Tag: people

Chapter Sixteen: A Curious Case

On Saturday, Praveena was sound asleep when something brutally shook her awake.

“Wha—?” she sat bolt upright, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she couldn’t open them. When she tried to, the underside of her eyes pained her.

Rubbing her eyes hastily, she stared at the scene in front of her.

Niveda was ransacking the place. Praveena watched in horror as Niveda upturned her books and trunks, looking for something.

Niveda turned to face her. She was ashen faced, her messy hair flying all about her. She stood there, lost and scary. She was sweating and a little shivering. Her eyes looking puffy and red as if she hadn’t slept all night.

“What are you looking for?” Praveena mumbled her voice coarse. She was sleepy; she hadn’t fallen asleep until after midnight. Even as she asked the question, she knew something was wrong. Niveda looked beyond recognizable. She seemed in to be in great distress.

“I lost my meds,” she breathed, her breath coming in gasps. She looked like she would suffocate. Praveena tried hard not to panic as she rushed out of bed looking all over for what, she didn’t know. She just looked for anything that might look like a brown paper medicine bag.

She looked around the unturned room: their trunks, the desk, their stack of text books, she even looked under the beds and the table.

Finding nothing, she stood in the centre of the room, hands on her hips. She heaved a sigh, and turned to look at Niveda. She was not in the room.

“Niveda?” she called out, wondering where she could have gone. Just then, Niveda stumbled out of the bathroom, shaking and her face dripping water.

“What happened?” Praveena was puzzled. Did Niveda have any illness she hadn’t told her of? She thought she’d put that question off until after Niveda was back to normal.

“Nothing.” Niveda swallowed hard many times before saying, “I’m dizzy, I’m going to sleep.” She stumbled again. Praveena held her steady and helped her get into bed. “Sorry I woke you,” Niveda apologised her voice faint. Before Praveena could respond, Niveda turned and fell into a deep sleep.

Praveena looked at the room and hit herself on the forehead. This was not the way she had imagined her first Saturday in Bangalore; cleaning a room she had managed to mess up so much.

She brushed her teeth, and set to work. That’s when she realized what a huge room they had been given. At first look, it had seemed modest.

It took her about an hour to set the place in order. She sighed heavily, and ignoring the rumbling in her stomach, went far a bath.

Niveda was still asleep when Praveena came back. She got ready and went outside leaving a note, in case Niveda woke up.

She went out of the hostel building to take a look at the sight of Bangalore from where they were. She saw the college building next to the two girls hostel buildings. On the other side of the college, was the boys hostel area of four buildings. The whole campus was spread out wide over acres of land, and as far as the eye could see, there was a thin sheen of grass, dotted here and there with a few trees. She had come out to call her father, but stood transfixed at the view. She stood there, experiencing the mild, cold breeze that played across her face. Her phone lay forgotten in her hand, while she drank the sight of dewy grasses and the songs of countless birds singing their own tunes. Somehow, even though the cries of the birds lacked rhythm and sync, they were full of passion and inexplicable peace that pierced Praveena’s veins. In a sudden urge, she pulled off the band that held her hair together. She laughed to herself as her hair danced with the wind.

“Nice, isn’t it?” a familiar voice called out from behind. She turned and saw Anil walking towards her, beaming bright in the mild, morning sun. Her smile widened when she noticed that his hair too waved in sync to the wind’s rhythm.

“So,” he said with his hands on his hips “any plans for the weekend? Where’s Niveda?” he added, looking around.

“She’s asleep,” and seeing the look on his face he quickly said, “she isn’t well.”

“Oh, what happened?” Praveena shrugged and told him of the eventful morning.

“OK. Shall we go out somewhere? How about sightseeing?” He suddenly became excited.

“I’m in,” Praveena replied brightly. “Let’s see if Niveda would join us.” she added as an afterthought.

“Sure, let’s go check in on her,” he said spiritedly, turning towards the hostels. Praveena held him back by tugging at his collar. “I’ll do that,” she reminded him with an understanding smile.

“You. Wait here.” saying so, she started walking back towards the hostel leaving Anil crestfallen.

When Praveena opened the door to their room, Niveda was sitting on her bed cross legged and looking quite relaxed. As Praveena entered, she smiled, holding the note she had left.

“How are you now?” Praveena asked sitting on her bed which was next to Niveda’s.

“Loads better!” Niveda smiled. Looking around the room, she said “You should’ve waited, we could’ve done this together.” she waved a hand around the room.

“That’s OK” Praveena said lightly. “You think you’re up for a day of sight seeing Bangalore?”

“You bet!” Niveda cried as she jumped out of bed, pumped up. While Niveda got ready, Praveena called Anil and told him to wait by the college entrance. She then called Kamal.

“Hi, Pa. How are you?”

“I’m good, Praveena. How’re you? How’s college?” He sounded happy to hear her voice. Praveena was the only remaining joy of his life.

“How’s the food, and the room? Did you settle in comfortably, or do you need anything from here? Your pillow?”

“All good, Pa.” she smiled into the mouthpiece. “It’s great here, we’ve planned to go out — just hang around.” She spoke to him for a while, exchanging stories. From what Praveena learned, Chennai was boring her father. As they exchanged goodbyes, her father gave her a bit of advice.

“Take care, Praveena. Stay safe.”

“I will Pa” she promised before disconnecting the line.

Niveda was still not ready. Praveena urged her to hurry up, and cursing the unreasonable roaming rates, dialed Ms Marrie’s number. She heard the same girlish recording she always heard, “The number you are trying to reach is currently not reachable. Please try again later.”

She swore silently as she caught up with Niveda, and together, they walked out of the hostel, towards the college entrance.

 

National Blog Posting Month – Day 18

Chapter Thirteen: A Helpful Voice

The class seemed to go on forever. Praveena couldn’t concentrate, but she was careful not to drift away from the lesson. She didn’t want Ms Marrie thinking she was playing the fool.

Ever since Ms Marrie had assured Praveena that she was open for discussion, Praveena had been feeling an unmistakable urge to talk to her. But she was also a bit scared of the outcome. What would Ms Marrie think of her?

As she watched Ms Marrie teaching, Praveena thought about talking to her. She had a lot of agony within her and she wanted someone to open up to. Ms Marrie was the only person who had given any indication she would listen.

Praveena decided to talk to her.

‘Are you sure?’ her inner voice peeked up. She silenced it with a definite yes.

When the class ended, Praveena trailed Ms Marrie out of the class. Spotting her, Ms Marrie said, “Hi, Praveena. How are you?”

“Not good, Miss.” she replied without looking in to Ms Marrie’s eyes.

“You want to talk about it?”

Praveena nodded. It seemed odd, asking a teacher to talk to you about personal things. But she didn’t care anymore. She missed her mother more than ever; she wanted someone to listen to her, to console her and to chide her. She wanted her mother. She wanted to tell someone that what happened to her was unfair and she wanted affirmation.

Ms Marrie nodded curtly and walked towards her room. On the way, they came across Ms Selima, Praveena’s English teacher.

“Why aren’t you in class?” She asked sternly, peering at Praveena through the top of her glasses.

“Oh, I’m borrowing her for a while, Selima. Sorry I didn’t let you know.” Marrie smiled brightly.

“OK,” Ms Selima said and went on her way without giving Praveena a second look. Praveena stood watching her with a queer expression. “She and I aren’t the best of friends,” Ms Mary mused, watching Praveena.

She looked up at Ms Marrie. Smiling, she led Praveena to her room.

Before they went inside, Ms Marrie offered Praveena a stress buster. “How about a cup of tea, Praveena?” She asked picking up the kettle that had been sitting on a table just behind the door.

“Please.” Praveena was surprised. Personal beverages within the school campus? She was sure Principal Vanitha would never hear of this.

Ms Marrie bolted the door and settled behind the desk as Praveena sat facing her. Noticing the room darker than it had been the last time she was there, Praveena saw that Ms Marrie hadn’t opened the window.

“Alright,” Ms Marrie began with an air of getting things done. “What’s bothering you, Praveena?” she asked in a more serious tone.

It surprised Praveena. Just a second ago, Ms Marrie had sounded casual and lighthearted. And now she was all serious.

“Praveena?” she repeated. Praveena looked up at her.

“Hey, look. I know you’ve had a lot of problems. But just remember, you’re not alone.”

“What?”

“Everyone has problems of their own, only the degree of it differs.” She shrugged. “Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not belittling your suffering,” she paused tilting her head towards Praveen. “but I’m only saying you should be aware of others’ problems too.”

“But how could I do that? Should I just walk up to them…” Praveena trailed away thinking of Priya.

“No.” Ms Marrie replied. “you don’t need to do anything like that. Just keep in mind that people you meet every day are undergoing tough stuff. Even if they don’t show it.”

Praveena nodded.

“Now, tell me. What were you upset about the other day?” Ms Marrie wanted to help, Praveena could see that. ‘She could give you a better insight, you know’ her inner voice said. ‘and another perspective’ the second voice added.

“Mr Andrew.” Praveena paused, not knowing how to open the matter. Now that she had someone to talk to, the matter seemed trivial. Maybe she was just being stupid.

Ms Marrie egged her on, “What about him?”

“He told me — ” she swallowed, “he told me he hated teaching.” She waited, expecting Ms Marrie to say something. But she showed no sign of surprise. Apparently it wasn’t news to her.

“And?” Ms Marrie urged after a while.

“He said he had wanted to be an archeologist and that he changed his mind because someone convinced him to.” Once she heard it come out of her mouth, it sounded a bit funny that such a thing had worried her so much.

“So, that’s what upset you,” Ms Marrie confirmed, nodding curtly.

“Yes.” Praveena’s voice was small.

“Good.” She nodded in approval. Praveena had not been expecting that.

“What?” she was perplexed.

“What exactly about Mr Andrew’s life bothered you?” Ms Marrie had a strange expression on her face, as if it was a perfectly ordinary matter to discuss, “Don’t worry, be honest.” she added, seeing Praveena’s unsure look.

Praveena thought. What had really upset her was, “he gave up on his dream too easily, and I couldn’t accept it.”

“Exactly,” Ms Marrie exclaimed jubilantly. “That’s good.”

“Why?” Praveena was confused.

“If you’re upset about someone else not realizing their dreams, it just means you have a passion to see others succeed in life.”

Praveena wore a quizzical look. She had no such passion at all. Perhaps Ms Marrie had misunderstood her. This conversation was becoming pointless.

“Let me explain,” Ms Marrie seemed to have read her thoughts, “You strongly believe people should realize their dreams. Right?”

Praveena nodded silently.

“So, when Andrew ended up a teacher, your belief was tested for the first time. That’s why you were upset. You couldn’t accept it because you had never heard of it happen before. Am I right?”

Praveena now saw the picture, as understanding drew on her face. She nodded.

“But don’t mistake the power of society. It will continue to test you and surprise you. You will face the same confusion every time your beliefs are questioned. It’s up to you to decide how to react. You follow?”

“Yes, Miss” Praveena sounded happier now. Her heart felt lighter. “But Miss, does it mean that my trust will always be broken?”

“Maybe,” Ms Marrie shrugged “you can never be sure.”

“Then,” Praveena was again confused. ‘’what should I do if I’m not sure?”

Ms Marrie was silent. Her eyebrows creased as she thought. “I don’t know.” she said at last. “Maybe that’s for you to find out.”

Praveena nodded in agreement. “Maybe…” she trailed away.

They were silent for a while. Then Marrie broke it.

“How’s your father, Praveena? How’s he taking your mother’s death?” Marrie wanted Praveena to talk, to open up and reveal her innermost feelings. She knew Praveena had never done that before.

“It’s really difficult for him, he can’t come out of it.” Praveena’s voice went all squashy. It was strange, talking to Ms Marrie about her mother so easily, when she had reacted so badly towards Priya.

“I see,” Ms Marrie observed, “and,” she paused now looking directly into Praveena’s eyes, “what about you?”

“I’m fine, really”

Ms Marrie smiled. ‘Did I sound convincing?’ Praveena wondered.

“You know, that’s a bit too quick to be true.”

‘Perhaps not.’

“What’s going on, Praveena? Tell me exactly, don’t be shy and don’t be scared. Just talk.” Marrie’s voice was gentle, urging Praveena.

“I feel — ” she stopped and sniffed, “sad. Like I have no reason to live, like I’ll never be the same again.” she gulped.

“Like a part of you had died,” Marrie helped.

“Yes.”

“That’s how you should feel, because that’s what happened.” Ms Marrie wore a smile on her lips, a content and satisfied smile.

For some odd reason, Praveena felt better.

National Blog Posting Month – Day 14

Of Greatness

People talk so much about mothers and the sacrifices they make. For ages, people ignored their mothers and the sacrifices they made for their family.

But that’s changed now. Every mother’s day, people thank their mothers, speak so highly of their greatness and share photos on Facebook to show their gratitude to the rest of the world.

What about the other mothers?

She’s the one who starts work before you’re awake, sweeps your floors, cleans your bathrooms, refills your tissue rolls, clears away your empty cups, dusts your desk, rearranges your dishevelled papers, eats after you, and works on Sundays.

And yet, she’s not your mother.

She’s a maintenance staff. The people who make an office of a piece of construction.

So many of these maintenance staffs are mothers too. And it’s painful to see them working so hard for the people who don’t even spare a second look at them.

Most of them are my mother’s age. Every time I see one of them mopping the floor for the third time in a day, I wonder if I’d want my mother in the same situation.

I wouldn’t. Because it’s a sad job. Because people don’t see you for who you are; people don’t see you at all. And yet, not one of them walks past your place without taking away the cup you were too lazy to throw away. And if you happen to catch their eye, they smile at you — not the false smile you give your boss, but the one your mother gives you. What makes them do that?

I don’t think it’s passion for their work. A sense of conscience? Are they just loyal to their salary?

It’s not about the money. It was never about the money. Yes, it’s their job to clean, but it’s their choice to clean satisfactorily. Because they care. They care about you, they care for me.

It’s the human vulnerability. They look at me and they see their own daughter. The mother within drives them to do more, to do better.

I sat staring at the laptop one morning. It was the festival holidays and the office was almost empty. A maintenance staff came up and asked me why I didn’t go home for the festival holidays. We spoke for a while and she wondered aloud how hard it must be, living in a foreign city, away from family, not being able to go home for the holidays without getting crushed under poor roads and the terrible traffic of monsoon rains.

She works a 12-hour shift and her every break is valuable. She didn’t have to spend her time talking to me. But she did. She spent her free time consoling me. She didn’t know why I didn’t go home, she didn’t know I was too lazy to trudge through traffic.

She just assumed I couldn’t go, never once suspecting that I didn’t want to go. Because she’s a mother. And mothers don’t judge.

If that’s not great, what is?

Written for a contest run by Tata Motors to promote their campaign, #madeofgreat.

Chapter Nine: Useless Efforts

Praveena’s school life progressed with her making little progress. Days were long and nights longer. She witnessed her mother slowly walking up the path towards Death, but she neither said nor did anything to comfort her mother. She was worried though — so worried. She tried, day after day, to prepare herself to face what she must, but it wasn’t easy.

She cried a lot. Her eyes became puffy and dark circles began to form around them. It became a part of her appearance. She began neglecting herself trying to focus instead, on the pressing school work that was gnawing on the thin line that connected her with her mother. They were talking less and less.

Geetha hardly spoke nowadays, speaking only when it was necessary or only when Praveena came up to her.

One Saturday afternoon, Praveena came up to her parents’ room to sit with Geetha. Geetha’s eyes lit up when she saw her daughter standing by the door, holding lunch in a tray. She gestured her to sit by her side. Praveena did.

“Hi, Ma” she smiled brightly, a false smile which Geetha was quick to notice. Geetha said nothing but smiled in response. Praveena saw that Geetha struggled to raise her hand. She had lost so much of weight; her eyes were sunken; her lips dry and parched, and her now bald head seemed fragile. Only her eyes stood bright against the yellowish skin that stretched across her face.

When she spoke, her voice was barely audible and her breath came out in wheezes. Praveena tried hard not to panic. She wanted to scream for help and kneel by her mother, pleading and weeping not to leave her behind. ‘What’s the use?’ Her inner voice asked. ‘That won’t make her stay,’ the second voice comforted her. And Praveena, for once, decided to listen to her inner voices and remain sane. She couldn’t shake off the feeling though. She thought she’d feel better if she spoke of her fears, even though she knew it wouldn’t help her get through this phase of sadness and loneliness.

Geetha watched her, helpless but understanding the trauma Praveena went through. They sat watching each other in silence. A silence that echoed so loud in Praveena’s ears that she could bear it no more. She broke the silence.

“Have your lunch, Ma. Come on,” she stood and made to help Geetha sit up, but she waved her hand.

“I don’t feel hungry,” she managed to say, her hand falling limply to her side.

“Shall I make some juice at least?” fear welled up inside Praveena. Geetha shook her head, and heaved a sigh.

Geetha turned away from her daughter and while she suffered from the pain untold, Praveena watched in silence, suffering in her own way.

It was the recess time on Monday. Praveena sat in the last bench eating alone. She was lost in her own thoughts and didn’t notice Priya come up to her. She was a pretty face with dark shoulder-length hair that she wore in a braid. Having lost interest in long-braided hairdos, Praveena had always wondered how Priya and the other long-haired girls ever managed to maintain their hair with so much care. Despite showing no interest in nurturing her hair, Praveena’s long pixie was messy and healthy.

Sitting next to her, Priya asked, “Hey you ok?”

Surprised, Praveena turned round and managed a courteous smile, “Yep, I’m fine.” she shrugged.

“Oh,” Priya faltered, not knowing what to say. She remained silent.

It didn’t bother Praveena and she continued her lunch.

Feeling awkward with the silence that stretched between them, Priya asked, “How come you don’t talk much?” It wasn’t just a question to keep the conversation ticking, it was an earnest and curious question.

“I talk.” Parvenu declared surprised. “you know,” she shrugged, “when I have something important to say.”

“Oh, ok.”

Silence.

“Oh well, I’ll leave you to your lunch then,” Priya rushed the words, as if she wanted to get away. “See you.”

“Ya, see you…” Praveena’s voice trailed away.

Priya left as fast as she could. She joined another group and was soon chattering away amidst loud laughter.

Praveena watched them, munching on.

‘They have problems too, you know’ it was her inner voice. It had come up again after a day-long absence.

‘Maybe… but — ‘

‘You’re so full of self-pity. It’s not good.’ her inner voice cut her short. ‘Listen to me, you should snap out of it.’

‘I know, I can see that,’ Praveena thought, ‘but it isn’t easy.’

‘Yes, I know. Make an effort at least,’ her inner voice didn’t sound as stern as it used to. It was sympathetic and firm.

‘Oh ok, I will.’

 

National Blog Posting Month – Day 10

Chapter Six: Teacher Coaxer

When Praveena entered late to class, her Science teacher had already begun. Seeing her at the door, Ms Marrie smiled and gestured her to enter. She said nothing.

Praveena took her seat feeling miserable. She knew Ms Marrie wouldn’t ask her anything. Marrie knew how much the higher staff hated rule breakers, but wasn’t one of them. She often declared that it’s alright to break the rules once a while.

Marrie continued explaining heat conductors with a flourish. Praveena couldn’t concentrate. Science was not one of her favourite subjects, but she liked Ms Marrie, and tried hard to score more in her subject.

Today though, her mind drifted. ‘Could Ms Marrie be like Andrew? Does she really love teaching, or is she convincing herself of it everyday, like Andrew said?’ Praveena was so immersed in her own thoughts that she didn’t realize the bell that rang to signal the end of class. She startled when everyone stood up to thank Ms Marrie.

Ms Marrie came up to her and said in a quite voice, “I want to talk to you. Follow me.” It was neither a question nor a suggestion. It was an order, but she made it sound like a request. That was Ms Marrie’s speciality; she knew how to talk to a person.

Praveena didn’t think what they would discuss, instead, she followed Marrie out of the class as if possessed. Just then Andrew approached them, book in his hand. It was not his class.

Ms Marrie spoke to him as Praveena watched. His old flourish was back. He looked as if nothing made him happier than teaching his favourite subject. Praveena was confused. He had been so upset and broken the previous day, yet now, here he stood pretending like that never happened. Though she did notice he refused to make eye contact with her. It annoyed her. Why did he still pretend? If he didn’t like the job, he could have at least left to do whatever he wanted, he didn’t have to worry about anyone or anything. Then why was he still voluntarily miserable?

Praveena couldn’t make out a probable answer. She only knew Andrew had wasted his life away. And she pitied him.

“Come on,” called Ms Marrie as she walked towards her room. Her blue sari swung in the breeze, mildly caressing Praveena’s arm. As the sari made contact with her arm, Praveena thought of her mother, and how she doesn’t dress up anymore. She felt her eyes searing and wiped them in a hurry.

Ms Marrie stopped in front of a door, opened it, and entered. Praveena followed.

Ms Marrie’s room was smaller than Andrew’s, but more familiar. The table was strewn with books of various sizes and there were four or five paper cups stacked with tea bags inside them. Praveena smiled. Ms Marrie was an avid tea-drinker, she realized, like herself. The walls were all plain except for a single poster of a man she didn’t recognise.

“Sit down.” Ms Marrie said, shuffling the books on her table. Praveena caught a few titles, The Last Lecture, Persuasion, Tuesdays with Morrie, Wind in the Willows, a couple of Agatha Christie books, and a few more she had never heard of. “Sorry for the mess,” she apologized, taking her chair.

Once she was settled facing Praveena, she asked, “So, how are you?”

“Huh?” That was unexpected.

“How are you?” Ms Marrie repeated more slowly.

“Fine” said Praveena, defiant and a little louder than was necessary.

“No you’re not.” It was just another statement, but Marrie’s was so sure that it surprised Praveena.

“Something is bothering you.” she paused for a reaction, and sure enough, Praveena’s eyes tensed. “You want to talk about it?” she continued.

“I — er — I was just worried about being late…” Praveena trailed off. She couldn’t hold Ms Marrie’s gaze and dropped her eyes to her hands which she twisted on her lap.

“You know,” Ms Marrie smiled, “you make it so obvious when you’re lying.” She sounded amused. She had caught a lot of students telling lies, but Praveena was the easiest by far.

Praveena remained silent.

Ms Marrie leaned over on her elbows, peering into Parvenu’s downcast eyes. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk to me about it,” Praveena’s eyes met hers. “but something tells me you need to get it out of your chest. I’ll only tell you that you can trust me. I’ll be a good listener. If you don’t trust me, you can leave. I’ll hold nothing against you.” Ms Marrie’s voice was calm, she hadn’t raised it at all. Yet she had made her point clear. She hadn’t threatened Praveena, or demanded her to talk. She spoke like a friend might — earnest.

Praveena didn’t move. She had her doubts. She was scared to talk to Ms Marrie. Why did Marrie want her to talk about her thoughts? ‘What if she thinks I’m a fool? What if she misunderstands me? Would she tell Ma and Pa that I am a lunatic? What if? What if —?’

Praveena stood up without saying a word, turned around and walked out of the room. As she closed the door behind her, she heard Ms Marrie sigh.