a reely Short Story

Kaleidoscope

Coming back from school, Ammamma used to pick us back from the bus stop.  We followed her as 5 little piglets.  All of us were cousins of almost same ages,  7 or 8 years old.  Squatted on the floor, she used to feed us curd rice with some left over Kolambu/gravy. A ball of curd time rice topped with a pinch of kolambu.  It was the most delicious of the food, because we were hungry.

We played with the cousins on the terrace, until dawn filigreed her gentle touches of darkness on the evening sky.  As if on a routine, the evening velaku(lamp) will be lit, a small flickering lamp would be placed near the front door of the old house.  That 30-year-old puja room smelt of camphor.

At this sign, my cousins will be promptly taken in.  Complan in big silver vessel will be steaming and made to warm for the cousins,  to drink.  Washed and powdered, they were made to sit in front of wooden desks and start to do their home work.  The steaming smell of the complan and camphor, remained with me till date.

Ammamma used bring us outside on the porch, as an indication.  The evening was scented with heavy smell of jasmine (PITCHI/jathi mali), a 20 year old plant.  The darkness slowly crawls.

The lamp slowly flickers…Amma and appa were working in Govt office.  Standing near the old grill gate, me and my sis, watched each person passby.

I kept listening to each scooter that passed.  I know the sound of my appa’s bajaj chetak.

The usual people that I kept staring on a daily basis were the candy floss boy with his bell shaped Jar filled with white cotton sweet and his small lantern (we pronounced it as lawnther).  The dirty boy with folded lungi, who gave me a smirked look.  The short, dark milk man with his aluminum milk can. My ammamma sits near the gate, two other neighboring ladies come and sit and they chat.

Amma and appa used to come at 6.30.   Amma then teaches us our lessons.  Appa starts cutting the vegetables  and getting ready for the meal.  Then amma sets to clean the fish or chicken or prawn and cooks it for us. Fish was like a vegetable for us.

She feeds us our dinner, telling us beautiful stories, pointing to rented fairy tale books from a library.  Was it the story that was beautiful or the fish that tasted fine.  I really didn’t know, but it was delicious.

Those beautiful stories that I felt for in that tender age were Matilda’s Diamond Necklace and The Little Matchstick Girl.  She told us with a deep and sad rendition, that I almost cried.   I imagined the poor match stick girl left to die in the cold.

Each day spiraled on and on…

But today, there were no signs of the familiar chetak.  Instead a news came, that a road accident happened..  I never heard the sound of that chetak again in my life or the sad soft voice.  Ammamma beat her chest and said that I am cursed.

Suddenly I woke up with a start, as the point where I had to get down came.   I slowly got down from the PTC bus.  The conductor yelling medavakkam,’ get the ticket and give the correct change’.  And walked reluctantly to my apartment, my little girl mridula with wide open eyes and same dreamy look,  greeted me Amma.  .

The maid said that she kept on looking out for me for hours together..