Girl in a million

by Anitha Padanattil

  *

  How had Manaiyya managed to convince Periyamma was the question everyone had on his or her lips. It was a miracle. Doctoramma needed a life; a life outside of the hospital and its routine. She needed a man who would cushion her from the world’s ills. Someone who would comfort, cajole and, calm her down. Take on the responsibilities that she had had to shoulder for so long. Her aged parents needed a break. This was preordained. Manaiyya had come to Ravirajapuram at the right time.

  The conference went well considering the initial hiccups. Barring the time the car broke down on the highway and taking the wrong route towards Mysore, frenetic pointing and waving of hands towards the correct diversion to be made to reenter Bangalore by concerned locals, reaching the venue an hour behind schedule not forgetting, the misplacing of notes for the presentation which was retrieved from the bag reserved for toiletries in the nick of time, Dr. Sagarika managed to redeem herself.

  In the meantime, I managed to corner a bellboy to enquire about popular hotspots in and around the garden city. The boy knew passable Hindi and therefore, I stuck to him like a leech. Directions to Cubbon Park, the Lalbagh Botanical garden, Tipu’s fort, The Bangalore Palace, and, Bannerghetta National Park were hand drawn on individual pieces of paper and I gave the driver time out from his duties. Sagarika seemed slightly dubious at the start but tempered down and accepted my grand role as friend-cum-guide without comment. I’m sure that she noticed my controlled state of agitation, the erratic beat of the pulse at the base of my throat, and my clammy hands when I helped her step down from the stool of the self-serving canteen we were having our lunch in. I did not want her to beat a hasty retreat though I wanted her for myself as well. How could one balance such a fine divide? After two days of sightseeing, I was tired of the pretense. We were not kids anymore and time was running out. I needed to talk straight and quit acting like the lovelorn kid with the massive crush. We were on top of the Nandi hills looking at the view ahead of us in silence. The atmosphere was serene. The climb towards the Anjaneya22 temple went well. After the obligatory circumambulation and our legs screaming for attention, we sat close to each other content. Our tired feetneeded the rest.. I turned to watch the soft wind brush tendrils of hair against her face. My hand went of its own volition to tuck them behind her ear. Sagarika seemed deep in thought and did not seem to mind the action. After a pause, she said, “I assume you know.”

  “Know what?” was my query.

  “Don’t play the innocent,” she snapped. “Either Amma or Murugan must have given you the entire spiel.”

  “What exactly do you want me to tell you, Sagarika?” I asked her in a soft tone. “Violation at an early age doesn’t entail living out the whole of one’s life as a monk. Nothing was your fault. You have everyone’s love including mine,” I added. Sagarika looked at me deeply and turned to gaze at the view once more. She sighed with a shudder. Our hands reached out and enjoined in a firm clasp. Her voice was slow, hesitant sometimes, and I was loath to interrupt her as she spoke. Her trust in me was what mattered. She conversed in Hindi. We always did so when we were together. That extended the feel of intimacy.

  Words poured out of her like a torrent. Feelings of guilt, grief, suppressed emotions that had formed a tight ball inside. Of the raw ache that threatened to explode... her hatred of Velan, the abandonment of Kurinji, words overflowed unceasingly until she was spent. It took the best part of the night and we lay against the grass, watching the stars and the rising dawn until it was light. The temple formed a bright silhouette behind us and we were reminded of the grace that remained.

  On reaching the hotel we proceeded to checkout. The driver was sent back to the hospital at Ravirajapuram. The vehicle was a necessary utility and its continued absence would throw the transport section into frenzied disarray. I enclosed a polite note to uncle that stated we would be back after a week or so as the Doctor madam was enjoying her impromptu vacation. We checked into a suite at the luxurious Taj West End. Nothing was too grand for my Doremi. It was time for me to sweep her off her feet.

  *

  Languorous days followed. We explored the city and its numerous by-lanes. The city’s famed lakes sought interested visitors like us. We walked through busy intersections, haggled our way across shops off Commercial street, licked through ice lollies that were sold by vendors in carts that tinkled, discovered eateries that served delicious biryani, gibbered and jabbered away to our heart’s content. I suppose that Sagarika was able to drop her air of reserve and once done, became the free spirit that she always had been. I fervently hoped that all her demons had been laid to rest.

  We spoke of the future. Of her hesitation to be renamed a Yadav. The sarcasm bounced off me. She was Periyamma to all and uncle her father, was Periyaaiyya. So, I was doomed to remain Manaiyya. My mock despondency was laughed at.

  We discovered ourselves just as we explored the city. All those delicious nooks and corners, wondrous moments that entailed gasps of pleasure and shy abandonment often cloaked in ambient bliss. I couldn’t imagine life beyond this woman. Her happiness in all things small or big made me realize in a huge way just how worthwhile my existence had become.

  *

  We returned to Ravirajapuram as man and wife. Of course, our entry into the town was conveyed to the entire community within minutes. Sagu said that it reminded her of the African drum message-relay-system she had read about in the Phantom comics. How the people did this, we had absolutely no clue but we, in turn, gave them the biggest surprise of their lives. As we alighted from the car, hands clasped together, with a garland of flowers around our necks and the red spot on Sagu’s hairline signifying her marital status; our status, the crowd was stunned into silence. Murugan was the first to comprehend and turning towards the group exclaimed, “Our Periyamma had returned. Returned as a bride.” The crowd roared in delight. Periyaaiyya beamed in happiness. Murugan and Co. began a series of steps to the rhythmic beat of impromptu drums. The ayahs welcomed us as a couple with the traditional ‘aarti’ which constituted a silver platter containing handfuls of rice, flower petals and, the all-important lamp that was lit and moved in a clockwise direction around the couple to ward off evil influences. A pinch of rice was then thrown above the head of the Doctoramma symbolizing fertility followed by the flower petals. Red vermillion was applied on our foreheads and we were then allowed to enter the hospital premises. In an hour’s time, someone had arranged for sweets to be distributed to everyone. The phone was ringing non-stop and the receptionist was beginning to look exhausted. Periyaaiyya informed everyone that a grand feast would be arranged at the Murthy’s residence the day after and that the entire town was invited. There was no time to print out invites and it was understood that the word-of-mouth system would reign supreme on this occasion as well. Sagu and I exchanged a quick look. This indeed, was the Indian variation on the African Drum Technique. Extremely cost effective it would seem and, lightning quick as well!

  *

  I was being given the second-class treatment but frankly speaking, I did not mind. I knew that Doctoramma came ahead of anything in these people’s lives and I was envious of the fact that so much love and respect could be targeted towards a single lady and that was solely brought about on account of her dedicated efforts. Sagu’s parents and Murugan were the happiest of the lot for obvious reasons. They felt that her life was complete only now and that this was the time that they could leave the running of the hospital in my capable hands. Chandru would be a major player as well. Uncle and aunty hinted as much. The same evening at the Murthy’s residence, I outlined my plan towards expansion of the hospital eventually converting it into a charitable group that would cover the needs of patients coming from afar and not just the Ravirajapuram population. A palliative unit would also be included in the grand scheme of things. These were ideas discussed during our Bangalore trip, I explained. Uncle, aunty and Chandrashekhar listened and nodded with pride. It was a huge achievement and they were just beginning to co
mprehend the vastness of it with awe. I also announced that we would shift to our new home close to the hospital once it was ready. I hoped they would not think that I was taking their daughter away from them. Rather, it was the opposite. It was time, she thought of a life independent of others. Being a family meant that certain routines would change. Change for the better. Never in my dreams did I think that the palliative unit that put into action would now be used to serve the very person who had made it possible. It was an unacceptable thought.

  *

  A day to go before the celebrations began. We were ordered to stay at home. Work was off-limits for two days until after the end of festivities. Aunty was a cyclone of activity. The menu for the feast was set as per norms followed in Kerala. It would be a vegetarian affair. A canopy was constructed in the front yard and mounds of vegetables were sorted and diced as per requirement. It was meant to be a traditional big fat wedding even though the bride and groom were well past their prime but for the family and the general public, this was the ‘one’ occasion where the celebration was considered to be their moral duty. It was their Doctoramma and Manaiyya for heaven’s sake.

  We were informed that visitors were scheduled to arrive from Gramayur; Murugan’s village. Sagupaapaa was the apple of his eye and his family and extended relatives would board the evening bus to bless the couple on time. Also poised to attend were people from neighboring towns upon whom had been graced, the good Doctoramma’s benevolence.

  For a moment I thought of the sad, lonely life I had had, in Delhi. The penthouse and car I had disposed of long ago. It was God’s will that brought me here. I felt blessed to be part of this love. To be called as the magan (son) instead of marumagan (son-in-law) was something that I cherished. We did not spend much on ourselves. What flowed in was spent to ensure that the lives and families of our team of dedicated workers were suitable enriched. The development of the hospital into a massive structure that would offer its service to all headed by our son Chandrashekhar would be the legacy that we, as a family would leave behind at Ravirajapuram. I walked in to check on Sagu who was being cossetted by women in preparation for the next big day. She hated that, I knew. It was time to pull her out.

  Shooing away the ladies took some time. They were reluctant to leave even though their Manaiyya had requested for a time out with his wife. I was fairly fluent in Thamizh by now so the early simpers and giggles at my awful accent had disappeared.

  Sagu seemed pensive. It turned out that she was thinking about the Zenana. They had lost contact after the Malayapuram visit. It would be nice if she could see them all again. To let them know that she was OK. I was quiet and held her hand. All that was left of her school days was a single black and white picture with the five of them huddled together under the canvas awning of the Archie bookshop. I had imagined them from Sagu’s account of her Silver Flower Hr. Sec. school days. There was only a day to go and no way to get in touch with any of them. It was a shame. The girls would have been ecstatic.

  *

  Custom demanded that the important day begin with a visit to the temple. It was thus that we visited the temple of Siva in the adjacent town at the crack of dawn. Although Sagu was averse to the idea, she acquiesced to the wishes of her pious mother who had remained her protective shadow throughout. As she (I now called her amma and Uncle, appa20) remarked to me during the ride, “I chose to be the shadow around my daughter. This was to ensure that no ills befell her at any time. Would any mother wish for her offspring to be inflicted in this manner? My child, my Sagu has had to undergo so much at such a tender age. This journey has been a rite through fire for all concerned. We have been struck upon and molded by the same force of nature. Until you arrived, no one had the temerity to interrupt my child’s will or the calling of her choice. I chose to be her shield, an invisible one at that! One that would absorb all the negativity not allow entry within its space.” She took a deep breath and continued, “My obligation as of this moment will lose its rigidity. That’s a conscious decision I have taken. You, my son will take that place. I shall only be a passive force from this day. My temple visit is to convey this to the Lord.” Sagu’s mother paused, closed her eyes and, murmured the Lord’s name under her breath.

  I was awestruck. Awed at the devotion displayed by a mother to ensure that her child would remain unharmed. Awed at the responsibility I had been given albeit, discreetly. Awed that a family stayed together through thick and thin for this long just to nurture and protect. Awed that such an honor had come my way, that I had been accepted as one among them. Sagu had chosen me and they had simply accepted. Exhilaration would be the term I would choose to use at this moment. My life was complete. My goals were clear and visible. I looked at the bobbing heads of Chandrashekhar, Appa and Murugan in the front seat of the car and, Sagu and Amma with me on either side observing the still dark view. Emotion gripped my throat. I felt hot tears blind my eyes. I thanked Lord Siva in advance for having bought me here from Delhi.

  *

  We were exhausted upon our return. There was, however, not a minute to be wasted. A change of clothes after the customary bath following which, a mandatory meet-and-greet session would demand the newly-weds’ attention. Gulping down tender coconut water from glasses, we sped to the washrooms.

  A huge crowd of attendees had arrived and was waiting patiently to convey their good wishes and blessings. Customary gifts included sacks of rice, coconuts, plantains, all kinds of fruits, mounds of jaggery, cash, mattresses, metal almirahs, cement and iron rods from a hardware shop owner, and the sale deed of a small plot of land adjacent to the hospital made out in the couple’s name by the generous Pannayar of a neighboring district. The storeroom of the house was full to overflowing and the gifts were then stacked in the open backyard. Sweat coursed heavily down the bodies of the Bride and Groom. The humidity coupled with the heavy attire offered little help against rising body heat and tiredness. It was as the crowds thinned that Sagu noticed a small group seated a little away from the dais. They had been served the customary drinks and now waited patiently for the file to end, to take their turn. Intent stares met with puzzlement before realization dawned. It was her Zenana. They had come to meet her. Lord of lords, her deepest wish had come true!

  Sagu tugged at Manu and hopped down the dais. Her friends had covered the space in a few strides and it was as if the girls were back in Oothukudi again. Laughs, shrieks and hugs enfolded the four in a big cloud of happiness. Appa was the one to bring them together, apparently. He had shot off a telegram conveying the happy news to Marge and Shruthi a few hours after Manu and Sagu returned from Bangalore. The telegram was addressed to their Oothukudi address and he had fervently prayed for them to get the message and round up Ratna as well. His Sagu would be the happiest, he knew. None of the gifts would match up to a reunion that would bring the families together as well. The girls hugged Appa and fell at the feet of Amma. As the mutual tears flowed, Amma told them, “Let’s not shed any more tears. This is a happy occasion. We should feast now and later, talk to our heart’s content.” It was in a lighter vein that the friends shared the repast making an occasional jibe at the indulgent and smiling groom; yours truly!

  *

  Life had treated the trio and their families quite well. Ratna was an assistant Professor at a government college in Pollachi. She was married to a small time businessman and had a daughter who was an exact replica of her! It was astounding to the group who wondered privately as to how she could have managed such a herculean task. Ratna being Ratna smiled and grinned at her husband. It was evident that they would exchange notes at a later date.

  Shruthi had two kids, a boy and a girl. The two had completed their high school education from the Silver Flower Hr. Sec. School. and were familiar with the escapades of their mother and friends. Shruthi had proudly taken them around to all their favorite haunts and the family thus felt as though they were visiting them for the nth time rather than the first! Shruthi was the only one among us who was s
till based in Oothukudi having inherited her parents flat. As predicted several years ago, she led a content and happy life.

  Margie had identical twin boys. She worked three days from home and her days were packed. Her husband travelled a lot so it was up to her to manage the home and the kids. She seemed harried but game to work things through. The never-give-up-attitude coupled with pitchforks of salt helped her rough it out. Financially, Marge seemed to be the best settled of the lot. Of course, there was no comparing with their Sagu who seemed to be light years ahead of them all. And what of Deenanna, I casually enquired of Marge. Major Deendayal Xavier served in the Indian Army and it suited his disposition quite well. Marge would relay the news to him and she was sure that he would make a trip out here to meet his favorite gal pal accompanied by his family. There were oohs and aahs at this and tales of past fistfights were recounted. The twins regaled the group with a passable imitation of their uncle’s blustery approach and mannerisms.

  It was time to introduce our son, Chandrashekhar to the Zenana. Incredulous looks would follow I’m sure, but there would be a polite wait for us to spill the beans. As Sagu called out for Chandru, the sight of the tall, strapping lad left the friends bemused. Placing a hand on his shoulder she continued, “Meet Chandru, Dr. Chandrashekhar; upcoming oncologist and soon to be Director of the Sagarika Charitable Group of Hospitals.” Chandru fidgeted at this unnecessary show of pomp and smiled at everyone politely. “He was raised in the U.S.A. where he completed his schooling. For his higher education, he chose to come down, live with us and complete his internship. He’s this Doctoramma’s right hand.” She indicated herself with her free hand. “Meet my son. Our son,” she amended instantly catching my eye. Appa and Amma proudly beamed from the doorway. Core Z looked impressed and baffled. Chandru knew what was coming and quickly excused himself, rushing into the house.