A little bit of sky
At the railway station, both Bindu and her mother cried. Bindu was the eldest of three children, born when her mother was just twenty so they had always been rather close. Now Bindu was seventeen, she had finished her schooling and was ready to earn a living. Her mother needed it surely. She had recently had an illness and couldn’t work as much as before. When her employer had asked for someone to go to Mumbai to be with her friend who had an ailing mother, she had immediately thought of Bindu.
Her employer was a kind lady who had helped her through many lean times. She had vouched for her friend and assured her that Bindu would be safe and happy. And the money! Two thousand rupees sounded like a fortune. Bindu agreed though reluctantly. Neither the village nor the nearby town held out any promises for her. Besides, her mother and sisters needed the money.
At the railway station, Mrs. Latha Menon was waiting. She gave them both a warm smile. The train was already there and it was almost time to go. Bindu sniffed a last time, listened to her mother’s last minute concerns and got into the train. She watched the town fading away behind her.
Mumbai was bigger than she had imagined. She had seen pictures of the Gateway of India in her school books, seen some big buildings on TV, but this was even bigger. And people, they were everywhere. For a girl who had not traveled beyond the small town, this was quite another world.
A tall middle-aged man was at the station to receive them. Mr. Harishanker Menon. Soon they would become Chechi and Sir to Bindu. He drove skillfully, moving the car in and out of traffic easily. Soon they reached their fifth floor apartment.
The children, Navin, twelve and Navya, eight, greeted them. Both of them looked at her curiously. Her dress, a loose-fitting salwar with neatly-pinned-on dupatta and her well-oiled hair, were all scrutinized. Bindu decided there was no malice in the look, anyone who was going to share their house would be subjected to the same treatment.
Latha took her to see her mother, a frail old woman who was lying on her bed. She gave Bindu a wide smile and took her hand in hers. At last, a really warm welcome. Bindu smiled back.
“You keep your bag in the corner there and go take a bath. We will talk later.”
Bindu thought to herself, “Well, she is still the head of this family.”
Slowly she got used to the ways of the house. The children left by seven and the adults by eight. Then till three, she was alone with Ammoomma. Bindu had initially tried to call her Amma respectfully, but she would have none of it. She was Ammoomma to all the children, “and you are still a child”, she insisted.
Bindu’s day started at five. She helped Latha with the cooking and Tiffin packing. Later after they had all gone, she gave Ammoomma her breakfast and then did the rest of the chores. Ammoomma, she was delighted to find, was not totally confined to her bed. On her good days, she would quite enthusiastically take a walk around the house. These excursions would be followed by a non-stop criticism of Bindu’s cleaning skills. But it was all in a good-natured manner that Bindu tried not to mind it too much. She had become too fond of the dear old lady.
Ammoomma soon became Bindu’s best friend. Ammoomma pointed to her old Malayalam novels and made Bindu read them aloud. That was one of the reasons Latha had brought Bindu here - so that her mother could have someone to talk to all the time. Soon it became obvious that it was a great idea.
The children grew used to having her around though she wasn’t much of a part in their lives. She was just someone who was around all the time. Latha made sure they treated her with respect.
At nights, while cutting vegetables for next days meals, Latha talked to Bindu. She was also glad to have someone around. The best thing, she assured Bindu, was having a hot cup of tea in front of her when she comes in the evenings, tired after her work.
Bindu was quite happy there. She wrote to her mother often; and once in a while talked to her on the phone. If not for one thing, Bindu would have been fully pleased. That one thing was that she was homesick for her village. Bindu was quite a loner and used to take long walks through the little lanes and the paddy fields. She missed the small temple by the river which flooded over every monsoon, the monkeys which rushed to snatch the bananas offered by devotees, the wild flowers which grew on the fences. Most of all, she missed seeing the never ending horizon which stretched uninterrupted, beyond where her eyes could see.
Here she did go out once in a while to run errands or to a nearby Ganesh temple, but all the sky that she could see was hidden between rows of apartments. And inside the apartment, even if she went out into the balconey, all she saw were apartments, fifteen and twenty storeyed ones. She couldn’t leave Ammoomma alone and keep running down, so there were whole days when she missed seeing the sky.
One afternoon, after reading a letter from her mother, she was so consumed by bitterness that tears found their way down her cheeks. Ammoomma, quick to notice changes in mood, demanded the whole story. Happy at having someone to share it with, Bindu talked, cried out that she wanted to go back to her village.
Ammoomma said nothing for a while.
“You know, child, when I came here three years ago, I felt homesick too. I was angry at my children for making me come here. Then I was more independent and could walk around as I wished. Still, to be cooped up in this house alone pained me. There was no one to talk to; my children and grandchildren are too busy. When you are young and happy, you need no one but yourself for company. But when you are old, you feel like being with someone all the time. I made myself miserable and made them all miserable too. I would scold and irritate them all the time.”
“One day, I had a fall and I was confined to the bed for months. Old bones take forever to heal. My daughter arranged a lady to come by daily. She was efficient, did her work well, but though she cared for me, she never cared about me. Worse, we found it impossible to communicate since I knew only a few words of Hindi. After I recovered, I told Latha and Hari that I would stay alone. But they felt bad about that. That is why we brought you here.”
“Those days spent in bed were horrible. And now I am sicker. Latha came to me and cried. She so wanted to stay with me and take care of me, but she loves her job and can’t afford to give it up. I wouldn’t let her do it either. I know, she is a good girl. So is Hari. If they could get jobs in Kerala, they would take it in a minute. I shouldn’t be so cranky, I thought. I get lots of love and care and they still ask my opinion for most things.”
“Why am I telling you all these, dear? Bindu, it is easy to let it all go and go back. I know your mother would take you back. She loves you. But think dear, what are you going to do there? Your mother and sisters really need the money. And you won’t get a family that treats you so well that easily again. Stay here and see this through. In a few years, Latha and I will definitely help your mother find a good boy for you. Don’t you dream of a husband and children?”
Bindu’s tears had dried up by then. She was able to blush.
“Ah, that is better. You must be thinking when this Ammoomma will stop. I will, child, I will. But first, let me show you the only window in this house that lets us see the sky properly.”
“I don’t open this window much now because the apartment opposite has been occupied. But sit on this side of the bed and look out, there, like that. There is the sky.”
Bindu looked, and so did Ammoomma. It was not too much, but from that angle she could gaze at the sky without seeing what the neighbours were doing.
They looked out, an old woman and a young one, at the little bit of sky.
Glossary:
Chechi : elder sister
Amma : mother
Ammoomma : grandmother
Featured by Sulekha
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Priya missed this somehow. Thank you
good to see you here often.
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Usha,
Came by after a while and my! What a refreshing, simple, sweet story....the longing of the older woman and her consoling the younger one....priceless!
Priya.
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Wow! My hundredth comment!
Though half are mine, this does feel good! Thank You Soumya!
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A sweet but poignant story.
My heart goes out to both Bindu and ammoomma.
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haha nidhana that is correct.. it was only after i came to us that i understood why westerners constantly talk about the weather.. there are too many gloomy days here where there is no sign of the sun, that when there is a sunny day, it has to be appreciated!
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Thank You anna9. don't worry. by now, bindu would have got married and maybe gone to a place where she could see the sky to her heart's content
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Red Strawberry I think this is your first time here. Welcome and thanks for enjoying this
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mekan i didn't fully understand what you were saying. thanks anyway
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thanks to you,anjala, i got a few comments for a 2 week old post
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Usha, Very lovely and warm story. Bindu should thank her lucky stars they did not take her to UK, she would have seen the sky alright, but never the sun!!
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