Incomplete - 7

It was now her third day in the village and Sharada was getting restless. In a jiffy her focus drifted to a different world- her world in which she lived, slept, breathed and survived. Fear and selfishness slowly crept in; it was important to stay detached. Grand mother's condition was deteriorating; and all she wanted to avoid was the last minute ceremonies and her relatives around. But she was running away from everything

To her dismay, Nirmala's current state was her tying down. She took forward her best step and got hold of the situation, not for anybody else but it served as cause to get away from the village. She picked the receiver of the phone and spoke to a high official in the police department to speed up the process and get the case attended on a priority basis. How did she manage to get such connections was not any miracle; she was just gifted that she had good friends around. In just half an hour the police arrived at grandmother's house.

Privately having conversation with Sharada, this time the investigations were more sophisticated; the team had changed and were holding interactions with people in the village. Nirmala got a little confident and now it didn’t really matter to her if Meera was raped or married; all she wanted was her daughter ALIVE. This was a great change considering the mental frame work the village people were in. Sharada was responsible for the inevitable change of attitude and took pains to prepare Nirmala for police confrontation. The only relief this time was that Nirmala heard her convincingly. The police had got some directions, a register office, background check on the boy - who hailed from a reputed family, and the places they could primarily escape to. Definitely a miraculous work, considering the pace of police investigations.

A phone call at around 3:00 pm gave some respite to everyone and relieved some tension. Meera spoke to Nirmala. The boy and girl were spotted, taken into custody and promised to be back by night to the village. Nirmala would just say "come back Meera, and we will get you married, don’t worry about anything" she would repeat that forever. Grandmother cried and held Sharada's hand for a long time in gratitude. Sharada wished to ask her why grandmother wanted to meet her; but didn’t say a word. She just wanted to avoid any of her forthcoming pleas.

Nirmala was into discussions on marriage modalities with her close associates. As it progressed, Sharada opportuned to get into her past. This was also a marriage.

It was the time when Grandmother's mental frame work had thickened with regard to Sharada, she was upset and "written her off" as somebody who would not come out with flying colours. Sharada just observed anger and silence and continued to do what was instructed to her. They both were off for a marriage at one of grandmother's brother's family. Some incidents were nothing to do with life but always remembered and this was one such thing- Sharada always remembered.

In the marriage, Sharada's role was only to help people around, she would cut vegetables, help put clothes into the washing machine (then having a washing machine was an asset enjoyed only by the rich), run around distributing things, offer drinks, iron clothes etc. Everyone would ask about Sharada and her ambitions and dreams. Grandmother would rubbish such questions and would just start discussing if a suitable match could be identified for Sharada. Sharada felt insulted almost all the time. There was only one soul in the entire family and gathering who empathized with Sharada and that was one her farthest "cousin" - Shekar, he was studying for medicine.

Two days at a stretch, Sharada wore very normal clothes and performed normal duties. She did feel the distance, the gap, the crack; yet suppressed her feelings. She was one among them yet not like them. Shekar’s mother wanted some clothes to be ironed. As Sharada took the clothes into the room, Shekar followed her. He would talk to her nicely and make her feel important. She wondered why. It was hardly fifteen minutes into conversation, he pulled her close, brushed her lips and kept it locked for more than 5 minutes. Sharada unaware, puzzled, bewildered, stood there shivering for the rest of the time and could not believe something like this happened to her. She would not move out of the room scared to face the people. After all she was just 17. Next day, during the marriage function, she stayed away from all formalities. She did not look into his eyes. All her eyes did was to look around for him one last time when they had packed bags to leave.

Ironically, Sharada wondered whose mistake it was all the way through her life.

After 20 long years, they happened to look into each other's eyes and this time the doctor was apologetic. Sharada sighed with her dimpled face.

Incomplete - 6

The score gradually depleted, Nirmala had four people in the house to give her morale support. Sharada easily sensed Nirmala’s uneasiness as night approached; there were intermittent messages from the Police station, some men would keep her updated on every progress; a team from the village was also out in search of Meera. It was yet not clear if it was “love and run” case; this was an appropriate time for everyone to weave stories and spread rumours around. Some people from media were insisting on photographs; Nirmala would not agree to any of their plea. Aloof and resigned Sharada showed very little interest into the case; unlike of her. Arguments could push some people and lend a virtual support; however, with her these persuasions seemed futile. People change and change a lot; some out of experience, some out of disinterest and some out of sheer adamancy. Sharada could be categorized in one of these boxes yet not completely. She is updated of every law and order situation and dealing with it. It could help Nirmala a lot at least if Meera was innocent or to help a boy who was going to be humiliated, in the name of religion. After a long time grandmother spoke for the first time in the day; she summoned Nirmala and asked for some change over. Grandma had drenched herself badly and had no option but to call her; as Sharada watched Nirmala rushing; and first time after her arrival, Sharada walked up and helped Nirmala and later took over. A sigh of relief, God made woman, good. Sensitivity, emotions, kindness, was core to any action as far as Sharada is concerned or connected to. A trip to Pondicherry with few of her friends is a definite recollection. All young and juvenile; hired a taxi. The driver halted in midway to fetch water, not aware of a speeding motorbike the opened door collided. In fraction of seconds the couple riding the motorbike were on the ground. Sharada kept her nerve, muted her friends and with an act of sheer courage walked up to them. She was the only one who knew six languages amongst her friends and instructed them to conceal all their valuables and cash. As she came closer to the collision site she immediately noticed that the woman wounded was pregnant. Her instincts told her she had case in hand and this is going to be a tough cookie. Taking command of the state of affairs she rushed the lady inside the hired taxi- SUMO. Without much delay they were now at the nearest Pondicherry government hospital. Only one thing kept her mind racing- the safety of the woman and her child. Apparently Sharada could read the husband’s mind and she knew he was not going to let go of any opportunity of squeezing money from Sharada’s friends; who obviously were alien to the place and would shell out money in order to escape any conflicts. She unaware of her mental and physical exhaustion kept her cool and ran around the place to have a clear picture of their wellbeing. In the end, all is well that end well. She managed to speak to the doctor herself though the husband did try his bit to shield information and rescue her friends, driver and ofcourse herself. This was one of the many things that came naturally to her- compassion for injured and defense for friends.
As Sharada got busy with cleaning and getting things fixed with her grandma and kitchen….grandma stretched her hand out and requested Sharada to help Nirmala and the whereabouts of Meera. Sharada stay hesitated.

Incomplete - 5

Just about 30 minutes into deep slumber; Sharada heard the early morning hustle in the house. For the people in the village, the day had already started. This time sparing them the difficulty of drawing water from the well or walk a distance to fill, they carry water from the road side pipes. The elderly woman, named Nirmala; did exactly the same work which was established for the longest time by grandmother- the daily household routine job. But this time it was easier, water pipes and readymade rangolis or paints on the floor were the trend and made life easier. It gave them forty five minutes of extra sleep.

Earlier huge pits were dug for toilet purposes which are now replaced by cemented Indian style lavatories. Sharada remembers how she used to bath in a virtual bathroom covered by her grandmother’s 9 yard saree. However the change now being a bathroom with asbestos sheet having a roof and a proper latch.

A disturbing door bell threw up Sharada from her sleep; a man at the door came over to meet Nirmala. Sharada stood there watching Nirmala rushing towards the entrance; and her ears glued to the conversation. She could hear whispers gradually turning out into loud screams; before she could reach out to the door; Nirmala along with the man were running towards the temple (in the vicinity). Unrest prevailed and Sharada could not leave grandmother alone in the house. An hour later Nirmala broke down into tears and did not speak a word as she sat there in grandmother's room. The news revealed that her daughter had eloped; Sharada just touched the woman and said nothing.

It was not surprising, there were fifteen odd people inside the house, some familiar faces, some beyond recognition, some very new. Sharada had very less role to play, stood there observing each one. A similar situation crossed her mind when she was young; however, at this time it was important to not to be spaced out. Inspite of political and personal scheming to over do one another, over a period Sharada had come into consensus and had started accepting that the village was a family for at least all the generations who lived and died there. She heard for the first time the girl's name "Meera"

In the year 2010, eloping was still eloping; it wasn’t any different from what it used to be. The difference was the girl hailed from a hindu-brahmin family and the boy, a muslim. Some things never change; this is for all the continents. It reminded of a conversation on marriage and its success, an older couple would vouch that every marriage has problems; just that it’s always a different and a new problem.

This eloping invited police investigation; obviously when there is a muslim boy involved, it called for a background check- if the boy was involved with any terrorist outfit- if the girl was forced into this- is it a racket - so on and so forth. It was visible to Sharada, how a "simple love story" was turning out to be a case of kidnapping.

It was not about chance or guts, as a matter of fact the so called society in the name of education, trust worthiness, faithfulness, obligations conveniently shaped teen or young minds to present love-cases and convince parents on a closure, which could be marriage or break-up.

And another section of people would run stories, theatre plays and movies from Romeo Juliet, Laila Majnu, Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenga to Love Aaj Kal. Sharada would have loved to elope; and perhaps had she; things would have been different from now.

Sharada had three bakras for her imaginations now, three characters in a row and evidently, one of them will be Sharada.

Three belonging to three different generations, the generation gap had come down drastically to about 7 years now; Sharadambal (1940), Sharada (1975), and Meera (1990). How all of them decided to lead a life. The older one of all, Sharadambal did not have a choice and she lived a life assigned to her. A man 26 years older than her (who would not have bestowed roses, silk saress or jewellery); At the age of 18 she was a mother for three little kids. For the woman it was emotional security and for the man the pride to procreate. Sharada had all the choices but she always made the wrong ones. She ran behind something, she had no clue of. Here is Meera, who decided and really did not look back or the future that is going to be.

To evaluate on a scale, Sharadambal had a better life. Atleast she was here in her 80's with her great grand sons and daughters; a world that had laptops. Two years back grandmother would sit in front of a computer (when she was travelling to metros to visit her son's or daughter) and watch her great grand daughter through a web camera.

Now the people focus shifted to Sharada, everyone wanted to know who had visited them; there were whispers......whose daughter....where is she from.....is she married....no kids....no husband.....looks old......some knew......some avoided eye contact......some gave dirty scanning.....

Decisions were primary for a great life or at least a life defined by society. If one decided to stay married to the same man for 30-40 long years with kids, and grand children; a palatial house, car etc then by standards she is accepted.

Others are called, whatever, but Sharada calls herself as "incompletely insane"

The moment now, Sharada's concerns were absolute silence and just chants by her grandmother, she would not quir on anything or lend soothing words.

Incomplete - 4

Compelling her being to come back to reality she closes the window. Also a corresponding closure to all thoughts she prepares to go down. While taking the concluding step she realizes how ignorant she has been of the elderly woman who welcomed her. Yes, she was a distant relative to the grandmother and was staying with her daughter - perhaps in her teens. Sharada had not seen the girl.

Her movement disturbed the elderly lady, who points towards Sharada’s bed while rubbing her eyes and trying to gain focus. Contrary to her ever so organized nature, Sharada lies down slowly in tranquility, skips to change or arrange her bags. The bed was on the floor – little had changed since her childhood - the same mattress, the same cushion, same smell, and of course similar feeling… and it was time to rest mind and body. She kicked her physical and mental weariness, as the body and joints stretched. The idea of food crossed her mind and it was too late, as she realized to have ignored the elderly woman’s plea for dinner.

There are living things, non living things and then there is Sharada. She miraculously oscillated between past and present; all persuading, motivational, inspiring talks by friends, counselors didn’t really work on her. Presenting to you, Sharada – subject of past. Her eyes stared still, wide open, did not close; easily about 20-30 shots of sleeping pills powered her body.

Her eyes jetted, first on the ceiling fan, then the regulator, next above the roof and within seconds into the space....."Time" and “lots of time”, a very fundamental cause of worry and issue around one. One thinks (broods), re-thinks (broods over), constructively thinks, introspectively thinks and then there is negative and positive thinking as well. There isn’t any definite direction to thinking, one will get convinced that it’s completely original and render a lateral perspective. Now the thinking rolled and climaxed into a world war. Food, Shelter, Clothing (Roti, Kapda aur Makaan); basic necessities for living; would that suffice or fulfill a man’s wish and allow him to permanently stop making money? To argue, a human body requires uninterrupted conditioning; till it decides to go hiding six feet under. This is debatable; the basic necessities are super imposed by luxuries, ambitions, dreams, and desires etc forcing a man to create ladders to growth, money and power.

As the discussion continuous, a convincing point makes her nod in mind, that there are forefathers, grand fathers, fathers who promise to provide and contribute to the future of the family. The process of breeding and rearing will see man progressing to a more perfected world, perfect society; and soon space on land will not be enough. This will enable him to build a perfect world right up on air; of course with the help of few scientists, there will be perfect solutions for burial or air-ial cremation. After all this there will sure come a time when earth and air population will wage a world - war for land-air space because there is definitely going to be a border J or Line of Control.

These deliberations sprouted in her mind to rationalize why she was the way she is. Sharada did not do anything constructively, productively or positively for the longest time; some radical changes in her mind kept her busy dying and doing multiple things. Framing herself a “loser” didn’t really matter to her; to think about it, what was she losing? Or did she glorify an act, which is not natural or justify herself to be adamant.

It was 5 am in the morning....."Time is an issue"

Incomplete - 3

Every detail was still afresh, not seen but felt by Sharada. She often wondered if grandmother's behaviour was a way to get her attention, demand respect, empathy, or just that it would control Sharada's straight forward crudeness whenever she would present instances that were erroneous. Sharada’s made extreme efforts to stop her mind, "try not to think," "forget it"; yet she continued to think....but all seemed unmarked that had a perennial flow.

Truth is easier when it is to others; not to us. Similarly with Sharada. She was so scared of the truth, the more she indulged in contemplation the more she came closer to the reality. And that hurt her more than anything. However, on the contrary sometimes absence of knowledge is equally painful.

Truth, Peace, Identity - are these adjectives? Some soothing words like "dont be harsh on yourself"; introspecting was good but Sharada was way beyond and more than introspection. She would always decide "this time is going to be the last time" but it so ends that "past" seems to be a very continuous factor both in present and her future ....its very subjective. "Trupthi Ellathadhu" - not yet contented and perhaps one reason why things look incomplete.

Her relationship strained beyond repair and one of the many instances crawled her mind:

1991
It was an exciting moment for Sharada's grandmother, she would depart to the washroom every now and then…her adrenalin worked faster than normal. She was about to be voted as the local guardian at the college where Sharada was seeking admission. Every 5 minutes she would be checking if Sharada had taken her certificates, admission forms, money and almost everything possible.

Sharada vividly remembers holding a ration card (palm oil card, which you get at the mavelli store). Her friends from the same village were also to join her at the same college (of course different sections, departments etc). Sharada not paying attention to anything around busy with her belongings, engrossed in her thoughts was only enthusiastic about the fact that all eyes were on her. Still not enrolled and she hit it off by shaking hands with a senior student Arun (a ABVP - party member - he was the most popular guy spoken about by almost everyone even before Sharada knew the college - courtesy some senior friends in the village).

It was after two days Sharada over heard her grandma talking to some of her neighbours about her visit to college. Grandma had never been to a school and here she was in a college for her granddaughter. She boasted about how she met the Principal, Department Heads and how respectful and forthcoming they were. Sharada wondered when that happened. Nevertheless, it was interesting to see her happiness, whichever way, not for long though. It was happiness short lived. Grandma had splendid dreams, one being Sharada passing out with flying colours and travel to the US of A and what not....

Dreams all thrashed, within a year, Sharada was suspended from her college. Close to dismissal, in the name of PICNIC.

Sharada had entered a world, which was not what she was seeing. Every action had repercussions. Her school of thoughts stayed pre-mature, she spearheaded a PICNIC programme for students in her class; it wasnt under any strategic approach, just to have fun at the end of the day, after all college was all about fun and studies. The programme welcomed at a level where lecturers appreciated the move. However, little was she aware that this would become a nightmare for her. First blow was when her grandma turned down her proposal; she could not convince her at any stage how important it was to her and what she was to this entire programme. All Grandma had to say was "your parents are not with us and this cannot be allowed", all phone calls and inland letters went down the drain. Parents could not convince grandma and they could not see things upsetting Sharada. Sharada backed out, however, the Picnic programme wasn’t cancelled, students girls and boys along with an office attendee and a department head (and his family) decided to go ahead - Kodaikanal the destination. As days progressed the toll came down to 20 and there were about seven girls. Agenda had it that the girls would stay with Sharada before moving the next day morning.

Grandma was not forthcoming, however, she just agreed to that bit. They all stayed with us and grandma was a friendly host if not perfect. Sharada tried to do the balancing act, not sure if it worked. The early morning was very exhilarating, as everybody bathed to an expedition, the bus arrived and as the girls were about to leave is when a call flawed the programme. The department head along with his family excused due to his daughter's poor health; guys and girls weren’t sure what to do, and that’s when a little push and encouragement from Sharada gave them the confidence and the engine started with wheels driving north.

For Sharada, the day continued to be a routine, a box of curd rice and pickle, her books neatly held around her hands touching the chest, she marched towards the college.

Even before the session started, Sharada was called to her department and enquired on the PICNIC, there were only responses to all questions and she did not understand what was going on. The next summon from the Principal's chamber. She was there in front of her College Principal, Dr. Leela. Sharada stood there wondering what went wrong, thought if everything was safe, if there had been any accident; however, it was soon to be disclosed and to her shock, the entire picnic was touted to be a "lover's runaway feat" and there were seven boys and 7 girls. This simply ripped off the concept and unfortunately one of the girl's father was a Police personnel. Sharada was showed the red card for spearheading the programme.

Sharada stood there still, shocked, a sense of failure, a sense of injustice, a sense of absolute nonsense. Grandma stopped talking.

To date, Sharada did not get a chance to clarify, fight and voice her state-of-mind. A blow very deep into a fragile mind; all around things became difficult, communication misconstrued, grandmother was hurt and her actions hurt Sharada, sometimes retaliated, sometimes succumbed; like sand, jelly and cement; pain, remorse started housing inside the mental building.

2010
Sharada, sometime early morning 2 am, stood there at the window, with her eyes wide open and this time without tears.

Incomplete - 2

Thoughts wired and connected through fragile palms, Sharada stayed awake as grandmother slowly entered her sleep. Strangely that heavy breathing feared her mind and ironically "one sleeping became dangerous"; slowly releasing herself, Sharada, worned out, extremely weak pulled herself forcefully towards the hallway that lead to a wooden staircase.

The vacuum in mind is now stirred by several memories which were buried under the rubble as she takes her first step.

Involuntary thoughts about her grandmother had now taken over her. Wide array of questions raced her mind - What was so different about her (grandmother's) life to that of mine? Did she suffer more than me? Or did she really have a better life than me? Was she happy at all or led life just because it’s meant to be? Undoubtedly she has always been a woman with a strong character. She knew exactly what she wanted and from whom. Any hurdles in her wish were conveniently given the name of culture, religion and customs. Smart with words, she convinced people of the village, gathered sympathy and managed to maintain that for years. Yes, hypocrite is the word. But who is not a hypocrite in this world. We all are. All of us are real life good actors.

I have been always been a victim of her critical comments, taunts and edgy looks. She used to detest me, I knew why.

In spite of all this she wanted to see “ME” one last time.

Taking the last step Sharada now enters the room towards the left. (Switches on the lights)

Her eyes wander aimlessly, captivated by the photographs hung on the wall. Photographs as old as a century may be. The entire wall was dedicated to family pictures. Some pictures traced the youth and old age of her grandmother. These were the witness of hanged time. The frames were tattered covered with layers of dust accumulated over the years. Apparently no one bothered about their value. Her vision fixed on a particular picture. She rubs the dirt on that frame to have a closer look. “That’s my favourite” she spoke to herself. It had her sixteen year old grandmother- so innocent, feminine and beautiful. Such milky blemish less skin, sharp nose, rosy lips, graceful slender body, talkative almond eyes, long black straight hairs that touched her hips, red “Bindi” (made out of powdered sindoor) on her forehead stood out in her pearly round face. Sharada wondered her grandmother’s enchanting looks could have won her front cover in Vogue magazine. Smiling at her thought she reaches to the window next to that frame to open:

1943
The window opens to a well. Sharada visualizes her 16 yr old grandmother drawing water from the well with tender hands / palms at 4.30 am in the morning, barefoot. Dressed in a simple 9 yard royal blue saree (madisar / puduvai), how attractive a woman can look! T’was in the year 1943. As a routine work her conditioned mind cleans the entire house along with the entrance. She sits to decorate the entrance with colourful rangoli- a custom carried out in the southern part of India. She then progresses to take bath with the remaining water in the bucket, washes her saree and blouse, dries them by squeezing every inch of water from it and wears the same again (a wedding gift). Taking on to her habitual tasks she enters the kitchen and prepares to cook for the family.

Big sigh- ‘Aaaahh.’ A sense of acceptance creeps in. Grandmother has indeed undergone a lot. Married at the age of 16 to a man who was 26 years older than - 42 years old; unimaginable today. The only reason for her to get married was poverty, security, enabling her parents course their responsibilities. My grandfather, a Vedic scholar, preached and propagated the Vedic scriptures in Sanskrit and possessed a huge ancestral property. He had no consistent occupation which could support the family financially, however, all compensated by her brothers who all took care of this 20 member close knit / extended family. Mute and suppressed my grandmother took everything that came her way in her stride. Then, there was no option of complaining as she came from a very poor family. The only option she had was to cry, sob, howl and carry on with the duties the next day. She stood there as the oldest / youngest daughter-in-law.

Customary or by tradition, first granddaughter is christened after her paternal grandmother. Many a things were different, some were similar, common, including one to begin with the Name "Sharadambal"

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.