Pinku-Enchanted Life

The return journey went in a daze. Sujata was happy to have been able to help her friend and also a little apprehensive about lying about the dream. The fact that she had to use her daughter and God as an excuse goaded her. For the umpteenth time she consoled herself that the Lord after all knew that she had used his name only for a good cause. Before she knew, the familiar arrogant gates of the bungalow were there before her. they opened almost automatically, the guards having spotted her car at a distance and she was engulfed once again in the beautiful, lifeless existence she called life. Amit came home a little early; he gave himself a few reasons for this unusual behavior. He felt he wasn’t feeling well but couldn’t locate what exactly was the problem. Then he rationalized it by thinking he needed to pack for his trip the next day, which wasn’t true since he never packed, the servants did the needful supervised by Sujata. 'Ah Sujata! She would be home by now'. This ...

Sujata stared at Sunaina, she had pictured her in many ways but the reality brought a lump to her throat. Sunaina’s once beautiful hair now had streaks of grey and it had lost its sheen. Her hands and feet were calloused from working constantly in the fields and then at home. Even her saree had a tear which she had tried best to hide, and this was her best saree. The children had said so to Sujata. Sunaina was sleeping peacefully, they had gossiped till late after Sujata said that she was not hungry. Sunaina had secretly sighed in relief which had not escaped her friend. Their chat had revolved around the various acquaintances of their childhood. Every time Sujata had tried to bring the discussion back to Sunaina, she had been met with a silent wall and a quick changing of topic. She knew her friend was in trouble but how was one to help without knowing what exactly the ailment was. She got up stealthily and went into the kitchen; walking on tiptoes she checked the near empty rice...

Sunaina looked out at the pouring rain and felt the elation she had felt for the past two days draining away. No one would be able to travel in this torrent she thought, not even Sujata with her rock strong will. Two days ago when the telegram had arrived saying that Sujata was coming down to meet her she had not believed her eyes. Though they had been planning this visit over their letters for the past three months it seemed unbelievable that it would actually happen. Once it sank in, she had got into a frenzy trying to make her small home look its best. She had taken down all curtains and linen to the river for a rigorous wash. The kitchen had been cleaned and the soot which had collected over years was scrubbed away in a matter of hours. The children had looked on bewildered as their mother who normally cursed under her breathe while she went about the daily grind was actually heard humming an old hindi film song. Now all that seemed a waste, since the rain looked like it wou...

The rain fell incessantly; mercilessly…it threatened to wash away everything with it. Nothing but nothing would stand in its way as the torrents that poured from the skies rushed on their way to meet the river and then on to the sea. The stranded car rocked slightly from time to time as it tried to keep its hold on the fast receding ground. The driver once again came to her window to urge her to go back but seeing her determined face went back to his place under the bonnet. She almost didn’t notice him though a part of her brain did register the movement. She was lost in thought. She remembered her mother’s wet smiling face as they had run from the fields to the house hand in hand, hurrying to collect the drying papads, pickles and other assorted masalas spread out in the courtyard before the rains spoiled them. That funnily was the only memory she had of that fateful night that swept away her parents and her childish innocence with it. She had heard her grandmother’s version ...

Dear Sunaina, Am hoping this note finds you in good health and spirits and not too surprised at seeing a letter from me who must have passed into the realms of mere memories. I am sorry I had to disappear without notice and didn’t have the time to even inform you about my plans before leaving. But even as time has flown like water under a bridge I have never forgotten you and at every turn in my life I have mentally checked back as to how you would have viewed my decisions and actions. Since childhood you have been my conscience keeper and it was a pain to keep my plans to myself before I left home and then not to touchbase with you once I had gone away, knowing that your concern for my well being will make you share my details with my family. They would have lost no time in dragging me back to that quagmire which I had escaped. Its been so many years and I can finally be in touch again. There is so much to tell you and so much to ask after. Your son whom I had seen last as a toddler m...

The rain fell incessantly, mercilessly, without joy the way it falls in a place that has been inundated with more rains than it could handle for a week at a time. Sujata looked out on it with unseeing eyes. There was a time when the rains had never failed to fill her with awe and delight whatever her circumstances, it uplifted her thoughts, dreams and hopes to a higher realm. Now it just brought on a resigned sigh and an overwhelming desire to cry. Her fingers went on with the knitting in her hand as her mind wandered and the multi hued scarf she was making wove on almost like on autopilot. Her hands had started shaking some years ago and she had taken up knitting with a vengeance it hid the fact of the shivering hands and also gave her some satisfaction to be able to create something in her otherwise barren life. She saw the sentry running out under the torrent to open the gates and they creaked open reluctantly. She always found it funny-sad that the same gates looked like tho...

The gate looked imposing, she gathered up her frayed energies yet again and taking a deep breath knocked. She had become quite good at this repeated gathering of energies and their slow dissemination into thin air as she met the umpteenth dance director or troupe manager for a chance to be hired. Inside the gate she could hear a dog barking and someone admonishing it in a hushed voice to keep quite and not disturb the recitals. Inspite of herself she couldn’t help but smile as she remembered Ramprasad who would be waiting patiently for her to return. He would jump up and smother her with wet licks the moment she opened the door. She had surprised herself by taking a liking to the mongrel not that she had much choice it had followed her resolutely on her journey to a new world and once when she had hitched a ride on a tempo had run alongside till the driver had stopped and picked it up. With a reproachful look Ramprasad had sat down panting close to Sujata’s feet, dripping saliva all...

Mohan Lal, was one name that never failed to raise fear in Sujata’s heart. He was talking loudly, in that all-important voice he used whenever he was speaking on his newly acquired second hand mobile phone. He was walking towards where she stood, any moment he would be upon her, she looked around frantically and ducked behind the open kitchen door to escape notice. As she squinted through the small gap between the roughly hewn boards of the door he walked into the courtyard, not finding anyone looked around with a frown and then roughly shook the charpoy on which the old woman was sleeping. ‘Where is Sujata?’ he asked as she tried to understand what had happened. She finally realised and cursed him roundly refusing to answer his question. He wasn’t to be dissuaded and kept repeating his question, his voice rising threateningly each time. Finally the old woman gave up and turning her back to him grunted, ‘if you can’t handle your woman and she runs loose am I to blame? Don’t k...

Sujata stood with one feet in the air and hesitated, where she placed it would change the fabric of her life forever. As she stood in front of her ancestral home and looked up at the fading, peeling paints of the first floor window, childhood memories of calling out to the balloon wala and friends came flooding back. Where and how did those days go? But it would not do to reminisce about the past, a decision had to be taken and taken now. She must once and for all decide whether she could endure the drudgery of her obscure life or would she stand up and have herself counted amongst those who fought to make something out of their lives. The anxiety of having to decide had brought on a fine line of perspiration on her forehead and she absent-mindedly wiped at it with the end of her sari. Her long hair held by a hastily put clip was loose and she plucked at it as she weighed the oft-weighed options in her mind yet again. What could she do? She had saved up some money from her mea...

What do you write about a food joint which can easily claim the crown for Delhi’s most written about food joint? A place frequented by anyone and everyone who calls himself a foodie atleast once.  A place that boasts of holding on to the recipes of the Mughals long after they have vacated the throne of Delhi. Well I guess the only thing to write about such a place is your own thoughts and experiences and memories since the fact that the food would be good is a given. Karim’s opened in Dwarka some months ago and I believe they opened without much fanfare and started operations from a small outlet on the first floor of a cluttered market. I had no idea about its existence at almost my doorstep till one day I drove past this market and spotted the signage. A close look to ascertain that it’s the real thing, for quite a few fakes also abound and I was jumping in glee. A Karims right in the center of Dwarka seemed too good to be true. My first quick expedition was with a friend and afte...