Girl in a million

by Anitha Padanattil

  Since telephone lines were down and electricity was restored only after a week’s time, we (Marge and Shruthi) assumed that Ratna had reached her hostel room safely, and Sagu would be home just like everyone. With Deenanna away, Marge had a heavy schedule on her hands. Taking care of an asthmatic, occasionally bedridden mother apart from the extra chores took up almost all of her time.

  Shruthi on the other hand, was safely ensconced with her family at her aunt’s home as soon as word of the cyclone was heard. There they remained until the situation limped back to near normal.

  A flurry of activities preceded the settling down state and it took considerable time and effort for the populace to revert to normalcy. It was now time to get a grip and consult the checklist.

  Marge and family – All right. Safe and sound.

  Shruthi and family – Ditto that. By God’s grace.

  Ratna – Called the student quarters. All O.K. Bless the school authorities. Would visit her a.s.a.p.

  Sagu and family were not at home. Not. At. Home.

  Just what did that mean? There was no Murugan to do the follow up as he had left for his village. He would be back once the opening date of the school was announced.

  Now where the heck were they? They had no known relatives or close friends staying in this godforsaken Oothukudi. Did they hear of the cyclone and go back to Malayapuram then? Marge felt unease settle down in the pit of her stomach.

  The girls were forbidden to ride down to Sagu’s house or take the public bus, considering the situation. Perhaps they could wait for a week and then call her uncle; Marge’s father advised. There was a niggling sense of worry that gnawed underneath though.

  The lack of information was troubling and an incessant Marge urged her father to accompany her. She had to know. Sitting astride her father on his massive Bullet, they navigated their way through the littered roads to reach Sagu’s house. It was locked. The beautiful garden was ripped apart. Totally demolished. It was a devastating sight. Not a good omen. Marge held on to her father’s arm and sobbed. She had to meet Shruthi.

  *

  The small one-bedroom apartment that Shruthi lived in was on the second floor of the LIC Housing colony. She was perched on a ladder wiping down the blades of the ceiling fan. From her vantage point, she registered the two sober faces and scrambled down hastily. Shruthi’s mother walked in somberly, as her hands tugged at the ends of her sari. Marge stood stiff, hands at her side, wordlessly looking at Shruthi who stepped forward and enfolded her in a hug.

  “There must be a reason, Margie. Don’t panic.”

  “Perhaps, they changed their plan. Probably because of the cyclone…” her voice dwindled.

  Shruthi’s mother hesitantly added, “You should check with Ratna. She would know. After all, she stayed a few extra days with Sagu.” She cautioned, “Why don’t you meet her tomorrow and find out before jumping to conclusions?”

  11 a.m. the next morning.

  Shruthi and Marge entered Ratna’s room. The normally spic and span room looked uncared for. Clothes were hung haphazardly on a plastic clothesline inside the room. The room had a faint odor. Of unwashed clothes, stale food and fear. Ratna looked frail. Sallow. She was sitting on her wireframe bed and listlessly looking out of the only window of her room as they entered. Marge and Shruthi were shocked at the change. Ratna’s leg stuck out - the good one. The other was hidden beneath her skirt. Marge noticed a deep crack on the Jaipur foot. It was shod in a sandal and stood leaning, forlornly against a wall.

  “I’m sorry, Ratna. We should have come sooner for you, taken care of you. You have not been eating well and look ill as well. Get up girl and come home with us,” blurted out Marge. Shruthi nodded and sat next to Ratna as if to comfort her. Ratna sighed and it was then that the shivering began. So terrible was the sight that the friends had to hold her down. Gnawing her teeth, wailing pitifully, Ratna clenched and unclenched her hands and lifted them outwards as though in entreaty.

  The friends rushed to get the Warden. Apparently, it was the fever that made her delirious. Marge readily agreed to take Ratna home. It was the right thing to do. Shruthi did not have the space. Marge’s mom would definitely want Ratna with them and have her father watch out in case of complications. With all the written permissions hastily arranged, an auto rickshaw was hired to take the girls back home. It was providence and Shruthi’s mother that saved Ratna, agreed the girls.

  *

  As they anxiously waited for Ratna’s fever to subside, it was announced that all schools were due to reopen in about two to three days’ time. The anxiousness resurfaced. It was a difficult time for the families. Getting back to normalcy plus the recouping was tough enough added to which, Ratna was in a state of situation-induced-depression and had to be supported as well. With the railroads now restored, Deenanna arrived the day before the girls were due to begin school. It was a relief as the constant worry was beginning to affect Marge. Ratna showed signs of recovery. Another day or two, and she would be near normal again.

  School day dawned and the two girls eagerly scouted their classes for Sagu’s presence but there was no sign of her. The constant enquiries from the concerned teachers and others about Ratna and Sagu not being present had the girls with their backs to the wall. Feeling sick from all the concern displayed for which they had no answer, the girls scooted to the music room, which remained unused most times. The after-school rush prompted the girls to hang out for a bit with Murugan who was equally perplexed by Sagupaapaa’s absence. He promised to work on the garden and keep a lookout for the family should they reappear.

  Eager to meet Ratna and hear from her, the two girls reached home. Shruthi’s parents had already arrived. Watching her propped on a wicker chair by the bedside, the girls flanked by Deenanna, and Marge’s parents waited for her to speak. No questions were asked. It was clear that they needed answers and Ratna could not avoid them. There was more and they needed to know. It was time.

  *

  What Happened After

  (Ratna’s Account)

  Silence descended on the house after the guests departed. Everyone seemed forlorn. The summer heat was intolerable and suddenly, normal pastimes seemed uninviting.

  Sagu and Ratna decided to complete a Hindi essay, the one earmarked as their vacation homework. Poring over the dictionary and writing down helpful hints amounted to the compilation of a reasonable amount of material that could be stitched together to complete task#1. Writing seemed dull work and the monotony was relieved by occasional gusts of wind that floated in from the outside. As Sagu jotted down the pointers, Ratna, who was by now gazing out of the latticed balcony remarked,

  “No sign of creepy V. Anna must have given him good.”

  “Hmmm,” murmured Sagu. After a while, she looked up to find a pensive Ratna staring down at her. “I feel a bit spooked. Unnerved sort of. Shouldn’t we inform someone?”

  “Don’t think so. They might think I made it all up.” There was a slight pause. “You don’t think that too, do you?” enquired Sagu with a lift of an eyebrow.

  Ratna shrugged and remained silent.

  After a pause she said, “Frankly speaking, I’m worried.”

  A coil of dread started to uncoil itself with vicious dexterity and Sagu felt choked. To counter the unpleasantness, she enquired of Ratna with disarming candor and in all innocence, “How old were you when aunty, meaning your mother passed away?”

  Shock engulfed Ratna.

  This was taboo topic.

  A something, that was never to be discussed. As she gazed thunderstruck at her friend, Sagu continued, unaware that she was thinking out aloud. “Why did she do that? Immolate herself? Was it because of your father?” Slight pause.

  “You must have been very young. If I were you, I would have left home but with the foot…” her gaze travelled down to Ratna’s sock encased feet. Meeting Ratna’s incredulous gaze, Sagu merely looked away while her hand surreptitiously crept to enfold her friend’s quivering
palm.

  Several pensive moments later, Sagu got up and dusted the back of her gingham dress. “Shall we walk?” was her simple query.

  A wordless Ratna joined her and they picked their way hand-in-hand through ankle high shrubs that grew wild all over the land. Dark skinned men, shirtless, sweat coursing through their bodies were engrossed in cutting the weeds and hand plowing the soil.

  As they turned their faces towards the mellow light of the setting sun, Ratna felt weepy and lost. Dry-eyed, she narrated events to this slip of a girl who had intuitively divined all that she had been through. About all the losses that could not be listed and shrugged away gladly, had her mother been at her side today.

  *

  “My gait was always weird, although not this pronounced, of course,” said Ratna with a self-deprecatory laugh. Sagu’s shoulder shook in silence. “I was eight when the accident happened,” Ratna turned to look at Sagu. “The four of us and Amma19 were crossing the busy street, hands held together in a file. My youngest sister Shakti was cooing away like a steam engine and I was doing the rumbling wheel part. So, we hardly noticed when the lag in the walk ensued. Such was our focus on our little game.

  “Amma and my two elder sisters were already off the kerb and they were pulling at the line, shouting for us to quicken our pace. I vaguely recall the truck hurtling towards us and spending the next few weeks in hospital. My phantom foot hurt all the time and it required several painful surgeries and physiotherapy sessions to relieve the pain. I recall my mother crying. Crying over me, I assumed at the time. My radiant mother had been reduced to a mere shadow of her former self and, I was the one to be blamed for that.

  “I flew to the pink city of Jaipur soon afterwards with uncle, my mother’s brother to try out my new foot*. All this while, I wondered at the continued absence of my father. I endured debilitative pain while learning to walk and support myself. Those harrowing days of sweat mingled with the smell of blood, of the grazed stump that was displayed and inspected countless number of times, the tightening of the clasps to the point of numbness and the worse part of all, the falling over. The falls were random. They occurred everywhere. While walking at home or on the street, climbing steps, getting onto a bus, standing in a queue—they (the falls)had nothing to do with gravity and everything to do with self-esteem. It was only the imprint of Amma in my mind’s eye that helped me carry on. All I wanted, was to be the apple of her eye again. I could hear her laugh out aloud. See her dimpled smile. I was hungry for food that was cooked by her, not the dal-roti-sabzi12 that I was having here, day in and day out.

  “Our train journey back home remained uneventful. I did not visit the lavatory too often fearing the risk of contamination. Though I was comfortably ensconced in the first-class compartment, my thoughts invariably dwelled on the welcome I would receive, once home. My uncle remained silent and withdrawn often, moody and gazed out the window for hours on end. Tiredness I assumed again, owing to responsibility foisted upon him when my father should have taken over. Sympathy at my condition as well, I thought.

  “We alighted at the railway station. I refused the use of the portable wheelchair and scanned the crowds for the familiar faces. As uncle ushered me towards the exit while the coolie ran ahead with our bags, I suddenly felt queer. Perhaps they were all ashamed of me! My despondent enquiry dejected uncle and his sloped shoulders sagged even further. He let out a huge sigh and placed his hand on my head and said, ‘No child. It’s nothing to do with you. Nothing at all.’

  “My home looked nothing like the home we lived in. The house looked dark, bereft of light and lacked radiance. The plants on the outside had withered and seemed lifeless. I glanced questioningly at uncle as he directed the auto rickshaw towards his home, two houses away.

  “The colorless welcome that I received and the outpouring of emotions that had thence been walled in burst open like a flood. All the memories of familial bonding, gaiety and fun were to remain memories henceforth. Amma was gone. Twin tragedies in quick succession had dulled her to the point of apathy. Not being able to deal with the pain had magnified her sense of hopelessness threefold. Having to cope with the loss of her child’s mobility added to the shock of knowing that her husband had cheated on her, that too, after several years of marriage, dispelled the inherent radiance. Adding fuel to the fire was on learning that the ‘other woman’ was pregnant, forcing her to take the extreme step. My mother’s stature in society, her respectability, had been cruelly destroyed. The infidelity and the gossip mongering had been the hardest to bear. For a fraction of a second, my mother became a woman. She thought only for herself, about herself. By the time the mother in her realized the colossal leap that had been taken, destiny had played her hand.

  “What was the loss of a foot when compared to the loss of one’s mother? When a giant vacuum sucks out everything that is within you, all that is left is the emptiness. An empty room, strangers, a new school; these remained meaningless until fate brought you to me.” Sagu tightened her grip for a millisecond, the action indicative of her emotion.

  “All those thoughts, the deliberate suppression, you unlocked with a single statement. Was I so easy to read?” The two smiled at each other. The sun had set and a slight chill had dampened the air. Shivering slightly, they hastened back to the house, the mounds of freshly turned earth slowing their efforts.

  ***

  * A short note on the famed Jaipur foot:

  It is in the city Jaipur, Rajasthan; that a nonprofit organization dedicated to fitting the disabled with artificial limbs was established. Scores of patients gather from across the country as well as neighboring countries in the center’s front yard and by the end of the day, more than 35 persons would make the long journey back to their homes and communities outfitted with a new prosthetic leg that promised them a more active and functional future. The entire treatment is absolutely free of cost. Although the Jaipur foot has been around for over five decades, it is an irony that till date, it remains the most used and well-loved prosthetic in many parts of the world and continues to make a huge difference in the lives of the disadvantaged.

  The modern Jaipur foot uses two blocks of microcellular rubber and an ankle section made of lightweight willow wood; the foot also uses nylon cords, which are embedded in the rubber. Additional rubber is used to cover these units and to provide the final form of a human foot, accounting for flexibility and shock absorption. These two sections, along with the Jaipur foot and a cuff suspension, complete the prosthesis for dynamic alignment. The external cover uses a cosmetic rubber cushion compound, which gives the prosthetic the color and texture of natural skin. This unit is several times stronger than a normal human leg and provides mobility that is close to the natural movement of patients.

  ***

  The evening flew past and dinner was a glum affair. After the previous day’s hullabaloo, small talk was noticeably absent. It was suggested that the two girls sleep in Ammumma’s room, on the twin bed. Mournful acqueisance followed the quiet night.

  There was no sign of Velan the whole of next day as well. A rising disquiet continued to disturb the girls. Ammumma could be seen motioning with regard to his lack of empathy while the rest of the household went about their tasks. Ratna’s query of the previous evening began to surface and take root in Sagu’s thoughts. Thoughts turned into little demons. Her face flamed and sweat coursed down the sides in tiny rivulets.

  “Was it all a mistake?” she thought.

  “Those dark looks. The unwanted caress.” Did she translate them into something uninhibited and fiery?

  And, Deenanna’s retribution… Did she instigate violence against an innocent man?

  All that she knew were derived from books. Was theory different from the real?

  The girls spent their entire time outdoors, forlorn, hoping against hope that they had not made a cruel mistake. Conveying an apology crossed their minds but the two felt awkward about meeting Velan. Ratna was secretly glad that she was leaving the d
ay after. After an evening excursion to the temple presided by the family deity, dusk fell and soon, it was time to be in bed. The girls pleaded to be allowed to sleep in the room that contained the twin beds. Sagu wailed and begged her Ammumma to let them be. The girls were allowed after a short pause and off they went upstairs triumphantly. The door was bolted from inside as per instructions and the girls listened to songs that soothed on their leather encased Philips transistor radio.

  “Sagooo, Sagooo,” floated Sagu’s mother’s voice from below. The radio was switched off and the door unbolted. “Ennamma? What is it?” enquired Sagu.

  “Are you both fine? You have not taken the bottled water. Do you want me to bring it up?”

  “We are good, Amma. Go back to sleep.”

  The two girls settle down and were soon fast asleep.

  But the door—

  Girl, Do. Not. Forget. The. Door.

  *

  Ratna sniffed and looked down at the floor. A pregnant pause ensued that reeked of doom.

  The group around her was hushed… huddled together. Knowing what was to come. Dreading it. Helpless.

  It was as though one among them was soon to be ripped apart. Mercilessly torn into pieces.

  Marge’s mother sighed. Drew in an audible breath. Shuddering gasps ensued. Marge held her tight.

  “She was the only one who knew.” Ratna gazed at Shruthi who looked away. Tears rolled down her face. “The only one who guessed how my mother quit.” She continued, “Amma left my three sisters and me with a father who was a cheat.” It was sometime during this dark phase that the insurance papers with regard to the accident was sorted out and with the interest paid out as monthly remittance, Ratna chose to further her studies away from her guardian. The man she called her father.