Incomplete

Sun has descended and taken its natural course. As dark sets in, sound of silence prevails in the month of January; there was a touch of northern winters in Kerela. Breaking the stillness of nature, honking bus stops with force and many rush to load and unload themselves. As eyes roll from left to right, a girl steps down from the bus- bewildered preoccupied, lost in her thoughts. In green cotton saree with white border, untidy hair, tired eyes, rough hands carrying a hand bag and a back pack; tries to watch her each foot avoiding the uneven terrain. May be in her mid 30’s she finally returns to this village- this place to which she is so connected and yet had pledged not to return. As she keeps walking the same lanes she had walked years ago, her mind wavers and cant stop thinking, so much has changed and still nothing at all.

As a usual routine, women gather to fill buckets near the water pump- a time that serves as a get-together were talks of day to day work is discussed. Definitely a sight which has not changed over the years. She maintains her pace and continues with a heavy heart when two young boys sing a song to her as they pass on a cycle- common symbol of eve teasing every girl/ woman faces in this part of the world.

Tiny lanes, muddy passages with sharp edges and curves are responsible for her to take longer time than normal to reach her destination. It is here when a car while taking a turn applies sudden breaks and she is alarmed as the headlights fall on her face. Not bothered of a probable escape from an accident, the driver head starts the car and rushes quickly. Covering her blinking eyes with her hand, she waits patiently for the car to move away.

And now that she has reached the center of the village, a bunch of men and women gather overlooking her, whispering, chatting, and questioning- “who is she?” There are now more people to be seen, more lights and more sounds. Every house illuminated with the rays of numerous deepam. “Hmm” she gasped. It is Kartike Deepam festival today.

Gradually her steps take directions towards her house, ignoring all the clutter – clatter of the people. An elderly woman in her mid 40s comes from inside the house and tries to recognize this girl. Failing in her attempts she decides to question directly.

Elderly woman: (Rubbing her eyes as though forcing herself to recognize) Who are you?

Girl: I am “Sharada”

Elderly Woman: (Warm welcome) Yes, please come in. I have been awaiting your presence for long but was not sure when you would arrive. We never heard from you about your arrival time.

Girl: (No smile just a nod) May I have a glass of water?

Elderly Woman: (Excited) Sure Sure. Your grandmother has been only thinking about you.

Girl: Where is she?

Elderly Woman: (Points towards the door of a room to the right)

Sharada enters the room with a blank mind and lethargic forceful body movement. Time had taken toll on her. She was not what she had been years ago. Turning her head towards Sharada, her grandmother lay still on the bed.

As their eyes met, many questions were asked, many questions were answered; many thoughts of anguish, joy, complain and dissatisfaction came to the forefront. A bond which existed and was lost with time is rekindled when two being meet again. The room was flooded with emotional outburst from both the sides.

They hold each other, hug each other and feel the emptiness in their hearts.

Recovering from their mutual feeling grandmother gently says: I was certain you would come today.

Sharada turns around the calendar- It was 19 January 2010.