The afternoon was hot. It seemed like the sun was eternally thirsty, because the lips, throat turned dry as quickly as she drank. Periodically, a wave of warm breeze blew about her, which she felt like a boon of the wind god, for it made her clothes almost wet with perspiration cold. Her palms were perspiring, too, and the handle of the cloth bag was trying to slip from the grip, as it was heavy. It would seem like a curse, with the bulky bag and perspiring clothes, that one has to board a crowded public transport bus, where people stick so close to each other that lungs refuse to breathe.
While she was wishing that all would end soon, and that finally she would be at her home, having a glass of water under the new fan, the woman left for home.
"Sarala!?" came an anxious, familiar, tiny voice. She looked behind, amidst the mass of perspiring faces. From within the crowd, a fair face was on her toe-tips, eagerly looking at her.
"Kusum! Hey.... how are you??" Sarala exclaimed. She almost ran to her until she remembered that ber bag was twice her thickness, and the bus was getting more and more crowded. "Come here!!" She notified.
The short woman came to her, stepping over shoes of elder men, carefully holding the pallu of her saree in one hand. Her fair face seemed fairer than ever, for the smile lit it up like a lamp.
"Hey... how are you??" Kusum asked, looking at her friend's face. She remembered the college days: Sarala and Kusum, the smartest women in their group. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call them beauties with brains. But now things were different. Sarala's soft skin was now rough, like most of the working-women she had seen. Her eyes were still the same sharp, though.
"What are you thinking? Where did you get lost?" Sarala took her out of it.
"Nothing.." Kusum said, "I think we must step down for a coffee. This bus is crowded, and there's a coffe shop nearby."
The coffee-shop was well-lit, well-cooled, and weel-equiped with all modes of entertainment, providing temporary relaxation from the killing heat, to those who could afford it.
"So.. how're things going?" Kusum asked.
"Nothing, you see, we moved out of the house... separated.."
"You mean.. you walked out? Or did they tell you to?"
"My in-laws are very nice. They would never let it happen. But it was their absence for a few days that made him take this step.. Bhabhi is a.. you know her..."
"Ah yes, she's a mad woman. That day, I just dropped by your place... and you weren't home. She invited me, offered tea and snacks, and after i was about to leave, she asks, "Are you Sarala's cousin sister?"!! I just went home and told Dipen about this, and he laughed and laughed till we slept!"
Both laughed for sometime. Women, like men, have weird reasons to laugh.
"How's Disha?" Sarala asked. The smile on Kusum's face faded. She looked at the coffe on the table, and then stared at the table-calender.
"Tomorrow is her birthday... and I am out for finding something to gift her."
"How sweet! What will you give?"
"Don't know... I visited many stores, but I didnt find what I was looking for..."
"Oh, you could have told me... we'd have gone gift-shopping instead of spending a hundred bucks over this coffee! Let's go... I know some good places around here.."
"Is there any place that will sell... love..?"
"What??"
"I want to gift her a mother's love....." Kusum spoke, while her lips shivered, along with her hand. She kept the cup back in the saucer, as she reached out for the tissue. A tear rolled from her cheek into the coffee cup, while she wiped her eyes... Sarala never saw her cry.. and she could never see her crying.. she pulled her chair close beside her, held her by the shoulder, and patted her back...she didn't ask anything.
"Oh, Sarala.. what do I do? I have tried everything... but this girls does not just accept me! When I try to talk to her, she shuts herself in her room! When I make something for her, she refuses to eat and leaves the table! If I touch her toys, she screams at me, and throws whatever she has in her hands to me!
In her room she never allows me, and while going to bed she talks to... her mother's.... photo! Seems like she will never accept me!
What use is this money, fame, beauty, luxury... without her love? "
Sarala was deep into thoughts.
She could see that Kusum was passing through a bad time. She was a step-mother, and the girl never accepted her.
"Dear.. she's still small... and sensitive... may be she is in the shock of her mother's death still, so she's behaving in such a manner.. once she grows up, she'll understand... keep patience.. keep trying ... and have faith in God.. things will change.."
Sarala knew it was just a yet-another padding of consolation on Kusum's wounds. She felt pity on her. But she needed to go. Her part of the heart, her son, would be waiting for mummy to return....
While she was wishing that all would end soon, and that finally she would be at her home, having a glass of water under the new fan, the woman left for home.
"Sarala!?" came an anxious, familiar, tiny voice. She looked behind, amidst the mass of perspiring faces. From within the crowd, a fair face was on her toe-tips, eagerly looking at her.
"Kusum! Hey.... how are you??" Sarala exclaimed. She almost ran to her until she remembered that ber bag was twice her thickness, and the bus was getting more and more crowded. "Come here!!" She notified.
The short woman came to her, stepping over shoes of elder men, carefully holding the pallu of her saree in one hand. Her fair face seemed fairer than ever, for the smile lit it up like a lamp.
"Hey... how are you??" Kusum asked, looking at her friend's face. She remembered the college days: Sarala and Kusum, the smartest women in their group. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call them beauties with brains. But now things were different. Sarala's soft skin was now rough, like most of the working-women she had seen. Her eyes were still the same sharp, though.
"What are you thinking? Where did you get lost?" Sarala took her out of it.
"Nothing.." Kusum said, "I think we must step down for a coffee. This bus is crowded, and there's a coffe shop nearby."
The coffee-shop was well-lit, well-cooled, and weel-equiped with all modes of entertainment, providing temporary relaxation from the killing heat, to those who could afford it.
"So.. how're things going?" Kusum asked.
"Nothing, you see, we moved out of the house... separated.."
"You mean.. you walked out? Or did they tell you to?"
"My in-laws are very nice. They would never let it happen. But it was their absence for a few days that made him take this step.. Bhabhi is a.. you know her..."
"Ah yes, she's a mad woman. That day, I just dropped by your place... and you weren't home. She invited me, offered tea and snacks, and after i was about to leave, she asks, "Are you Sarala's cousin sister?"!! I just went home and told Dipen about this, and he laughed and laughed till we slept!"
Both laughed for sometime. Women, like men, have weird reasons to laugh.
"How's Disha?" Sarala asked. The smile on Kusum's face faded. She looked at the coffe on the table, and then stared at the table-calender.
"Tomorrow is her birthday... and I am out for finding something to gift her."
"How sweet! What will you give?"
"Don't know... I visited many stores, but I didnt find what I was looking for..."
"Oh, you could have told me... we'd have gone gift-shopping instead of spending a hundred bucks over this coffee! Let's go... I know some good places around here.."
"Is there any place that will sell... love..?"
"What??"
"I want to gift her a mother's love....." Kusum spoke, while her lips shivered, along with her hand. She kept the cup back in the saucer, as she reached out for the tissue. A tear rolled from her cheek into the coffee cup, while she wiped her eyes... Sarala never saw her cry.. and she could never see her crying.. she pulled her chair close beside her, held her by the shoulder, and patted her back...she didn't ask anything.
"Oh, Sarala.. what do I do? I have tried everything... but this girls does not just accept me! When I try to talk to her, she shuts herself in her room! When I make something for her, she refuses to eat and leaves the table! If I touch her toys, she screams at me, and throws whatever she has in her hands to me!
In her room she never allows me, and while going to bed she talks to... her mother's.... photo! Seems like she will never accept me!
What use is this money, fame, beauty, luxury... without her love? "
Sarala was deep into thoughts.
She could see that Kusum was passing through a bad time. She was a step-mother, and the girl never accepted her.
"Dear.. she's still small... and sensitive... may be she is in the shock of her mother's death still, so she's behaving in such a manner.. once she grows up, she'll understand... keep patience.. keep trying ... and have faith in God.. things will change.."
Sarala knew it was just a yet-another padding of consolation on Kusum's wounds. She felt pity on her. But she needed to go. Her part of the heart, her son, would be waiting for mummy to return....
Comments
is there a sequel?
- Henry