Tag: beliefs

Chapter Thirty One: Yet Another Reunion

Praveena replayed her conversation with aunt Kameela before realising the one thing that bothered her more than any other: Aunt Kameela had said college was to prepare her for marriage. Had the other students known this earlier?

So had they spent three years in college just to gain the mental maturity that they would need to raise a family in future? It distressed her. Now it explained the goofing-around that most students had done all the time.

“But that’s how things are,” she could imagine aunt Kameela’s argument. Now that she thought of it, she remembered her female lecturers mentioning something like that. They had said college was the most important part of their lives because that’s when they could enjoy their lives as they wished. ‘But,’ her inner voice interrupted, ‘remember what James said? He said, “Enjoy life, guys. After three years here, you deserve it!” See? Joy isn’t limited to college — or anything else.’

Praveena took a deep breath. ‘Alright,’ she thought. She needed a break from this confusion. She decided to put the matter to rest. Meanwhile, she knew what she needed: a talk with Ms Marrie.

Praveena dialed Ms Marrie’s number. After years of not being able to reach her, this time, Praveena heard Ms Marrie’s voice on the other side.

“Hello?” Ms Marrie said in exasperation. ‘She must have had a tough day at school,’ Praveena thought before answering.

“Hi, Ms Marrie. It’s Praveena.” She realized Ms Marrie wouldn’t have recognised her new number. When she replied after a little hesitation, Ms Marrie was surprised. “Praveena!” she exclaimed, sounding quite unhappy. “What’s up?” Praveena detected no enthusiasm.

She was taken aback. She had thought Ms Marrie would be happy she had called. What had she done to offend Ms Marrie? She wanted to find out.

“Er — Miss, can I meet you?”

There was a pause. Praveena realized Ms Marrie was debating with herself, ‘why though?’, she wondered.

At last, she responded. “Alright,” Ms Marrie said heaving a sigh. “Lunch today?”

Smiling wide, “Sure, Miss” Praveena responded, the excitement showing in her voice.

“Okay then. How about Green Leaf restaurant, at one?”

Praveena agreed and Ms Marrie disconnected the call.

She arrived at the Green Leaf restaurant at 12.45. It was a bright Thursday afternoon and the hotel had the blinds drawn to create a dull and quiet ambiance. Praveena liked the surrounding. It was appetising and welcoming. She sipped on her second glass of orange juice when Ms Marrie walked over and took a seat facing her.

There was such a difference in Ms Marrie. As a student, Praveena had admired Ms Marries quick and noiseless strides. It was still noiseless, but Ms Marrie walked much slower now. Her long dark hair was now short and Praveena saw streaks of grey. Her eyes too were sunken, and appeared sad. She had combed her hair carelessly and wore a modest floral white sari that complimented her dark complexion. ‘She’s pretty,’ Praveena thought, ‘except her eyes,’ her inner voice added.

Ms Marrie broke into her thoughts, “Hello, Praveena.” It was a plain and blunt greeting. There was no emotion or a welcoming tone in her greeting, and that bothered Praveena.

“Hello, Miss. How are you?” Praveena didn’t let her thoughts hinder her compassion for Ms Marrie.

“I’m good, and you?” Praveena grew irritated. Ms Marrie smiled, but Praveena only saw formality in the smile; the concern she was used to had gone. ‘Something is wrong,’ she realized. ‘This is so unlike Ms Marrie,’ her inner voice helped.

“Is something wrong, Miss? You sound so stiff and uncomfortable,” she leant forward, her voice soft. “Much like the way I was after my mother died.” she observed as an after thought.

Ms Marrie said nothing. But Praveena watched, distressed, as Ms Marrie’s eyes swelled with tears. She blinked them away.

Praveena raised her eyes at Marrie, “What happened Miss?”

Ms Marrie shook her head in reply and smiled, a warmer smile than before, “I’m glad you thought of talking to me.”

Praveena could see Ms Marrie was hiding something, but she decided not to bring it up. Instead, she said, “I tried calling you many times over the past three years, but I couldn’t reach you.”

“Oh,” Ms Marrie exclaimed, apologetic, “my phone’s been giving me a lot of trouble lately.” She smiled again. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Praveena lied just as easily as Ms Marrie. “So,” she asked “shall we order?”

They ordered their meals and while they waited, “How’s your husband, Miss?” Praveena asked instinctively.

Ms Marrie gave her a long hard look before saying flatly, “he’s dead.”

Praveena shock showed all over her face; her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a fit of silent disbelief. How could such a thing happen to her beloved Ms Marrie? “When?” she could hardly get the words out of her dry mouth. Her voice came out as a whisper. Though she had never met Ms Marrie’s husband, she was knew it was a love marriage.

“It’s been three years,” Ms Marrie smiled through the tears peeking through her eye lids. “He met with an accident — the day before the marriage.” Praveena hadn’t asked for the details, but Ms Marrie told her anyway. Praveena knew it would have been difficult for Marrie to speak of the matter. She swallowed the pity she felt for Ms Marrie. She knew her teacher hated it when others pitied her, and Praveena didn’t want to hurt her further. She remained silent.

Their lunch arrived, but Praveena didn’t feel like eating anymore. Ms Marrie however, started eating and gestured Praveena to do the same. As Praveena tried to munch on her meal, ignoring the lump in her throat, Ms Marrie spoke.

“You know,” Praveena looked up at her, “I was cut off from people after Kevin – he was my fiancé – died. I shut my emotions and became cold towards others. I wanted somebody to blame, and I couldn’t tolerate it when I couldn’t do that. That’s why I didn’t attend your calls.” She smiled at Praveena’s look of disappointment. “But, when you reminded me I was being like you used to be, I realize that it’s time for me to leave the past behind.” She smiled broadly now. The tears were gone.

“Thanks a lot, Praveena.”

Chapter Thirty: Relative Trouble

Praveena enjoyed her leisure time. She didn’t do much the first couple of days; she ate well and gave herself a lot of rest. ‘You deserve it,’ her inner voice convinced her it wasn’t laziness.

A week later, Kamal mentioned Aunt Kameela. “Hey, I forgot to tell you,” he began with an enthusiastic greeting. “Kameela called yesterday,” he lowered his pitch a notch at Praveena’s look. She didn’t care about aunt Kameela, and it showed well on her face. He continued, “She asked me what you decided.” He hesitated. “And…” He haltered, worried about Praveena’s reaction. “She said she’d speak to you,” he looked up at her, wondering.

Praveena said nothing however. Kamal knew she was irritated. But he had wanted to convey the news; he didn’t like the idea of Kameela catching Praveena unprepared.

Praveena’s remained impassive. But fumed within. Glad that her father had warned her beforehand, she smiled musing on the prospect of giving aunt Kameela a piece of her mind. This should be interesting, she thought.

“You’re smiling,” Kamal observed.

“Yeah,” Praveena said defensively. “If she wants to ask me why I don’t want to marry her son, I’ll tell her why,” she said tauntingly.

Kamal looked a bit worried now, “Well,” he shrugged, “you know what to do, just remember, she is your mother’s sister” he said. “In a way,” he added in haste, catching Praveena’s disbelieving look.

“No worries, Pa. I’ll take care.” she smiled mischievously.

That evening, aunt Kameela called Praveena.

“Hello, Praveena!” aunt Kameela sang in her sugary voice. Praveena could imagine her wide smile on the other side, displayed all of her vain betel stained teeth. She was thankful aunt Kameela hadn’t decided to come over in person. It had been difficult enough the last time, a second encounter could have ended disastrous, Praveena thought.

“Hi, aunt Kameela, how are you? How’s everyone at home?” Praveena planned to stick to the conventional basics. She did not need a lecture on that.

“Oh, everything here’s alright of course,” aunt Kameela replied lighthearted. Praveena couldn’t help but notice the extra emphasis on the word ‘here.’ It was easy to discern the route of the conversation. She decided to wait for it however. If Kameela was going to confront her, Praveena didn’t want to help her by opening the matter herself.

“Oh, that’s good.” Praveena tried hard to bring a smile in her voice. She wondered if it conveyed when aunt Kameela replied.

“But things are not so ok over there, is it?” Praveena hated the way Kameela spoke. She used the same annoying tone she had had at her mother’s funeral; the tone of talking to an over emotional preschooler.

“There’s nothing like that,” Praveena shrugged, more out of habit before realizing aunt Kameela couldn’t see her.

“Your father told me everything, Praveena” she said slowly as if to emphasize that her knowledge wasn’t useless.

“What did he say?” Praveena was now getting curious. How much of their conversation would have Pa told her? She was still lost when Kameela’s strong voice bombarded her thoughts.

“Why don’t you like to marry Prem?”

‘Finally!’ thought Praveena.

“It’s not that I don’t like Prem,” she tried to make it sound right. “It’s just that I’m not ready for marriage. I need some time.”

“But, why?” There was hones curiosity in Aunt Jameela’s voice.

“I need to mentally prepare myself” Praveena remained patient. She needed to get the thoughts out of her head. She was glad she got an opportunity to express herself.

“That’s what college was for,” Praveena imagined Kameela’s earnest and confused face. But after listening to what Kameela just said, Praveena was a little surprised. She had been wondering the purpose of her formal education. ‘Was that supposed to mentally prepare you for marriage?’ her inner voice probed her, disgusted. ‘So, it wasn’t for the knowledge?’ She was crestfallen.

“Praveena? You there?” aunt Kameela yelled from the other side.

“Yes, yes. I’m listening” Praveena realized she had been silent for a while and spoke in hurry.

“I was saying, that after college –- or maybe a couple years after work — girls settle down and raise a family.” She took a deep breath. “And since you’re not planning on working, I thought — “ she left the thought hanging.

Praveena remained silent, reflecting on aunt Kameela’s statement. How easily she had said it! Praveena couldn’t accept it. Aunt Kameela’s voice interrupted her thoughts again.

“Alright, Praveena. You think about it. Bye,” Aunt Kameela disconnected the line even before Praveena could react.

Praveena wondered if her long periods of silence had offended aunt Kameela. ‘So what if it had?’ her inner voice reasoned. And Praveena agreed.

“After college — or maybe after a couple years of work — girls settle down and raise their families.”

Aunt Kameela’s words haunted Praveena. She still couldn’t accept it. Her mind raced. Why had it become such a common notion? She had seen women who worked. But, she thought. Almost all of the working women she had known had already been married, even Ms Marrie — wait — ‘what could have happened to Ms Marrie?’

She was curious. She wanted to know if Ms Marrie had been married. ‘Of course she would’ve married’ her inner voice said, exasperated.

‘But, why didn’t she invite you?’ it was now the second voice.

While her two inner voices imposed contradictory theories, Praveena tried focusing on the bigger matter: Why did girls marry after a certain stage and start living for another person altogether? It sounded as if a girl’s final destination was marriage, as if they don’t have the freedom to choose a life after that.

Praveena wondered whether it was right to limit a girl’s potential after marriage. She knew a lot of women who had chosen their own careers, even after marriage. They didn’t think marriage was the stop point. For them, marriage meant companionship and fellowship, and a family was moral support.

Marriage is just a part of a woman’s life and not the end of it, she concluded as she sat cross-legged on her bed.

Aunt Kameela and her son Prem would disagree, she thought. They were an orthodox family who expected people to behave just like them. Living there would be a pain, for them and her. ‘That family is certainly not for you.’ she decided.

Being Busy

For some weird reason, we associate busyness with productivity. But being busy has nothing whatsoever to do with productivity. Kierkegaard sure thinks so.

ridiculous - busy

Chapter Twenty Eight: Education Burdens

“Keep in mind everyone, once you graduate, you’ll become an integral part of society.” It was another one of those lectures that the final year students had to sit through. The lecturer was their principal. They had a lot of those nowadays. The principal spoke most of the time, but occasionally, they invited famous pep speakers to give guest lectures. It was a routine torture for the final years. Old people talking, and insisting about the importance of higher education and the social recognition it creates.

A lot of students grew annoyed every time this happened; a handful of students felt higher education was just an excuse to live off their parents’ money. A few others had had enough of text books and studying. They wanted to move on, and start living their lives.

Some others paid attention to every little detail of the lectures. They considered higher formal education, and MBA seemed like a good idea. They were most of the rich people who had access to mounds of gold their parents and grandparents had preserved. But they were just a small group.

The majority, like Praveena, had decided to end their formal education. Praveena felt as if college had taken over the best years of her life; that she was spending her life being miserable, by choice, when she could have done something meaningful. She now thought about it a lot. She wondered of the future, and what it would hold for her. She had always evaded thinking ahead, but now the time was ripe to make some serious plans — ‘and a few contingency plans too’ her inner voice added. She remained undecided though.

Anil had decided to do his MBA; he had decided to remain in Bangalore. He wanted to take on a part time job and fend for himself — at least a portion of his personal expenses.

“What would you do?” Anil asked one day as they sat in the canteen, having lunch.

Praveena shrugged. She knew she should have made a decision by now, but she couldn’t make her mind up. The thought of graduating without Niveda still disturbed her. “Stay at home for some time, maybe. Have some fun, until I come up with something.” she said hoping for something of another holiday. Anil didn’t seem to think likewise.

“You going to settle down?” he asked, looking disappointed.

“Ya, I’m thinking,” she said unsure “for a while.”

Anil almost laughed. “I was talking about marriage, you idiot!” he tried to control his laughter, and failing.

“Oh,” Praveena smiled sheepishly, “nope, not marriage.” she said, and added indignantly “I’m too young for that!” Anil laughed with her.

“So,” he probed again, once the laughter had died down, “you’re going to stay home, for a while?”

Praveena nodded chewing on her lunch, not saying anything.

As Praveena’s final exams approached, she couldn’t miss the tension and the excitement that was obvious in almost every soul in the college. The teachers were the most happy with the end of the course. They often referred to Praveena’s batch as the worst batch they had had to teach. Niveda’s issue had been an added negative for them to cling on to. They showed their eagerness to be rid of the troublesome batch.

The students were on par with the teachers in terms of joy. There were plenty of goodbye parties in the hostels. From the girls’ hostel, Praveena could hear the racket coming from the boys’ hostel. It was the same every night. These parties usually happened after the exams, some seniors had told her, but this time, the parties had begun way ahead. She too felt like putting her book down and partying. Knowing they would be free after this one final exam made it all the more difficult to concentrate. Praveena’s mind kept wandering to the enjoying phase after the exams.

She forced herself to study. ‘One last time,’ convincing herself.

The final paper of the final exam was upon them. That morning, Anil and Praveena met in the canteen as usual and had an unusual, quiet breakfast. Praveena was feeling plenty of emotions at the same time. She was happy college life had come to a close. She was reluctant to leave Bangalore; she had enjoyed the city’s refreshing climate. She would leave Anil behind, and that was painful too. He had been her closest friend and only comfort after Niveda. She was thankful to him for staying by her side, throughout the tough episodes of Niveda’s treatment and death.

But most of all, it was the thought of Niveda. During the first year, when Praveena was just beginning to get accustomed to Niveda’s regular chatter, she would imagine themselves graduating together, and then remaining friends for life. Every time she thought of it, she wanted to weep. She cast the thought aside, deciding instead, to focus on her sandwich.

“Last day,” Anil observed. He sneaked a look at Praveena to catch her reaction. “Yeah,” She nodded as memories swivelled in her head.

They finished the exam, and met again for a quiet lunch.

“I’ll miss you, Praveena” Anil said flatly. “You are my best friend, you know.” he pursed his lips in a tight smile.

Praveena looked at him, a long calculating look. She knew she would miss him too, more than she could say.

“Me too,” she ended the conversation.

My Day, Every Day

journal

I have a journal.

I used to write in it every day. But as time went by, I reduced my correspondence; unconsciously, I wrote on it only when I got too stressed, too sad, or upset over something.

What began as a medium of sharing my life, soon became a medium to vent. And then I realized, that’s not how you treat a diary.

My diary is my friend, and what’s the difference between me and other people if I’m using my diary only to complain?

And then I read in another blog about the good things the author had in her life. That’s when it hit me: I’m not pathetic; I have a life, and a thumping good one too.

People might think all I ever do — from 7 to 7 —is sit in my place and stare into my laptop, but no one knows how much there’s within my screen.

I read some excellent and funny articles on McSweeny’s, I watch food porn on Facebook, I chat with friends from far away, I share a photo status, I write a blog post or two, I read a few blogs, I comment on some more, I like plenty. Then I go for a coffee break, and I get back, hating myself for not sticking to the ‘drink less caffeine’ rule. Chiding myself, I get on with work — because I have to be sincere to what I earn — and then in the middle of it, I leave for a quiet lunch with a colleague, then some tea, and more Facebook, and again my personal blog, a little bit of reading, editing, writing, and rewriting.

And all the while, my headphones never come off.

And then as the sun sets, I leave for dinner and then back home. I take a good twenty minutes to relax and get out of the office-mood, and lying on my bed, I unwind — for now, with Jane Austen’s Persuasion.

What do I have to complain?