I owe you…
You own me.
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Tag: conflict
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.
Chapter Twenty Nine: A Long Holiday
Praveena busied herself in her last couple of days packing up all of her possessions, and stuffing them into her old trunk. Her father called, telling her how much he longed to see her. He had a lot of plans to share with her when she came back.
Praveena was getting ready to leave Bangalore in a mix of joy and sorrow. She met her class mates for the last time and promised to keep in touch, quietly acknowledging the empty words. She and Anil had a final meeting in the valley facing the hostel buildings.
He sat waiting for her, a traveling bag by his side. As Praveena walked up to him, his flying hair reminded her of their first weekend in college, when she had first met him on the same valley. Smiling to herself, she sat next to him.
He had been staring at the other side when Praveena sat next to him, but sensing her, “It’s strange, isn’t it?” he said and turned to her with a smile. Seeing Praveena’s perplexity, he added, “that we meet, like this, just before going home?”
Praveena smiled, she could sense the sadness that emanated from him. She could feel it too. For a long time they said nothing. Praveena’s thought back of Niveda and the days they had spent, in this very campus, as “the trio.” She felt hot tears sliding down her cheeks, but made no effort to wipe them, leaving the chill morning breeze to take care of it. The wind ruffled her uncombed hair. Letting it wash over her, she wondered if she would ever have the chance to witness it again.
When it was time to say goodbye, Anil and Praveena stood facing each other. Anil reached out his hand, and Praveena shook it.
“Take care, Anil,” Praveena said, hit by reality all too soon. “Call me whenever you can,” she added.
Anil nodded, smiling. “You too.” he said. They walked together towards the gates. They were just about to part ways when a voice called out from behind.
“Anil! Praveena!”
They turned and saw James, a rucksack on his back, walking towards them with a spring in every step. “Hey,” he panted coming to a halt in front of them. “It was great knowing you guys,” he smiled wide. The duo returned the smile, “Thank you for being a wonderful teacher, Sir” Praveena said as Anil nodded his approval.
“I just played fair for my salary,” he shrugged waving the compliment away. “I just have one last advice for you,” The duo raised their eyebrows in unison at his sudden seriousness, “Enjoy life, you guys.” James said grinning and spreading his arms wide, “After three years here,” he pointed at the dingy college building, “you deserve it!” he winked.
Waving goodbye, he walked towards his motorcycle. With a loving pat on the seat of his gleaming black Bullet, he jumped onto it and rode away, his head held high and pumping his fist in the air.
They stood watching his figure fade as another lecturer, who had come up to them without their knowing it, shook his head, saying “Silly guy, quit his job!” The lecturer walked away, “See you at the convocation,” he patted Anil on the shoulder. Anil mirrored Praveena’s surprise. James quit? They wondered as they heard the final sounds of his motorcycle fade into the distance.
Kamal held Praveena in a long embrace. He didn’t care it was the railway station, he didn’t care loads of people watched them. He was glad to have his daughter back, and he showed it by giving her a warm welcome hug.
“How are you, Pa?”
“I’m good, good,” he waved his hand doing something of a gig. He seemed happy at her return, but Praveena knew there was something huge in his mind. He looked older, with more wrinkles on his face than Praveena remembered. His skin had begun to hang loose. He had lost almost all of his black hair; Praveena saw a lot of greys and even a bald patch forming. But he looked fit. Praveena assumed he still played football in the park with the kids in the neighbourhood.
Once they reached home, Kamal prepared Praveena’s favourite lunch while she bathed. Just the thought of being back home rejuvenated her.
After a heavy meal, Kamal and Praveena sat on the couch to watch television. Praveena realized she hadn’t spoken to her father as much as she had wanted to. She switched the television off. Kamal turned a curious eye at her. She smiled.
“Pa, say something.”
Kamal turned to face her. “Say something?” he repeated incredulous. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something,” Praveena shook her head shrugging. “Anything.”
“Well,” Kamal hesitated, “What do you want to do, now that you’re done with college?”
Praveena raised her eyebrows and told him she had had enough of college, and that she would wait for perhaps a couple of months until she decided what to do next.
“Alright…” Kamal trailed away, “Thing is,” he sighed, rubbing his hands together. Praveena grew impatient, but waited for her father to finish.
“Remember aunty Kameela?”
Praveena remembered her. She had spoken to her at Geetha’s funeral. “You mean the one who told me everything would be alright, and then asked my name?” She didn’t make much of an effort to hide the distaste she felt for her relatives, particularly those who showed up at her mother’s funeral just to display their social status. They had all come only because they hadn’t wanted society to bad-mouth them.
Kamal nodded, now a little uncomfortable.
“What about her?” Praveena became harsh. She wondered if the aunt had died and he wanted her to accompany him to the funeral. She was ready to decline his request, when unexpectedly, he said, “she asked me if you’d marry her son — Prem.”
Praveena was shocked. She stood up, staring at her father. She hadn’t even thought of marriage yet, and yet, here was her father, asking her to marry some random guy whom she had never even met!
“Pa,” she tried to keep her voice low; she hated the idea of shouting at her father. “I don’t want to get married.”
Kamal looked stunned, open-mouthed, “Yet,” she added.
“I need some time, Pa,” she quietly said sitting down again. “to sort out the priorities in my life.”
Kamal said nothing for a while. Though he was mute, she saw he was thinking about something, but looked as if he didn’t want her to know.
“Alright then,” he shrugged at last. “It’s your life, you make your own choices. I’m with you.” He smiled and ruffled her hair.
Praveena looked at him in surprise as he switched on the television again.
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.
The Chaos Within 