meant.
Meghna was happy not to be a part of it all, at least not at the moment. From up there, it seemed all distant, even the voices of the street were silenced as they travelled up. Staring down at the multitude of people that passed on that street on any particular day was an enthralling exercise for her, but today her eyes strained to locate a familiar dot moving towards her.
The phone rang. "Punnoo phone gheee" she called in. The voice on the other side of the phone was responded to with a tiny giggle, "aaaiiiiiiii, tulaaaa" Punnu called back in a cheerful voice. Meghna rushed to the phone. "hey i'm stuck in traffic, mala vel hoil vatata, (I might get late) u carry on with lunch" the voice on the other side said. She replaced the receiver despondently as the clock struck 2.
She placed the lunch on the table, as Punnoo jumped into the chair. She always had stories to tell. Punnoo loved to talk, or rather used all the words she had learnt. She would cram as many as possible in one sentence, often leading to hilarious outcomes. Meghna always took part in Punnoo's animated conversations. But today she played the role of a listener "aai, dadaa..." Punnoo continued. The word flashed a scene from the past infront of her eyes..
The bell rang just then..Punnoo ran to the door... "Dadooooo" she yelled as she hugged the tiny figure only slightly taller than her. Slowly releasing her hug, he produced a toffee from his pocket. She grabbed it. Punnoo's talk was now addressed to the tiny figure. She followed it wherever it went like a shadow. Dadoo listened to her patiently, with a few words in between when Punnoo allowed him to speak.
Punnoo waited for her mother's call reminding her of the plate on the table,to her surprise there was none.
Meghna thought about the voice on the phone. She tried to remember the previous time she had heard it. It was a long time ago, and then too there hadn't been much to speak. There had been a message to pass, she had done just that and the voice had struggled to say something in return, but failed.
An album lay on the tipoy, she flipped through it, unaware of the 2 little bodies that slipped besides her onto the couch. A tiny finger pointed at a figure in one snap n said, "aai, ha tujha dadoo?"
Meghna felt a pang in her heart. Dadoo was something she had longed to call him, but he never let her, and she never figured out why. Everyday, she saw her childhood play back infront of her eyes as Punnoo n Adi.
They would start their day with an argument, and she, the stubborn little one would burst into tears at the first sign of possible defeat, and 'her Dadoo' would always fall for them. He would accept defeat and the triumph of victory would make her day. She was the younger, and hence the pampered one, and Dadoo made no fuss about this.
Her Dadoo was a loving, caring, just like all elder brothers should be. They would share everything they had, and that had been the crux of their relationship for many years. There had been nothing hers or his, it was always theirs, even their thoughts and secrets.
Somewhere growing up had pulled them apart. 'Our secrets' were replaced by 'my secret'. She had tried to understand the sudden change in her Dadoo as he walked into his teens. It took her teens to figure out why. And by the time she did, Dadoo had left for elsewhere. There was a rift, and the distance between them only widened it.
One day it struck them that the rift had grown so wide, that the only thing that could pass between them was a river, and any attempt from either side to cross would prove suicidal. She wondered why neither of them thought of a bridge.
For years after this realisation their mother had been the only link between them. She was the one who passed words, those said, and as Meghna later realised, even unsaid.
Why does life change perspectives? Or does it create circumstances where you are lead into changing them? Why do some of your closest relationships end up into never ending lists of accusations? Why do people whom you love hurt you the most, and you reciprocate with even more bitterness? Why is it easy to forget all good times, for one bad moment?
After their mother they restricted to a casual 'hi', 'hello' every few days, with 'how's life n everyone at home?', an offline sometimes, 'give regards to kids'. The replies would never be different. 'i'm great! Hows it with u?', 'kids doing great, Punnoo's just started with.... n Adi is...'
The phone rang again, the kids rushed to the phone, but Meghna reached before them. The same voice said, "15 minutes and I will be there."
There was a knock on the door, as she busied herself with the pooja thali. Adi walked to open the door, with his tail following him. The kids stood puzzled at the stranger, as he held king size bars of chocolates for them. Meghna joined the scene and ushered him in.
What is the first thing you say to your brother when you see him after years? Meghna wondered. The same question shown in his eyes. Punnoo broke the uncomfortable silence.. "Maamaaaaaa!!! thank you!!!" He smiled at the eyes that had been drawn straight from her mother. She will too grow to be like you some day, he said in voiceless words.
It was evening, and the kids were overjoyed to be with this man who had suddenly flooded their day with gifts. Meghna put sweets in a plate. She took the envelope that lay on the table, and slowly removed a silk rakhi from it. "i don't like fancy rakhi's ok.. I just want a plain one" a voice from the past echoed in her ears. She always fancied buying the best in the market for him, and he always wanted the most inconspicuous one.
It was just a bundle of silk threads in her hand.... soft yet strong! "Why silk maaa?" she'd asked her mother once.
" 'Cause relationships are like tat dear, like silk-knots. A knot tied right will never let loose."
Outside Punnoo and Adi cackled at their Mama's hilarious adventures. He had dressed up for the occasion. Something he had always been forced to do. He put forth his right hand. His wrist infront of her eyes, the skin was coarse n tanned.. Is that what the years away has done to him? She thought.
There was something else, a thin red thread tight around the wrist. It looked old-- washed and worn. She looked up to meet his eyes. He was a semi-atheist. He never believed in threads n lucky charms, what was this thread then?
"Get a scissor sis you gotta cut it open now. Don't u remember? U tied it "
She stood bewildered... what are you sayin? This thread ....... I ? Her mind raced back.....
"a knot tied right will never let loose"
Something wet the thread on his hand as she cut the knot that had been holding it for years...a flood followed!
Meghna glanced at the watch on the wall for the 4th time. He should be here now. She walked to the verandah again. It was a mad house down there, Rafiq street had never been a quiet place, or so it seemed to everyone who lived there. It had an odd mixture of residential complexes and commercial structures. It was a concoction of different kinds of economies, surviving and sustaining each other. The hawkers and street vendors' raucous calls battled with the roar of traffic to draw attention of the men on the street. The collared ones saw those on the street with eyes full of contempt, a contempt born from the fact that they needed these lesser men below, so they could be up there in those glimmering air conditioned cubicles. They knew somehow that their lives were intertwined; just as those filthy men looked up to them for those few pieces of green paper that they possessed in abundance.. they too needed to look down for all the comforts that made their life. This dependency made them feel flawed. It struck a realisation that there was something beyond their control, the very fact that their dependency dealt with humans, much like them, and god forbid they should ever realise what this dependency meant.
Meghna was happy not to be a part of it all, at least not at the moment. From up there, it seemed all distant, even the voices of the street were silenced as they travelled up. Staring down at the multitude of people that passed on that street on any particular day was an enthralling exercise for her, but today her eyes strained to locate a familiar dot moving towards her.
The phone rang. "Punnoo phone gheee" she called in. The voice on the other side of the phone was responded to with a tiny giggle, "aaaiiiiiiii, tulaaaa" Punnu called back in a cheerful voice. Meghna rushed to the phone. "hey i'm stuck in traffic, mala vel hoil vatata, (I might get late) u carry on with lunch" the voice on the other side said. She replaced the receiver despondently as the clock struck 2.
She placed the lunch on the table, as Punnoo jumped into the chair. She always had stories to tell. Punnoo loved to talk, or rather used all the words she had learnt. She would cram as many as possible in one sentence, often leading to hilarious outcomes. Meghna always took part in Punnoo's animated conversations. But today she played the role of a listener "aai, dadaa..." Punnoo continued. The word flashed a scene from the past infront of her eyes..
The bell rang just then..Punnoo ran to the door... "Dadooooo" she yelled as she hugged the tiny figure only slightly taller than her. Slowly releasing her hug, he produced a toffee from his pocket. She grabbed it. Punnoo's talk was now addressed to the tiny figure. She followed it wherever it went like a shadow. Dadoo listened to her patiently, with a few words in between when Punnoo allowed him to speak.
Punnoo waited for her mother's call reminding her of the plate on the table,to her surprise there was none.
Meghna thought about the voice on the phone. She tried to remember the previous time she had heard it. It was a long time ago, and then too there hadn't been much to speak. There had been a message to pass, she had done just that and the voice had struggled to say something in return, but failed.
An album lay on the tipoy, she flipped through it, unaware of the 2 little bodies that slipped besides her onto the couch. A tiny finger pointed at a figure in one snap n said, "aai, ha tujha dadoo?"
Meghna felt a pang in her heart. Dadoo was something she had longed to call him, but he never let her, and she never figured out why. Everyday, she saw her childhood play back infront of her eyes as Punnoo n Adi.
They would start their day with an argument, and she, the stubborn little one would burst into tears at the first sign of possible defeat, and 'her Dadoo' would always fall for them. He would accept defeat and the triumph of victory would make her day. She was the younger, and hence the pampered one, and Dadoo made no fuss about this.
Her Dadoo was a loving, caring, just like all elder brothers should be. They would share everything they had, and that had been the crux of their relationship for many years. There had been nothing hers or his, it was always theirs, even their thoughts and secrets.
Somewhere growing up had pulled them apart. 'Our secrets' were replaced by 'my secret'. She had tried to understand the sudden change in her Dadoo as he walked into his teens. It took her teens to figure out why. And by the time she did, Dadoo had left for elsewhere. There was a rift, and the distance between them only widened it.
One day it struck them that the rift had grown so wide, that the only thing that could pass between them was a river, and any attempt from either side to cross would prove suicidal. She wondered why neither of them thought of a bridge.
For years after this realisation their mother had been the only link between them. She was the one who passed words, those said, and as Meghna later realised, even unsaid.
Why does life change perspectives? Or does it create circumstances where you are lead into changing them? Why do some of your closest relationships end up into never ending lists of accusations? Why do people whom you love hurt you the most, and you reciprocate with even more bitterness? Why is it easy to forget all good times, for one bad moment?
After their mother they restricted to a casual 'hi', 'hello' every few days, with 'how's life n everyone at home?', an offline sometimes, 'give regards to kids'. The replies would never be different. 'i'm great! Hows it with u?', 'kids doing great, Punnoo's just started with.... n Adi is...'
The phone rang again, the kids rushed to the phone, but Meghna reached before them. The same voice said, "15 minutes and I will be there."
There was a knock on the door, as she busied herself with the pooja thali. Adi walked to open the door, with his tail following him. The kids stood puzzled at the stranger, as he held king size bars of chocolates for them. Meghna joined the scene and ushered him in.
What is the first thing you say to your brother when you see him after years? Meghna wondered. The same question shown in his eyes. Punnoo broke the uncomfortable silence.. "Maamaaaaaa!!! thank you!!!" He smiled at the eyes that had been drawn straight from her mother. She will too grow to be like you some day, he said in voiceless words.
It was evening, and the kids were overjoyed to be with this man who had suddenly flooded their day with gifts. Meghna put sweets in a plate. She took the envelope that lay on the table, and slowly removed a silk rakhi from it. "i don't like fancy rakhi's ok.. I just want a plain one" a voice from the past echoed in her ears. She always fancied buying the best in the market for him, and he always wanted the most inconspicuous one.
It was just a bundle of silk threads in her hand.... soft yet strong! "Why silk maaa?" she'd asked her mother once.
" 'Cause relationships are like tat dear, like silk-knots. A knot tied right will never let loose."
Outside Punnoo and Adi cackled at their Mama's hilarious adventures. He had dressed up for the occasion. Something he had always been forced to do. He put forth his right hand. His wrist infront of her eyes, the skin was coarse n tanned.. Is that what the years away has done to him? She thought.
There was something else, a thin red thread tight around the wrist. It looked old-- washed and worn. She looked up to meet his eyes. He was a semi-atheist. He never believed in threads n lucky charms, what was this thread then?
"Get a scissor sis you gotta cut it open now. Don't u remember? U tied it "
She stood bewildered... what are you sayin? This thread ....... I ? Her mind raced back.....
"a knot tied right will never let loose"
Something wet the thread on his hand as she cut the knot that had been holding it for years...a flood followed!
Comments
simply awesome...