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.