Fropper.com Blogs – Free Blogging

I write because that's all that I can do...

<< Up in smoke...? | Main | The urge... >>

Posted on: Oct 06, '08

The quest...

When Malati overheard Aajji, her Grand mother, telling Malati’s Mother to stitch a dress for her, from one of her Paithanis, she felt like dancing. She loved the sheen of the silky sari very much and dreamt of wearing one like that, when she would be big enough. The design on the border had a row of peacocks and when Aajji wore the sari and walked; they appeared as if following each other in a motion. She took one spin in mid air and ran towards the verandah with joy!

Grandma had a lot of saris, mostly with heavy embroidery. The sari she was talking about was nine meter in length and had worn in its hue and colour. The silver threads interspersed over the sari had lost their sheen too, making them look like a woman past her glory. Aajji suggested, she stitch a Parkar-Polka, for Malati, a dress that consisted of a short skirt-like with a short, half-sleeved blouse, that’s tailored to fit as one with the skin. Malati was ecstatic upon hearing this, as it was a long time since no new dress was stitched for her. But there was one more reason for her happiness.

Now that Aajji would be staying with her other son in the big city for three months, at least this new dress would keep her memories and that peculiar smell of Aajji, afresh. Malati, the only child to her parents, was Aajji’s favourite grand child. Round faced with eyes that spoke a million words, fair, but more importantly sharp minded. Malati loved her Aajji and there was hardly anything that Malati didn’t like about her. Yes, she was very short tempered but Malati never felt any fear, when Aajji would occasionally go in to such a fit. And when she did, Malati would stand in a corner silently or just watch her from behind a door.

She remembered the times she spent with her Aajji. Malati would often ask questions that were beyond any girl of her age, she was just six. As the sun was setting over the horizon, the sky a pale shade of pink, birds flying in formation back home. Her Aajji was sitting in the verandah making wicks for the Diyaas. Malati, sitting at her feet had this question in her mind and without hesitation, she asked.

“Aajji, what is death?”

Grandma took a deep breath and said…

“Have you seen withered leaves fall from the tree? Death is like that. Old gives place to the new.”

“But I have seen fresh leaves falling too…!” Malati added hurriedly.

“True my child, that happens too but it’s not death in that instance. The leaves that fall while immature are the ones which have given up fighting for life I guess…” Aajji tried to explain…

Malati would often ask such questions and Grandma would always answer them for her. She had seen her friend’s grandma shunning such questions with a curt, “Don’t try to be over smart, have you done your studies?” or “There is a time and age to think about such things…” They shared a bond that crossed all frontiers of age.

It was a warm day, with Holi round the corner. Malati was playing in the verandah, when she heard a murmur of some people outside. Casually she peeped to see what it’s about and was shocked to see some men making preparations to fell a tree down. Her mouth agape, she fixed her stare on them, until one of them looked at her in a manner that silenced her.

She ran inside the house with a pounding heart and collapsed in the arms of her Aajji. Aajji held her close for a moment; then asked what had happened. Her face reddened with sadness and fear, Malati could barely speak a word.

“They have come to fell a tree!” she stammered.

“The rascals!” Aajji’s voice boomed in the house. Malati could sense a tremble in her voice, which worried her even more. As she knew her Aajji was about to go in to another fit of anger and those people will soon have to reckon with her wrath. Surprisingly, she kept quiet. Still holding Malati close, she squatted on the floor, exhausted. Quickly Malati got up to fetch some water for her. The eruption of Aajji’s anger was nothing new to her, this sudden silence was. But she couldn’t gather courage to ask her at that moment. May be some other time, she thought and one day she did ask…

As if to gather courage, Malati swallowed…

“Aajji…” she began, in doubt.

“What is it dear…?” Aajji asked without looking up.

“No, nothing actually…” Malati’s voice was a mere quiver and her grandma knew what it was that she would want to ask.

“You see my child, those men are rouges and I didn’t want any trouble in my absence, you know I will be away for some days…”

“Hmm…” Malati nodded as if in agreement.

Aajji was packing her bags, to go to the big city for three months and Malati’s eyes were welling up already. How could she stay without her, she wondered. Sensing this, Aajji held her hand, her touch wilted yet comprehending. Malati could not stop the tears now. Clinging to her grandma, she cried, holding her dear Aajji close. With great difficulty Aajji held Malati away from her.

“I am not going away forever dear, I shall be back soon, you will see”. Wiping her tears, she said. But that was the last time Malati saw her Aajji alive. With a heavy heart she bid goodbye to her.

Malati was standing in the balcony of her home in Mumbai. “Where has life brought me now?” she thought to herself. There’s nothing she can ask anymore, only answer, be answerable. To her husband, her children, her family, the world. She was tired of going through life this way.

She missed those days spent at the feet of her dear grandma, when as a six year old, she could ask questions. The sun was setting on the horizon and the birds were going home, in a formation. Yes, she thought to her self, it’s time to ask questions once again. But this time, she would ask those questions to her own self.

Tags: story, short story

29 Comment(s) |

Share | Permalink [?] |

Digg!

Post Rating:

[ Votes: 6 ]

Comments [ 29 Comments ] [ Post your comment | Subscribe (?) ]

notjustart said:
Thank you patriot, thanx so much!

November 20, '08

thepatriot2008 said:

chandra that was an amazing one!! many Indian women would relate to Malati's emotions..gr8 one

November 20, '08

notjustart said:
Thanx Soni, thank you! Yes, my Grand father owned a Wada in Pune and while writing this story, my mind too drifted in and around it...

October 23, '08

sonikudi37 said:
very nice story so seetly and gently told too .I remembered my aji and the prajakta chi phule that we used to go fetch in a pardi in her old wada

October 18, '08

notjustart said:
Thanks Sumi for your comment, I was waiting for it with eagerness! Thank you...

October 16, '08

tenjade_destiny said:
another beautiful story...very nostalgic chandra..i think everyone can relate to some or other part of it...captivating and amazing narration...

October 15, '08

Yogi_Om_Mumbai said:
This story is so nicely narrated that gives complete picture…

October 11, '08

notjustart said:
Thanks bangalore, thank you! And now I must look for Renuka's zone...

October 08, '08

bangalore3282 said:
thnx renuka refreshs childhood memorie& those silly question we would be asking ours grandpa &grandma

October 08, '08

notjustart said:
Thanks Mikunal, Ledzep and Renu...For reading, for sharing!

October 07, '08

<< Previous | Next >>

Want to comment on this post?

Register now, its FREE, and share your views.
Already a member? Login now.

About Me

notjustart's ezBlog