Rear view mirror

This is part two. Please read part 1 here.

It was a long flight back for Diya. She did not like long flights. She could never sleep. She always felt that if she dozed off, there would be no one to fly the plane. 'And anyways, all airplanes have this strange smell', she would argue. She would take longer time to recover from the airplane experience than even jet lag.

All the passengers were sleeping. Hers was the only reading light on. She was looking through pictures of her childhood. Those days seemed so far away in her memory. Everything was one big blur. Of course she remembered a few instances which were etched in her memory, like when she was 10 years old and was taken sari shopping with her mom and aunts. She had liked a bluish green sari and asked her mom to buy it for herself which she promptly did. Or this other time when she was 16 and her cousin who was 14 had just 'come of age' and was regaling her with 'non-veg' jokes, sitting under the shade of water tank on a hot summer afternoon. She remembered one and let herself give out a half smile.

But as she looked through most of her other old snaps, she realised that she remembered when and where the pictures were taken but nothing much beyond it. Maybe it was just her current state of mind. She fidgeted with her book, her ipod and her albums spending equally less time with all of them. She knew that soon, she would start thinking of her mother and how to handle/ react to whatever situation that she would face when she landed. It would have been so much easier if Dave was with her now. But she knew he was right. ‘It is your family and you need to confront them. Plus its the worst time for me to meet your family for the first time.'

She caught herself thinking that something might happen to her mother while she is on the flight? She quickly dismissed the thought, telling herself to think positively and quickly sent a prayer upwards to her 'ishtdevata'. She wondered whether the prayer would reach Him faster as she was already up in the air. Her mind quickly shifted to her father. How would he react? A quiet man, he was complete contrast to the other three members in the house. Her mom, brother and she were loud, always talking and gossiping. At nights, they would sit in the kitchen discussing and dissecting the events of the day while he would sit reading his paper or business magazine. He was unassuming and a man of few words. But off late she had started to realised that she seemed to be more like her father in her thought process. And the more she thought about it, she realised that her dad, in his own silent way, had left more impressions on her than she had earlier realised.

'We are now entering Indian airspace', the captain's voice suddenly crackled through the speakers. She could almost feel the 'collective homecoming' of all the passengers around. As the plane aligned itself for landing in Chennai, she could spot the coast line and outline of the Coovum river. Her mind immediately registered the Coovum smell. It was instinctive. Years of train travel had taught her that Basin Bridge and Coovum smell meant that Central station was just a minute away. But that minute would seem like eternity.

The sudden jolt of the plane landing reminded her to switch on her blackberry. She heaved a sigh of relief as she read 'Amma normal - out of ICU' in the subject line. She looked out of the window as the plane taxied itself to its bay. She couldn't control the stream of tears that were flowing down her cheek. And this time, she did not want to.

She let her suitcase fall as she gave her brother a big hug. 'She's fine?'

'Yes she is. No problem at all. Out of ICU - in regular room. Under observation for a week.'

'What exactly happened? '

'A not too mild but not too serious kind of heart attack. A clot. Plus her diabetes complicated the operation a bit. I don't know too many details. I landed from few hours ago myself. You can ask appa. We are going to the hospital directly.'

‘I don't know how to face him. Is amma conscious? I can't face both together.'

'Yes she is conscious, I spoke to her. And you aren't going back after travelling half way around the world without meeting them, are you? Things would be uneasy first; but they would be fine. Don’t worry akka, you are after all their daughter. So tell me, how long you here, how is Dave?'

But Diya was not listening. She was watching the streetlights in the rear view mirror, wondering if those streetlights were actually closer or in fact farther than what they appeared.

She sat at the common area of 4th floor. She made her brother sit with her, in silence. She did not know what to do next.

'Appa..' She stood up.

'Go see amma. She is awake.' There was no smile or anger in the voice or on his face.

She walked steadily towards the room, opened the door and walked in holding her brother's hand. Her mom lay there in her nighty. She was sitting up and looked straight at them.

'Amma..' Her voice choked as tears flowed down her cheeks.

'Why have you come now? '

'Amma.. I know you are angry.. and you are right. I am sorry... '

'You hurt us. And what you did embarrassed and disgraced us. And you turn up today, after you hear that I am in the hospital. Where were you all these months, when the heartache you caused hurt more than this silly heart attack? I want you to turn back and go away. '

'These are your first reactions. I will talk to you later. Don't get agitated now. It is not good for you. I'll go now.' Diya turned and opened the door.

'Diya..’

‘Yes amma..’ . Diya turned around, with a big smile. Her mom had called out her name.

‘Sometimes life never gives you a second chance’

Answering Machine

It was a chilly Saturday evening. It had been snowing intermittently for over two days. Diya thought that it was quite abnormal for November. The weather gods had decided to be more benevolent today. It hadn’t snowed since morning. The roads had been cleared, the snow shovelled neatly to the sides. Diya and Dave decided that they would move into their new house today. They had spent close to 3 months searching for a house till they had chanced upon this one. Dave could not fathom a life in an apartment. 'Where will I play with my retrievers?' and Diya wanted a house from where she could feel the presence of the sea. Having grown up in a small apartment just off Besant Nagar beach in Chennai, sea had been her constant companion of many a year. The closest they could get to these requirements was a villa that had a backyard from where you could see the lake at a distance.

'But Dave is a nice guy ma!'.

'He is not one of us. He is white. An American. We cannot get along with him.'

'If one wants, we can get along with anyone.'

‘Don’t give me philosophical and idealistic answers. We live in a real world. He eats fish, meat and all those things. How do you expect me to live in a house where such things are cooked? Diya don't tell me you are going to cook non veg.'. There was a look of disgust on her mom's face.

Diya had rehearsed all these conversations innumerable times in the 16 hour flight from Newark to Chennai. She knew her parents well enough to know that she had no hope in convincing them. She had met Dave in her second year of Masters. She had taken up teaching assistantship with the same professor under whose guidance Dave was doing his Ph.D. They had met at the professor's house for Thanksgiving dinner. It wasn't love at first sight, but there was something attractive about him. The dinner was followed by a Broadway show, couple of movies, lunches, dinners and in two weeks time Diya knew that she was hopelessly in love with him, despite of all her efforts against it. She would lie on the bed at night, her thoughts oscillating wildly between how girly she felt around him and what this would mean at home.

She spent that Christmas at Dave's home in DC and in three days time she was like a foster daughter in the house. Dave's parents doted more on her, and this made Dave envious. She found Dave’s envy cute but she ensured that she enjoyed every bit of the attention that was being showered on her.

All through her 16 hour flight, she rehearsed every possible conversation, opposition and all her responses. She wanted to be patient and not loose her cool.

Yet something snapped within her. It was not what her mom had said, but the look of sheer disgust.

'I rather sit out the next 5 hours at the airport than in a house where people do not understand me'. She walked into her room slammed her door and walked out half hour later with her suitcase. No one tried to stop her. As she dragged her suitcase down those stairs, her brother Deep ran behind her, snatched her suitcase off. 'Go tell a proper bye to ma and pa. We'll go to the beach and then I will drop you off at the airport.'

Diya's thoughts were broken by the creaking sound of the garage door. 'We need to fix that horrible sound, Dave.' She said almost involuntarily. 'Still thinking about your family? Cheer up! We are entering our new home now. Smile!'

'Yeah, I am sorry.' She got off the Prius, wiping her tears of her cheeks. She skipped across the porch quickly, opened the front door after fumbling a bit with the keys and took a few steps into the house and stopped. She could see the living room, the guest room and the winding staircase to the first floor. A bluish black light lit the house. It seemed to be a curious mix of light from the heavens and street light filtered through the glass ceiling over the staircase. It seemed mystical. Dave's footsteps over the gravel made her aware of his presence. She shook her head, forcing herself to break off from her thoughts, wiped her moist eyes, switched on the lights and turned towards the main door and forced a smile.

'You ran in too soon. Did you see how beautiful the silhouette is, and the light reflecting off the lake?'

'Stop. .. Step in with your right leg …… ' .Her voice trailed as she realised what she was saying. She looked up at Dave who stood with one leg in the air at the door. She collapsed on to her knees and broke down sobbing.

'Hey Diya, this is Priya. .. I didn’t know that you were in the marriage market.' Priya sounded excited, disappointed and was feigning feeling of being hurt. It was as though she had been purposely kept out of a secret dealing.

'What do you mean? What are you blabbering?' It was not even April Fools day. She could trust Priya to play some prank. Priya was Diya's cousin, just six days younger. They had grown up together in Chennai and now were in US pursuing Masters. Priya lived within a 4 hour driving distance.

'Don't feign innocence. My mom just called me and asked me to checkout your profile on the matrimony site. Because of you now my parents are asking me to put my profile up. When did you agree? What about Dave? '

'Send me the link over mail. I will check it out and give you a call back. Bye! '

Diya was fuming by the time she read her own profile. She reached for her phone and called up Dave.

'Hey honey, wassup?'

'Dave, will you marry me? Can we get married in August, as soon as I finish?'

'What? What happened, Are you alright?' There was a discomforting silence. 'I mean.. I don't mean in that sense of being alright... You know what I mean right? 'This is too sudden and surprising… I am so happy you are thinking in about marriage... but what happened? Are you alright?’

'Yeah I am. Let us meet today for dinner and talk.'

Three months later, on a Saturday evening, Diya called home. She had stopped calling home. Only her parents called her once a week. She did speak to Deep everyday online to know what was happening at home, but she never called. She knew that it was a Sunday morning and her folks would be out for a walk along the beach. Predictably, she got the answering machine.

'Ma, this is Diya. I know this is going to be a big shock. I just called to say that I am getting married to Dave tomorrow. I don't know if I am doing the right thing or not, but after seeing my profile on the website, I just felt that I did not have a choice. I will miss you folks .... And .. and.. I am sorry’. Click.

Dave kneeled next to her, put his arm around and whispered into her ear 'You should call up your mom and speak to her.'

'But what will I tell her? What would I talk to her about? How do I even start the conversation?' Diya was almost yelling. 'I just left a message last time on the answering machine. I did not even tell her myself that I was getting married.' She was now crying uncontrollably.

'Why don't you leave a message again in the answering machine? Pour your heart out. That’s a start. We'll take it from there. '

Diya saw merit in what Dave was saying. The answering machine enabled her to converse with her mom yet avoid a conversation.

She checked the time, it would be Sunday Morning. She called her home, with one finger on the disconnect button, ready to hang up if someone picked up the phone.

'We are unable to take your call. Please leave your message, we will call you back'. She recognised her own voice from three years ago. At least this one thing had not changed.

'Ma.. I don’t know what to say ... How to start’. She was sobbing. 'I am sorry.. really sorry.' The silences were broken by her intermittent sobs. 'Today, I have grown so big that I am setting up my own home ... away from home. I don't know when I grew up.. I know I have been a bad daughter.. I don't know if you would forgive me.. I hope you will.. I don't have the guts to call and talk to you.. or face you.. but i know that you will get this message.. Even if you don't forgive me... I want to talk to you once.. Just once.. '

Dave's mobile rang out aloud. He gestured to Diya that he was stepping out of the house to pick up the call.

'Dave speaking '

'Dave... Dave.. This is Priya here.. Where is Diya? I amr unable to get her phone.'

'She is here. . on the phone.. Can I take a message?'

'Dave.. Dave.. Its Diya's mom. She isn't well.. I don't know what happened.. She is admitted in the ICU since yesterday.. She may not survive.'

Tagged

Its been a quiet period. Little activity in life and hence here on my blog. While I search for an inspiration to write about, I've been tagged by Unpredictable.

Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given (family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like). Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better. Now don’t forget to read the archived posts and leave comments.

Well, I am not too big on passing on tags, but well, let me atleast link up a few posts. This tag gave me a reason to read through my archives atleast.

Family: I haven't written too many on this theme. Here is one dedicated to my paternal grandmom. I wish I knew her better when she was alive. And here is one about my relationship with my maternal grandfather. Someday I will write more on my grandfather. He deserves a blog, all for himself.

Friend: I do not name people explicitly ( except ofcourse H & D here and here), but most of what I write is stolen from reality/ from life which revolves around friends :)

Myself: There is too much off myself all over this blog. hmm.. now that I think of it, I should probably do something about it.

My love: Well.. hmm.. Whenever that happens I hope its like this. ( In my defence, I heard 'Ondra Rendra' from Kakka Kakka and Partha Mudhalnaale from Vettaiyaadu Vilaiyaadu back to back and was inspired!

Anything I like: Travel (1, 2, 3). Something for greater common good, hopefully. (The number in the link has changed!). Short stories. Nostalgic train rides I guess.

Of coffee and conversations

Sandeep sat alone, staring out, at the traffic. Sheets of water slid down the window pane, blurring his vision of the road with disconcerting regularity. There seemed to be a rhythm to the sudden Madras rain. The rain had caught people unaware. It was January for heaven’s sake. People were scampering across the road, to find themselves a shelter. It all seemed so chaotic, yet there was a purpose in everyone’s movement. A method in the madness.

His thoughts led him to the previous night's conversation. Megha was getting married. This was the first ‘news’ he had heard about her , ever since they had broken up three years ago. It was a strange feeling. He was over her. He was seeing Priya now and was quite serious. He had rarely thought of Megha in the past year. Yet, when he heard the news, he was at discomfort, to say the least. He registered no part of the conversations that followed on the dinner table for the next hour. He could only hear Megha say ‘Look, if you want to make it formal, then mark today August 29th, as the day we called it off’. She could never muster up courage to look into his eyes and tell him that she no longer loved him. He wasn’t the perfect guy ofcourse, but who is perfect these days anyway?

His coffee arrived, the aroma bringing him back – to now. The cream on his coffee had been poured in the shape of a heart. How ironic, he thought, for cream on coffee was never among his favourites.

He looked around as he sipped his coffee. The place had a nostalgic feel to it. It wasn’t too old, may be three to four years. But the dark heavy mahogany furniture, bound heavy books by the corner and smart white-clothed waiters moving around with slothful indulgence reminded him of a time gone by. The empty table next to him, with a cup of coffee left half drunk and a cigarette still burning away in the ashtray reminded him of half left conversations; of unspoken words.

While his eyes scanned the surroundings, his mind was populating the scenes the eye saw with known faces and replacing floating voices with recognizable conversations.

Sandeep pulled his cell out, paused and then dialled Megha.

‘ I am getting another call on my cell, I’ll call you back. I love you, bye.’ There was a click and then ‘Hello’.

‘Hi , Sandeep here’.

‘Oh’. The discomfort in Megha’s voice was palpable. She had been caught completely offguard.

‘I just heard about your wedding last night. Congratulations!’

‘Thanks!’. The 'thanks' was measured. The tone ensuring that conversation would end and not continue.

‘I am sure you have a great life ahead of you. All the best! I should hang up now…’. Sandeep’s voice trailed away. He was half hoping for a Megha to say, ‘ No, don’t hang up yet’. Just like the old times. He looked up from his feet. Priya had just entered the coffee shop. He smiled at her and raised his hand indicating that he needed a minute more. Priya smiled and sat, wiping the thin layer of dew that had settled on the chair.

‘ Ok Megha! Take care, Bye!’

‘Sandeep, Sandeep! No don’t hang up yet’.

‘Yeah?’

‘Sandeep, Thanks for calling. Thank you’ . The 'thank you' was measured. The tone suggested that the ‘thank you’ carried with it the purport of all conversations in the past and of the future; of all words spoken and possibly better left unspoken. The words ‘thank you’, had never meant so much ever before.

‘Sandeep, you take care too. This is not the best time for us. Our lives will cross again, I promise. Bye!

‘Thanks Megha. I would wait for that. Bye!’

He looked up at Priya. She was in the midst of an animated conversation with the waiter. Sandeep got up and walked around the table and hugged her as she got up and planted a firm kiss on her cheeks.

He held her around her waist as the separated, and whispered, ‘ Priya!’

‘Yeah?’

‘ Will you marry me ?’

Being 'cool'

So this is how it feels to be independent. Having a house to yourself. No one to tell you how to keep it. No one tell you that you need to fold the newspaper back once you have read it or that you can't walk all around the house in your shoes. No one tell you that all things need to have a place to keep. No one to tell you, why you bought that extra pair of shoes or why you are gorging away on those potato wafers lying on the sofa. Shreya wondered why her mother couldn't be cool.

She had called home after buying a new leather clutch purse for herself with her first salary. It was a touch expensive and was worried how her mother would react. But her mother did not pass any comment on the price. Nothing at all. Shreya hung up the call, but was surprised. Her mom seemed excited that she had bought something for herself with her own money. That was it. It was her own money now. Shreya suddenly felt liberated.

--*--

Shreya had settled into her new job, new city and new environs comfortably over the past 6 months. But one thing that she had not settled into was sharing her apartment with her current flatmate. She could not understand why, the newspaper could not be folded back after it was read or why one could not remove their shoes before walking all over the house. The fans and lights would always be left on and the sofa would contain food pieces once her flatmate had finished snacking. Shreya wondered, why her flatmate couldn't be cool.

Restlessness settled!

What follows is part 3 . Read part 1 and part 2 .

Dear Anand,

I know that it would have been a huge shock to you when those divorce papers were given to you. And you have been trying to talk to me for the past month now, but I have avoided all contact with you. This last one month of solitude and soul searching has helped a lot. I felt that I was just submerged in every day events that I did not know where my life was headed. I needed some time alone to do all this thinking. Some space, if I may call it so.

You are a good kid Anand and we had some good times together. Anand, you would remember that one night, I told you about the things that I wanted the most. Some of them were things, which if I pursued, would have put a strain on our marriage. But what you do not know Anand, that there are certain things that I hated the most. Like our freakishly disciplined lifestyle.

This past one month has taught me one very important thing. Sometimes, the things that we hate the most can also become the very same things that we miss the most. Anand, I know I have made a mistake. I just hope that it isn't late. I have so much to tell you, and that is exactly what I want to do. ‘tell you'- talk to you. I can't make myself pick up the phone call you and start this conversation. (You would know that from the number of blank calls I gave you when we were dating). Just let me know its ok to call you, I will. I have an open ticket back to Madras with me and am willing to take tonight's flight. When you know that there is a better life waiting for you, you would want that to start right now, right?

Dying to hear from you.
love
Priya

She read the mail, re read the mail, re re read the mail, till she had almost memorized the words. She clicked on the read receipt option and clicked on the send mail button.

Priya shut the laptop, closed her eyes and leaned back on her chair taking a deep breath. She was livid with herself over the events in the past two months and how she had created the mess. The events replayed in her mind over and over again and she was unable to shut these thoughts out. She walked up to window, opened it and stuck her head. The icy winds of Chicago were almost piercingly cold. The sting made it physically impossible to let her thoughts wander. She had begun to like the few minutes she spent in the cold. She walked back to her laptop. She had a post ready for her anonymous blog where she had been pouring her heart out over the past two months.

A message from Anand was waiting for her. A strange feeling took over her. She was happy to have received a reply so soon, but the very thought of what could be in there, made her quiver.

Priya,

The thing I like about you most is that you were always strong willed and took bold decisions. Not necessarily the right ones always. Your decisions were centred on your happiness and what you felt was the best for you. I guess, that was fine when we were friends, and it was a small issue when we were dating. But I was sure that it would change post our wedding. Apparently not.

Kiddo, while you are in the process of soul searching, do consider what I have just said. If we are to get back together, we take decisions as 'we' and not 'I'. Having said that, this one decision whether to come back home should be solely yours.

Still Smittenly yours,
Anand

Priya picked up the phone, 'Hello, Yes hi, I have an open ticket to Chennai, India. When is the earliest availability?'

Serene

'Arun, drop me at the koil please.'

' Ma, Isn't God everywhere? Then why do you go to temples? '

'I am not goin to get into this arguement with you.'

'That is because you do not have a good enough reason. '

' Oh, is that what you think? Look, more often than not, temples are places where people leave negative thoughts out when they walk in. So the entire place is filled with positive vibrations. I feel happy when I go there.'

' Well, I cannot argue with that. As long as you do not tell me that you go there to earn religious currency, it is fine with me. If you do it to make yourself happy, thats good. '

' Good. That closes this topic. Now drop me at the temple. '
---------

Arun was reversing his car after dropping his mother, when he saw her parking her scooty. He just could not take his eyes off her. A sense of calm prevailed on her face.

She was in a hurry. She was buying 'archanai thattu', setting her hair after removing her helmet, answering a call on the cell and removing her slippers all at the same time. Yet, she seemed so much in control. Grace. Yes, that is the word. There was grace in all her movements.

Arun, parked the car and followed her into the temple. He caught her skipping as she washed her legs and walked through the hot parankallu to enter the sannidhi. A small token thoppukaranam later, she scampered into a small hall in the side of the temple.

Arun,entered the hall to find himself in the middle of a lecture,where a Swamiji was talking to the gathering which was predominantly grey and white-haired. As Arun turned to leave, the Swamiji paused and said, 'It is nice to see even the younger generation interested in our scriptures.' Arun turned back towards the hall, only to be greeted by over fifty pairs of eyes. He gave a sheepish grin and quickly seated himself on the nearest chair.

For the next 10 minutes Arun eyes scanned the hall for a her but could not spot her. The lecture ended and he was about to leave when he saw her at the other end of the room.

' Arun, what a surprise seeing you here.'

' Well, Ma, I was curious.'

'So, how did you find the lecture?'

' Well.. uh... hmm.... interesting, if I may say that.' Arun was desperately tryin to remember something from the lecture.

' Good. I am happy you liked it. '
---*--

'Ma, you are late. Let us go. '

' I am surprised Arun. I thought your interest would die down after the first lecture. But its been four weeks now and you are regular. '

'I have a question for you. After we die, depending on our karma and dharma, our souls either get moksha or there is reincarnation in some form right? '

'Well... I guess so. '

' Then, why do we regularly pray for the souls of our ancestors through various rituals when technically, their souls don't exist as their souls any more?'

'Hmm.. good question. Why don't you ask swamiji today? '

' Maybe I will. '

' I like this though. You are asking questions and you now seek to understand. This, even Arun had noticed.

Arun had seen the girl every week for the past four weeks. She must also be the philosophical kind. Today , he would speak to her.
--

'Today we shall talk about detached- attachment.' Swamiji's voice filled the hall.

Maybe she is late. The traffic is heavy today.

She never came.
--------

' Swamiji.. Swamiji..'

' Oh sorry, my child, what were you asking again? '

The disciple looked up at Sri Arun, who looked serene in his white flowing robes.

' How did you know that this was your path in life? Did you have an inspiration or a divine revelation?'

Sri Arun closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his eyes and replied, 'Inspiration and indication can come from unknown sources. Strange are the ways of the lord.'